Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
A/N: This one sucks, I'm telling you right now. But I was procrastinating writing the multi chapter? Idk, this happened anyway.
'First time…' Clint Barton thought out loud sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed. '… you drove a car. I was 17 and it was this beautiful red 1970 Chevy. She was a dream…' he remembered fondly.
Natasha chuckled. She was lying in his bed and rested her upper torso on her elbows in a somewhat sitting position. 'Easy. I was 16 in a mission in Ukraine. I think it was a Volkswagen…' she shared.
'You got a Volkswagen for a mission? Really?' Clint looked at her like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard her say.
'No, I said I drove one. It was a getaway car. I was trying to avoid getting killed, I needed a rapid exit, so I stole one.' She explained, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face.
He turned his whole body to be in front of her. He used both his arms as support behind his back and Natasha changed into a more comfortable sitting position, her body to Clint, using the wall as support.
'Your turn.' He said to her and she rolled her eyes.
They had been playing that stupid game he had come up with for the last hour or so. They were on a mission in Barcelona. It was a simple in and out in a couple of days thing. Their job consisted mostly on surveillance; staying still in one spot all day taking notes about who went in or out of the warehouse. They had checked it the last two nights and since it had been dead empty, they had taken the night off.
Natasha thought her inquiring options carefully. Clint had a lot of games he'd come up with on boring mission nights that had helped developed their relationship quiet a lot. This was one subtle way to learn a lot more about each other and opening up at the same time.
'First time you went out of the country' she asked, but shared her story first. 'I was… 14 I think. Latvia.'
He nodded, not asking for further information. He knew she meant a mission. One of her old missions, so he didn't ask unless she shared.
'Well it wasn't until SHIELD for me, actually. Got shipped off to Portugal.'
'How old were you?' she asked
'You know, it's rude to ask that.' Clint answered, earning the pillow she threw at his face. He took it and used it to rest his head on the floor. 'Ok, I was 34. Now… First time… let's see… first time… oh, how about this one? First happy memory you have.' He hesitated and finally asked. 'Mine is of my mom. Must've been like 5 or 6. I remember her baking cookies on a cold winter and letting me help her. Just her and me. And then eating all the cookies afterwards.' He was smiling sheepishly the entire time he was talking. Then he looked at her and kept smiling.
She hesitated for a moment. She looked down at her lap and then back at him and smiled a little bit. 'Our third mission together. We had dinner and then you bought me an ice cream our last day in Italy. We still had a few hours to kill before heading back home.' She didn't meet his eyes.
He smiled softly. 'Yeah, I remember that…'
She looked at him and suppressed another smile. 'First friend you ever made.' She smiled at an old ghost. 'Tatyana. She was a year younger than me. Died before she turned 15.'
'I'm sorry.' Clint mumbled. 'I guess my brother Barney…' after a silent minute he added. 'I don't know if he counts.' They both felt silent.
'First adult dinner you ever made' he went for a lighter theme.
'Wait, you've actually cooked before?' she asked sarcastically and he threw a shirt he found on the floor at her. She dodged it easily but laughed.
'I'll have you know, Agent Romanoff, I'm an excellent cook… When I wanna be.' He stated proudly.
'That's yet to be tested.' She smirked.
'Fine. It's a date. Prepare yourself to be overwhelmed by my cooking skills.' They both laughed it off.
Suddenly, Clint had a brilliant idea and asked. 'I'll go again, I don't want you mocking me… First time.' He looked at her, smirking at her furrowed brow. 'First time. Sex I mean… I'll start. I was 17, she was 18 actually. Amy Graham. Met her at a bar I sneaked into once… '
Natasha looked at her lap again, her demeanor shifting to a bit uncomfortable when it was her turn to share. 'Nikolay. We were both 15. He was actually really sweet' She stared into nothingness, giving the floor a warm smile as she remembered. 'He was my first of many things, turns out. First time, first cheeseburger, first date…first real mission' she looked at Clint with a smile and then dropped her eyes to her lap, losing the smile. 'What does it say about me…' she began 'that I have the fondest memories of a boy whose father I killed?' she shook her head, sad.
'What d'you mean?' Clint asked, dropping the game and listening to his friend 100%.
'It was my first time out in the world.' She gazed at him. 'I had been ordered to extract intel from his father, a corporate guy. I had to retrieve information and then… then I had to killed him.'
Clint jumped from his place on the floor onto the bed next to her and patted her leg in comfort. She looked at him sadly, silently thanking him for not yet hating her.
'I was 15. It was a long shot to approach him directly, so I enrolled in his son's school and worked him. The sweetest guy I had ever met, I used him to get to his father… We started going out and he finally introduced me to his family' she shook her head, ashamed of herself. 'I learned everything I could about him and the house…' she went on 'the night we did it, his parents were gone for the weekend, so when he fell asleep I got up and searched his father's study for what I needed and secured it. Then went back to bed.' She never met Clint's eyes. 'A few nights later, once I knew how to get in and out of the house undetected, I killed his dad.'
She closed her eyes, waiting to hear the door shut after he left in disgust. When she felt his arm over her shoulders, she relaxed into his neck and felt a tear down her cheek. She would never be able to atone for her past. Not in this or the next lifetime…
'They didn't even let me stay for the funeral.' She muttered, wiping a tear from her face. 'I requested to stay an extra day. They pulled me out, said my mission was done. That I was getting attached and that was a vulnerability, a potential weakness…'
'Nat…' Clint hugged her, trying to protect her from her own past. 'I had a crappy childhood, but you… you didn't even have one. They took that away from you.' He cupped her cheeks with his hands and wiped another tear from her face. He rested her head on his lap and brushed her hair.
After a while, she muttered 'Thanks, Clint.'
He smiled. 'What for?'
'Not hating me. Not thinking I'm the monster I think I am.' She started, matter of fact, looking straight into his eyes.
He was caught off guard by her statement. It hurt that she thought so little of herself. He kissed her for the first time, slowly. She quickly deepened the kiss and let herself loose in the moment. When they finally parted, panting and a lsmall smile on both faces, he said
'Budapest. That night that was super cold and you borrowed my sweatshirt without even asking?'
She furrowed her eyebrows, confused.
'That was the first time I knew I loved you.'
She smiled and kissed him again.