A/N: Clintasha Week Day Seven

ON TIME! (By half an hour but meh…semantics)

This is the last one; and OMIGOD I actually managed to finish them all…

My idea for this, (which may or may not be expanded on in the future) is that Natasha's parents were at the head of some crime family when they died; her uncle takes over and adopts her formally. She's all set to be married off to the son of some rival crime family when she meets Clint Barton - orphan, recently dragged by his brother into becoming part of the family. Needless to say, he falls hard for the redheaded mystery girl of the Romanoff crime family.

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She's already waiting for him in the church when he arrives, sitting in the very back pew, hands clasped and apparently praying. She's quite beautiful, even in the plain dress her adoptive father provides for her. He slides into the pew next to her, lightly touching her shoulder to alert her to his presence.
"Did you have any trouble getting out of the house?" he whispers. She shakes her head, red curls bouncing in the light of the candelabras.

"I am not sure about this anymore," her voice is shaking and he can see the fear in her eyes; her adoptive father has always scared her. The owner of the Red Room bar in town and head of the local crime syndicate, he has many friends and is extremely influential; but Clint has seen the bruises that everyone else seems to be able to ignore, and he can't just look away.

"Tasha, look at me," she does so, meeting his eyes and relaxing a bit. "You trust me don't you?"

"Of course I trust you Clint!"

"And you don't want your father to marry you off to that abusive bastard who dares call himself a man, do you?"

"He's not that bad," she denies, frowning.

"Natasha I can tell! I may be an orphan and at the bottom of the metaphorical food chain, but even I can tell that you deserve better than what your father is giving you," he hisses quietly.

"But he says –"

"He's wrong; did you ever think about that?" she remains silent and Clint grabs her hand, frowning when she flinches away from him at first. "Ivan," he spits the name like a curse, "is a manipulative ass who only cares about using you as a pawn in his twisted game of chess."

"Alexi loves me."

"No he doesn't," Clint whispers. "Alexi loves Ivan's approval and money and power."

"I'm scared!" she admits finally.

"What is there to be afraid of?" Natasha bit her lip, clutching the handle of the small bag she had packed. "What do you want to do?" Clint asked gently.

"I…I want to run. I want to run as far away from here as I possibly can. And I want you to come with me," she finally admits, clutching his hand tightly.

"Then that's what we'll do," he promises. "Tonight; we'll leave New York. Travel as far to the other coast as we can manage."

"Somewhere sunny?"

"With warm summers and cool winter," he agrees. "California, or maybe someplace in the South; Ivan will never be able to find us, he'll never be able to touch you again." She smiles at him, the first time she does so all night.

"We'll have a life."

"We'll have a future," he corrects, "outside of the Family. We'll be safe." She leans forward and kisses him, a gentle meeting of lips and tongues, and it's one of the best feelings in the world.

"We'll have a real family."

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(495 words)