Hello :) As requested, I will be doing this story along with four others that all link in together. The Return of Pietro Maximoff was my first story and I am now linking it in with this. There will be five different stories in total, all linking in with each other. Hopefully this will work. So...let's begin.
By the way, this is just a backstory and is important to the plot. I promise you that the future chapters will contain more dialogue and interactions, but will only be 4000-5000 words, not 12,800 like this starter chapter, so don't worry if you find that this chapter drags on a bit.
Mentions of rape and abuse - not overly graphic
Natasha POV
I held another robot against the ground, sweat beginning to form on my brow, and managed to use my baton to stun it to death, the robot's eyes quickly losing the blue glow that signalled their lifeline. I got up, quickly scanning the area for possible threats. I couldn't see any more the meanwhile.
"Cap, how are we doing?" I asked into the comms unit, making my way back to the area where they were putting the Sokovians on the escape ships.
"Most of the robots have been defeated." he said, grunting quietly as he took out another one. "Only a few left." he added, grimly, and I nodded, running through the debris that had fallen from the surrounding buildings. I slowed for a moment, carefully treading over the rubble on the ground in case there were lose pieces. I tried to stop myself from thinking about the fact that I was treading over somebody's house and that the people fleeing their country would have no home to go to. They would be provided with accommodation, but they would never have a 'home'. Not that I could talk, I never had a home to go to, unless you counted Clint.
Me and Clint were a peculiar pair to say the least. We had been on more missions than any other agent at the time at S.H.I.E.L.D. Strike Team Delta was one of the most successful mission teams. We had our faults, but we never stopped trying to do the right thing, especially Clint. He was similar to Rogers in that way. They both shared the same need to do good in the world, which confused me a bit. The world had never done anything for them, so I didn't see why they needed to return the favour. I owed Clint many favours over the years and I never forgot that, especially the favour I owed him for saving my life.
Fifteen years ago, in 2001, I was on a mission in Germany. Clint was tracking me, trained to take down anyone that he came across, but I noticed as soon as he entered. He had the mysterious vibe that every agent give off, no matter how undercover they are. There was the slight twitch of the eyes when talking, trying to avoid looking around the room for threats but failing. Also, his hands weren't smooth, scars marring them from the previous battles he had been through. He 'seduced' me, but only by me letting him do so. I hadn't realised it then, but he was an extraordinarily good kisser. I remember that he had used the right amount of pull to get someone to want more. He took my hand and led me up to his room, but as soon as the door shut, he had me pinned up against the wall, my size not doing me any favours to help defeat his strong, tall figure.
He was going to shoot me. That was his plan. He told me once he had injected me with a knock out drug and tied me up to a chair, which wasn't exactly nice of him.
"So, Miss Romanoff..." he said with a smirk that I wanted to punch off his stupid face. "I am going to offer you a deal." Hawkeye was well known as 'an incredibly talented archer with looks that were just as incredible'. I almost rolled my eyes when my mind remembered the rumours. He did seem to have a nice body, but I was not one to favour relationships, so it didn't matter to me. I admired the fact that he worked hard to get a strong body for his missions, though I think any agent would share a similar admiration for someone who has worked hard to be a spy like me or him. His arms were the strongest thing about him, most likely that way from years of archery. Beauty wasn't a word that I used likely, so no, he wasn't beautiful. He was a well-built man and I was an attractive woman. That's all it was. I was slowly trying to loosen the restraints around my feet and hands, but unfortunately they weren't even budging, not one bit.
"If you want to sleep with me, you will end up getting killed." I replied, fake-smiling at him. I was bored with this man. The Red Room were probably wondering where I was and I felt a small amount of fear shiver through me, obviously not being stupid enough to let it show. I didn't want to go back and be tortured by those men. Barton might as well have me killed as it would probably be less painful than the torture. An arrow through the eye-socket would've killed me in a second and I wondered why he hadn't done so yet. I wondered what his deal was.
I was scared at the Red Room, not that I would ever tell a soul. My mask didn't break for anyone, not even the trainers at the Red Room. Not one tear dropped from my eyes in that place if I was with someone else. When I was alone, one hundred percent alone, I would cry for as long as I could before I heard someone coming. I had memorised the guard's routines, so I made sure that I looked acceptable and fearless when they came to my cell. I was always so frightened of what the trainers were going to do. They gave us 'sexual education', but not the type that is usually taught at school. They would throw us around to each guard, sleep with us and then tell us it was educating us on how to overpower a target by sleeping with them. That was the worst of the abuse apart form the beatings. They were right to teach us about sex, because it had been useful on many missions. I had been there since I was five years old.
He shook his head, laughing a little, though I couldn't help but I noticed the worried look that flickered across his face before he laughed. I wondered why he was so worried, because I had never met the man before. "No, no, Miss Romanoff. Not that kind of deal." he said, confidentially, and I looked at him confused. He was becoming more confusing by the minute and my interest to stick around was peaked. I hadn't misjudged the emotional side to his character incorrectly, because it was evident that he had people he cared about, but I had misjudged his ability to break. We had been sitting here for a few hours now, him asking me questions, trying different methods of interrogation, one's that I had been taught to resist, though he never physically harmed me, which was a big hint to his emotional attachments. In fact he didn't touch me at all, which was surprising, because most targets did. I also noticed that I could still feel my underwear between my legs. We were taught that it didn't matter whether someone slept with us or not, the serum would keep us safe, but knowing that he didn't have sex with me gave me some kind of comfort. He wasn't planning on hurting me any time soon, at least not badly.
"And what possible deal could you offer that I would want to take?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the archer.
It took Clint at least 4 hours to convince me that S.H.I.E.L.D was a good opportunity for me to leave the Red Room. I used to be so lonely as the only people I knew were my trainers. The other girls didn't like me very much. They always sneered at me or laughed whenever I practised and pushed me over in the corridors. They were jealous of my abilities. My teacher said I was one of her most talented students, so I used that to block out the girl's abuse. I had no friends for the whole of my childhood, because I was the best student there and that wasn't arrogance, that's the truth.
As I grew older, I realised that not all men wanted women for their body and that what the trainers did to me was rape. I felt so used, but didn't even cry about it, because I was focusing so hard on being an agent. I met Clint when I was 18 and thought that he was particularly young to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but he retaliated with the fact that I was a spy at 17. He had to persuade his handler, Phil Coulson, to let me stay and he wasn't particularly happy about it, but came round after Barton argued that he was also taken in as a stray. I wondered what Clint had meant by that, but I soon learnt in training. For the first few weeks of training, I didn't even speak to him. I had to put up with his constant need to talk to me. Maybe he had no friends either as he seemed to hang around with me most of the time. He was the only person apart from Coulson, Fury and Hill that I saw for two whole months, while I was awake anyway. During training sessions, he told me about himself. He told me of his childhood, not in huge detail, but enough for me to learn to trust him more, not that I fully did until the mission in Budapest. He told me about his brother, Barney, and how he grew up in the circus. He said that he always wanted a dog as well and it made sense. It sounded strange, but I didn't see him as a cat person.
The first time I spoke to him properly was when we were in the training room taking a break:
We were sitting on one of the benches of our spacious training room that was filled with equipment, some of it unused by me and Clint. We had our own room to train in for the first few months to slowly ease me into S.H.I.E.L.D, but I got the feeling it was because Fury didn't entirely trust me. I didn't blame him. Barton stood up and went to the weapons cabinet, checking on one of his bows. Me and Barton weren't exactly friends, but we weren't exactly acquaintances either. There was an unfamiliar middle ground with us and I wondered if what I felt was friendship, but I didn't feel like I could trust him yet and I was told that that's what friendship was.
I took a sip of my water, allowing the cool drink of it to slide down my throat. I swallowed the liquid and breathed out, wiping the sweat off of my forehead with the back of my hand. We had been training for the past hour. I say we...it was more me hitting the boxing pads that Barton had in his hands. He kept it up for the whole hour and I didn't understand how his arms weren't killing him by now, but then I remembered that he was an archer and his arms were practically rock solid.
I put my drink to the side and stared at his peculiar way of touching the bow. The way he ran his fingers across the string and the look in his eyes almost made him look like he cared for the object. They seemed to share a connect, even though the bow was inanimate. I never had that relationship with a gun or any weapon, not that I needed one with my skills set.
Curious to why he was so affectionate for the inanimate bow, I stood up and slowly made my way over to him, making louder breaths as I came over to not startle him. Barton had good hearing anyway, but his sight was unparalleled. His head twitched slightly and his hand faltered as he glided along the string, the man noticing my approach. However, he continued his motions, knowing I wouldn't kill him.
"What's so special about a bow and arrow for you?" I asked and he turned his head to me, blue eyes wide and pushing into mine making me feel uncomfortable with how closer we were, which was only a metre away, but it felt a lot more intimate. I thought the reason why must've been because me and Barton never really had a proper conversation and this was the first time I had attempted one that wasn't to do with missions or training, but actually an enquiry about him.
"She speaks." he responded, smiling at me, and I rolled my eyes. He chuckled more, a real laugh that almost made me smile, and continued to answer the question. "I told you - circus."
"But why a bow and arrow? Why not a gun? Most S.H.I.E.L.D agents use a gun or the one's I've run into have." I replied, only realising a second later the mistake that I had made. 'The one's I've run into'. Good going Romanova. He knows that I have killed some of his team before, maybe even people he knew. I wanted to apologise, but I didn't want to break down the wall I had spent built up over the past two months.
He turned back to the bow, forgetting about the S.H.I.E.L.D comment, and focused on adjusting the string again. "There's something about a bow and arrow that is different. The feel of it in my hands is different to that of a gun and it leaves a mark that everyone knows is mine. As you said, you don't get people using a bow and arrow these days." I was going to reply, but he kept on talking like usual. Barton had the tendency to do that. I couldn't decide whether it irritated me or not. I had spent my whole life in silence at the Red Room and I was unsure about the new flood of noise that my ears were getting. Sometimes I cursed myself for not killing him before I was knocked out because of all the noise that came out of his mouth, but other times I actually enjoyed his company, the reminder that I wasn't alone anymore. It shouldn't have comforted me as I was a Black Widow and could survive by myself, but Clint being with me had made me realise that being alone wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "I find a gun too heavy for me, weighs me down. The bow is the perfect weapon for me." he said, stroking it before closing the cabinet.
"No wonder you don't have a girlfriend." I retorted and turned away as I walked back to the bench. Barton hadn't mentioned that he didn't have a girlfriend, but I guessed that he didn't. He spent 18 hours of the day with me, spending the other 6 hours sleeping. 'Assassins sleep lightly' was the motto he always had or ASL which was the cut-down version. Both of them made me want to punch him, but I got used to it after a while. I didn't sleep very much though, only getting 2 out of the 6 hours a night. I had nightmares constantly, not that Barton knew about it. I didn't want him to waste his time worrying about me ever more than he did. He was more of a worrier than a warrior.
"It's not exactly like you'll get into a relationship anytime soon..." he teased and I sat down on the bench to look at him, my death glare tearing through his eyes. "So I'll teach you one day." he added and my death glare softened, wiping completely off my face after a few seconds. Teach me? He wanted to teach me how to use a bow and arrow? I never had any other options that a gun in the Red Room. It was small and compact, easy to store away. A bow and arrow was clunky and I don't think the trainers at the Red Room would take two seconds to even think about giving a student a bow and arrow to use in a fight. I'd been forced to do stuff in the Red Room, but he was offering me a choice. He always offered me a choice.
"How to shoot with that thing?" I asked, gesturing to the cabinet that contained the weapon.
"Yeah." he replied, casually, as if it were nothing at all. He was acting as if it wasn't a big deal, but it wasn a big deal to me. He was talking about teaching me, not 'instructing' me and giving me a time limit like the Red Room did. We had been doing hand-to-hand combat for weeks and I never thought he would offer something like that. I owed him for saving me and I reminded myself that I still needed a way to repay him.
"Like that's gonna happen." I replied, putting my arms above my head to stretch some of the aching muscles in my back.
"Well I got you to talk, didn't I?" he asked, but I didn't respond, deciding not to respond to him that whole day to annoy him. That made me smile.
Clint was the only person that I spoke to for another month after that. I gradually got onto better terms with Coulson and Maria, speaking to them casually about 6 months in, but I didn't see eye-to-eye with Fury until a few more months in, only getting used to his methods when I realised that we were quite similar in strategic aspects.
Before the Battle of Manhattan, we had become Strike Team Delta. In 2002, a year after training with Clint and learning how to fit in with S.H.I.E.L.D, I was put on my first mission with Clint. Coulson was our handler and it was only an extraction mission, but it was a start. We began to do more and more missions with Clint, each one even more successful than the last. By 2005, I was a level 5 S.H.I.E.L.D agent and had done over 300 missions with Clint, all of them being completed without any problems.
In 2006, me and Clint had a mission in Budapest. We were taking on an arms dealer and the mission went south. We went into the building, which was in the middle of nowhere, and tried to take them all out, but we underestimated how many men the dealer had. They had at least 40 and we tried to take them out discretely, but Fury hadn't informed us of the extra security they had around the perimeter. We took down the outside guards, but by that time the guards on the inside were already alerted to the situation. We ran and took shelter behind an abandoned car, that was across the middle of the road, to reload our guns.
"These guys aren't leaving anytime soon." Clint said to me as we changed to a new set of guns. He had complained about the fact that he wasn't allowed to use his bow and arrow, but I told him that it would most likely get in the way. He wasn't happy, but he did agree with me.
"You got a plan?" I asked and he winked at me. I hated it when he did that. I felt it to be too friendly, not that he would ever be as friendly as the Red Room trainers were.
"Always got a plan, Widow." he replied and I rolled my eyes at him. Even in the heat of battle, Clint always was joking around. I never shared the same humour, because I wanted to not get distracted and complete the mission as quickly as possible, but I would allow a joke to slip out now and again. He put my nerves at ease though with his jokes. "Get in the car." he informed me and I nodded, confused about what his plan was, but did so anyway.
"Front or back?" I asked and he looked at me incredulously.
"Either." he said and I grit my teeth, trying not to argue with him as I climbed in the back. We were meant to be equals, but I mainly followed the plans that he made as some people at S.H.I.E.L.D still didn't see me as an agent and I didn't want more against my name if something went wrong. He got into the front and said "Smash the window." He had something in his other hand, but I couldn't see what it was.
"Okay." I replied and used my gun to smash the window, trying to avoid the bullets being fired my way. They were about twenty metres away, taking their time to walk over to us with their guns. I hated arrogant shooters. He made another crash that signalled him breaking his window, but made a different crashing noise. What was he doing?
"Hold this." he said, passing me what I could now see was a wing-mirror. "Use it to see who you're aiming at." Clint was intelligent, I'd give him that, and I didn't think that his plan would actually work, but it was actually quite effective in taking the agents down. The wing-mirror were unharmed as they were not directly in the line of fire, unlike the windows that were no longer complete.
We spent five minutes taking down the agents that were coming towards us, but in the distance we saw more approaching. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, looking at the incoming agents.
"These guys are just as stubborn as you." I said, getting out a new magazine to slot into the gun.
"Cracking out the jokes today, Widow? Good to know I've rubbed off on you." he replied, smirking. "Ready?" he asked and I nodded, putting up the mirror again to take down the oncoming enemies.
After a few years of continuing more and more missions, we were split up for a while, which I wasn't very happy about. By that time, it was 2010 and we were closer than ever before. I considered him a friend and would've said he was my closest, Maria and Coulson following in close behind. I knew a few agents at S.H.I.E.L.D, but there were only a few that I actually got along well with. Me and Clint had spent the past nine years together and I didn't want anything to change.
I always admired Clint, his strength and his courage. I cared about him. A lot. More than anyone actually, but I didn't love him. Love wasn't a word in my vocabulary. I occasionally wondered about whether he was interested in me, because he only had a few girlfriends over the years and never stayed with them for more than a month, but didn't bring it up to him. I only thought about him romantically once or twice over the years, thinking back to when he first found me and what what would've happened if we had slept together. It would've ruined our working style. Things would have been awkward and I don't think we would have been as successful in our missions if we did. Not having sex took a toll on my sex-drive after being continuously sexually abused, because I had gotten used to sleeping with a man once or twice every week that was until I was taken in by Clint. However, I dealt with it like any normal person would. I didn't need a man to make myself feel good.
The debt that I owed him was playing on my mind, but I still couldn't figure out how to repay it. I had thought about money, but then realised that he didn't need stuff like that. He was wealthy enough from his S.H.I.E.L.D wages. Sleeping with him was an option that I was contemplating, but I decided that I would only do it if he was interested in me as I didn't think he would be a fan of meaningless sex. Clint gave no indication that he liked me, so I decided not to have sex with him unless he gave me a sign.
When Fury split us up I was angry, but I didn't complain to anyone, not even Clint. I went undercover to work with Tony Stark, which wasn't exactly what I would have called the best job in the world, and after that, Clint was in New Mexico assisting Coulson with something that I wasn't told about. By this time, I was a level 7 agent, and after finishing my mission with Stark, I was assigned to a different agent while Clint was away, one called Kyle Garrison.
The man kept drooling at the sight of me, which made me feel sick. I was attractive and I knew it, the serum helped me become that way, but I didn't want the attention of men. Clint didn't drool at the sight of me. Clint had never looked at me in the wrong way, as far as I was aware. Agent Garrison wanted me because of my body and years ago, I wouldn't have been disgusted by that, but I knew that it was wrong. He cared for me as a friend and I knew that. We were friends.
One day whilst we were sparring, Garrison put me up against the wall and forced his lips onto my own, his hands instantly reached down to hold my behind. The kiss was forceful and it brought me back to the last time my lips were touched when I hadn't been on a mission, when Clint kissed me all the way back in 2001. With Clint, I kissed him back, playing along with his game, but when Garrison kissed me I had an entirely different reaction. I swiped his feet from underneath him and pinned him to the floor, disgusted that he would even attempt to make a move on me. I knocked him out and ran out of the training room, picking up my phone.
I immediately called Coulson and told him that I refused to work with Garrison, informing him of what the agent had done. The man had only gone five days before making his move and I hated the feeling of being forced to do something. Flashbacks of the Red Room had filled my head and I felt like I was back there again, which brought a sick feeling to my stomach.
Coulson said that he was sending Clint back to the S.H.I.E.L.D base that day and that we would go back to being partners. I sighed in relief from the news and spent the rest of the day in my room. I took about 5 showers to try and help myself feel better, but it didn't help very much. Whenever someone touched me, I had to have a shower. I washing off my past memories and feelings and reassuring myself that I was safe. Every time I trained with Clint, or anyone for that matter, I had to do it, because my skin would be touched. With Clint it was only one or two showers, but with anyone else I had to shower at least three times. It was a habit that I had developed ever since I had joined shield. I found myself doing it more and more from the day I joined, ending up having about 9 or 10 showers every day when I was with Clint, the number slowing decreasing over time to the 1 or 2 mark. I never went without showering after someone had touched me, even if it was a graze of the fingertips.
I was walking around my room in my underwear, trying to find something to wear, when there was a knock at the door. "I'll be there in a minute." I called. I hoped that it was Clint and my heart suddenly beat faster at the thought of seeing him again. I hadn't seen him for a few months and, not that I wanted to admit it, but I missed him. The only reason why my heart beat faster was because I was excited to see the man. It had been months.
I stopped myself, my hand hesitating above the piece of clothing I was about to pick it up as I realised something. I was compromised. I had let myself get emotionally attached to someone and I tried not to think about it, shaking my head and picking up a t shirt and a pair of shorts to wear. I hurriedly put them on, pushing the thoughts of being compromised to the back of my mind as I walked towards the door. I wasn't compromised. I had a friend. That was all.
I turned the handle, opening it to find Clint standing there, bow in his hand and quiver on his back. I stood there for a moment, taking in the image of him. He was wearing his Hawkeye suit, sleeveless this time. I noticed a bandage on his arm and a couple of cuts from battle there too. His blonde hair was skewed and he wore a small smile on his face. His baby blue eyes were locked on mine and I tried to break the contact, but found myself unable to. I hadn't seen him since before we had gotten split. I really did miss him.
"You gonna invite me in?" he asked and I felt my lips twinge upwards.
"Of course." I said, opening the door a little more to let him in. He walked past me, the smell of blood faintly drifting through my nostrils, and I shut the door behind him, leaving my fingers against the cold handle to calm myself before letting my fingers retract.
He placed his bow and quiver on the desk before standing in the middle of the room. "How have you been?" he asked as I slowly walked towards him. I stood infront of him, about a metre away, and watched him for a minute. His eyebrows twitched at my blank facial expression and I took a step closer to him. "What is it?" he asked, but I involuntarily replied with an action rather than words.
I quickly threw my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, feeling the need to hold him close. I never showed this type of intimacy with anyone, not even Clint. I hadn't hugged anyone in my entire life, not that I was aware of anyway. Maybe I did before I was 5 years old, but I couldn't remember any part of that life. I held him tightly, keeping my body close to his, and I had to stand on the tips of my toes to get that high. I hated how small I was sometimes. It made reaching onto high shelves a pain in the ass.
He didn't respond for a moment, out of pure shock probably, but put his arms gently around my waist, pressing me against him. He bent down a fraction, so that I didn't need to lean up so high. He knew that I wasn't a hugger and knew that this was a big thing for me, not doing it with anyone else apart from him. I was worried when he left to deal with whatever Coulson had sent him out to do, because no one told me what the assignment was. I later found out that it was to do with some form of mysterious alien object that had fallen from the sky, but I didn't receive any more news.
My arms that were around his neck tightened and I wondered whether he had any injuries, but he didn't seem to be complaining or whining about them like usually did when he was hurt. I hoped he didn't get the message that I was concerned about him. I had no idea whether he was alive or dead. We had never been apart that long before and it scared me to think that he was going to leave me after the time that we had spent together. I made no connection with anyone in the Red Room, but I had made one connection on the outside of the torture chambers and that was Clint. I shouldn't have allowed myself the luxury of a strong friendship, but I didn't even realise that I had created one until we hugged.
He buried his head in my shoulder too, his warm breath tickling my skin as he breathed out against it, and whispered "I missed you too." I smiled to myself as he held me tighter, his warm hands pressed flat against my back. I felt a small shiver go down my spine as I heard him hum, the vibrations from his chest working their way through my body. "I should go away more often." he said and I laughed. I had begun to laugh more around Clint, realising that it made him smile when I did and I liked laughing. I had been deprived of it, not finding anything funny to laugh at in the Red Room, so I decided to do it more often now that I was free.
"Don't think this is going to be a common occurrence." I replied, pulling away from him to look at him seriously. His face was tired and concerned about...something. He seemed distracted as I pulled my arms away from where they were wrapped around his neck. I could almost feel the anger coming off of him and decided to asked him what was wrong. "What is it?" I asked, slightly grazing my fingertips down his well-shaped arms as I looked at him. His eyes followed my fingers for a moment before they shot up to me again. I removed my hands and crossed my arms over my chest.
"I heard about Garrison." he said and my eyes drifted to the floor. "Did he seriously try to make a move on you?" he asked and I could hear the anger bleeding through his voice. He shouldn't have cared as much as he did, but I let him anyway. There was no arguing with Clint. He was too stubborn.
"Yes." I replied simply, looking up at his tense jaw line and intense eyes. I think anyone could see that Clint was more than willing to put an arrow through the agent's eye socket. "Please, don't kill him." I added and he furrowed his eyebrows, curious as to why I could so easily read him.
"Have gained some sort of telekinesis ability while I've been away?" he asked, curiously. I knew he was joking, but I wish that I did. I would've been grateful to know what was going on in that big head of his.
"I don't need to get into your mind to read you." I replied truthfully and went over to the desk to find a hairband. My hair was irritating me and was dripping wet after my shower. Clint didn't complain about it when I hugged him, but I saw him wipe the side of his face, getting the drips off of his cheek. I felt his eyes on me as I picked up the hairbrush and began to comb through the red tangled knots that I owned. I put my hair up and turned back to him. He was fiddling with the bow string, thoughts playing on his mind, but looked up when I sat on the sofa, joining me a few seconds later.
"So how was New Mexico?" I asked, trying to make him forget about the fact that Garrison tried to feel me up, but I could still see that he wasn't doing any good. He sat down and sighed, leaning back against the cushions as he explained about Thor's visit to Earth.
After that, we were never split up again in fear that the agents would go all types of crazy on me. In a stupid way, I was happy that Garrison made a move, because it meant that me and Clint would remain as a team. We continued doing missions, as we always did, but I never hugged him again...that was until New York happened. Loki invading Clint's brain completely changed the assassin. He was different to say the least. The nightmares invaded his dreams every night as well as my own, thought I was used to it. I never thought about Clint having nightmares, but he never said anything. Then again, neither did I.
Fighting him was something that I never wanted to do again. It pained me to know that he under Loki's spell, so waking him up gave me great relief. The fight in Budapest was similar to that in Manhattan as the enemy kept on coming. The Battle of Manhattan was much worse than the arms dealer fight in my opinion, especially for Clint. He had been shot at that arms deal fight, but Loki had hurt him so much more than that by taking over his emotions. After Loki had left, I knew he would have nightmares and I knew that I would be there for him, not that I minded. I liked looking after Clint and making him feel better, which I knew I shouldn't have.
After the battle finished, we went to get shawarma and Tony offered us a place to stay at Stark Tower for a few nights while the press were trying to decide whether we were the enemy or not. Me, Clint and the other three members of the team each had a separate floor. Stark had ten different guest bedrooms in case there were conferences or guests of his that needed accommodation.
I had settled into my room, my bag on the side of the bed, and found myself leaning up against my bed post, thinking about the past few days. New York was half destroyed and all the Avengers were tired, but I couldn't fall asleep, not that it was different to any other night.
'Slowly and intimately'
The words were repeating over and over in my head, the sound of Loki's fist hitting against the glass, making me jump where I was sitting. Suddenly, I heard a knocking at the door and jumped again at the violent at the sound, sitting up quickly. I had a quick flashback to Loki and got scared for a moment that it was him, but then told myself to stop being so stupid.
It must've been Clint. He was the only one that would dare to come and see me in the middle of the night. Also, he was in a fragile state at the moment, especially with Phil's death. I sat up properly, moving off of the bed, to unlock the door. Clint was standing there, breathing heavily with beads of sweat across his forehead. The top of his shirt was drenched and he was wearing some fresh looking pyjama bottoms, one's that he probably put on only because he was coming to see me. My heart ached at the thought of the pain he must've been feeling, my heart only feeling that way very occasionally in my life, only for Clint. He was forced to fight me and I would never, in a million years, feel comfortable fighting Clint in a way that wasn't sparring for training purposes or for fun.
"I'm sorry..." he said, breathlessly, and I shook my head at his stupidity.
"Don't be." I replied, softly. His eyes were empty and hopless. He needed to be comforted and there wasn't anyone like Phil or Maria around to help him, but I would always be there. I took his hand softly and led him into my room, letting go of his hand to shut the door behind him. He walked forward a few steps in a zombie-like fashion and stood in the middle of the room.
"Do you...do y-you mind if..." he began, stuttering over his words and shaking. He must've been cold and I walked up to his side as he tried to finish his sentence. "If I stay...here..." he finished, locking eyes with me. His eyes almost looked hollow and I struggled to find any feeling of emotion apart from fear resting in them. "I don't mind sleeping on the floor." he said, his teeth chattering. I got a tissue from the desk and walked back to him, putting my hand on the back of his neck. He flinched slightly at the contact, but welcomed it after a second, leaning into the touch after a moment. It was something that I would never do and I was surprised his motions. He was vulnerable though and I let him do so. If it helped him, then I would let him do whatever he wanted. I used the tissue to wipe the beads of sweat off of his forehead and neck before throwing the tissue in the bin.
"You can sleep on the bed." I told him and he nodded, shakily. I put my hand on his shoulder and stroked it softly. I heard him breath in unsteadily and I asked "Do you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head slowly and I led him over to the bed, taking his warm hand in mine. "You want another shirt?" I asked and he nodded.
I went to my bag that contained a spare shirt for Clint. We always carried a spare set of clothes for each of us just incase one of us lost our bags. I pulled out a random shirt and handed it to him as he sat up on the bed. As always, I turned around to give him some privacy. I had only seen Clint shirtless once, when he was training, and it was only for a second, but I wouldn't describe it as unpleasant. The thoughts were taken from my head when Clint cleared his throat indicating that he had finished.
He put his shirt next to him on the floor as I sat next to him, both of us cross-legged on the bed facing each other. He held his hands in his lap, fiddling with them to give him something to do. I don't know why, but I had the urge to reach forward and grab them. I told myself that it was out of irritation from his hands twitching, but I don't think it was. I slowly put my hands forward, placing my palms over his and he shut his eyes. He turned his wrists so that my palms were over his and our fingers were intertwined. His thumbs stroked the side of my hand gently and he ducked his head. "Clint.." I whispered, my voice barely audible. It surprised me when I found pleasure at the feeling of our fingers touching, something that I had never felt before in my life. I put the thought to the back of my mind, knowing that I was selfish and shouldn't have thought about our intimate moment in that way. He needed help. I scolded myself and focused on how he felt.
His body began to shake and I saw tears fall onto our linked hands. I slowly let go, him resisting before letting me move, and positioned myself to sit against the headboard. I looked at his distant eyes and patted the side of the bed. "Come here..." I said and he looked up at me, the tears falling down his cheeks. He slowly climbed up towards me and sat next to me. I reached my hand out and placed it in his again. It was then that I realised that his hand was shaking.
"He was...going to make me kill you." he said, his despairing voice breaking as he spoke. I looked to my left to watch him and he was looking straight ahead at the wall opposite the bed.
"Come on..." I told him, squeezing his hand. "You need some sleep." I moved my body down, so that my head was resting on the pillow, and he followed. We turned onto our sides facing each other and after a moment of looking at his eyes, I shut my eyes.
I lied there for a few minutes, keeping myself awake so that I wouldn't have a nightmare when he was with me, but found myself flinch when I felt a small pressure on my arm. I was surprised to feel Clint's hand touch my shoulder and make it's way down my bare arm, landing on my forearm, making my eyes flutter open and stare at him. I was wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, but I felt comfortable this way about Clint and knew he wouldn't take advantage, especially in his current state. His eyes were wide and intense, heavy breaths escaping his lips, but I wasn't sure what he wanted.
"What do you need?" I asked, confused as to why we was holding me.
"I need to know that you're real. I know you don't like being touched, but p-please...I need to know you're real." he said with desperation, tears forming in his eyes. I really didn't like being touched by people, but I was more familiar with Clint. He was the only person that I would allow to be this close.
I nodded and let him put his arm around me. He pulled me close to his chest and held me tightly, causing me to feel a little claustrophobic, but it was worth it if it meant Clint was feeling better. We stayed like that for the whole night, him holding me tightly against his chest as I gently moved my hand up and down his back, whispering that it was always there when he started shaking. The reassurance put him at ease as after a while he stopped shaking as he began to fall asleep.
He continued to come into my room for the next few weeks, staying with me like that until his nightmares were better. I knew that the nightmares would never stop for him, but I could help him at least. My showers increased for a while, but I found myself not needing more than 5. I thought I would've needed more as having someone lying with you every night was an intimate situation, but I guessed that my body had gotten used to Clint being around. After about four weeks, he said that he was feeling better and he stopped visiting me at night. I didn't tell Clint about the nightmares that I had, even after knowing him for fifteen years. Because of his visits during the night, I had to sleep for two or three hours during the day to keep myself awake. I always was a private person and I didn't want him caring too much. He knew that I had them, but we never discussed the matter. Whenever we were on a mission together, I always requested a separate room. If we had undercover missions together when we had to be in the same room to maintain cover, I never slept incase I did have a nightmare and he found out. I didn't want to make his condition any worse either.
Things returned back to normal, us switching between Avenger's missions and S.H.I.E.L.D missions. I was uncertain about whether I was an agent or an Avenger anymore. Me and Clint worked together on most of our missions, but after a few years, Fury assigned me to work with Rogers for a while, wanting to mix up the team and get us to interact with different people, Clint working with another agent for a while.
Fury reassured me that it was only temporary, but I still wasn't very happy with it. Me and Steve got along okay, but I missed having Clint around. I still saw him for a few days of the week when I visited the tower occasionally. I even made up the excuse that I needed to sort out my clothes and some other weapons, though Clint was the real reason why I wanted to be there. Our friendship was strong and having a new partner wasn't going to break that.
Me and Steve worked quite well together, which surprised me, but it wasn't as flowing as mine and Clint's. I didn't go into the partnership believing that it wasn't going to be as good as mine and Clint's relationship, but it just wasn't. We worked efficiently though, acting as the new STRIKE team while Clint was doing some private training with another. Then HYDRA had to get involved with everything.
I spent time away from the tower, away from Clint, working out how to fix the mess that HYDRA had caused. After saying goodbye to Steve and Sam at the graveyard, I made my way to the city and stayed undercover for a few days, keeping my emergency phone on me. I remembered getting a few calls from Fury about gaining a new cover and joining the Avengers, but I didn't feel like joining the team, not without definitely knowing that Clint was definitely going to be on it too.
It had been about a week since I said goodbye to Steve and Sam. My trials were over and I wasn't expecting there to be anymore. My last speech gave quite a statement about me, showing the world that I wasn't afraid of the government. Even though I had been public on televison, I always managed to sneak back into my hotel, changing into a wig and a different set of clothes to make sure no one recognised me. Because I had helped expose HYDRA, they didn't keep me in a cell and let me roam like the other Avengers.
The phone rang and I gladly put down the horrendous magazine I was reading to pass the time. I looked at the caller. CLINT. I immediately picked up the phone and put it against my ear.
"Nat?" I heard his voice ask over the phone. I could tell that he was worried, because his usual sweet voice sounded more serious.
"Clint..." I whispered, feeling relieved to hear him. I had missed him over this past week. I wanted to go back to the tower, but that would mean joining the Avengers and I wasn't sure whether they wanted me there or not. Fury said they did, but Fury didn't speak for the Avengers. I had practically betrayed my country, giving all of S.H.I.E.L.D's secrets to the world.
"Tasha, where are you?" he asked. I decided to tell the truth, knowing that he wouldn't tell anyone and that we were too close for him to bug the call.
"Hotel in the city." I replied, sitting up on my bed, looking at the bag that was already packed. I was stubborn. I wanted to go to the Avengers, but I needed to know that they wanted me there.
"Are you coming home?" he asked. The Avengers Tower wasn't my home, but me and Clint knew he meant himself. I thought about it for a second...and I realised that he really was my home. I had no memories, nothing of my past apart from the Red Room and Clint, only one of those being stored in my mind with positive memories.
"Do you want me to?" I asked, getting up from where I was seated to pace around the room slowly.
"You're my home too remember." he reminded me and I stopped pacing to smile at his sentiment. I should've only guessed that we would've gotten this close after 13 years. I knew from the beginning that joining S.H.I.E.L.D might have been a mistake. I wasn't sure what path I would be on if I didn't join the organisation...where would I be if I didn't meet Clint?
"I'll be there in a while." I replied and hung up the phone, getting my bag and walking out of the hotel suite to Clint. To my home.
After meeting up with Clint and settling into the tower again, I spent the next year fighting with the Avengers, standing side by side with Clint most of the time. However, in the late months of 2014, Fury called me and assigned me to another mission, one that I really wasn't a fan of.
I picked up the phone, wondering why Fury was calling me. Clint was casually sitting on the sofa, drinking a coffee and looking on the internet for something. We had finished another Avengers mission yesterday and we were spending time together like we always did after missions, sitting down and drinking coffee. I preferred vodka to coffee, but apparently that isn't an appropriate drink to have in the morning according to everyone else. I say everyone else, but Stark was one person that agreed with me. However, agreeing with Stark wasn't usually a wise decision, so I stuck to coffee in the mornings.
"What is it, Fury?" I asked, placing my coffee cup gently on the glass table, worried that I was going to break it. Stark had hardly touched his trillions by making up new Avengers rooms for us. I was more than grateful and put him on the list of people that I owed debts to.
He told me what he wanted and I had to stop my jaw from dropping. "Hang on a moment" I said, getting up and heading into the bathroom, leaving a confused Clint sitting on the sofa. When I was safely in the bathroom, walking over to the other side of the large room to get further away from the door so that Clint wouldn't hear our conversation I asked "You want me to what?!"
"I need you to start a romantic relationship with Banner." he repeated. I was shocked by Fury's request. Not only did I not like doing inside seduction missions anymore, but Fury wasn't my boss.
"I'm sorry, but I don't work that way anymore." I told him strictly. I didn't want to do this, especially to Banner. He was the Hulk. What if something went wrong? Banner was a good person and didn't deserve to be played by someone like me.
"Romanoff, you do understand that the team's safety is at risk here. Banner told his therapist that he was considering leaving the Avengers, because it was too dangerous." he informed me and I shut my eyes. That wasn't good. If Banner left, that would mean the Hulk wasn't there to protect us and the world. "We cannot have the Hulk away from the Avengers."
"And you think making him fall in love with me is the alternative?" I asked and he sighed.
"He has a history of emotional weakness. A friendship isn't enough to make him stay, he has that with Tony. We need to use that to our advantage and, for the minute, convince him that the Avengers is the best place to be. Romanoff, you are doing this. No arguments."
I sat on the side of the bath and put my head in my hand. Clint was not going to be happy about this. "What do I tell the others?"
"If you mean Clint, Coulson, Maria, any of those people, don't even think about it. Don't tell any of the Avengers either. No one can know. Maria has been briefed and Coulson has been left out of it, seeing as the other Avengers, apart from you and Clint, think that he is dead."
"When do I start?" I asked, trying to forget about the idea of keeping a secret from Clint.
"Now." he replied and hung up the phone. I heard the end dial tone and slowly brought the phone away from my ear. I was perfect for the job, probably the most qualified out of the team and not just because I was a woman. I had been trained for taking down people with my charm. It was one of the main tools that students in the Red Room would use to complete their mission.
I put my head in my hands and groaned. I didn't want to deceive Banner, he was one of my teammates after all, but if Fury needed me to, then I guessed I didn't have a choice. I walked back into the room, slipping the phone into my pocket as I did, and sat down next to Clint who was raising an eyebrow at me.
"What did Fury want?" he asked and I quickly made up an excuse.
"He asked me to go for another interview for the press, but I refused. They already know everything about me and I've already delivered my statement." I told him and he nodded, furrowing his eyebrow slightly at my answer. I couldn't tell whether he was angry at Fury or didn't believe me, but he let it pass.
After a few months of seducing Banner, I noticed that Clint was becoming more and more detached with me, his answers short and snappy, like he was irritated. I let it pass, but it came up in my brain now and again about why he was so bothered. Maybe he was protective of me in the same way I was protective of him?
Following the sceptre's re-capture, a party was held for our achievements. Tony did that mainly because he wanted an excuse to get drunk, but no one ever brought it up to the group. I remember Clint being with a woman that I didn't recognise and I felt my nerves jolt under my skin. I was always concerned about who he was dating as I didn't want him to end up with the wrong woman. He deserved more than getting his heart trampled upon. The woman was wearing a short, red dress that showed off every perfect curve. She was wasn't skinny, but she wore her curves well.
I wasn't sure what type of woman Clint went for, but when I did set him up with people, they had to funny. Clint seemed to find them the most attractive, caring more about the personality than what the woman looked like. I had the serum in me, so I was unnaturally beautiful, but Clint had never made a move on me. Perhaps he didn't find me a funny person, but then again, I don't think anyone did. He would laugh at the attempts at jokes that I made, but his jokes were much better than mine.
I noticed when the pair of them left the room to go and...do something I guess. I didn't care that Clint slept with people. Maybe the woman was actually really nice and I caught her with a bad style choice? Not likely. The woman seemed like a bimbo and I couldn't believe that Clint was actually going to sleep with her. Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to make myself a drink and flirt with Banner for a while, keeping up the mission Fury had set for me.
Later that evening, Ultron came and threw the whole party on his head and I thanked the invisible, make-believe God in the sky that Clint was here to throw Captain his shield as no one else probably would've gotten to it in time. He nearly got shot, but managed to avoid it, the robot shooting the glass instead. Clint always seemed to make a mess during battle, especially with glass. My mind went back to when he threw himself through a window during the battle of New York, which had caused bruising on his back that I took care of.
After Wanda brought back the memories of my past, I didn't even sleep. I spent the whole time awake, Clint trying to take care of me. Clint took us to a barn that he owned and said that he was saving it for when he retired. He took me inside and made sure that I was okay, not being as comfortable as he had been for the past couple of years. The past few months, he had been off with me, and I think it had something to do with me manipulating Banner, but he didn't know what I was doing.
I settled into my room and was staring up at the ceiling the morning after we arrived. I decided to take a shower, but realised that there was someone in there. Banner came out and I seduced him, trying to get closer to him. I decided to tell him about my Red Room past, trying to make him see that we were similar in that aspect. Fury told me to get close and that's what I was doing. I hated deceiving Banner, trying to manipulate him and make him attracted me.
When it came to the battle in Sokovia, I was situated to go after Banner, making sure that he turned into the Hulk as Fury had instructed hours ago. I kissed him, a kiss that I didn't want to perform, but Fury needed the Hulk, not the scientist.
The Hulk flew me up to the country and I fought my way through the robots around me. That's how I ended up running over the rubble of the destroyed buildings, making my way towards the ships taking away the Sokovians. I arrived at a side entrance, quickly hiding myself behind a building as I saw bullets hitting the ground making their way towards something. I didn't see what it was through all of the dust covering the surface.
I hid my body until the ship had flown over and looked back at who the shots were aimed at. I saw Clint there and panicked, thinking that the bullets had hit him, but then discovered that the bullets had hit Pietro instead. I ran towards them both as Pietro said something that I couldn't quite catch to Clint and then slowly dropped on the floor. I heard Wanda scream and had to block my ears from the sheer force of it, the power of it physically hurting me. I tried to put her misery out of my mind as I ran towards Clint.
"Clint!" I shouted, catching up to the car that he was stood behind.
"We need to get him back to the ship. We have no idea when this rock is going to drop." Steve said as he lifted Pietro's body from the ground. I was upset about the Sokovian, but, as much as I hated to admit it, Clint was my priority. Thor tried to take the child out of Clint's arms, but he held onto it tightly and walked past both me and Thor towards the set of ships. His eyes were set on the mother that was sitting on the ship.
"Clint..." I whispered, feeling a little rejected that he had not even looked at me yet. I was distracted when I saw Hulk jump into the ship that Ultron was on and I didn't have time for the fake relationship I had built with Bruce right now. I ran onto the miniature helicarrier, trying to find Clint there, but I couldn't see him. I saw a pair of Nike running shoes resting upright that were poking out of the end of the far bench on the floor, tied onto the bottom of a lifeless body that I couldn't fully see. The running shoes were the one's Pietro wore.
I walked over to him as the ship started to leave the city and saw Clint lying down on the seats next to the dead man. He had his eyes shut and I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, and say that I was sorry, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I went back to the other side of the ship and stared out at the destruction being caused. How did it come to this? I thought as I leaned against one of the seats.
I saw a dead bodies on the floor of the country and shut my eyes, thinking about how we could've saved them, but images of my past kept forming in my mind. Ever since Wanda attacked me...I couldn't get rid of them. But there was no time for that. I needed to get a grip and carry on. I watched the country suddenly fall, making my breath catch as I saw Steve only just make it on the next ship that was leaving. I let out a sigh of relief when the country exploded a few moments later, not making impact with the ground, and I saw Vision carrying Wanda in his arms to the helicarrier.
As soon as the ship landed, I didn't wait for Clint. Standing on the ship made me understand that I needed to deal with the Hulk. Once Fury told me where he was, I got onto the computer and immediately video called him. As soon as the call connected, I started to explain to him what to do. I made sure to use a private room, so that no one could interrupt our conversation.
"Hey, big guy." I said, staring up at the creature that almost killed me. "We did it. The job is finished. Now I need you to turn around, okay? We can't track you in stealth mode. So help me out. I need you to turn on..." I stopped talking after a moment, realising that he had cancelled the call, his image now longer on the screen.
I sighed and leant back in my chair. "No answer from your boyfriend?" I heard a voice call bitterly from behind me. I spun round and saw Clint standing there, not even realising that he had entered the room until now. He was trying to be funny and tease me about Bruce, but his voice was completely void of humour.
"He's not my boyfriend." I told him, truthfully. Our eyes locked and I could see the tired look on his face from the hours of battling robots. The emotional toll must've taken a lot out of him too. I wasn't sure whether him and Pietro were friends or not, but seeing someone killed in front of him, one of the members of his own teams, can't have been healthy for him. Blood was dripping down from his shoulder that was from Ultron firing bullets at him and the child he had earlier.
"I know." he replied and I narrowed my eyes at him in a mix of confusion and annoyance.
"You knew?" I asked and stood up from my chair, letting myself get closer to him.
"You suddenly taking an interest in Banner of all people? Are you joking? Of course I knew." he said, not trying to sound arrogant at all by what he was saying. He knew the romance had no truth, because he knew me too well.
"It was-" I began, but he interrupted me.
"Fury. I know that too." I nodded my head, realising how he knew. Everything was making me think back to the Red Room. I couldn't get the images of being experimented on and used as a weapon out of my mind. Clint hadn't been around much these past few months and I didn't get the chance to properly talk to him after Wanda attacked me. I just need him to hold me like I held him after Loki. I felt my heart crush against me and I felt the oxygen slowly being taken out of my lungs. I was suddenly coming to realise how Clint must've felt that I lied to him, right to his face.
"The phone call." I replied, realising how he had come to the conclusion that I was on a mission. "He told me not to tell you." I felt my emotions over-power me, something that had never happened in front of Clint, and I clasped my hands together to stop him from seeing me shaking.
"Yeah, I figured that too." Clint said, walking towards me. He was looking down at the floor, trying to avoid my gaze, and I reached my hand out to touch his in hope that he would look at me. He flinched away, but I reached out to catch his hand.
"Nat..." he whispered, shaking his head as he withdrew his hand from my fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his tone hushed and eyes not moving from the same spot on the floor.
"Clint, please." I said, surprising myself as well as Clint. I never thought that I would hear myself beg. I felt my emotions choking my throat and it made me want to cry out in fear. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breaths were short, my eyes filling up with tears that were going to spill out any second. I saw Clint's eyes look up and soften at my fragile state. I didn't want his sympathetic looks. I wanted to speak up and tell him to stop looking at me in that way, but I couldn't find the voice to. I couldn't lose Clint, but I was going to, because he didn't trust me. He didn't want anything to do with me. I knew I wouldn't feel like this tomorrow, but for now...I was done...I was just done.
"I can't...I..." I was going to say that I couldn't lose him too, but the words never came out of my mouth. He swept me up into a hug and pulled me tight against him, his arms snaking around my waist to hold me up as I cried into his chest. I placed my hands on his shoulders, because I couldn't find any effort to push them all the way up around his neck.
I hadn't cried in years, not since 2001 when I was in the Red Room. I had felt tears come to my eyes occasionally, but never had a real cry, not even to myself. I had told myself to remain strong and not break down. My chest was tight with pain and I was practically wailing into his chest, my tears spilling onto his shirt. My body began to shake and he took one of his hands away, pushing one of my hands around his neck to stop me from falling. I used the hand to grip onto his neck, leaving the other on his chest. One of his arms was on my lower back, around the side of my waist to keep my steady, and the other was higher on my back to keep my body close to his. I had never wanted him to be this close before. When Loki delved into Clint's mind, it was different. He needed me and I allowed him to hug me, so that he could heal. I needed to heal now and I needed my best friend back.
I stood there, hanging onto him like a monkey as slowly rubbed the bottom of my back with his thumb. "I'm here." he whispered, reassuringly into my ear. The soft breath that left his left caused me to shiver, but I don't think he noticed as I was shaking from shock anyway. I was shocked that I could be so emotional for one. When Coulson 'died', I remember Clint telling me that I could still cry and that I was human. I had argued that I don't think I even had the ability to cry, but Coulson 'dying' did hurt me. I didn't cry, but tears were definitely in my eyes. Finding out he survived was one of the best days of my life.
Clint was drawing little lines, back and forth, on my back with his thumb and I tried not to think to much on it, but it was more than comforting for me. The tears in my eyes were slowing as he leant down and stroked my head with the side of his. Clint continued to hold me for at least fifteen minutes after I stopped crying. I wondered whether he too had the feeling that we needed remain close to each other, but he was probably doing it because I was still shaking. He kept me against his hard chest until I stopped shaking and pulled away, one of my arms sliding to rest on his shoulder. He cupped my face in his hands and wiped away the tears trails that had been left.
"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, removing one of the hands from my face, the other remained on it. The heat from his hand was warming not just the side of my face, but my entire body. I knew it was only chemicals flooding round, but I felt myself want to squirm out of his touch because it was too comfortable and I knew it wasn't appropriate. My heart kept pumping rapidly and I shut my eyes, trying to forget about the effect he had on me. The dark shade behind my eyes brought up images of the Red Room in my brain, forcing me to open them again. I withdrew the hand from his neck and he stroked my face once more before taking away his hand too, allowing my heart to return to it's normal rhythm.
"I'll be fine."
Hey! This chapter took me a whole 14 HOURS to complete with all the checks, so please I am begging you to review! It is linked in with my Pietro and Riley story and I will try and update once a week for each story, but I can't promise anything. So the pairs in these stories will be Maria and Steve, Riley and Pietro, Nat and Clint and Sam and OC. There will be four different stories all linking in with each other and will be posted in order, the Pietro and Riley story not quite in order with the rest as I began that first. I was going to do Pepper and Tony as well, but decided that it would be too much to handle doing that as well.
PLEASE REVIEW!