A/N: Hey all! I'm back, for the time being anyway. My winter break is 6 weeks long so I've been bored and got lost in the Clintasha tag on tumblr today and then felt like writing. This little fic is from a tumblr request. Pre-Avengers, Pre-Relationship.
(also the city has been stuck in my mind because of the Olympics so yeah)
The mission was supposed to be like any other, well as like any of the other missions as it could be. With Black Widow and Hawkeye, missions could sometimes end up being a shot in the dark, but with Clint's eyes that wasn't a problem. Until now.
Location:
Sochi, Russia: located along the Black Sea, in the Krasnodor Krai Province, borders Georgia/Abkhazia. [Mission Base: Radisson Lazurnaya Hotel, Sochi - 103, Kurortny Prospect; Room 1731]
Mission Objective:
Undercover as Nastasia and Ciaran Breckinridge. [Nastasia, having studied in Scotland, fell for Ciaran, a former classmate. The two decided to marry after dating for two years. Nastasia and Ciaran decided to move back to her home city, being Sochi. Ciaran speaks intermediate-level Russian and Nastasia translates when needed. The two are set to attend social event hosted by Vladimir Slomenkov in ballroom of Radisson Lazurnaya Hotel, September 15th. Slomenkov has known ties to "Grandpa Hassan".]
Identify and locate mafia high-boss "Grandpa Hassan" [believed to be Aslan Usoyan], neutralize target and surrounding forces, extract information containing property deeds and bio-chemical warfare blueprints from targets computer, keep neutralization quiet as long as possible. [Risks: "Grandpa Hassan's" protection, rival mafia gangs, possibility of false intelligence, possible government backlash.]
It was 77 degrees fahrenheit on the night of the 15th, almost balmy for autumn in Sochi. Clint had chosen a lightweight gray suit with a deep ocean blue tie. He was trying to get on small cufflinks when Natasha walked into the living room of their mission suite. She was dressed in a strapless, golden cream gown that came to her knees in the front and hung a bit lower in the back. Her red curls pinned back in a somewhat messy, completely complicated bun.
"Stop fidgeting." Natasha said curtly. She and Clint had been working together for almost two years now, but her manner was still cold. She stopped walking in front of him and held out her hand. When Clint didn't understand what she wanted she raised her eyebrow and almost roughly grabbed his wrists and he held them out in front of him.
Natasha undid what Clint had tried to make of the cufflinks. "Hey-" Clint said, but Natasha only ignored him.
Deft, almost cold fingers brushed against Clint's hand as she worked and Clint couldn't help but watch her work, imagining all the blood that had been spilt by the hands so close to his pulse points. As soon as Natasha's hands were there, they were gone, having made quick work of the sleeves. As she went to retrieve hers and Clint's shoes from the other room, Clint called out.
"Don't you have a jacket?"
"Я русский, I don't need a jacket." She said with a frighteningly blank expression. Clint knew Natasha had to be a little on edge this mission, it was her first mission back in Russia since he made a different call in Moscow, yet she seemed unfazed and that fascinated him. After a short silence, they were about to walk out the door when Clint spoke again.
"You've heard of Slomenkov before." He didn't say it as a question, but she answered anyway.
"There's not many Russian criminals that high up that I haven't heard of, or worked for." She said with her back still turned.
Clint paused a moment before asking his next question. "Has he heard of you?"
Natasha turned around, her green eyes like steel. "Without a doubt."
Clint and Natasha became Ciaran and Nastasia the second they set foot outside their door. Natasha hung off of his arm like a good little newlywed and Clint looked at her with not-totally-falsified admiration. It wasn't hard to admire someone like Natasha, Clint thought. The two had entered the magnificent ballroom shortly after 10 o'clock that evening and Natasha was out flitting around like a butterfly, mingling with the other guests, once in a while catching the eye of Slomenkov. Since Ciaran only spoke Russian like an elementary school student, Clint decided it was best if he lay low at first, only talking to Natasha and those who spoke to him first.
Natasha came back to where Clint had temporarily stationed himself at the bar and he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close so they could talk without anyone else hearing. Natasha, or rather, Nastasia giggled and looked down before placing her hands on Clint's neck and giving him a shy smile. Clint smiled back at her before speaking.
"I don't think there's a man here that hasn't thought about stealing you from me for the night." He said and his eyes flicked over to where he and Natasha knew Slomenkov and his men were. "Well, maybe except for them." He added as he looked pointedly at a pair of men in the corner, almost standing closer than he and Natasha.
That got another giggle, a more honest one he'd like to think, out of his stone cold partner.
After the meal and desert had been served, the food was some traditional Russian dish who's name Clint couldn't pronounce, he turned his head when Natasha put a hand on his thigh.
"Танцуй со мной." (Dance with me.) She said with a smile on her face, but something else hiding in her eyes. It was only when they were among other dancing couples that either of them spoke again. The room was loud with music and voices, so Natasha had to get so close to Clint's ear for him to hear her that he could feel her breath on his neck.
"He's here." She said simply.
"How do you know?"
Natasha put a sly smile on her face to make it seem like she was whispering other than mission information in his ear as they swayed together. "There's a man in the balcony, he and Slomenkov keep exchanging glances before one of Slomenkov's men leaves for five minutes and comes back with a small piece of paper for him."
"You're sure." Clint said, he sensed there was more she wanted to say, and this was his way of prompting her.
"That's not the only thing I'm sure of." She said before she pulled back and looked Clint in the eye.
"He knows who I am."
Clint supposed he should have been taken aback that her cover was blown so early in the night, but he didn't have a good feeling about this mission from the start anyway so he wasn't all that surprised. Then an idea sprung into his mind and he grinned.
"Well, then let's at least make a show of it." He said before twirling Natasha around as a new song started. Natasha caught on right away as he knew she would. The pair danced around the semi-crouded floor, drawing attention from quite a few people, but it was only really two pairs of eyes that mattered to them. Natasha and Clint made sure to keep up their personas by drawing their faces close after a particularly daring move, lips almost meeting a few times. Clint lead them closer and closer to Slomenkov, and when they were sure they had his attention, along with the man in the shadows of the balcony, Clint lead them right to where Slomenkov was standing.
Keeping Natasha in a close dance hold they came within three feet of the man, Clint looked him in the face with a devious smile on his face while Natasha's eyes immediately went straight to the man on the balcony, "Grandpa Hassan", Aslan Usoyan. Natasha winked at him before she and Clint disappeared back into the crowd and found a dark hallway where they knew the two men would send guards to conspire what to do with the two assassins in their midst. The wait was not a long one.
"Черная вдова." (Black Widow.) The first man said.
"да." (Yes.) The second replied.
"Do we know who she's with?" The first man continued in Russian.
The other chuckled. "No, but with her reputation, he won't last long. We know what the bitch does to men who get too close."
"Nonetheless, Usoyan will want both of them dead."
"Perhaps we should keep the Black Widow alive, she could be useful, for a good fuck if nothing else."
"Enough!" The first voice roared. He seemed to be the more sensible of the two, also meaning he was more dangerous and probably Usoyan's man. "Get others and split up. Those two not leaving this building."
Clint looked to Natasha once he was sure they were clear for the time being. Before he could speak Natasha started, "We wait until the second man comes by, I'll take him up a floor to the room directly above this. You get in through the rafters and leave the door unlocked, stay in the shadows, he doesn't need to know you're there. I'll get the location of Uroyan's and then he dies."
Clint nodded quickly and found his way to the room.
Meanwhile, Natasha started to head back towards the ballroom when she heard a voice behind her.
"Where do you think you're going?" The man said, luckily it was the one she wanted.
Natasha smiled and turned around to face him. "To enjoy the party, of course." She said with a deadly innocence.
"We both know you're not here for that." He replied with a snarl before shoving her against a wall and pinning her hands above her head. "I have half a mind to kill you now, carry your body to the balcony, and hang your lifeless flesh over the ballroom floor for everyone to see."
"That would be too easy." Natasha said. "I could be useful, you know, for a good fuck if nothing else." She repeated his words from earlier and rolled her body firmly against his, noticing the effect she already had on him.
Somehow, the man found himself following Natasha to the room she had specified, needing little persuasion with the thought of sex hanging above his head.
"Something to drink?" Natasha asked as she deliberately leaned over to look in the mini fridge.
The man had to clear his throat slightly but answered no. He walked up behind her as she stood up and pressed himself against her back. He ran his hands all over her, up from her hips to her defined waist, over the swell of her breasts before Natasha turned around in his arms and he grabbed her ass. Her hand snaked it's way south and her fingers wrapped tightly around him over his pants.
"Maybe we should take care of this in the bedroom." She said in her husky voice.
The man was completely under her spell, Clint could see that the moment they walked in the room. He did as Natasha said, he stayed in the shadows, she knew where he was of course, but the man didn't even know he was there.
Natasha set to the work she was trained her whole life to do. She seduced the man on the bed until he was half naked and telling her his deepest darkest secrets while she did her best not to go too far, that just wasn't how SHIELD worked. Both Natasha and her current mark were still clothed below the waist, but Natasha straddled him and with one more precise roll of her hips she had the location of Usoyan's computer, and the man had a new stain on his pants. The man's eyes were closed while Natasha looked to Clint and mouthed 'Go'. Clint lingered a moment but when Natasha gave him a look that told him she would clean up here he understood and silently left.
"Such a good boy." Natasha said as she pressed herself against the man. When his hand started to slide up her leg she stopped him. "Uh uh, you really don't want to do that."
"It's not fair if I'm the only one being pleased here." He said in the deepest voice he could muster while trying to roll them over.
"I'll get my pleasure soon enough." Natasha said as she slid the knife out of it's sheath strapped high on her thigh. The man had no idea what was happening until he felt the cool steel of the blade against his throat.
"I shouldn't have trusted you, whore." The man spat in her face.
"That's the only smart thing you've said all night." Natasha said, once again putting on a calm mask before quickly slitting the man's throat. His blood now covered her and the dress, but she didn't care, she figured she wouldn't be leaving this room through the front door.
She swung her legs around so she was sitting on the edge of the bed and set to cleaning her knife with the hem of her dress. Two men came around the corner, no doubt there were more behind them.
"You're not usually this hard to catch, Black Widow." One said. Slomenkov, Natasha recognized the man as she raised her eyes to meet his.
"My reputation proceeds me." Natasha said with a smug smile.
"You must have more nerve than I thought, and a half decent partner, for you to show your face around here again. Tell me," He raised his arms beside him. "Where is the one who has survived you for so long?"
"I think you know the answer to that, Slomenkov." Natasha said as she turned back to her knife, making it as clean as she could.
"I think you should put that down." The man to the left of Slomenkov stated and stepped forward.
Natasha, too quick for the man to process, flicked her wrist and sent the blade into his heart without so much as a glance at the now dead man.
"Impressive, little spider. But enough of the child's play. There are many people that want your head, most of them want your cunt first though, so I don't get the pleasure of killing you where you sit." Slomenkov said as he stepped into the room and out of the doorway.
"Pity." Natasha said. "And I had dreamt of a merciful death." She said sarcastically before looking right at the man, her eyes both aflame and cold as ice.
"We both know that was never your fate, Natalia." He growled. He snapped his fingers and his men began to rush at her.
She stood up and had two of them down before they could land a hit. She didn't see any guns on the foot soldiers, but that didn't mean other weapons weren't there. She managed to pull her knife from the dead mans chest and another from a live one's belt and fought hard. Kicking when her knives weren't needed, slashing when they were, but the stream of big men was never ending. One man got a hit on her and bruised her cheek, another cut her arm more deeply than she would like to admit. It seemed Slomenkov was getting tired of the match and yelled for another one of his men. Natasha only caught a glimpse of him, but he was small, A scientist, she thought. The thought gave her opposition a split second to land another hit and before she knew it, Slomenkov drew a pistol with a silencer and shot her in the right shoulder. The small man towered over her as she lay on the the floor and into her left arm he stuck a needle.
It was a few hours before she woke again, she decided, though the light of the moon still shone through the blinds. She was tied to the bed, arms and legs spread so she could not easily undo the restraints, not like she had much of a chance with her injured shoulder. The small man had wrapped it to stop the bleeding, they did want her alive after all. She couldn't be sure what they did to her while she was out, but based on the soreness between her legs, it was none too honorable. She tried to block images of her past from popping into her mind. That's what they wanted to do, break her. They wanted her body alive but her mind in ruins before they sent her back. She knew they would send her back there to Ivan and Alexei and James, to all the others in the Red Room. They would have the last say and anyone who got in their way would be killed, she was sure of that. She had not yet opened her eyes, hoping to stall the men as long as she could so that Clint could get the information and get her. She wondered where in the hell he could be, it wouldn't have taken her this long to hack the computer, and these men would have told her if he was captured or killed. Anything that played to her dismay was what they needed. Clint had to be fine, he was a good agent, and wary on this mission. He knew something was up the moment she said she knew who their target was. Her thoughts got foggy and then clear again as the medicine continued to wear off. He would save her. Fog. It's been too long. Clear. He would come for her here. Fog. They only stayed here because Clint would think they've moved. Clear. But he had to come, he was her partner, that's what they did. Fog. He'll search, but by then you'll be long gone, physically and mentally. Clear. Natasha's eyes fluttered as she tried not to think about the possibility of going back.
"Ah, she's awake, sir." The small man said.
"How observant of you." Slomenkov replied sarcastically.
Natasha turned her head to look at the him. "Vladimir." She said softly.
He turned to look at her, a bit perplexed.
"Could you be a dear and fetch me some water, my mouth is awfully dr-" She began, but was cut off by a hard smack to the side of her face, whipping her head away from him. She could taste blood started to pool in her mouth and smiled at him again.
"Not so dry now, I take it?" He asked.
"Mmmm, this is much better." She stated. She shifted her body on the bed, arching her back in the process. "You can't do it you know."
When Slomenkov didn't seem to catch on she continued.
"You can try all you want, but you can't do it. Go ahead, hurt me, shot me, cut me, rape me," The last words left her mouth like they were poison, "But you will never break me. Compared to my childhood, this is nothing, this is child's play at most."
"So you're saying you want more?" He replied and turned towards the window. "I can do that. There are still a few hours of dark left, I could have you well on your way to Uncle Ivan by then, never to be seen again by the friend who accompanied you here tonight." He turned back towards her. "You know, he is fond of you. Too fond if you ask me. I watched you two all night, the way he touched you, so gentle and innocent, and you played right along almost as if you liked it. Oh, don't tell me you've fallen for him too. We both know what happened last time the Black Widow fell in love."
Natasha noticed a soft, familiar sound and knew it could only be one person with a weapon that quiet. Still, she needed to distract Slomenkov as long as possible, so she raised her voice over the not quite silent thwack of the bow.
"I do not love him. I am forced to work with him, see him day and night, listen to his dumb jokes, and worst of all he doesn't even use a real weapon. He uses a bow of all things! Cavemen used those. It is no weapon for an assassin if you ask me. He does not deserve to work with the likes of me, but I am stuck with him. And look where it got me." She ended as she motioned to the restraints, but grimaced when she moved her shoulder too much.
"Then it seems we are saving you, Natalia." Slomenkov stated.
"Likely story." A voice said before an arrow head appeared in the man's eye socket.
Clint stood and stared for a moment, Natasha couldn't tell if it was because she was tied up and bleeding, or because of the things she had said just moments ago. She started to stir and get herself loose and that seemed to break whatever spell Clint was under.
"Don't move." He said curtly. He started to untie her arms and legs, not looking at her, but treated her with the utmost care.
"Clint-" She started, but didn't really know what to say.
"I understand, you didn't mean it, just needed to distract him." He said truthfully.
Natasha was still wondering why he was acting so weird, and her cloudy mind wasn't helping. "Then why are you...you're so...not you...sad...what, why?" She managed.
He stopped for a moment to look at her. "You didn't come back, I got worried." When she tried to rebut him he shushed her. "You're hurt, badly. Medical is on their way." His words were bland but his eyes were soft and full of emotion.
By the time Natasha woke again, she was in the medical bay of the helicarrier. She had slept more than she thought she would, and she hated it here. Her shoulder throbbed and ached, and her face was sore, along with her cut arm and other places. She must have made a noise because a nurse entered the room to check on her and give her water. The nurses around here were always wary of agents like her. Always the most volatile and hated being poked and prodded with needles and the like. The nurse only hovered for a minute and then left Natasha by herself, it didn't last long though. Clint entered the room, along with the smell of freshly cooked food.
He stood in the doorway, unsure if he should come in now that she was awake. When she nodded at him ever so slightly he came and sat in the chair next to her.
"How's the arm?" He asked.
"Fine." She lied. He knew.
He looked down at his lap. "That's not true."
Natasha looked at him, heated. "What does it matter to you?"
Clint looked back to her with guarded eyes. Something flashed there that she was still to tired to catch. He cleared his throat and pulled over the hospital bed tray table and placed the food on it. "Here." He said before he left.
Unbenounced to most of the world, Clint was actually a pretty good cook. Whenever they had a tough mission and he could tell something was off with her he would cook so they didn't have to go to the cafeteria aboard the flying boat. She was grateful that she didn't have to eat the bland food they gave recovering patients today.
She must have dozed off again because when she woke, it was dark outside the window, and Clint's head was next to her on the bed as he sat in the uncomfortable chair. She could tell from his breathing that he was sleeping, but only lightly.
She shifted a bit on the bed and he stirred.
"Why were you worried?" She asked outright.
"What?" He asked groggily.
"You heard me." She said.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms and then stretched his back.
"Stop stalling and answer me." She said with more force.
He let out a huff of air and looked at her. "I told you, you didn't come back to the room, and I figured since you were alone in another room with one of those guys something must have happened."
"You don't think I can take care of myself?"
"No it's not that." He said, brows furrowed. "Tasha, I-"
"Don't 'Tasha' me. Did you at least get the information?" She asked quickly.
"You brought this up, don't change the subject." He said.
"Answer me!" She almost yelled.
"Yes!" He said just as loudly. "Yes, I got the fucking information."
"Good, that's what matters." Natasha said as she rested her head back against the pillows.
"Not it's not!" Clint raised his voice again. "Yes I got the information, yes Slomenkov and Usoyan and many of their men have been neutralized, but they just as well could have taken you."
"They didn't-" Natasha started.
"No, they didn't, but you're hurt. They cut you, hit you, shot you, did whatever else to you-" Again the words were like poison.
"I'm fine." Natasha insisted.
"No, you know what, Natasha? I've had enough of your shit. This whole, 'they can't break me no matter how hard they try' game, the fact that you're denying that you're in pain, it's total bullshit. And you know what else is? This whole act where you try to be stubborn and insist you don't know why I was worried, why I still worry about you. You're human somewhere deep down in there. You know damn well why."
Before Natasha could form a though in response to that, he was gone.
After two more lonely days in the medical wing, Natasha was released. The doctor would have liked her to stay longer, what with her gunshot wound and all, but he knew she wouldn't stay longer than she wanted, none of them ever did. Natasha wandered for a while, not really sure where she wanted to go. She wasn't cleared for training, so the gym was out of the question, the cafeteria would be full of trainees and other agents that she really want to see right then. Her room would just be another room for her to be cooped up in more than she would like. He probably wasn't in his room, he rarely ever was but to sleep. She decided to check the one place that he thought no one knew about. She had silently followed him there one day, and had snuck away unseen.
"I'm sorry." She said once she got there and saw him looking out over the water from the window, her voice was still rough and it surprised her for a moment.
"Huh." Clint said.
"Clint, I-" She began.
Clint turned to her. "Don't apologize just because you feel like you have to."
He was still hurt, she could tell. She needed to fix it. "I don't know how."
Clint looked confused. "How to what, apologize?"
Natasha shook her head and looked down, in this moment she felt more naked than she ever had with all her clothes off. "I don't know, just, all of this."
When Clint's expression didn't clear she continued. "I don't deal with people well, not when I'm just me. On missions, sure, give me a catholic priest and I'll show him the ways of the bedsheets, but me? Real people? No, I don't know."
"You know why I was worried, right?" Clint asked as he stood and walked to her.
Natasha nodded. "If I were in your shoes I'd feel the same way."
"It's not just that, Tasha." He continued, walking closer. "I care about you."
Natasha looked into his eyes and for once he saw no walls. No lies to keep people out, nothing that wasn't just Natasha.
Clint wrapped her in a gentle but strong hug, still mindful of her injuries, and Natasha could still feel his pain of her not understanding. But she understood now.
"I'm sorry." She repeated, this time a whisper.
She wrapped her good arm around his waist as his arms tighten around her. How long they stayed like that, neither could tell, but neither of them seemed to care. Both of them were okay for the time being, both halves of a whole. Strike Team Delta.
A/N: Woah. That one got away from me. My mind just ran with that shit. Well I hope you enjoyed that and it didn't scar you too much.
Much thanks to tumblr user swietek93 for the prompt!