Disclaimer: Don't own Avengers.
A/N: Clint Barton's an American Olympic archer. Natasha Romanoff's a Russian gymnast. There is no dating between teams. But hell, Clint's never paid attention to the rules.
"Clint are you listening to me?" asked Phil.
The archer rolled his eyes. His coach had been lecturing him for the last hour. They were on the plane to Budapest for the Olympics. Fury stalked down the plane.
"Barton. You know the rules, correct?"
Clint smirked. "Don't get caught sleepin' with the Olympians on other teams. Why you never tell Steve or Thor that?!"
Fury growled, "Because Steve doesn't sleep with anything in a skirt and…"
Clint fired back, "I didn't sleep with Phil when he went to the fancy-dress party in drag. I still have that video."
Phil smacked the back of his head. Fury looked at him with… well, fury.
"Thor is not going to sleep with someone. You on the other hand might."
Fury surveyed the Iowan archer with no small amount of anger. He was cocky, good-looking and knew it. Groupies flocked wherever the team went to see the 'Dream Team' but especially the archer. Tony worked behind the scenes but the rest of the team thanked him at every performance. Thor was in the hammer throw, something he excelled at. Bruce swam and Steve ran the long distance runs. Clint… well Clint shot things. He was an archer but he did the skeet shooting as well.
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"Just watch yourself around the Americans Natasha." warned her trainer Ivan.
"I promise. I am determined to win. Nothing is going to distract me from the competition."
Ivan nodded and they waited for the plane to land in Budapest. The Russian team headed to the baggage claim. Natasha spotted her green bag drifting towards her. She reached for it and pulled it off. Then Ivan cursed.
"What's wrong?"
"The Americans with the loudest mouths are here."
Sure enough a group of men were walking down the line. Natasha automatically noticed how good-looking one of them was. He had sandy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. She recognised Tony Stark from the last Olympics.
"Hey fellas, let's go meet our Russian compatriots." called Tony.
The group followed him, apart from the sandy-haired one.
"I'm gonna go get the bags but I ain't fuckin' Jarvis Stark!" he called.
"I should hope not. He's a computer."
The sandy one stuck his middle finger up at Tony and jogged over to the baggage carousel. He reappeared with six bags.
"Where's Salt?"
"Don't call her that!" shouted Tony.
The other one rolled his eyes. Tony recovered himself and turned to Ivan.
"Sorry about that. I'm Anthony Stark but everyone calls me Tony."
The sandy-haired one whined, "We gotta do a meet-and-greet with fuckin' Russians? I want check out the hotel and the female gymnast team!"
Tony winced visibly and Natasha found herself disliking his teammate exceptionally.
"I apologise for my countryman."
Ivan easily said, "It is no problem Mr Stark."
"Tony please. This is Steve Rogers; I believe Alexsei will be going against him in the 5,000m? This is Thor Odinson; he's in for the hammer. Bruce Banner is swimming the 100m and the offensive person is Clint Barton, our archer and skeet shooter. What are you competing in?" he directed the last question to Natasha.
"The trampoline."
Clint turned and broke into a broad grin. "I think this Olympics is starting to pick up. What's your name?"
"None of your business." she responded coldly.
Clint laughed. "Hi None-Of-Your-Business, I'm Clint. I hope we can be friends over this Olympics."
"I hope Hell is cold as it will need to freeze over."
"That's you told Barton." said Steve happily.
Clint shrugged. "Nah. More of a challenge."
He winked and walked off with his bag. Tony apologised and the others hurried after their friend. The Russians caught up to them at the door.
"He's taken the bus. He's taken the bloody bus!" shouted Bruce.
"Pepper, baby! Phil! Fury! He's taken the bloody bus!" called Tony.
Fury rolled his good eye and pulled his phone out.
"Where are you Hawkeye? No I don't want to meet the newest gymnast! I want to know what you think you're doing! I… Stop speaking Russian!"
Ivan took the phone and shouted at him in Russian. He handed the phone back.
"He went from Russian to German to French to Spanish to Hungarian to Finnish to Swiss and then to several other European languages."
Phil sighed and took the phone. "Clint. Stop. Messing. Around. Get. The. Bus. Back. Now. Yes. I am in a bad mood. My star has just stolen the tour bus. Get it back now. YES I WANT THE DRIVER! I DO NEED TO SHOUT BECAUSE IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GET THROUGH TO YOU!"
Natasha raised an eyebrow as the bus skidded to a halt.
"Ivan, would you care for a lift back to the Olympic Village?" asked Fury.
"We would be delighted."
By the time Natasha got on the bus the only seat left was next to the obnoxious archer.
"Hey. So None-of-Your-Business, how are you?"
"Do not be obnoxious."
"Don't be rude." he countered. "What is your name?"
Then he asked her in Russian. As far as Clint was concerned he liked the look of the redhead. She was beautiful, gymnastic, what more could he want? Too bad they were on opposite teams. Not that Clint ever paid attention to the rules.