AN per usual I do not own Avengers

"Morning, sleeping beauty." She jolted awake with a glare already forming on her face at the little nickname. Sleeping beauty? She was fucking drugged it wasn't her choice.

"Who are you?" She couldn't turn her head enough to see him--and it was him, the voice was too deep to be female--but she could sense where he was. Just at the edge of her blindspot, so she could see half his silhouette but nothing more. It wasn't Coulson, but that was all she knew.

At least she didn't think he was from the Red Room.

"My name is Barton, but most call me Hawkeye. And you're the Black Widow, aka Natasha Romanoff. How was interrogation?" She scoffed, low in her throat, before she could stop it. That was their attempt at interrogation? If anything, she was less anxious now than she was before.

"I didn't say forceful interrogation. We don't do that here." Again, she scoffed. "I know, unlikely. But it is true that, for the most part, SHIELD doesn't practice anything except the utmost guardian-angel behavior. I'm sure they do torture and intimidate but it's kept low key and isn't half as widely-accepted as it is where you came from." Deep in her gut, something told her this one was strong. He had a soft, carefree appearance but there was a weight there that Coulson hadn't had and, at least from a distance, she could respect that.

"Let me out of this chair and I'll tell you anything." It was a desperate gamble but Natasha was growing impatient. If she didn't return to the Red Room soon they'd come after her and she was willing to do almost anything to prevent that. The man chuckled.

"See, I would--I'm kind of what you might call a humanitarian--but I saw the tapes from the hospital. You're a fighter. I can respect that you're skilled, though I'm better," She snorted and felt him glare. "But they would kill me if I did. I already overstepped with you." Natasha didn't ask but she could tell he sensed her questioning eyebrow raise in his direction. He hummed and moved so she could see his face.

"I watched you fight at the hospital," His eyes were a deep, frostbitten blue and his features were hard but expressive. "You're strong. Skilled. I said you could be a good asset. They disagreed, I pulled you out anyways and now you're here: under consideration. You're welcome, by the way." Her eyes rolled on their own, before she even processed her own annoyance.

"Oh, my mistake. Thank you so much for getting me here: chained to a chair, drugged, and unpleasantly disinterested." He glared at her and for the first time since their little conversation began she felt threatened by him. Not something she couldn't handle--she could survive anything--but also not something she wanted to handle. Maybe it was time to change her approach...

"I understand why you won't untie me," she opened her eyes a little wider, playing for a childlike innocence. "But could I make a different request?" His eyes were still narrowed at her but she could see out of the corner of her eye that his posture had begun to relax. He was a bleeding heart, a do-gooder.

"What do you want?" Arching her wrist as much as she could--the right one, so it was out of his line of view--she began to wrench it against her restraints. She felt the edge of the leather bite into her skin almost immediately and repressed a smirk.

"The sedatives... My throat is so dry..." She let out a scratchy little cough for emphasis. "Could I have a sip of water?" The warm, seering scratch of the leather tearing through her skin, letting blood begin to flow from her wrist, was comforting. She felt it start to stain the white, scrub-like pants she was wearing. Outside the glass, a dull and muffled click told her Barton had unlocked her door. His breathing suddenly became close and clear--like it was in her ear.

"Open your mouth, I can't let you hold the cup." She pursed her lips obediently, eyes still as wide as she deemed necessarily, and almost sighed at the taste of water. He was slow, almost caring, as he poured small bits of water into her mouth, watched her swallow, and held out the offer of more. She drank the entire cup before wriggling her arm in discomfort, drawing his attention to it.

"You're bleeding," he paused, taking in her lack of other injuries and deducing that she hadn't fought the restraints. "Is that cuff too tight?" She shook her head, weakly from side to side like she was exhausted, and shifted to make it bleed even more.

"It's fine it's not that bad. I don't want you to get in trouble." Her pathetic concern for him only broke him down more and he shook his head like she was speaking in tongues. He reached and undid the latch--wincing when she hissed at the pain. Slowly, it dropped to the floor with blood still in the leather. With eyes closed, she felt him rinse her wrist and wrap it lightly in gauze before restraining her once again. She didn't fight--not yet, it was too soon--but she flexed her wrist as he did it. It was loose enough now that she would be able to wiggle out.

"Come here?" he stepped closer, just out of her reach, but she wasn't ready to attack him. She smiled and arched her back, pushing her chest towards him. His eyes wandered, even if he tried not to.

"What do you need?" She fluttered her eyelashes up at him, nibbling her lower lip while staring at his. His breathing hitched--she heard it instantly--but he didn't move or even blink. She wiggled her chest at him again and tucked her chin down, looking up at him. They liked that pose. If she'd been untied she would have curled in on herself more, would have pushed out her ass and her chest and unintentionally accent her legs. As it was, looking up through her eyelashes was as submissive as she could make herself look. He was drawn in regardless.

"Come here?" she repeated, biting her lower lip. "Please?" He stepped closer, letting his hand reach up to rest on the edge of her chair. Not touching her--not yet--but closer than he'd gotten earlier.

"What?" She pursed her lips at him with a little huff of air. "Did you make me come in here for nothing?" With a small pout, she wiggled to push her breasts closer to his face.

"Maybe I could make it up to you." He let her lift her head to lean towards him in a kiss and started to lean in. Suddenly, he recoiled. He stepped away and left her surprisingly cold in his absence. She whined, low in her throat, but he glared at her and she could tell the haze had worn off.

"No. Stop that." She nibbled her lip as she looked at him.

"Stop what, handsome?" She hoped the compliment would ease him back into her grasp but he shook his head, his face now a stony look of something between anger and disappointment.

"Stop trying to seduce me." He fixed his eyes on her, burning into her skull like she'd done something unforgivable. Her eyes dropped along his body, taking in the muscles and toned abdomen with displeasure--he was probably stronger than her. But her attention caught on the bulge in his pants and she smirked. So she did have the power to get to him--to be irresistible to this American man--and that meant there was still a way out.

"But why baby? We would be so good together..." He shook his head, backing up out of her line of sight and likely going for the door.

"Because you're more than a body people use for sex, Romanoff."

Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it and as always please review and follow!