I dare you

A/N: Okay enough with the angst. Let's DO this mission already! XD Damn they fight so damn much. Wanna see what a clintasha make up scene looks like?

Clintasha song – 'These things I'll never say' – by Avril Lavigne

'If I could say what I want to say
I'd say I wanna blow you... away
Be with you every night
Am I squeezing you too tight?
If I could say what I want to see
I want to see you go down
On one knee
Marry me today
Guess, I'm wishing my life away
With these things I'll never say,'

Chapter 45

It's 8 am and two tense agents are driving to the SHIELD hanger for their ride to Italy. Neither of them said a word to each other since they got up this morning and got their gear and Intel packed and ready for departure in silence. They've been partners long enough that they didn't need to verbally confirm anything with each other. When Clint was done going over the brief mission details about Amelia Riviera their assassin target and Eric Conroy the weapon's designer they were required to capture he handed it to her with a steady look that spoke volumes even though he had no words. The fact that a single steady glance was enough to convey a hundred different messages should bother them –it didn't. A lot of things should bother them – but they were good at ignoring a lot of things that weren't quite healthy in their life or good for their sanity.

Currently Natasha was driving with a suspiciously calm expression. Maybe if she pretended everything was okay and that there really wasn't a huge gaping hole in their partnership at the moment it would come true. Of course she was never the optimistic type so she doubted it. She learned a few things from her infuriating partner over the last 8 months. Emotionless wasn't the best mask – a convincing mask was one where you fool your opponent into thinking you're feeling one emotion when really you're feeling something else entirely. One day she was going to perfect this skill and be the best damn interrogator in the world. One day she was going rival Barton and his damn devil-may-care mask. Because he was a damn good liar who cared way too damn much.

The car was filled with a suffocating silence as Clint determinedly stared out the window as the wet damp forest they were passing at the moment covered the current landscape. The storm last night had taken down several trees and electrical lines. Electricity plant repairmen were working together to get the lines back up and running. There were partnerships all over the world in every occupation; from repairmen teams, to firefighter teams, to engineering teams to assassin teams.

They wondered if there was ever a team quite like their's though. With all its complexity, its problems, its efficiency and its humanity.

Humanity in a partnership that's sole reason for existence is to take out criminals in the world that embodied the inhumanity of human nature is laughable.

The fact that the two people behind one of SHIELD's mostly deadly duo are two of the most screwed up people on earth is tragic.

However despite everything that life threw their way, all the hardships they had to face, all the horrors they've experienced on their own or together, all the decisions they've been forced to make, all the regrets that they have – they were still taking every day one step at a time. When so many people would have gone insane, where so many others would have given up in their place – Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff have something inside them that tells them they needed to keep living.

They need to keep moving forward and face every trial in their lives with their heads held high – because otherwise they would die as cowards and be forgotten by the world. All the effort they put forward to stay alive this long against all odds would be in vain. They were not weak people. They were not scared of what the world hide behind its fake cheery outer surface. But they were not invincible either. They were still human – and their humanity - however many pieces it may be in - was still enough for them put their issues aside and do their damn job.

Clint crossed his arms as he continued to stare unseeingly out the window. He was never the quiet type – he always filled long drives or waiting periods with idle chatter that would drive her up a wall – but he lost all his words after the explosion they had yesterday. His partnership with Natasha Romanoff was like a rollercoaster. He never had a SHIELD partner before – he had no idea if all partnerships felt like this or if it was just her. He had a feeling it was just her. His eyes came back into focus when he realized they were only a few miles away from the SHIELD ground hangar. He froze when he realized a reflection of cautious green eyes was staring back at him in the window he had been adamantly looking out of for the last half hour. He finally tore his eyes away from the glass and locked eyes with her for real – she didn't look away.

"You were right," he said quietly breaking the longstanding silence that started hours ago. She gave him a cautious look that told him to elaborate. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall into his lap.

"I do need this job," he started carefully. He watched her hand tighten around the steering wheel but that was the only reaction she showed him because even though her expression stayed calm it was definitely not what was brewing inside of her. Natasha had passionate emotions – he had learned that over and over again during the few times she has dropped all her walls. He continued to stare at her even as she was forced to look away to make sure they were still driving in the right direction and didn't crash into any trees. He had a lot of time last night to think about everything that has happened between them and he thinks he finally found it. He thinks he finally had the answer to her question.

"But you were wrong too," he whispered softly. She took a deep breath and he knew she was listening carefully. She was waiting for the words that were going to make or break their partnership. The words that was going to decide what direction their future would take.

"I need you just as much," he said earnestly. She tensed but didn't take her eyes off the road and kept driving steadily. It wasn't anything fancy or fairytale like – their lives were too grim and full of darkness for that. They couldn't give each other anything – their hands were tied by their organization.

But honesty. Honesty was something they valued more than anything else. Because their lives were full of lies and fabrications and deception. Rarely anything they said was really the honest truth. But moments like these when the silence swallowed up all the lies and only the truth was allowed to be spoken – these were moments that only belonged to them. No Black Widow. No Hawkeye. No SHIELD. No Red Room. No regulations. No expectations.

Moments when they were only Clint and Natasha and no one else were rare.

"That's it – that's all I have to say," he said quietly before he looked away. He listened to her steady breathing and knew she was trying to figure out something to say – something she actual could say. Because they both knew she would never repeat the words back to him – but that didn't matter. Words didn't matter. Because he already knew that she needed him too.

Before they realized it they were pulling up the beaten road that led towards a large hangar with a waiting plane sitting on the runway. They both saw two men talking quietly off to the side - it was their SHIELD pilot and Coulson waiting for their briefing and take off. Clint could pilot the aircraft easily – but someone needed to fly it back while they were on assignment. Natasha stopped to car several meters away from the two men – they still hadn't noticed that the two reserved agents had arrived yet.

"You are a good partner Clint," she finally said quietly as she stared at the steering wheel clasped in her hand. He felt his breath catch in his throat. She said his name. She rarely ever says his name. And she basically just told him she wanted to stay partners no matter what happened. That she wanted whatever they shouldn't have but did anyway. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her one last time.

"Thank you," he whispered. Thank you for not running away anymore but understanding why we need to stay partners. She nodded and looked away from his eyes that were practically overflowing with emotion. She took a deep breath and her calm expression was back. It was time to work.

"Let's go Barton," she said in her usual curt professional tone – but now he could hear a certain level of fondness in her clipped words. Maybe it was just him. She swiftly opened the door and stepped out into the early morning light that was shining through the tall trees over the horizon. He stepped out as well and they both picked up their mission packs before they made their way over towards their ride out of here. Coulson looked up when they approached and gave his indebted agents a wary look – they didn't look much better than the last time he saw them – but there was something different about them. There was always something different each time he saw them.

"Why is it that whenever I see you two you seem 10 years older than the last time?" Coulson asked cautiously. They both raised an eyebrow. They ignored the fact that 10 years' worth of moments seem to happen between them between each mission they go on and each time they see their handler.

"It's all in your head Coulson," they said at the same time. Coulson scowled at their matching smirks.

"You two really like to piss me off with your freaky telepathy skills don't you?" he muttered as he pulled out his briefing notes. Natasha rolled her eyes and Clint chuckled but made no comment.

"You know you have two targets right? One better end up dead and the other better end up on our doorstep – or Fury is going to eat you for his dinner," Coulson said dryly. Clint scoffed.

"Fury is a slave driver," Clint muttered. Coulson snorted.

"No doubt about that – but don't let him hear you say that or you'll be sent on the most boring field missions on earth – the surveillance ones in the worst conditions imaginable," Coulson said in distaste – he hated those himself. Clint and Natasha shared a bored look. Honestly all their missions ended up being way more out of control then their ever expect – even the seemingly simple ones. They highly doubted even a surveillance mission wouldn't end without at least one explosion. Clint suddenly cut Coulson off before he could continue his briefing.

"We read the Intel Coulson – we'll see you when we get back," Clint said as he walked passed his handler and patted him companionably on the shoulder before he headed towards the waiting plane. He really had no interest in hearing the same info regurgitated back to him. Coulson sputtered as his briefing got cut short.

"He just blew me off!" Coulson said in shock as he stared at the retreating back of Clint Barton. Natasha snorted as she glided past him.

"Don't worry he does that to everyone," she muttered as she followed her partner into their next mission. She had a feeling she would follow him anywhere. It was a dangerous thought – but compared to all the dangers they are up against in their day to day lives it was meaningless to her now. For once in her life she was just going to do something because she wants to - not because it's a smart choice.

A smart choice would have been slipping away when she had the chance – before they were in too deep.

11 hours later on the other side of the world for once our deadly duo were actually preparing for their mission in a high end 5 star Italian hotel. They had to play the part of a pair of rich aristocrat attendees for the charity masquerade ball that was happening in one of the football field sized ballrooms in the huge venue across the street. Damn the only time they got to milk SHIELD for all they were worth was during these high class oriented missions.

But they were still cheap enough to only give them only one room with a single bed. Bastards.

Natasha huffed she stood in front of the wall to wall mirror in their hotel bathroom and tried to properly pin up her red curls which had gotten a lot longer than she preferred over the months. She's been a bit too busy recently to even have time to think about cutting it. Another one of the many dubious skills of Natasha Romanoff. She could cut a mean hairdo with a pair of ordinary craft scissors – but she could castrate a man with them just fine too. Ah the things you learn how to do in a tight spot.

She heard familiar footsteps from around the corner and idly glanced at her gun lying on the sink counter. She had a feeling she knew who it was though and simply continued adding pins to her hair. She glanced down to pick up another handful and when she looked back up her green eyes locked with blue through the mirror. She didn't break her flow through and kept eye contact with him as she worked. He had changed out of his comfortable uniform (though she never understood how a sleeveless vest was comfortable in chilly September weather) and into a smart black tuxedo right out of a spy movie. Oh god she hated American spy movies. They romanticized their world to the point where she wanted to vomit up her lunch. It was nauseating how childishly they approached the world of espionage and deception.

"You know these are the missions I love and hate the most," he said as he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms across his chest. She raised a careful eyebrow.

"Why is that?" she asked warily. He shrugged noncommittally.

"Love them because I really despise the thought of harsh outdoor field missions right now. The fact that we get to escape shit roadside motels and crap weather for a while helps too. Hate them because I can't stand…wearing stuffy black suits," he said quickly glancing away from her. He silently cursed himself for hesitating in the middle of his sentence. They both knew he had changed his second statement at the last second. She gave him a suspicious look.

"Why do you really dislike these missions Barton?" she asked steadily holding his gaze with her own in the mirror. He tightly clenched his jaw and adamantly refused to answer. She gave him a searching look and then suddenly her entire body went rigid.

"I don't want to know do I?" she said narrowing her eyes. His eyes fell and he stared holes into the marble tiled floor.

"Don't ask, don't tell Tasha," he said quietly. She gritted her teeth and swiftly spun around to pin him with her heated gaze.

"I don't care who you are Barton or what we are – you are never allowed to get between me and my job. I need to do this just as much as you do. Maybe not for the same reasons but I live my life on my own terms and use my skills how I deem fit and no one is going to change that," she growled dangerously. He smiled weakly at her strong views that would never go away. It was one of the many things he admired about her.

"I know," he said softly. She clenched her jaw as quiet controlled fury stormed in her eyes.

"Someone recently told me not to treat him like glass – return the courtesy Barton," she said warningly. He winced at the bite in her tone.

"I never treat you like glass Tasha – doesn't mean I have to like what espionage means for you," he said carefully. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"No one said you had to like it," she said curtly. He shot her a measured look.

"I'm not hiding the fact that I don't – but I'm not a hypocrite. I won't ever stop you from doing your job," he said staring at her dead in the eye. She stared back with piercing gaze searching his face for any lies or deception. She found none – but then again he was a skilled actor himself. He suddenly glanced up at her pined up hair and froze.

"Is that a hidden blade in your hair?" he asked in disbelief as he unconsciously reached up to brush her red hair away from the sheathed blade embedded in her tight bun. She tightly grabbed his wrist before he could really mess up her work and shot him one of her coldest glares he has ever seen. She firmly gripped his wrist and squeezed until it really started to feel uncomfortable to the point that he nearly winced. Ouch she was overkill.

"Touch my hair again and you might just find out Barton," she said calmly but he heard the death threat loud and clear. Don't touch the Russian's hair – noted. He coughed and stepped away from her necessary but downright irritating pre-mission prepping. She let him go and went right back to continuing her routine dress up. She was quick and efficient – but it still took time.

She just hated dressing up in general – women's clothing was just so damn uncomfortable and impractical. Except heels – she kind of likes heels as long as she didn't have to try and run in them. She smirked to herself – they were wonderful weapons of mass destruction to men's ability to have children.

"I can hear you're sadistic thoughts from all the way over here you know," he muttered from behind her. Her smirk widened slightly.

"Liar – you can just see it on my face," she said calmly. He rolled his eyes. She made it so obvious sometimes he wondered if she really wanted to freak him out and make him run for the hills. If only Clint Barton could be shaken by the disturbing thoughts of Natasha Romanoff. Most of her thoughts would probably turn him on anyway so he decided it was a good thing he couldn't read her mind.

"We're going to split up halfway right?" he asked suddenly changing the subject. He watched in curiosity as her face morphed into an annoyed expression. The oddest things seemed to annoy her.

"I'm taking Eric Conroy and you get lovely Amelia Riviera," she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. She had to do the capture part of the mission - utterly boring. Clint snorted at her irritated tone - she was such a weirdo sometimes.

"Joy I get to dance with the girl who can kill me in 100 different ways before I can even blink and then have to try and seduce her into a room together before I have the honor of shooting her in the chest," Clint said sarcastically.

They both froze as his words rang a bit too close to home. Their target was too similar to one of the many ways the mission that started their partnership could have been like.

"Barton - get out and find our communicators," she said firmly as she spun away from him and picked up her knives that were sitting in the sink to play her usual game of How many knives can Natasha hide under a skimpy red dress and still manage to move across a dance floor flawlessly?

"Right - leaving," he muttered gruffly before he disappeared around the corner. Man was he stupid. He was going shut up now before she throws one of those sharp projectiles at him again.

5 minutes later Natasha was finally, finally done her damn prepping to look like one of those airheads she was going to see all night long. She appeared in the doorway leading into the hotel bedroom and watched her partner sit crossed legged on the large queen sized bed and set up their communicators. He glanced from his tinkering and she watched him finally take a good look at her outfit for the night.

"You look nice," he said calmly. She raised an eyebrow.

"Just nice?" she asked barely holding back a snort. He picked up one of the tiny little circular communication buds and walked over to her. He held it up for her to see before he reached forward and inserted it into her right ear. She tensed when he didn't pull away and instead he leaned even closer.

"It's a pretty dress - but I think you're sexier in uniform," he whispered in her ear. She shot him a dirty look but he simply grinned. She finally just huffed and looked away.

"Tasteless soldiers," she muttered under her breath. What crazy man wants a woman in uniform of all things? He shot her a cheeky smile.

"Why do women like men in uniform then?" he asked crossing his arms and actually waiting for a verbal answer. She gave him a suspicious look. They were damn experts on manipulation - why would he ask her that?

"Because in their little pathetic minds they think a man in uniform is strong, mysterious and dangerous on some level. But then they love to have the contradiction of him having iron control, an air of seriousness and a sense of honor that makes them swoon or some shit like that," she said carefully - wait why did that sound weird coming out of her mouth? He gave her a long dry look as he waited for her to figure it out. She blinked when she realized she just described herself. Then the disgust took over.

"Oh just fuck you Barton - you are practically a gay man for wanting that!" she growled in disgust as she tore her eyes away from him and huffed. Sexy in uniform indeed. He burst out laughing at the closest thing to flustered Natasha he has ever seen.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

They both went silent as they stared at the alarm going off on Barton's phone.

"Showtime," he whispered glancing up at her. She grabbed her coat and handed him his own. She knew he had a backup gun in there from the weight of the jacket.

"See you on the inside," she said as they exited the hotel room. They took a deep breath as the door shut behind them and they shared one last significant look.

"Good luck," they said at the same time before they broke off in opposite directions. It would have been more dramatic - if they didn't have communicators.

"Wanna have some real Italian pizza after we finish up here?" a familiar voice asked in her ear. Natasha sighed heavily.

"Doctor I think I've gone insane. There is a voice in my head...that never shuts up," she muttered irritably. Genuine laughter rang in her ears as she determinedly made her way out of the building hell bent on getting her target tonight.

They were never allowed to screw up a mission ever again. Never.

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A/N: The sarcasm is FINALLY back. I missed their banter from their earlier days. Let's change that shall we? Also – who thinks this mission is going to run smoothly at all? ;) hahaa…evil laughter…but before shit inevitably hits the fan and we start action who wants a Clintasha dance? I can write a really sexy one too XD I think you guys deserve it after all that angst. Any dance type requests?