AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is technically not canon. However, I am working on a story where Clint was an assassin before SHIELD, so this fits with that verse. Don't shoot me. I get it, it's not 100% accurate! And I know that Natasha would kick the arse of whoever was stupid enough to make an attempt on her life, but either way Clint would not stand for it. Spider-squishing privileges are only his and only when he can beat her at hand-to-hand.
The theory is that people turning up with arrows stuck in them is conspicuous so Hawkeye would be a bit legendary, especially teamed with the Black Widow. Infamy? They Has It. He would be more well known than Natasha because she varied her methods and preferred stealth, but Clint used archery.
For those who wanted some Clintasha, I love it so will stick it in at every opportunity over the story. However, I'm not that good at romance, so... no promises.
~*pagebreak*~
"I want to hire an assassin."
Kevin Smith spoke perfectly clearly. He didn't mumble, mutter or murmur; he plainly stated what he wanted. So why exactly was the Boss looking so baffled?
The Boss was the leader of a prolific agency of hitmen, with contacts in every country and alliances with every branch of assassins and terrorists in the world. If you wanted somebody gone, you went to the Boss and he would patch you through to the best assassin for your specifications. Simple stuff.
"You do?"
Kevin faltered somewhat. "Err... yes?" He wasn't sure why he made that a question. He did say it already. "I mean, yes. I do."
The Boss blinked and shrugged. "Right. I just wasn't expecting it. A man of your name seems to not be the assassin-hiring type. An insurance salesman, maybe," he mused, tapping a pen on the oak desk. "What does an insurance salesman need to hire a hitman for?"
Well, that was unexpected. "What?" he gaped, before remembering that this was probably the most powerful criminal in the underworld and closed his mouth. "Err, right. I need to hire one to kill Natasha Romanoff."
He was not expecting the Boss to explode with laughter.
"You are a funny man, Kevin," he choked out between chuckles. "I like that."
Kevin blinked. "I'm serious. The woman spurned me in Rio de Janeiro. I need revenge!"
The Boss stopped laughing. "Are you insane?"
The frank question was startling. Kevin nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged, a bit baffled.
"I don't think so... why?"
"Only a crazy person would try to kill the Widow! Apart from the fact that she herself is a skilled assassin, do you know who her partner is?"
Kevin shook his head, still confused. "Umm... should I?"
The Boss sighed. "Look, kid, you go and do your research properly and I'll go and see if I can find somebdy stupid enough to take the hit. Come back on Tuesday."
Kevin nodded, bolting for the exit. That was one strange conversation he was keen to discontinue.
**~pagebreak~**
He was in Switzerland now, in a stark room full of master assassins. This was the procedure. The Boss would select a country, then send the customer to meet the Assassins' Council for that country. If all went well, you would leave with one enemy fewer and a few hundred thousand dollars lighter. If not, you would wake up in Siberia, if you woke up at all.
"Who's the target?"
Kevin fumbled in his pockets. He had taken the advice of the Boss and not mentioned a name, instead procuring a picture he had swiped off her back in Rio. A redhead with a gun in one hand, pointing a paintball gun at the person beside her. He held it out to the Council, willing his hands to stay steady.
He was met with a shriek from the Council leader.
"Treachery! You mean to lure us to our deaths! Treachery!"
They all drew weapons from various places. Kevin barely had time to wonder where that woman in the fitted jumpsuit had hidden that Glock before they were all pointed straight at his heart. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow.
"What?! No! I just want this woman killed!" He stabbed a finger at the abandoned photo on the floor, fear coiled in his stomach. The leader laughed darkly.
"As if we could accomplish that. We are not fools- this is the Black Widow. She is a capable killer, to say nothing of her partner!"
The assembled assassins shuddered as one. Kevin flushed. He hadn't quite managed to do the required reading on the Widow or her infamous partner yet.
"Her partner?"
The leader motioned for him to pick up the fallen photograph. Kevin nearly fell over himself to do so. When a man holds your life in the balance, you damn well pick up what he wants you to pick up.
Shaking, he held it out. The leader snatched it off him, waving it furiously.
"This man," he hissed, beckoning him forward. Kevin leaned in to examine the picture more closely. A man stood half in and half out of the frame, pointing a paintball gun at Romanoff. He was nothing special. Tall, with sandy hair and greyish eyes-
Kevin blinked, looking closer. Those eyes held his attention. There was something... off about them.
"This man-" the picture was waved around again, nearly knocking off the rather ostentatious hat of the woman beside the leader. "- this man, is Hawkeye! We will have no truck with him! We will not go near him, we will not attack him, we will not do anything at all which hints that we may have the tiniest emotion towards him which he could perceive as in the slightest way threatening! We don't even think dangerous thoughts near him!"
Kevin was a bit confused, and a bit terrified, and a bit confused because he had a feeling that he should be very afraid of this man but he had no idea why, and a bit annoyed that he couldn't isolate enough of one emotion to stop referring to it as a bit.
"But... I don't want to kill him. Just Romanoff."
The leader shrieked and lunged forward to clap a hand over his mouth, looking quite deranged.
"Don't say that!" He whispered, looking around as though he thought someone could hear him. "Don't even think it! You never threaten his partner! NEVER! Understood?"
He nodded, eyes wide above the hand still clamped over his mouth. He resisted the urge to bite it. He knew he would be leaving in several bags if he did. He just wanted to get out and ask the Boss to try another agency.
The leader withdrew his hand, wiping it on his front. "Go. Leave now, and never contact us again. Ever. We will have no part in this."
Feeling faintly miffed by his rough treatment, Kevin scooped up the picture and went to make his exit.
"By the way, Kevin," the leader's voice halted him. "You might want to do something about the name. You sound like an insurance salesman."
**~pagebreak~**
This was insane. This was beyond reason. This was abso-bloody-lutely nuts! He had been to almost every country in Europe within the space of two weeks, and every time they turned him away either laughing or scared off their heads! Italy- the Council leader had heard "Hawkeye" and hidden behind the desk, wildly shrieking "he's not here, is he? Is he?!" Britain- "You'll be bloody lucky!" Germany- was fine with it, until they actually tried to assign an assassin. They all called in sick on the same day. Every single assassin in Germany called in sick to avoid the mission. Holland- the Council had tried to throttle him for saying the name aloud. Freaking Lithuania- "We don't do business with loonies, Kevin." China- "我们不要乱用鹰或寡妇，疯狂的推销员!" which he thought translated into another jab at his name and question as to his sanity.
Which brought him here. To France, in the Parisian Assassin's Club, which he still could barely believe existed. He was just hoping that this time, somebody would let him hire an assasin already!
"So, you are the one we have heard about. The one seeking to kill the Veuve Noire and spite the Hawk."
Kevin shook his head, frustrated. "I don't care about this Hawk! I just want to kill the woman!"
He was extremely jetlagged and at the minute would quite happily trade his whole plan for revenge for a nice cup of coffee. He had no idea who this Hawkeye was but quite frankly he was sick of the featherbrain already.
The French leader- known only as "Jean"- frowned.
"You cannot kill one without the other. They are inseparable, not as in the small child "we'll be friends forevermore" sense, but as in you cannot separate the sky from the earth. Without each other, they are nothing. Together, they are unstoppable."
Kevin snorted. "A spider and a hawk. Not exactly the most compatible pair."
Jean frowned again. Kevin felt rather chastised under such disapproval. "You should not mock the hawk. He is not only dangerous, he is deadly. He was an assassin in America when he was seventeen years of age. In one year, he took 137 jobs. 137 people died. He was so good at his job, he could afford to give the target twenty four hours of warning, to pretend to even the field. One arrow sent through their window, through the centre of a picture of them. He dropped out of the agency years ago, but still bodies turn up now and then with the arrows of the hawk."
Kevin blinked. He could have sworn that he said arrow, but that was insane.
Jean read his expression. "Yes, arrows. He shoots with the bow and the arrow, and he never, ever misses."
A faint chill ran up Kevin's spine. He got the feeling that the French agency would be no help, and was proved right in the next moment.
"I believe our business is concluded. I apologise for your wasted journey."
Mumbling acceptance, Kevin turned to leave. It could have been worse. He could have insulted his name-
"Oh, before you go," the leader called. He stopped, swearing under his breath. "What was your name?"
He sighed. "Kevin. Kevin Smith," he mumbled. Cheeks flaming, he ran. Not quite quickly enough to avoid hearing the laughter behind him.
**~pagebreak~**
With the Boss' words ringing in his ears ("Please try not to let him know about Hawkeye. I am actually running out of countries to send you to!"), he made his way towards the meeting room. Perhaps the Russians would be more amenable. The Boss was getting desperate and had forgone the usual formalities in favour of a straightforward meeting with Steven Bogrov, a stockily built assassin famous for his deadly chokehold.
"I need to kill a woman. But she is well guarded."
The man merely shrugged. "I can get through protections. She will be disposed of."
Kevin grinned. Maybe this would be fine after all. He should just leave it at that and leave.
His traitorous mouth worked against his will. "She is guarded by Hawkeye."
"ястреб?" Steven shrugged, unconcerned. "I can handle. I met him once. He would probably not shoot me on sight." The hitman paused. "Possibly. What is this woman's name?" he asked, knocking back a drink.
Kevin could barely believe his luck. "Natasha. Natasha Romanoff."
Steven sprayed his drink across the table. Kevin staggered back, wiping coffee from his burning face.
"черная вдова?! Нет! никоим образом не в аду, сумасшедший американец!"
Kevin wasn't sure whether he had been insulted or not, but the expression on the previously confident assassin's face had him scurrying for the exit.
"We do not fight our own! We do not touch the Вдова! Cтраховой агент!"
**~pagebreak~**
Kevin flopped down on his bed with a frustrated half-groan, half-scream. Seventeen countries across three continents, and none of them would let him hire an assassin. For God's sake, all he wanted to do was kill one woman! He sat up with a sigh and scooped up a dart, aiming for a map of the world on his wall. Maybe it would land in the middle of the ocean and he'd have to try Atlantis.
"You're doing it wrong."
Kevin considered himself a very reasonable person. So when a man literally fell from his ceiling to land in a graceful crouch inches from his nose he did not scream girlishly, but it would have been a perfectly reasonable reaction if he had. Really.
"Youthewhothewhatyoujustdowhaaaaargh?!"
He dropped the dart and fell off the bed in shock. A strong grasp on his upper arm yanked him to his feet. He straightened involuntarily as he was hauled upright to face the intruder. A tall man with sandy hair, stormy grey eyes and a quiver strapped to his back. His gaze wandered to the bow in his other hand. His mouth popped open in horrified realisation. Oh, shi-
"I'm Hawkeye. Nice to meet you. You're the guy who's been trying to hire someone to kill my partner."
The words were said lightly, but those eyes hardened and became impossibly cold. Kevin felt rather like he was drowning in the pools of mercury, hypnotised and terrified. He stuttered a little and stepped back. The man- the Hawk- smiled coldly.
"Yeah, good luck with that, kid. The only person on this planet who could kill Tasha is me, and I have no intention of trying. You're aiming that dart wrong."
He casually bent and plucked the fallen dart from the carpet, tossing it over his shoulder without so much as a glance. It hit the map with a soft thunk- exactly over Manhattan. Roughly where they were standing, actually. Kevin felt a bit faint.
"Umm. Yes, well, I may have been trying to get that done, but I didn't! I didn't hire anyone!"
Kevin attempted to look earnest, though it was rather hard in the face of such an unimpressed expression.
"Not, I see, for lack of trying." Hawkeye flopped on the bed, pulling out a StarkPhone. He muttered something along the lines of "stupid Stark replacing my stuff" before tapping the screen to pull up a document.
"This is a list of the seventeen agencies you tried before admitting defeat, including the KGB, the Italian Mafia, the Parisian Assassins' Club and the Triad. I'm impressed at your determination, but- sadly for you- both I and my partner have free reign and immunity in the underworld of every country in the world excepting Eritrea and Sealand. We're still working on those." He slipped the phone into his pocket, fixing his gaze on the shell shocked man.
"So. Who the hell are you, and what do you have to do with Tasha?"
Kevin's mouth dropped open indignantly. "You don't know? She didn't tell you? She didn't mention how we met in Rio and she spurned my advances and knocked me into the fountain?! She ruined my suit!"
Hawkeye's brow furrowed. "That's it? She knocked you into a fountain? Why?"
Kevin flushed. "I may have refused to give her photo back unless she went out with me. She overreacted!"
The archer ran a finger along his bow contemplatively, seeming perfectly at home in Kevin's apartment. "Hm. This was last year?"
Kevin nodded, indignation returning as he recalled the incident. Hawkeye smirked.
"Do you remember who she was meeting in Rio?"
He frowned and cast his mind back in an effort to remember. There had been a carnival, and the pretty Russian, and she said...
"Leave me alone, little boy. I'm meeting a friend."
He had smiled jauntily, keeping hold of the picture that fell from her bag. He glanced down at it. Her beauty was captured on the glossy paper, a recent shot. She was wearing the same green hairclip, though her expression was very different.
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "I can be your friend."
She snorted in contempt. "I have my friend, and he is better than you could ever be."
His ego was flattened slightly, but he pressed on, determined to at least get a smile, if not her number.
"Give me my picture and go."
He shook his head mischievously. "Nope. Have a drink with me first."
She narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. "I said, give me the picture and go." Her accent became more pronounced as she became irritated. A voice drifted over. "Hey, Tash, look! A shooting stall! Want to beat the highscore?"
Her face softened almost imperceptably as she turned to the voice. She looked back at Kevin, leaning in. He leaned in as a response.
"I could kill you in sixty seven ways right now with no sound, blood or evidence. Not to mention that my friend sees everything and does not like people. I suggest you cool off now."
She reached out and grasped his hand almost tenderly, before yanking over her shoulder and into the fountain behind her. He hit the water with a splash, drawing attention and laughter like flies to honey. He spluttered as she stalked off, hair billowing behind her as she touched the elbow of a tall man with light brown hair. They melted into the crowd, leaving only a soaking wet Kevin, a slightly water-spotted picture bearing a name and the lingering scent of her perfume.
His eyes widened. "Oh..."
The man smiled grimly. "Oh," he agreed, standing fluidly. "Now, I should kill you for threatening Tasha, but I really can't be bothered filling in the paperwork. So, I'll just leave you with this thought." He leaned down to Kevin's level, watching as he squirmed.
"I am a sniper. An assassin, a deadly shot, and I could kill you at any given moment. On your way for a coffee tomorrow from a building three blocks away or in five years time on your wedding day. On your birthday, on a bank holiday, on Christmas, on the weekend or just when I get bored. You should be on your guard at all times, at all hours. Sleep with one eye open, because you never know when your luck will run out. So, Kevin Smith, ex-insurance salesman with a name to match." He sat on the windowsill, head cocked to the side as he grinned. "Do you feel lucky?"
Shaking, terrified, Kevin watched as the master assassin jumped from his third floor apartment. He looked up to see the cover of the air vents missing and a post-it stuck to the ceiling.
Stick to insurance, kid. The Hawk sees everything. Love, Hawkeye =P
Two days later, Kevin moved to Eritrea.
~*pagebreak*~
"Hey, featherhead, where've you been?"
Clint shrugged his bow off and stashed it carefully on the wall-sized display board Tony had put on the wall after seeing his and Natasha's arsenal ("You people could storm Fort Knox if you wanted!" "How did you know about that?" "... oh God, you actually did?!" "Oh sh*t.") of weapons stashed in about fifty duffel bags in their rooms. Bows, tasers, rifles, pistols, automatics, semi-automatics, a bazooka and a couple of swords. Despite contrary belief, archery wasn't the only archaic weapon Clint could use. The board didn't contain all of their weapons (old habits died hard, and survival instincts died harder. Plus they didn't want to freak Stark out further if he saw the miniaturised cannon and RPGs) but it was a nice thought.
"Nowhere special, just tying up a few loose ends," he said easily. Tony frowned.
"That sounded ominous. I don't know about anybody else but considering where you're standing, that sounded ominous to me."
He gave a half smile. "Did it, now?"
"Yes it did."
"You want to know where I've been?"
"Yes."
"Fine, I'll tell you."
"Really?"
"Nope."
"...I hate you."
"Love you too, Stark."
He sidestepped Tony, leaving him scowling in the hall as he breezed into Tasha's room. He was met by an icy stare.
"I just received a message from Steven Bogrov. He says to claim no ties to an insurance salesman from Manhattan as you were likely to do something drastic."
He attempted a smile. "Well, I wouldn't say drastic-"
"Clint. Have I ever given the impression that I need help?"
Her voice was decidedly frosty. He shook his head, chastened.
"No."
"Am I some helpless maiden, a damsel to be rescued from peril and protected from the outside world?"
She took a step closer.
"Certainly not."
Another step.
"Then why did you not leave me to deal with the threat myself?"
They were only a few steps apart. He paused, trying to put a name to his reasoning. He did it because he wanted to protect her, to make sure that creep never came near her. He did it because he owed her for saving his butt so many times. Because he had seen her attacked too many times. Because if he had such a bad reputation, he might as well make use of it. Because no one but him would ever know that she was touched he would track down a potential threat and neutralise it before anything could happen to her. Because she was everything to him and he would sooner cut his own throat than let anything harm her. Because Budapest. Because their ledgers were both red, but they didn't care about that. Because they both were the only person they would sleep in the presence of. Because the look she had now, half annoyed, half amused and wholly his, was worth it.
"Because... I love you."
"Love is for children," she snapped automatically. The distance between them slowly shrank as they inched closer together.
"I never had much of a childhood."
"Nor did I."
"Then let's be childish together."
Their lips met, pressing together in a chaste but sweet kiss. Drawing away, Natasha smiled, a real, soft smile.
"I think I can do that, my hawk."