Author's note: Well, I am actually quite surprised at the amount of people that have actually managed to not only find, but stuck around and read the first chapter of this newest plot bunny of mine.
To be honest, I actually made this story for IvoryCrawler, simply because I had promised her a crossover, and then spent a couple years unable to figure out how to write it. This is my... I think my fifth attempt at such, and so far, it rather pleases me. Hopefully it will please you, my readers, just as much as it pleases me, IvoryCrawler, and our other, non-fanfic writer friend.
With that, I give you Bitter Coffee
Disclaimer: If you can google it and find at least 20 pages of it, or recognize it, then quite obviously, I do not own it.
Bitter Coffee Chapter Two
Someone should call me a psychic. Was the main thought going through Clint's head. Bagging a pissed off cat would have been easier than talking to Fury.
"Sir, with all due respect, she is all but stalking me. I think I have the right to at least be told why." That didn't seem to be asking for much, not even any bits of personal information - like say, a damn name - that Clint could use against her.
"And with all due respect, Agent Barton." Oh boy. Not good. A clipped tone from Fury was never a good sign for things to come. "You have nothing to worry about from her. As a promise, her information is highly classified and kept off the books, so tell Romanoff to stop digging." Clint winced at that.
Trust the old spy to know about that. "It wouldn't be the first time we had a hit from the inside." A sore point to bring up, but a statistical fact.
"I know what the facts are, Barton." Back off while you still have legs, Clint. Self-preservation was starting to scream at him, but his stubborn nature and his need to know about a possible threat kept him in the office. "Do not push this, that is an order." For a man with only one eye, Fury could give a grown man a look that made him want to run with his tail between his legs.
"What makes you trust her?" Of all the possibilities in the world, why was this one woman good enough - or important enough - to be so damn classified that Fury wouldn't write down any information?
Don't get him wrong, Clint was fully aware he was pushing the man hard on a topic he was fully intent on keeping close to the vest, but it had been months now since this had started. "I'm not asking for specifics, sir, I'm only asking for just enough to not reach for an arrow and my bow." Or any weapon really.
The man settled back slightly and Clint gave off a soft sound of relief. Looks like he'd get to live to see another mission. "I trust her only for as long as I know her motives, Agent Barton. Right now she watches you because you remind her of someone she lost."
"Oh." I'm an ass. His paranoia had given him a foot-in-mouth situation. "And you confirmed that." It was a statement, not a question, and more than a tad bit sheepish.
Fury nodded. "I did. Everything she told me that could be confirmed, has been confirmed." Even Clint knew that not everything about a person's life could be confirmed with documents and people. "Ignore her, Barton. She'll stop in a few more days."
Probably when the grief doesn't choke as much and when she goes on missions. It translated easily enough in his mind what Fury really meant was going to happen.
"Yes sir." But Clint couldn't ignore her now. He most likely knew the person she had lost, and maybe letting her know the person fell in the line of duty would help.
Not everything in SHIELD was nice and cozy, after all. Clint could name a few, relatively minor groups that had taken out a few agents, and even a few of the 'costumed villains' variety that had been popping up recently and taking out good men and women. Hell, some of them didn't even have costumes. Just lots of money to throw around.
Maybe taking the rookie agent under his wing would do everyone a bit of good. And if worst came to worst, he'd be there to take her out.
And if he wasn't, then Natasha would be.
Walking down the halls, Clint kept his eyes open and his ears trained for any sign of either woman. He didn't think Natasha would still be around after their talk, if only because she often had long term missions lines up that only few women had the right skill set of training or temperament - or all the above - for. And he knew that Serena would fine him - from across a room - if he were in the open.
It was time to, officially, introduce himself to the woman.
The best place to be seen - in the open - right now was a lobby. Especially since Clint knew he sometimes when to the lobby and did a bit of people watching.
It also helped that the lobby of the SHIELD building only had a few vantage points, all of which Clint knew just how to keep an eye on while looking casual about it.
Of course, this was all assuming that the woman knew he was still on down time, in the building still, and that she hadn't left for the day. A lot of factors were still not named yet, and Clint would have to hope that he wouldn't have to establish a pattern in order to get a conversation. If he did he could start thinking the woman was paranoid on top of all the other things he thought she was. And so far, the picture he had of her was not pretty, flattering, or something anyone other than Natasha would take as a compliment.
