I do not own these characters, they belong to Marvel. There will be more chapters to follow; please Read and Review! (This is my first fanfic...)
CHAPTER ONE
Natasha Romanoff's birthday was tomorrow. This had nothing—and everything-to do with why Agent Clint Barton was sitting in a Forever21 store on Christmas Eve.
It wasn't like she was going to let him celebrate with her. If he brought it up, she'd probably say that birthdays were for children. Like love. And fun things. He hadn't even been going to come on this mission with her. He'd always known she liked to be alone this time of year. Well, so did he. Christmas wasn't big on his list of happy memory days.
He'd been packing up at the practice range early that morning when a text came through from Pepper, of all people.
"btw, Nat's bday is 2morrow! YOLO! "
It seemed to be an endearingly annoying hobby of Pepper's to know everything about everybody's private life. And then be cheerful about it. But he'd gotten the message, loud and clear.
Director Fury agreed readily enough that two agents were better than one, and twenty minutes later Clint was waiting for Natasha in her car. By now he was used to her death glares. They didn't faze him anymore. Much.
Sitting crunched into a hard plastic chair outside the ladies dressing room, however, he wondered if this was really part of the mission or if he was still being punished for tagging along.
But Agt. Hill had said in the briefing materials that this—this shopping mall outside of White Plains, NY—was where the drop would take place, and Agt. Hill did not, as far as anyone knew, have a sense of humor. So here they were.
The mission was simple: Intercept the drop of classified weapons schematics before the Baljistani free agent could pick them up. It was not a mission that required two people. Natasha had pointed this out more than once on the drive out.
The young guy next to him in the plastic seat row gave him a sympathetic smile. Clint realized he'd been staring. Everyone was so young here. Great way to spend Christmas Eve; ignored and feeling old.
His phone vibrated; a text from Natasha.
"you still alive out there?"
"barely. What r u doing in there?"
"wldn't u like to know. go buy something."
"k. anything u want?"
"the cashier is our target. Go surveil, barton."
Right.
The checkout guy, swarmed by young adult shoppers and (people shopping for young adults), looked innocuous enough, in a plaid-shirt-skinny-pants kind of way. Clint slipped in line behind a group of teenage girls laden with sweaters and sparkly headbands. If he really was their target, the person who would perform the drop later that evening, that would mean he was Nelson Parker, ex-boyfriend of one of the physicists on-staff at S.T.R.I.K.E. headquarters. Clint didn't recognize him. Pepper probably would, and be able to tell him in detail why this dude and Kira Wells broke up. Whatever the reason, Nelson Parker was bitter. He had stolen Kira's work and was less than an hour away from selling it to the highest bidder in the underground arms business.
Clint scanned the items by the register for something to buy as the girls ahead of him sorted out their sweaters. A turning rack of necklaces, gum, more gum, mints… He looked through the necklaces, half entertaining the thought of getting Tasha something, even though she would kill him if he did. Little gold hearts on chains, stars, arrows, birds-
"Can I help you, sir." Nelson (so his nametag confirmed) intoned in a bored voice.
Clint took one of the necklaces and handed it over. "Just this, please. Thanks.
"Busy tonight. Sucks having to work a holiday, right?" Clint asked as Nelson rang him up. "When do you get off?"
"Soon."
"It's snowing pretty hard out there," (It was not, in fact, but Clint was determined to get something out of this guy), "Are you parked close, or…"
"That'll be $13.47, sir. Do you want a bag or our holiday giftwrap."
"Never mind, I'll just take it, thanks."
And then Natasha walked up to the register, sliding her arm around Clint's waist and using her Suburban Girlfriend voice. "Hey, babe, you ready?"
Clint steeled himself not to laugh. "Yeah, you?"
Natasha smiled and laid a black leather moto jacket on the counter. "Just this."
Mr. Parker, not immune to the power of the Black Widow's smile, proved himself a champion of customer service. So intent was he on providing the best possible shopping experience to the beautiful redhead, that he missed what Clint did not: Natasha, slipping a microscopic tracking device sticker onto his palm when she handed over her money.
"Do you want a bag, Miss? Or we have our limited edition holiday gift wrap for no extra—"
"I'll just take it, thanks."
She slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled the jacket on as they left the store, then pulled out her phone and started walking.
Clint glanced over at her. "What happened to the jacket you came in with?"
"I needed a new one. What did you find out about Parker?"
No personal questions tonight. "He's shut down the other registers and has his stuff all ready behind the counter, so he's leaving as soon as his shift's over. Two backpacks with his coat, one new and not very full. Car keys to a late model Honda and an employee parking tag on the ring. Number 112."
"So he has the schematics." Looking over her shoulder as they walked, Clint could see the tracking program she'd pulled up. The dot that represented Nelson Parker was still centered in the Forever21 store.
"He brought them to work with him, though? Doesn't seem very smart to me."
"He stole from Dr. Wells and Fury," Natasha snapped. "He's not very smart, period. You just told me he has a new backpack he doesn't need and is set up for a quick getaway. So unless you can confirm that he DOESN"T have the schematics inside the backpack—"
"I don't have x-ray vision, Natasha," Clint said.
She swung around to face him. "I didn't ask if you did. In fact, I didn't ask for you to come along on this at all, and now you're second guessing—"
"What the hell, Natasha?" He gripped her arm and tried to steer her into the doorway of a closed store. She barely moved. Around them people rushed by; it was suddenly too warm, everyone was watching them.
And Natasha was glaring at him like he was the enemy of her life.
"Yes, what the hell, Hawkeye. Why DID you come? I can handle this. You know it, Director Fury knows it—did he send you to check up on me? Make sure the evil spy's still doing her job?"
He stared at her, unable to come up with words. Her face was a complete mask, and though usually he could read through it, tonight there was nothing. Her face, her eyes, were cold.
"I don't need you here." Her voice lowered. "I don't want you here."
His hand dropped from her arm. She straightened and turned away again.
"Take the car with you when you go. I'll find my own way back." Eyes already on her phone again, Agt. Romanoff walked away into the crowd of holiday shoppers.