Rumor Has It: Avengers Fanfiction

Written By: Katerinaki

Published: July 3, 2012

Beta'ed: No

Summary: Clint has a girlfriend, except nobody bothered to tell Natasha Romanoff. It wouldn't normally be a problem, except Natasha is always compromised for Clint. BlackHawk

Note: Thank you so much to all those who reviewed and favourited and followed this story. I don't like to do Author's Notes, but I felt that you all deserved a huge Thank You. Your reviews drove this second part along. -Katerinaki

Part 2

It was a disaster, and Clint was the only one who knew it. The dinner had gone great. The food had been good and everyone seemed to like Jacqueline. They'd managed to get through the entire meal without a single thing going wrong. Rogers hadn't asked any odd questions, Banner hadn't needed to step out to cool off, and even Stark had been tactful enough about his comments. Jacqueline had been nervous about meeting the Avengers, but they'd all been on their best behaviour. So where was the disaster?

Natasha hadn't strayed more than a few feet from Jacqueline the entire night. Clint only ever saw her hang that close to someone when the person was a mark. By the end of the night, Natasha knew that Jacqueline was born in Paris, but grew up in Saint-Lys outside Toulouse. She knew that Jacqueline's full name was Jacqueline Abelle Duval and that her parents were Yvonne and Gerard. She had an older sister, Violette, who was twenty-six, and a model, and a younger sister, Nicole, who was seventeen and still in school. She knew that Jacqueline herself was twenty-four and that she was an aspiring actress, which was how she met Clint. They'd been at a benefit that Stark threw in Los Angeles. Clint had to suppress a cringe each time Natasha got more and more personal information from Jacqueline. By the end of the night, she even knew that Jacqueline's family had a dog, named Roul which meant 'wise wolf', but it had been hit by a car when Jacqueline was twelve.

He tried to steer the conversation away from Jacqueline, but it was no use. Everyone already knew everything about each other, but they didn't know Jacqueline. That was the whole point of the outing anyways, so that the Avengers got to know the girl Clint had been dating for the last two months. The girl who'd not only captured his attention, but enraptured him. Nobody had done that in years. Well, except Natasha. But they had both agreed that it was better to remain partners.

Clint took Jacqueline home afterwards and all he heard was how wonderful Natasha was. It was lucky that he could speak French because Jacqueline often reverted to her native language, she was so enthusiastic.

"It was such luck that she wrapped up her work early and was able to come," Jacqueline said. "She really is lovely, not at all stern like you described her, Clint! Tasha, Pepper, and I are going to meet for lunch and Tasha is going to take us out to a Russian place."

"Wait, 'Tasha'?"

"Oh, yes, that's what she asked me to call her. Natasha is such a beautiful name, though. And the places she has been..."

Clint knew something was up. Natasha didn't let anyone call her 'Tasha' except for him. Not even Coulson, when he had still been alive. Stark did once and she'd almost broken his hands, calmly asking what use a mechanic was without them. Clint didn't think he'd ever seen Stark so scared shitless. He walked Jacqueline to the door and got a passionate kiss of his troubles. She offered for him to come inside, but Clint declined, citing an early morning tomorrow. In truth, though, he had a certain red-headed Russian to talk to. Jacqueline looked disappointed, but said she understood.

"Tell Tasha I am looking forward to our lunch tomorrow."

"I will." Clint took a taxi back to Stark Tower. He'd been very careful to keep Jacqueline away from SHIELD so far. Tonight was actually the first night she'd met anyone else officially with SHIELD. He never told her anything about his work, other than the fact that he worked with Natasha a fair amount of time and that he had to stay in good shape for his job. He never brought her near the SHIELD building and today was the first time she'd been within three blocks of Stark Tower.

Maybe he should've declined Pepper's offer. It might've been safer for Jacqueline. But he hadn't expected Natasha to be there! She'd been in the field for the last ten months, and then she shows up suddenly, the night he was planning on introducing Jacqueline to the Avengers? Walking in the door with Jacqueline on his arm was not the way he'd planned to tell Natasha. He'd tried to come up with a solution to that dilemma from the moment he realized that he did like Jacqueline. More than like her. Jacqueline was really the first girl after Natasha that he thought he could love. She was smart, had a good sense of humour, and was quite down-to-earth for an aspiring actress. She worked for a coffee shop down in East Village. Clint liked to frequent it when he could, if only to say 'hi'.

Clint couldn't help but grin at the thought of Jacqueline in her coffeehouse apron her blonde hair pulled back effortlessly. She always smelled like coffee beans afterwards and Clint loved to pick her up from work, even if all he could do was drop her off at her apartment.

The taxi dropped him off a few blocks from Stark Tower. Clint never took a car directly there. It was madness anyways, ever since the Manhattan incident he dare not go in the front door. SHIELD made arrangements for a private entrance the next block over that took advantage of an old prohibition tunnel. Just in case, Clint pulled a baseball cap down over his face and slumped, melding into the crowd. It was almost midnight in New York City, and the crowd wasn't any less than if it had been noon. Clint slipped into the apartment building a block from Stark Tower. He nodded to the doorman, a SHIELD agent, and then passed right on into the elevator. Rather than going up, Clint hit the "Basement" button. A small glowing square popped out of the elevator panel and he pressed his thumb to it. There was no "Welcome Clint Barton"; just a simple ring of recognition and the elevator began descending. The doors opened to a service corridor which, after a door requiring another biometric scan and facial recognition, let him into the prohibition tunnel itself. The tunnel was dimly lit, but Clint knew there were security cameras every few feet, and JARVIS could see in the dark. By the time he'd taken two steps down the tunnel, JARVIS had likely alerted Stark or someone to his arrival.

"Welcome, Agent Barton," JARVIS greeted Clint as he left the tunnel and stepped into Stark's private elevator. He didn't even have to go through Stark Tower's lobby.

"Hey JARVIS," Clint replied. It was odd talking to seemingly nobody at first, but Clint had gotten used to JARVIS being a constant as soon as he stepped into the tower, during the time that he'd lived there. He still made sure JARVIS's cameras were covered in his room and he never had any conversations anywhere in the tower that was meant to be completely private. When he talked to Jacqueline he went back to the apartment building on the other side of the tunnel. When he spoke to Fury or Hill, he went three blocks away. No reason to make it easy for Stark to stick his nose in SHIELD business. The guy hacks into the SHIELD mainframe every few weeks anyways.

"How was your evening with Miss Duval?"

"It was fine, JARVIS. Is Natasha here?"

"Yes sir, she is in the gym. I could alert her, if you wish?"

"No, that's alright. Better not interrupt her."

"Yes, sir."

Clint returned to his room and changed into workout clothes before hoping back in the elevator to go down to the gym floor. Stark had made sure they had everything. State-of-the-art equipment, a full-size boxing ring, a swimming pool, and of course a top-of-the-line steam room. They had the latest in training equipment. Not even the SHIELD gym was of the same calibre. Rogers spent a lot of time in the gym. Clint could understand why. It was easier in the gym. Punching a target, running for miles on the treadmill, it was mindless. Stark had even set up a shooting range for Clint, complete with targets that moved and never came up in the same place twice. Normally Clint went there when he came down to the gym. You could never practice too much. But this time he had a very specific reason for coming.

She was jogging when he got down there. Her red hair bobbed up and down with her strides, innocent. Well, as innocent as Natasha could ever be. She was watching a SHIELD condensed version of the news, likely catching up on everything that had happened during her long stint in the field. Her eyes flickered up from the video screen when he entered, but her expression remained just as neutral as ever.

"Hey Nat," Clint greeted her, crossing to his locker as he always did when coming down to the gym.

"Clint," she replied, only slightly breathless. Likely she'd been running since they left the restaurant. Clint flicked open his locker, but rather than pulling out his practice bow, he started wrapping his hands.

"When did you get back?" he asked.

Natasha took the cue and halted the treadmill. She stepped down and sauntered over to her own locker, right next to Clint's. "About five minutes before you walked through the door." If Natasha were any other person, her tone would be dripping with sarcasm. But Natasha was a professional, like Clint. They didn't make such overt statements. Even to each other.

"Interested in a quick spar? It's been a while."

Natasha's eyes flickered to his hands and then the rest of him, sizing him up. But Clint kept everything as calm and relaxed as he could. Things unsaid hung heavy in the air, and both of them knew that this would be more than just "a quick spar".

Natasha nodded. "Alright."

Clint warmed up as Natasha wrapped her own hands. As he paced back and forth over the mats, loosening his muscles, he tried to decide how he was going to go about this. Clint was tempted to be direct with her. He'd have to apologize at some point. He hadn't told her. She was his partner, one of the few people in the world he considered a friend. Maybe even a best friend. Clint certainly was closer to her than he had been even to his own family.

And she'd been the last to find out. Worse, he hadn't been able to prepare her or talk to her, nothing. She'd come back after ten months in the field, and there he'd been. Clint disguised his nervous cough as clearing his throat. Natasha joined him out on the mat and stretched out her own arms and legs a bit.

"Ready?" she asked, taking up a fighting stance.

Clint nodded. He felt like someone was at his back, driving a sword point into his spine and forcing him down a very short wooden plank. The sea below looked dark and treacherous, the waves crashing against the fragile wooden bow of his safety boat. As he settled into a fighting stance of his own, it felt like he'd reached those last few inches and his toes were hanging off. The sea below gaped wide, ready to swallow him up. He drew in a deep breath and took the plunge.

Fighting Natasha wasn't like fighting anyone else. They were partners. They knew each other's moves inside and out. Clint had taught her some of his moves and she'd taught him some of hers. They knew exactly how the other would react and so the fight was a flurry of blows until they disengaged and circled for a better angle of attack. When Clint broke away the first time, his ribs were already aching. She'd gotten in a few good shots. Nothing that would cause a lot of damage, but those ribs would ache and sap his strength as the fight wore on. Natasha liked doing that.

"You've certainly kept busy while I was gone," Natasha commented as they circled. She lashed out with a lightning fast kick and Clint had to put both forearms into the block. He saw the involuntary wince of pain as her shin met the bone of his forearms. She was so fast that she never gave him the opportunity to capture a foot for a takedown.

"Had to do something while you were having all the fun." Clint wanted to punch himself for his reply as soon as he blurted it out. Stupid, Barton. Think! Keep your head in this.

"Well it seems like maybe you've been having more fun than I have." Natasha stepped up her attacks and the blows came faster and harder. Clint had to go on the defensive. He could still anticipate what she was going to do, but when they broke apart again Clint was the one with a few new bruises. The last kick hit him just on the inside of his thigh. A few inches higher and Natasha would've had him, and she would've crossed the line. Clint recognized it for what it was; a warning shot.

"I doubt that. Did you get him?"

"Of course," Natasha retorted. They circled again, testing each other's defences. Both waited for the other to show their hand. When neither seemed very forthcoming, they clashed again.

"Fury gave you leave?" Clint asked.

"Yes. He thought I deserved it."

"You do. Five successful mission in a row, ten months in the field. It's long overdue."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him as she spun down to the floor, taking his legs out from under him. Clint automatically twisted, breaking his fall and rolling with his momentum. Natasha expected this, though. She stayed with him, keeping up her attack and forcing Clint to fight from the floor.

"Jacqueline seems...nice. How long have you known her?"

Clint trapped her foot with a grunt and wrenched her ankle, forcing her down to his level. They grappled, trying to gain the upper hand.

"Two months. We met at Stark's Manhattan Fund Benefit."

"And she wants to be an actress."

"Yes." Clint managed to trap Natasha against the floor, sitting over her stomach. But she bucked him off and sent him head over heels. They both rolled to their feet again. Clint had a bloody nose. His ribs were on fire, his knee had been hyper-extended in the grappling, and he was fairly certain his back would be one large bruise by the next morning. Natasha didn't seem much better. She had the beginnings of a bruise on her cheek and a thin trickle of blood wept from her split eyebrow, and those were only the injuries he could see. They should stop, but neither was willing to concede. They circled once more, ignoring their aches and pains, wiping aside the small streams of red. This time there was urgency about their steps. Clint's felt his emotions running high. The pent up frustration he'd felt from tonight, the way Natasha acted with Jacqueline, was being channelled into each punch and kick. He wiped the blood off his lip with annoyance, never taking his eyes off Natasha.

She was just as agitated. Her face might be neutral, but her posture was tensed forward and she looked like she was ready to shred him to pieces. Clint had seen Natasha like this on very few occasions. Never in a spar, though a few times out on the field. Something always prompted it though. Once they'd found out that one of their targets was slipping drugs to children in the form of sweets to that they would get addicted and be forced to come to him as adults. They barely had a big enough piece to confirm the body's identity to SHIELD.

"So, were you just going to let Stark tell me, or were you hoping that maybe I would figure it out eventually?"

"I was going to tell you as soon as you got back. You've been in the field almost nonstop for the last ten months."

"An IM would've done it!" Natasha snapped, catching him in his injured ribs again, forcing Clint to expel his breath with a low grunt. She pressed him and Clint felt like she was everywhere at once. Arms up, trying to protect his face and ribs, all Clint could do what take the punishment as she forced him backwards, towards the wall.

"But no! I get back and you're not even there! And then you just come waltzing in with that French tart on your arm! I looked like an idiot in front of everyone!" She spun and drove her foot into his solar plexus. Clint was knocked onto his back, his head cracking against the floor. She'd kicked him clean off the mat in her fury. Clint's head spun and his vision faded in and out of focus. He shook his head, trying to get it to clear so that he could defend himself, but there seemed to be three Natasha's standing over him yelling instead of just the one. He groaned, collapsing back on the floor.

"How old is she anyways, fifteen? She's probably just some flighty little bitch that wants to date Hawkeye from the Avengers! Was she there when Loki took over your mind? Was she there when the Chitauri were smashing up Manhattan? She wants to be an actress; she's just in it for the fame, the fancy dinners and galas! She doesn't fucking know what it's like! She—...Clint?"

Natasha froze as Clint's eyes fluttered shut and his body went limp.

"Blyad."