Author's Note:

Howdy! Huge thank you to the amazing two individuals who took the time to review the last chapter: Junipa Ivanova and Princess2016. Thank you!

And shout out to my amazing beta and co-writer: ThisVioletofMine!

And before any of you ask- they are just friends!


Clint finished brushing his teeth before making weird faces in the mirror to make sure he didn't have anything stuck between them that could serve to embarrass him later. Satisfied with his dental hygiene, he strolled out of the bathroom where Natasha was in the process of getting dressed. Speaking of which, he needed to pick out his outfit for the meeting as well. As he passed by her to get to the dresser, he said idly, "Please don't wear that bra with that shirt." He gestured to the shirt she'd chosen, which was laying on the bedspread. "If you lean forward too much, bam, that bright pink's gonna really catch his attention."

Natasha glared at him. "I thought we wanted to make an impression." She pointed out, but went into the walk-in closet anyway.

He shrugged. "Yeah, but not that kind of an impression. You'll come off as too desperate." He was honestly just glad she hadn't opted to wear a thong for maximum effect. "What do you think of these pants? Too nerdy?" He held up a pair of khaki dress pants.

She walked back out in a less flashy black bra and pulled a disgusted face. "You are not wearing them." She stated clearly.

Clint frowned. "Why not? I mean, I could go with jeans, but then I'd feel too… I dunno, trashy. My only pair of jeans is full of holes." He argued.

"Did you even look in the closet? There's a bunch of fancy jeans in your size. Just wear one of the black pairs." Natasha said, dismissing his concerns about what to wear.

"Oh." Clint wandered into the closet, passing Natasha on the way, and found that yes, the closet was stocked full of clothing his size, including aforementioned jeans. He slid on a pair of black jeans before pulling on a simple blue shirt.

Natasha was mostly dressed when he walked back out. "I went over some sample questions earlier- anything you think we'll need to discuss about the adoption beforehand?"

"Maybe… age preferences?" Clint asked, then perked up a little. "We could use that to figure out what the age range of his targeted kidnap victims is."

"Alright. Cooper's age?" Natasha suggested with a shrug.

"Maybe between his and Lila's." Clint said. "Your ass looks great in those jeans." He complimented when she'd turned away to look in the mirror at her makeup.

Natasha instantly threw a glare at him over his shoulder. "If you suggest I change because it's the 'wrong impression' again, I will not be happy."

Clint smirked. "What, can't a man compliment his wife's ass when it looks nice?"

She slapped her own ass before picking up her phone and handbag. "You ready to go? We don't want to be late; in fact, we want to be really early to show we're eager and then try to 'act cool'."

He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and slipped it into his pocket. "Ready to go buy a child." He said with a sigh.

"Yeah, it'll be fun." Natasha muttered. She slapped his ass as she passed him, sending him a smirk.

Clint made an offended sound. "Stop objectifying me, Natasha!"

"Don't pretend like you don't like it, Clint."

He rolled his eyes, following behind her. "I'm more than just a pretty ass, you know."


Clint accelerated the car slightly in order to pass a dumpy old pickup going ten under the speed limit, groaning in frustration when the driver- a fat man in overalls with some unfortunate hair- decided now was the perfect time to get up to the correct speed, blocking Clint out of the lane. "Dude, seriously?" Clint muttered frustratedly under his breath, craning his head awkwardly to see past Natasha and out her window. "You choose to do that now?" He upped the speed even more and passed the pickup before successfully switching back into the right lane, feeling a small sense of glorious victory over his douchey opponent.

Natasha glanced back and then frowned, picking up her gun and leaning out of the window, pointing it at the pickup truck. "DON'T FLIP OFF MY HUSBAND!" The pickup skidded to a stop, getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as Clint maintained his speed. Natasha slipped back into her seat and fastened her seatbelt.

"You're my hero." Clint declared in a falsetto, batting his eyelashes at her. "Nobody's ever stood up for me like that before." He pretended to wipe at tears in his eyes. "I'm so… so touched, Natasha."

"Shut up, you wussy." She muttered before changing the radio station for the eighth time in the last half an hour.

Clint wanted to retort, but before he could his phone started ringing. Recognising the tone as Laura's, he put it on speakerphone and said, "Hello?"

"Clint, Lila's got appendicitis." Clint almost froze at that, but managed to maintain his composure enough to keep driving.

"What?" He exclaimed.

Laura was quick to reassure. "She's going into surgery now, and the doctors say she'll most likely make a full recovery after, but I just thought you should know about it." She explained. "Clint… she kept asking for you. She wants you, and we need you to be here." It pulled at Clint's heartstrings to hear her sad voice, and to hear that his little daughter had been in pain and calling for him, when he wasn't there to come to her…

"Laura, I'm… I'm sorry, I… I can't. We've reached a critical stage of the mission, and I can't back out now." He said, using all of his self control to keep the car going toward Toledo. "I want to be there, I really do, but…"

"No, of course not." Laura said, a biting quality entering her voice. "Your child is in surgery, leaving your wife to watch after a distraught little boy alone, in the waiting room. What need is there to actually be present?"

"Laura-"

"I'll let you know how the surgery went later." And Laura ended the call.

After a few seconds, Natasha looked at him. "I'm sure we could come up with a reason why you couldn't make the meeting." She suggested.

It was tempting- like, half of his body was itching to slam on the brakes and turn around. But he couldn't. "It could compromise the mission. There are lots of other kids at stake right now that we need to help." He said this as much to convince himself as her.

She nodded, changing the radio station. "Lila will be fine, but these children might not be. You're making the right decision remaining here."

Clint let out a bone-deep sigh of weariness. "Let's hope so."


Natasha turned to Clint before he opened the door and straightened his collar. "I'm sure these guys can help us to adopt, just like they helped the Rothmans." She told him with a hopeful expression plastered on her face. She gave him a wider smile, one which he returned, before they both simultaneously slid out of the car. She stepped away from the car and waited for Clint to join her before they walked into the cafe.

Taking their time to look around, they found there were a potential three individuals who they could be meeting. She tapped Clint's arm before pointing to an empty booth. "I think we're a bit early- want to eat something while we wait?" She said sheepishly.

Clint checked his watch. "Alright, sure." He agreed, leading the way to the booth and allowing her to sit first before taking a seat opposite her. "I'm totally in the mood for Deana's World-Famous Pulled Pork." He said, gesturing to the advertised meal on one of the paper placemats.

Natasha picked up the menu and forced herself to appear indecisive. "I'm not sure... maybe just…" she hummed in thought for a moment. "Waffles."

Clint nodded. "Awesome… Now if we could just have a waitress frolick on by…"

As if on cue, a waitress approached them. "Mornin'! What can I get for ya?"

Clint pretended to peruse the menu, even though he'd just said what he wanted, before offering the young woman a smile. "I'd like the World-Famous Pulled Pork, please." The waitress eyed him strangely before scribbling down his order and gesturing to Natasha.

"Alright, and what'd you like, sugar?"

"Waffles, extra syrup, please." Natasha replied with a smile as she handed the waitress her menu. "And a strawberry milkshake."

Clint perked up. "Oh! I'll have a chocolate milkshake, please!"

"Coming up," The waitress said, scribbling their orders down before moseying off.

Clint returned his attention to Natasha. "Any sign of Ventura?" He asked quietly, eyes darting around the restaurant.

Natasha casually looked around. "Possibly." She said, indicating two individuals, having already ruled one of the previous suspected culprits.

"No, that guy's right-handed." Clint muttered, continuing to scan their fellow patrons for their target. "What about him? He look like his voice would match what you heard?" He gestured to a man sitting a few tables away, reading a newspaper.

She hummed in thought as a light caught her eyes. She kicked him under the table. "Pulling up now."

Clint turned his head subtly to gaze out the window at the sedan that had just pulled into a parking space nearby. A burly man stepped out of the car, straightened his dark suit, and made his way inside. "I see him. Wave him over."

"Mr. Ventura?" Natasha asked, holding her hand up. He nodded, and Nat stood up and slipped into the seat beside Clint, literally bumping him out of the way. "It's very nice to meet you! I'm Natasha Cole, and this is my husband, Clint."

Ventura put on a charming smile and extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." He shmoozed. "So, did you bring the paperwork?"

"Right here." Clint supplied, patting his briefcase full of fake documents.

"Good. But before we get down to business, let's get to know each other first." Ventura said. "How many failed adoption attempts do you have?"

Natasha pulled a diary from her handbag. "Three, officially. But we've reached out and been turned down by other agencies." She admitted, looking down sadly.

The man frowned sympathetically, every reaction seemingly natural to him after years of manipulating others in his 'business'. "No hopefuls should ever have to go through that. Especially when they clearly only have the best intentions, like you two."

Clint sighed. "I know, right? One incident on her record and suddenly we're the least desirable adoptive parents ever."

"Do you think you would be able to help us?" Natasha questioned hopefully, looking back up at the man.

Ventura sighed and leaned back. "That depends on a few factors. First off, do you have the money to care for a kid?" The glint in his eyes spoke volumes about how much the money really meant to him.

"Oh, sure we do! Both of us have really good jobs- mine's more flexible now that I've been promoted. We both have savings, and are more than capable of providing for a child." Clint said.

"Good, good." Ventura drawled, clearly having been hoping for specific numbers. "And I do need to let you know that, after the adoption goes through, I will be charging a fee- we'll get into the specifics of it later. That okay?"

Natasha frowned. "What kind of fee? What for?" She questioned, confused.

"Well, I am giving you the use of my services to help complete your family. It means twice as much paperwork for me as you have ever had to fill out, it means lots of work and hundreds of phone calls, then I have to track down the perfect kid and deal with their pissy social worker…" Ventura explained, sounding as though he'd given this speech millions of times before. "Would paying a fee be an issue?" He asked, slightly suspicious.

Clint was quick to jump in. "No, of course not! Sorry, she's just worried that it might take a chunk out of our savings, is all. We'd be glad to pay."

"How much does it usually cost?" Natasha questioned. "Of course we're willing to be practically anything. But, if it's more than expected, I'd rather pick up extra shifts now to ensure we can provide for our child and pay you, then have to pick up extra shifts after the child arrives." She explained.

Ventura smiled somewhat kindly. "Nothing too crazy, really. Five thousand. I will need the money before the child arrives, but after that one small payment, you're done. No strings attached." He said as if this was the greatest bargain on the planet.

"Five grand?" Natasha questioned before pausing. "That's more than I expected. It almost sounds like we're buying a child. Is it that much because you are a private organisation?"

The man slicked back his hair and nodded. "Precisely. Private organisations don't get nearly as much government support, so our work is ten times harder. I just want my men to get paid fairly for the hard work they do."

Natasha looked at Clint, them both exchanging the odd head tilt and nod before turning back to him. "That's fine- five grand is manageable." She said, a smile growing on her lips. "And are you sure we're able to adopt with my… misdemeanor?"

Ventura smiled, showing off his crooked teeth. "Absolutely."


Clint flipped through the pieces of paper in the folder as Natasha drove them home. It was their one souvenir from their appointment with Mr. Ventura, and he'd instructed them to read its contents very carefully. They'd already signed a contract with him after another hour of discussion, and were now at the phase where they needed to start looking at children to adopt- of course, they could only choose from the children he supplied, hence the folder full of files about various children he'd probably kidnapped or was planning to have kidnapped.

"This man is sick. Seriously, this kid is two years old! Her parents must be worried sick." Clint said, outraged, as he read through one of the files.

Natasha stared at him, slightly stunned. "Two? How old are the others?" She asked, peering over his shoulder.

He paged through several more single-page information sheets, quickly skimming through them. "The oldest I've seen so far is fourteen. The youngest is four months." He honestly was getting sick to his stomach. How could someone steal a months-old infant away from her parents when she was just beginning her life with them? The first months of his children's lives were some of the most important, as that was the period in which parents and baby really got to bond and get to know each other. And this man had no qualms with stealing that away.

Her hand came to rest of his shoulder, squeezing it. "It's a good thing we are taking him down then." She paused. "Have you chosen what kid you want?"

That just sounded so wrong. These were other people's children, and he had no right to go picking and choosing amongst them. At the same time, though, it would be relieving that child of the fear they were no doubt living in as they stayed wherever their kidnappers kept them until they were 'adopted'. But even in those terms, it was impossible to choose. He wanted to choose them all, save them all. But that would be suspicious and unrealistic at best. Finally Clint snapped the file shut and set it on the console between them. "You pick when we get home. I can't."

Natasha nodded, but didn't reply.


Thank you for reading!