A/N: I've been in an Avengers mood lately, y'all. Bear with me. Also this makes me crave writing a full on Avengers fic without Aj.


Chapter #02:

The Best Kind of Food is Free Food


"After a traumatic experience, the human system of self-preservation seems to go onto permanent alert. As if the danger might return at any moment." -Unknown


Unsurprisingly, I woke up in a lot of pain.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the pain itself that startled me awake.

There was someone in my room. I could feel it and it left the hairs on the back of my neck stiff and standing on edge. With slow movements I kept my back facing whoever was staring at me but shifted my hand to under the pillow. To whatever dead man snuck into my apartment it'd look like I was just shifting in my sleep. My hand wrapped around the wooden handle of the knife I always slept on.

"If you're planning on attacking, I wouldn't recommend it."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I let go of the knife and rolled over. The redheaded, gorgeous spy from last night was leaning against my dresser. She was less dressed up then she was last night having traded in the gold, shimmery dress for a pair of black leggings and navy hoodie that was too big for her.

"Wow." I grumbled and sat up to stretch the kinks out of my back, "You're a super secret agent. Isn't breaking and entering beneath you?"

Natasha, if I remembered her name correctly, smirked, "Is it really breaking and entering if you left your front door unlocked?"

"Touché."

"Plus, we did say we'd see you in the morning."

"Didn't mention you'd sneak into my apartment to do it." I mumbled under my breath to myself. It was much, much too early for this shit. The agent didn't move from her spot as I rolled out of bed. My face ached something fierce and I assumed most of that pain came from my last fight of the night. I had their agent friend to thank for that.

Not paying the agent any mind, I stumbled into my small bathroom to wash my face. For the pain I felt, I actually didn't look too bad. A busted lip, a black eye, and the faint tracings of a bruised cheekbone on the opposite side of my face. Nice. I shut the bathroom door and went about my morning routine of using the bathroom then brushing my teeth. When I came back out, Natasha was still leaning against the dresser with her arms crossed. Her short, red hair looked like a halo of flames surrounding her face with the sun coming through the window on it.

"Not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping you had been a hallucination."

She shook her head, "We aren't." Natasha pushed herself off the dresser and motioned around, "For someone who fights as well as you do, I thought your place would be nicer. Don't you get paid for the rounds you win?"

I barked out a laugh and pointed at her with my hand in the shape of a finger gun, "That's funny." Natasha raised an eyebrow at me as I continued to chuckle and dropped my hand, "And that's not how that works."

Ignoring her gaze, I opened my bedroom door to walk out into the rest of my shoebox apartment. The guy from last night, Clint, was standing by my bookshelf in jeans, a t-shirt, and a worn-out jacket. He raised his hand in a cheerful greeting, "Morning!"

"Aw, you break into my house, but you're too much of a gentleman to actually come into my room?" I shot him a mocking grin, "And they say chivalry is dead."

Clint smiled back cheekily, "I live to please."

I passed him to move into my tiny kitchen and began to dig through the cabinets looking for medicine. As I pulled out a rather large bottle of ibuprofen, my eyes caught a glance of Clint moving his hands quickly to Natasha. He was signing. It had been a very long time since I've seen someone signing and even longer since I had signed to anyone myself, but I managed to pick up a few things. Like 'all clear' and 'found nothing'.

"You dug through my shit?" I asked loudly and Clint had the decency to look a little ashamed.

"You know ASL." He realized, his shame quickly turning to surprise.

"And you are a nosy asshole. I take back my compliment about chivalry."

Clint chuckled, "Too late, it already went to my head."

I rolled my eyes and popped three pills into my mouth, dry swallowing them. The two agents were looking at each other now, and it seemed like they were communicating without using a single word. Spoken or signed.

"So, can you say your piece now rather than later? I wanna go back to bed." I glanced at the clock behind me that read 9:34 AM, "Y'all woke me up like 4 hours too early."

Clint glanced at Natasha one more time before grinning back at me, "Can I interest you in some breakfast?"


My usual places for breakfast were the local Waffle House, a little diner at the end of my street where the owner pitied me and sometimes gave me free bacon, or if I was feeling really glamorous the bar I lived above. After quickly getting dressed in my least ratty and torn jeans and tank top with a jacket, the Agents had pulled me straight out of my comfort zone and into the nicer part of the city. Natasha had bailed saying she had an errand to run, and that left me sitting at a small table with Clint on an outdoor patio of a brunch place that was leaps and bounds out of my price range.

The people around us had dogs with more to their names than I did.

"Holy shit." I mumbled as the hostess poured us glasses of water and told us our waiter would be right with us. Clint just chuckled at my reaction. "The menu doesn't even show how much the food cost, so you know it's as expensive as hell."

Clint nodded, "They have spicy bacon here and it's honestly life changing."

Our waiter came by and after taking our order for two coffees, he looked to me for our food order. I glanced at Clint and motioned to the menu, "Are you paying for this? Actually, don't answer. I've already assumed." I looked back to the waiter, "I'm gonna have the Creole Omelet with a side of biscuits and gravy and then an additional side of that spicy bacon y'all got. Also, I'll take a plate of French Toast."

"Double that order." Clint said while setting a black card in front of me. The waiter took our menus and left as I picked up the dark American Express card with the name 'Tony E. Stark' written on it. My eyes widened in surprise and Clint just chuckled, "Brunch is on Iron Man today."

"Sir!" I called out after our waiter who hadn't gotten too far. He came back over with a smile, "Hi, yeah, when you bring our coffees can you also bring us those bottomless mimosas?"

"Of course."

Iron Man, huh? I guess that confirmed that officially. Not CIA or FBI. The third option. Alien fighting government weirdos. I handed the card back to Clint, "I can get used to y'all breaking and entering if it means my morning starts like this."

"Speaking of, why don't you lock your door? Seems reckless."

"I ain't got nothing worth stealing. Besides, the only people who have ever visited me seem to be you and Agent Natasha and I doubt locking my door would've stopped you people."

Clint nodded once and didn't press further about that, but he did continue to grill me on things not involving the Russians, "How do you know ASL?"

"What does me knowing ASL got to do with the Russians who are gonna make me fight in the winter Soviet wonderland?"

Rather than answering, Clint began to sign to me. He moved his hands slower and I wondered if he knew I was rusty. I had missed the beginning, but he signed something along the lines of, '—got plenty of time. Amuse me.'

"I needed foreign language credits in college, and they offered ASL." I shrugged, "I already knew a little bit, so it seemed like an easy A."

"That was kind of a non-answer. I mean you left a lot out." Clint replied. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he continued, "I've got severe hearing loss. The aids help." He tapped his ear and I only then noticed the very small device sitting in his ear canal, "Especially the ones Stark made. Plus, I can lip read pretty well. ASL comes in handy though… like you wouldn't believe."

He was telling me a bit about him so I would tell him a bit about me. I knew the trick and I knew what he was playing at. What I didn't understand was why he cared enough to dig for information. Maybe it was a secret agent thing? He couldn't help but want to know everything. The more I thought about it though the more I didn't really care. It wasn't like I'd be seeing more of him once all this Russian nonsense was over.

"I was in a lot of Foster homes as a teen. Bounced around because I was… problematic." I shrugged and didn't add that the only reason I was problematic was because the people I loved most in my life had abandoned me and left me to rot alone in piss poor homes. "The last home they shipped me to… it was the only one I considered home. There was a woman there. Rosie. She took good care of me. She worked with deaf kids at the local school and taught me a little. When I moved out for college and saw they taught ASL…"

Clint nodded once, "It reminded you of her."

The waiter came with our coffees and two flutes of mimosas. I chugged the one he handed me without hesitation and ignored the look of shock written on our waiter's face.

This is why I couldn't have nice things.

He mumbled he'd be back with more and I wrapped my hands around the hot mug of coffee that offset the slight chill hanging in the late Fall air.

"Figured learning ASL would be a good reminder of her and that time."

"I'm sure she's very proud."

"Maybe." I took a hesitant sip of the hot coffee, trying not to burn my tongue before I got to eat my nice, fancy meal, "Haven't seen or talked to her since I left Alabama so…"

Clint took a long sip of his coffee, seeming unbothered by the temperature, "Is now a good time to ask why you're involved with the fighting ring here in New York? Especially since you're from Alabama?"

"Fought in Alabama. Came to NYC for college and…" I paused and left out my acceptance into medical school that I had bailed on to have my face punched in repeatedly, "Got pulled into the ring here when I was looking for a quick way to make some money. Been with Boss ever since."

"Because of your debt." Clint said and my eyes widened slightly. "I figure that's how this ring runs. You earn money with each fight, but it goes to a debt you have rather than into your pocket. How much do you even make for yourself?"

I scoffed, "Not nearly enough." My thumb rubbed against the smooth coffee mug in my hand, "But it doesn't matter. I don't need much to get by, and I like fighting."

"You like fighting in that ring?"

"Maybe not in that ring per say. I mean I get respect there because they know what I can do and that's nice, but... I just—I just like fighting. Things are clear when I fight. Only thing I have to worry about in that moment is ducking and swinging."

Clint hummed in agreement, "I get that. You're good. I said that last night, but I'll say it again. You know what you're doing."

"Practice makes perfect or some shit like that."


The food came and Clint had to admit that this tiny, fearless underground fighter had good taste. Everything she had ordered came out amazing. He also didn't expect her to be able to actually finish it all, since she technically ordered three separate dishes, but she was halfway through and still going strong. Clint had no idea where she was even putting it all.

She had told him some about herself after he shared a piece of himself, but there was a look in her eye he recognized. It was the look of someone planning to run. Aj was talking to him, opening up, but her eyes told him she didn't plan on making him more than a stranger that once bought her breakfast. Everything she said seemed to be true though. It matched up to everything him and Natasha had dug up on her last night at least.

Though she had left out some pretty major details. Like the fact that her mother died when she was young and that her father had abandoned both her and her sister never to be seen or heard from again. Aj had mentioned the foster homes she bounced to and from, but she didn't say a word about her older sister who had been there with her briefly before aging out and leaving on her own. Aj talked about her college years here in NYC, but she didn't touch on the topic of her acceptance into Medical School or why she chose to ignore said acceptance in order to work for an underground fighting ring that didn't even value her full potential.

Clint was getting pieces of the story, and the more he heard the more interested he was in it all. Natasha would scold him and tell him he had a bad habit of adopting pity cases that wanted nothing to do with him. So far though, his gut feelings on those cases were never wrong and he didn't regret a single metaphorical adoption. In fact, a part of him was mentally drafting the adoption papers in the back of his mind and trying to come up with a speech to explain to Fury and Coulson why it was so important he took this tiny, fireball under his wing.

"I'm never going to be able to eat at Waffle House again without crying a little inside." Aj groaned with a mouthful of food, "I've never had food this good. I swear. Part of me thinks I died last night, and this is all some death induced dream."

Clint chuckled, "We can make this a weekly thing. I'm always down to steal money from Stark and eat good breakfast foods."

Aj smiled in response, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She grabbed her mug and took a sip of their fresh coffee, "So are you done stalling? Can we talk about the Russians now?"

"Nothing to talk about." Clint smirked. "They're gonna contact you with a meet point, we'll intercept, and you'll probably never have to see them again."

She fell still across the table, her entire frame stiff, and Clint barely caught sight of the mug trembling in her tight grip before she set it down quickly and buried her hands in her lap. Aj cleared her throat, "What do you mean I won't see the Russians again?"

"I mean… you won't see them again?" Clint said slowly, confused, "Do you miss them? Because if you're looking for friends I gotta say they aren't the greatest choice—"

"Boss thinks I'm gonna be fighting for them." She snapped, interrupting his rambling. "That means he thinks he's gonna get a huge influx of cash." Aj's light blue eyes burned into him, an inferno that didn't quite match the color, "If I don't get him that money it's on my head. Even if I tell him the Russians were arrested or some shit he'll still make me—"

Clint held his hands up in mild surrender, "Hey, hey, hey. We'll fix it. Make a fake trail, get you the money. I promise."

This seemed to placate her marginally, but Clint could tell she was still mulling all this over in her head. A part of him wanted to offer to pay off her debt fully and get her out of the ring. It wasn't like they didn't have the money to do it and taking down the fighting ring would be a walk in the park mission for SHIELD. Something told him that she wouldn't take the offer very well though, so he just kept it to himself. Maybe he'd talk to Nat about it later.

The waiter came back around and refilled their mimosas and coffee. When he left, Clint changed the conversation to something light in hopes to course correct the mood. Aj, probably wanting to not talk about this shit either, followed his lead and the awkward edge that had filled the air disappeared. For a moment, they just sat at the table talking like two friends at brunch who hadn't seen each other in ages.

Clint was in the middle of a story when he heard a familiar whistling in the air. Before he could even groan at the interruption, the Iron Man suit landed beside the table with a loud 'thunk' that shook the entire balcony. Everyone around them squealed in surprise before pulling out their phones and cooing over the suit. Clint rolled his eyes at the blatant adoration, but mid-way they landed on Aj who had a death grip on her butter knife. She sat stock still, shoulders relaxed, but he could see the tension in her eyes as she kept the butter knife wielding hand resting on the table. There wasn't much she could do with the dinky weapon, but it gave Clint another huge clue about who she was. It told Clint that she was a fighter. He knew that really, saw it first hand last night, but this was more than just someone who would go to arms in a ring against some sketchy character. This was someone who wouldn't lay down and surrender to anyone. She'd go to war with only a butter knife if she had to.

"So, why is it that I'm being charged for a brunch I wasn't even invited to?" The gold and red mask slid up and Tony's warm, brown eyes darted from Aj to Clint and then quickly back to Aj, "I don't know who you are."

"I know who you are." She replied back with ease. Aj used her free hand to lift up her mimosa glass in a mock cheer, "Thanks for breakfast. Their spicy bacon is hella good."

Tony nodded once, "You should try their vanilla and cinnamon pancakes. Real fluffy." Clint cleared his throat and the eccentric man looked back to him. Tony reached over to pick up Clint's mimosa glass, "You know, if you're gonna take a gorgeous woman on a date, the least you could do is pay for it yourself, Katniss."

"Does that make this our first date then?" Aj questioned with a slight tilt to her head.

Tony, eager to have someone new to banter with, turned back to her and they went back and forth with witty, but flirty, comments. It dawned on Clint then. She was mirroring. Aj was parroting back the same energy anyone offered her as a way of lulling them into a sense of false security. Natasha was all business and snark with the girl so Aj kept it simple and blunt. Clint was all jokes and laughs so she joked back with him. Now Tony? He couldn't help but flirt with a new pretty face so Aj flirted right back. She'd mirror her personality to trick her opponent. Make them think she was complacent. Aj was smiling at Tony, nothing but charm and amusement on her face, but her true feelings were shown in the white knuckled fist around the butter knife.

"—come by the tower sometimes. I'll give you the full tour."

Clint focused back in on their conversation.

Aj nodded with a smirk, "I'll hold you to that, Mr. Stark."

"Tony. Just Tony." He grinned back.

Tony finally looked back to him and Clint lifted a hand to his chest, his eyebrows raised in false surprise, "Oh! Am I allowed to be part of the conversation now?"

"Keep the card, Barton." Tony downed the rest of his mimosa and left Clint with the empty glass, "If this is our first date you gotta end it right. Buy her a purse or something." He winked at Aj once before the mask slid down, "Later."

The suit took off and Aj's grip on the knife loosened. She turned to him, ignoring the still gushing crowd, "Does he always buy his dates something absorbent and expensive?"

"Depends on if he plans on seeing them again."

"Me getting a purse or something… does that mean he expects to see me again?"

Clint grinned at her, "I'll let you think on that. Self-reflection is good for the soul, I hear."

She shrugged once and went back to her coffee. Clint kept his gaze on her curiously. The more he heard the more he wanted to know. She was his newest case and not even Nat was gonna shake him off it until he got the answers he wanted.


I rolled my shoulders and grinned at the expensive leather jacket I now wore. Tony Stark, the crazy ass billionaire I apparently know on a first name basis now, had said to buy me a purse or something and I picked the something option. It wasn't like I had much use of a fancy purse. What was I gonna put in it? Bloody bandages and my zero-dollar salary?

All things considered though today was a pretty good day. Granted the breaking and entering this morning had been unusual, but the rest of the morning and afternoon had been spent eating fancy food, buying an expensive jacket, which I had come to the decision that it meant I wouldn't be seeing Stark again, and hanging out with Clint. For a secret agent or whatever he was a pretty chill guy. I didn't trust him at all, I knew he had to have some kind of ulterior motive, but he wasn't a bad conversationalist.

Clint and I had parted ways about an hour ago. He had to do whatever superheroes and friends did on a normal day and I had a couch to lounge on. Since I fought a marathon yesterday, I didn't have a fight today. It'd be nice to get off my feet and just relax for a change. Not often did I get a day off. Clint had said the Russians would contact me in probably a week and I wondered if I could talk Boss into giving the days leading up to it off. Probably not, but I was nothing if not desperate for some real damn sleep.

As I was mentally planning what I was going to watch on TV and which frozen dinner I was gonna heat up, a dark van popped the curb and screeched to a stop in front of me. It cut me off from running forward and there was no alley to my right to dip into. The door slid open and I recognized one of the Russian men. A cruel, excited grin pasted on his rough features. Adrenaline hit me hard and I spun on my heel to run, I knew when my chances of winning a fight were low, but they must have assumed I'd do that since I ran right into the chest of the other Russian I had met. I swung my elbow up to catch him under the chin, but he blocked it and punched me once in the chest hard. All the air left my lungs and I stumbled back into another chest. Large arms wrapped around me and lifted me up in the air.

Still struggling to catch a breath, I threw my head back, smashing it against the guy's face, and managed to loop my foot around his leg when he stumbled forward in pain. I yanked on my foot enough to get my feet back on the ground and then I gripped his arms with my hand and bent myself at the waist hard to flip him over. The Russian hit the ground hard and I went to kick him in the face to knock him out when something sharp hit me in the abdomen. Before I could grab at it, or even register what was happening, an electric current went through me. Fucking taser. With gritted teeth I fell to my knees and struggled to get the barbs out of my skin. When I finally did, I glanced up just in time for a blunt object to make contact with the side of my head.

My vision went black and I felt myself falling to the side, almost what felt like in slow motion, and all I could think was how fucking tired I was. My head hit the concrete with a loud crack that echoed in my skull and there was finally nothing.