Lost in translation

A/N: More fluff then you would think…?

Chapter 11

1 hour later two uneasy assassins were sitting in front of the pediatric surgery ward covered in blood that wasn't theirs. Natasha had gotten her clothes soiled when Barton transferred the unconscious girl to her arms while he made quick work of lying their way into the hospital and get the kid medical attention before they asked them a million questions. Now they were both stuck in the busy Brooklyn hospital because apparently the doctors refused to operate on the kid unless they parked their ass here and acted as her temporary guardians. What kind of bullshit was this?

The kind of bullshit that made SHIELD operatives extremely antsy. They shouldn't be here. Someone was trying to frame this kid's impeding death on Natasha and they needed to get out and contact SHIELD. But first they really needed to make sure she didn't actually end up dead.

"She's going to be okay," Clint said firmly staring at the closed surgery doors in front of them. He had no idea if that was true or not – but he damn well hoped it was true. He could feel her piercing stare burning into the side of his head. She wasn't as optimistic. There was too much blood – in the alley, on her body, on their own clothes. He finally tore his eyes away from the surgery doors and locked eyes with his rigid partner. Her green eyes were full of hidden words she didn't have the ability to say. His eyes softened in understanding.

"Not your fault," he said softly touching her face with the tips of his fingers. Natasha took a sharp breath and barely turned her head in the negative. He was wrong. The kid was hurt because someone with a nasty grudge was after her. Clint steeled his eyes and suddenly gripped her chin tightly with the same hand that was caressing her cheek moments ago – she never takes him seriously unless he takes charge.

"Not. Your. Fault. Tasha," he said determinedly with an underlying threat that dared her to argue him on this moot point. Natasha stared back at his serious eyes and ignored how the threat in his voice made something twist painfully in her gut – it wasn't fear. Natasha instantly looked away and focused on controlling her breathing. It was something so much worse. Shit. Shit. Shit. He was doing it again. Clint easily saw her internal conflict and shook his head sadly as he leaned his head against the wall behind them.

"What does it feel like to pretend you don't feel the pull Tasha?" he asked calmly staring up at the white ceiling of the hospital that smelled way too much like antiseptic for his tastes. He felt her instantly tense up beside him and closed his eyes. He pretended for just a moment he could see warmth instead of ice in her green eyes and his own raw feelings that ran much deeper than just affection reflected in her gaze instead of the current stubborn denial she was holding onto for dear life. She couldn't threaten him in her usual way so when he felt the slight prick of a knife brushing against his side he just smiled.

"Sharp knives and even sharper unspoken words Romanoff – makes you wonder why you need such strong weapons to hide behind – if you didn't have anything to hide that is," he said casually. He chuckled when he felt her shoot angry glares at his head. She was such a pain in his ass workaholic that he could barely control on a good day – and yet here they were.

"You know you never answered my question from yesterday," he said suddenly – still without opening his eyes. He felt her pause as she tried to remember what the hell he was talking about – he said a lot of shit yesterday. She froze as he leaned into her with his shoulder brushing her shoulder, his head pressed against head and his lips brushed her outer ear. She felt all the air get sucked right out of her lungs.

"Do I make you feel like you're losing control Tasha?" he whispered in her ear.

Natasha's eye twitched and the next thing he knew she had instantly slapped her hand over his mouth. She can't stand listening to him say one more word. He finally opened his eyes and found annoyed green ones staring back at him. He wanted to say more, he wanted to poke at her denial some more but then she insistently pointed at her watch and gave him a burning look. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. She chanted in her head. Clint paused.

Oh.

"Right we need to leave before the police comes looking for statements," he said with a sigh and backed off for a second. They needed to contact Hill and get her to cover up this mess before their civilian identities got registered in the system. Frankly Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff didn't even exist in the American legal system and they planned to keep it that way. He glanced back at her and caught the relief on her face. He gave her a dry look. It was actually pretty pathetic to watch.

"Don't look so relieved Tasha – you and me have a double date with a pair of geniuses who would marry technology if it was legal," he said causally while fishing out his cell phone from his pocket. She stared at him.

"Oh yeah. You're getting thoroughly checked out – whether you want to or not," he said answering her obvious stare. Natasha narrowed her eyes – she would like to see him try and force her to do anything. Clint didn't even have to look at her.

"I'll just throw you over my shoulder like the caveman you like to call me and drag your ass all the way home Tasha," he said with a shrug. He wasn't bluffing. He's done it before and she knows it. She scowled at him. He wouldn't dare. He simply smirked back at her.

"Oh I dare alright," he said as he flipped open his phone and dialed a familiar number. Natasha was in the mist of planning how to strangle him to death and make a hasty exit when he suddenly started talking.

"Hill? We need recon and civilian cover control," Clint spoke effectively ignoring his seething partner who could just sit there and cool her ass for a moment. He heard a familiar groan followed by an expected thump.

"What the hell has Stark done now?" Hill asked irritably. Clint took a deep breath.

"It's not for Stark…" he said slowly glancing back at his partner for confirmation that she was okay with him telling SHIELD about this. She ignored him as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared a hole into the ground. He took that for what it was – she was leaving it up to him. At least she trusted him enough to handle this situation. "It's for Natasha. Someone is trying to frame her for a child's murder – her codename was written in blood in the alley we found the kid in," he said leaning back against the wall beside his partner and running a hand through his hair as he waited for the inevitable explosion.

First he got was silence.

He counted to 10 in his heard and sighed when he heard Hill finally inhaled a sharp breath. Here we go.

"12 hours Barton. It has been 12 hours since we released her from medical – and now she already has a psychopath with a vendetta against her trying to get her thrown in jail for child murder?" Hill asked dangerously. Clint narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You should really think before you say something Hill – because for one, there are always people out to kill us after the number of high profile missions you've sent us on over the years and two…she's an assassin. It's not hard to frame an assassin," he said seriously. He felt Natasha suddenly tense beside him and instantly placed a firm hand on her knee to stop her from doing something stupid - like leaving the country. He could feel her eyes burning into the side of his head but didn't turn to look at her. She wasn't going anywhere. He promised her who she woke up 2 days ago that he would follow her anywhere – he would keep his promise.

There was a momentary paused on Hill's end and Clint hoped to god she wasn't going to ask for all the details right now and would just bail them out.

"Do you know her?" Hill asked carefully.

"No. We've never met this girl before. All we know is that she has red hair and looked to be around 10 years old. That's not a coincidence Hill – but we have nothing solid at the moment," Clint said cautiously. Hill pinched the bridge of her nose. God why did these agents always have to get themselves stuck in the worse possible problems out there?

"Do you know who really did it?" she asked trying to get some solid facts before she sent a team into this. Clint sighed.

"Hill we don't know anything at the moment. Just give us a break will you?" he said irritably. Hill took the cue.

"Is the kid dead?" she asked slowly. Clint took a deep breath.

"No – she's in surgery right now," he said steadily. Did that count as dead?

"So she's not dead," Hill said blandly. Clint sighed heavily – god this was draining.

"Depends on your definition of dead Hill," he said tiredly. He really didn't want to play these stupid games. She probably heard it in his voice because she was all business after that.

"My definition of dead is the definition of alive that will keep her ass out of the fire. Cleanup will be there in 20 minutes. Make yourselves scarce," Hill said curtly in agent mode. Clint sighed in relief. Coulson might be gone but agent Hill was still better than all their other options.

"Thanks Hill – we owe you," he said gratefully. He paused when he heard something shift on the other end of the line. Uh oh.

"Yeah? I'll be cashing in on that debt right now actually. Agent Jackson is down for the count due to mission injures. Congratulations you just got promoted to temporary combat trainer for new recruits," Hill said promptly dooming him in 5 seconds flat. Clint froze in shock. Natasha couldn't hide the evil smile on her face- revenge for all the crap he threw at her. Yes!

"THAT'S NOT A DAMN PROMOTION AT ALL!" he shouted in outrage. Field agent to babysitting newbies?

The best marksman in the world has been DEMOTED – what the hell?

"Too bad – see you on base in 3 days agent Barton. You and your partner just gave me a lot of homework so now you suffer with me," Hill said with a bit too much glee before she swiftly hung up. Clint gaped at the phone - he was completely speechless. Natasha patted him on the back in mock sympathy. He glared at her.

"Don't look so smug – you're going to be doing it with me," he said threateningly. Natasha paused as she considered this – kicking his ass in front of new recruits and wiping off the cocky look forever engraved on his face? Installing fear in the hearts of baby SHIELD agents even without a voice? Terrorizing the idiots in medical until they find the cure to her current problem out of fear for their lives? That sounded like a dream come true to the currently mission deprived agent. She suddenly got that evil glint in her eye that he didn't like at all. He groaned and banged his head against his knees. He knew exactly what the crazy spy was thinking.

"I really hate how your head works sometimes," he muttered under his breath as he gave up on out threatening the Black Widow and pushed himself off the hospital floor. Time to leave - the further away they were from the girl the safer she would be. They couldn't afford to have her used against them. He turned around and held out his hand to tug the Russian assassin to her feet. She continued to sit there with her elbows propped against her knees, her long red hair swept over her right shoulder and her leather fighter outfit completely ruined with blood stains and gave him the familiar Tasha is not impressed look. He had to fall back on his years of sniper training to make sure he kept his breathing under control even as his blood started pumping just a bit faster than he would like – he always knew Natasha was beautiful, a man would be blind not to see that, but what he loved the best about her was that she was a stunning fighter who was most beautiful in battle.

Or maybe that is just the soldier in him taking over his psyche again.

There has got to be something wrong with finding a woman who can wield knives like a paint brush and leaves a path of destruction in her wake without a trace of the painter's presence more attractive than the latest Jenifer Lopez modeling on the cover of those cheap magazines Steve likes to pretend he doesn't read. Natasha Romanoff turns assassination into art – and he must be really messed up to actually have a deep appreciation for her work. She's gorgeous in one of those tiny red cocktail dresses and 6 inch stiletto heels – but she's so much more than a pretty face. She's so much more than just the red that flows through her ledger.

Clint continued to stare down his stubborn partner and deep down he knows he has something better than those airheads you see on TV. Maybe he doesn't have her yet. Maybe she hasn't reached the stage he is at yet. Maybe he needs to give her just a bit more time – but he has the feeling that when he does finally wear her down, when she finally lets him in – he's going to be trapped in her dark web forever.

And that's exactly what he wants.

"Come on Tasha - I don't bite...much," he said giving her a mischievous smile as he motioned for her to take his hand. She scoffed but took his offer anyway - probably only to prove that she wasn't putting any money on his playful threat. He effortlessly dragged her too her feet but expertly pulled her a bit too hard – enough to have her slam face first into his chest with a silent oomph! She scrunched up her nose in distaste and instantly glanced up to give him an annoyed look. He simply grinned.

"Hey gorgeous – falling for any handsome archers lately?" he asked wagging his eyebrows at her. Natasha gave him a blank look and promptly glanced down at her bloody clothes. She wasn't the epitome of sexy ballroom seductress at the moment. If this was his acting he was the shittiest actor she ever had to work with in the field. She looked back up at him and gave him a look that said she thought he was full of shit and that he would need to lie better than that to fool a professional liar. He shook his head and leaned forward into her personal space.

"Still gorgeous," he whispered as the words ghosted over her lips. Natasha became stiff as a statue in his arms and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Stubborn spiders – maybe he should dump her in some water – maybe that would teach her a lesson. He wanted to do a number of things to her – but none of them he particularly wanted to play out in a hospital waiting room.

"Let's get out of here Tasha," he said calmly taking a step back away from the tense agent. He spun around and confidently walked down the hall without any worry that she would high tail it and disappear. Natasha was too proud to sneak away behind his back – it also might help that he would just stick an arrow through her shirt and drag her home if it came down to it. He smiled slightly when he felt her reluctantly fall into step beside him.

"So…wanna stuff Tony's portable Iron Man suit in his vent a see how long it takes him to find it?" he asked out of nowhere. Natasha shot him an incredulous look. Did the man's childishness know no bounds? He caught her disbelieving expression and snorted.

"He painted my bow a rainbow last week. It took me hours to get the paint out! I'm thinking about stink bombing the inside of his suit as a warning to stay away from my weapons," he said darkly but the evil glint in his eyes gave his playfulness away. Natasha clenched her hands into fists as she listened to him continue to be so normal. He was insistently pushy one second and back to his average annoying cheery self the next. It was driving her insane. He was about to continue sharing his master plan with her when she finally couldn't take the whiplash anymore. It was killing her.

Natasha suddenly stopped walking and her arm shot out to grab onto his shirt and stop him as well. He glanced back at her and watched as a storm of emotions flew across her usually expressionless face – too fast for him to catch anything. She picked up a napkin and pen lying on the magazine table beside them and carefully wrote out a single sentence. She shoved it into his hands and he glanced down in confusion to read what she wanted to say that likely couldn't be gestured through words.

'Why are you doing this Barton? Why are you still being so damn nice to me?'

His eyes softened slightly and he looked up to see the real uneasy confusion lurking in her eyes. She didn't understand. She didn't understand his feelings at all. Whatever love was it was dangerous. It made people resentful. Rejection was painful. It should make him grow to hate her. Instead she was so utterly confused when Clint simply reached out and placed his warm palm against her cheek and wrapped his other arm around her waist to pull her closer until they were only a hair's breath a part – she didn't know why she let him get that close. She didn't know why she wasn't running from the same terrifying emotions she saw yesterday swirling in his eyes once again – aimed at her – she's only ever seen him give that look to her. He looked at her like…like she was the ground he walked on.

It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

This whole mess was dangerous.

Natasha tired so damn hard to actually give a damn. Her control was slipping again. He breathed soft puffs of air against her face and held her gaze for a long moment.

"Just because you said no doesn't mean I stopped loving you," he whispered before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. Natasha stood stalk still as she felt the warmth spread through her entire body and sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. The edge of his lips pulled up slightly as he lingered for just a moment before he pulled back and flashed her his signature boyish grin. Natasha tensed. He hadn't even kissed her on the lips and she was already melting on the inside – get a grip Romanoff! She berated herself silently. His shit eating grin slowly faded into a more relax expression.

"Let's go home Tasha," he said quietly pulling her out of the suffocating hospital that held the body of a little redheaded girl who's only mistake was being a redhead in the wrong place at the wrong time. Today was a long day and all he really wanted was to get her inside the tower so that he knew she was safe before he finally let himself crash for the night. Natasha stared at her partner as he led her down the dim street of New York. She stared at his strong archer enhanced hand firmly wrapped around her own. If she loosened her grip on his hand he only held on tighter. She couldn't do anything except stare. He was compromised. It was so obvious he was compromised.

And yet nobody was saying a god damn thing.

What did being compromised really mean exactly? Was it really being weak? Or did SHIELD have it all wrong? Everything she's ever known told her falling in love was the biggest mistake you could make as an assassin. Love was a weakness. Love made you a poor fighter. Love made you careless – it made you reckless.

Love was a tool that can only be used to break you.

She had always been so sure love was just a lie. She had always been confident that she was above petty feelings like that. She always thought strength came from having no weakness.

But if that was all true then why did she only see strength and patience when she looked at him? Why did his eyes linger on her face when he thought she wasn't looking? Why does he say he loves a woman who couldn't even say his own name anymore?

Above all else - how the hell does he even stand her?

If there was one thing Natasha wanted to say – if she was given the chance to say one word before she died as a mute - it was his name. His real name. 'Clint' would be the last words on her lips. Natasha took a sharp breath and slammed her eyes shut.

But he was her partner. He was her partner. He was her partner.

He was an assassin. She was an assassin. They were killers. They were covert operatives. They were two people who were so messed up they should be admitted into a mental institute.

By why can't we be something else too Tasha? His confession continued to echo in her ears and she didn't know what to believe anymore.

Does she believe the one man she has ever trusted in her entire life or does she avoid the doomed fate hundreds of compromised partners faced before them?

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A/N: Nothing like a little angst to kick start her feelings right? He's making her fall in love with him against her own will – HAHA sneaky assassin much? I think Clint knows her far better than she knows herself. I think he knows exactly what he wants and she just needs to stop being a stubborn mule and give it to him. LOL ah but would she be Natasha Romanoff if she didn't go down without a fight? Kicking and screaming into love anyone?

Time for some Tony Stark poking Natasha with a stick. Oh dear god she'll kill him before he even has the chance to cure her silent problem. XD

Any guesses to who's after her though? You guys are still interested in this story right? Not many people reviewed last time – guess you guys are busy since it's Monday after all haha but I promised I'd post this so here it is! Off to update other stories now. Bye!