Snowflakes.
Clint Barton hated the cold. So, while on a mission in the middle of Russia, having to stakeout a skiing trip isn't the most fun thing to do. He had to admit, though, it did have it's perks...
He was stuck on a cliff in the Caucasus mountains, in Russia with Natasha. They two of them were watching a group of potential targets of a certain hostile group, the name of which, Clint could not pronounce.
"Clint, it's simple," Natasha tried to get him to say it again.
"No, Tasha, it's not, I don't speak Russian!" Clint yelled between laughs.
"Shh!" Natasha looked around worriedly. "We're on a stakeout until the terrorist gets here-"
"Nat, we're fine. There's no one here... It's just us up here. Just you and me."
"And snow!"
"Snow...?" Clint looked up. He had been so focused on being close to Natasha that he hadn't noticed the little white flakes falling around the two of them. Natasha smiled, as if the small little offenders brought back a fond memory, but they just made Clint colder.
He shuddered, pulling his arms around him tighter. His bow, which was slung over his shoulder was being pressed uncomfortably into his back, but Clint just took it as a reminder that he still had blood flowing through him, and he wasn't completely frozen yet.
Clint looked back at the mountain. Several couples were coming down at a time. They all seemed so happy and cuddly. It made Clint feel sick to know that those people led completely normal lives, but at any moment one of them could be shot and killed.
"So, what are you thinking about?" Natasha's voice broke though Clint's thoughts.
"Hmm? Oh," Clint shook his head, a few snowflakes falling out of his hair. "I'm just worried for these people. They don't even realize it, but they're targets for one of the most dangerous in Russia." Clint looked down at the snow.
He wasn't paying any attention to anything around him but the sinking feeling in his stomach. You'd think that after three years and who knows how many assassinations Clint's had to carry out, he'd be used to these kinds of things, but every so often he started to feel uneasy with guilt. Was he truly any better than these criminals?
"Yes." Natasha spoke softly. "You are better than them, Clint."
Clint hadn't realized that he'd said all of those things out loud, but was happy to hear someone else actually talk about it for once.
"Clint," Natasha moved closer to him. "You're not like them because you're working to help the people who have been targeted. You're saving so many more lives every time one of these terrorists die. Just because you're taking the life of one man doesn't mean you're not saving those of a hundred others at the same time."
Clint looked up at her. The hard, serious exterior Natasha put up as an assassin was slowly falling, and Clint could see Natasha really cared about this. He wondered how much thought she had given to the subject.
"Thanks, Nat. You always know just what to say..." Clint mused in a voice filled with sarcasm.
Natasha shook her head and kept watching the mountainside. "Whether you want to listen to me or not, I have no say in, Barton. But at some point or another, we all think about it. That's just how I live with myself."
Clint looked back up at her. Her expression was stony and cold, and Clint couldn't quite tell what was going through her mind. Natasha's face was masked by her red hair which was now flecked with snowflakes.
Clint reached a hand out to tuck her hair behind her ear. When his hand brushed her face she turned to look at him. Clint could barely stand looking into her bright green eyes. After the conversation they had just had, he could see the sadness hidden behind them.
For a minute he just held her face in his hand. Natasha didn't seem to mind, as she didn't move away. From the corner of his eye, Clint saw another couple go down the mountainside. He dropped his hand from Natasha's face and turned his attention back to the skiers.
He could hear a sigh escape Natasha's lips, but she returned her attention to the couples as well. The two executed the mission properly and returned home the next day without speaking about their conversation on the mountain again.
A/N: Hello! First time I've heard from any of you people! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, I've seen a couple of reviews and even some favorites, which makes me really happy. This chapter was short because I got a little behind on yesterday's prompt (snowflakes), and I have no idea what I'm doing for today's. Expect an update tomorrow of a really bad one!
Also, if you have any ideas on what I could write for the word "haze," I'd appreciate the help.