AN: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Your comments mean the world to me!
"You're late," Director Fury commented, when they arrived. By now she was back to her composed self, and no traces of their make out were on them.
"You're late, complications?" he repeated, in a stern voice.
"None," Clint spoke up, and if Natasha hadn't known it to be a lie, she wouldn't have ever guessed.
"We stopped for food," she continued and Clint ignored the impulse to smirk at her lie.
"Food?" Fury stared at them inquisitively. Though with Stark's perpetual talk of ribs or Shwarma, Clint was surprised he was even asking about it.
"Spies have to eat too," Natasha explained, before she took the USB out of Clint's hands and marched it over to IT. He watched her as she left, and Fury followed his gaze, raising an eyebrow.
He was already distracted, he realized, and it was all her fault. He needed to be as far away from her as possible, while they waited for the information to be decrypted. She intoxicated him, made him lose his train of thoughts, and it would be too dangerous to be near her right now. He had to resist, to bury what had happened that evening and forget it all, so that they would be on their A game tomorrow.
They didn't want to walk into a trap, like they had in Istanbul. Especially now that her cover had been blown.
"Barton, cards?" Maria Hill called, from a table with Agent Phil Coulson.
"Yeah!" He agreed hurriedly, wanting desperately to get away from Fury's skeptical eye as soon as possible. He soon found out that the empty seat beside him, had been Fury's. He wished desperately that the boss had something else more important to do than play poker, but to Clint's dismay, Fury sat down at the table.
He forced his attention on the cards, not on the table around him, or even Natasha meters away, talking with other agents, discussing the intel gathered that evening. She distracted him with how good she looked in that dress, and he couldn't help but remember how amazing that dress had felt against his skin, as his hands had climbed all over her body. As his fingers had found her hair and brought her into more passionate, heated kisses. Her moans played on repeat in his mind and he shook his head to bury the memory, to no avail.
"Distracted?" Fury asked, sensing his emotion. Clint hadn't even been listening, and the cards had already been dealt. He cleared his throat, changing his gaze onto some unattractive male agent, to keep the steamy thoughts of Natasha at bay. He had to make sure Fury didn't notice. He wondered if it would be better to be alone for the mission, would he be able to focus with Natasha near him? Part of him betrayed him, and his words slipped out before he could help it.
"We got burned," Barton responded calmly, before he put his money down, "raise 20,"
"WHAT?" Fury snapped, and the table shushed to silence. Clint looked up for help, but Natasha had disappeared and was no where to be seen. At least this way she wouldn't be able to stop him taking the blame. She couldn't get mad at him for telling Fury and getting her banned form the mission.
"How the hell did you manage to blow your cover in an hour long operation? I have monkeys that have a better track record than you!" Fury snapped suddenly, but Barton just focused on the game.
"It was my fault," he lied. "I put Agent Romanoff in jeopardy and Horvat recognized her,"
"And you didn't think to mention this?" Fury asked, aghast.
"Maybe we expected this operation to go smoothly, and if we had the proper intel on Horvat it would have! He knew who she was! We're lucky she even got out," Barton explained, placing the blame on Fury.
"We'll move as soon as we get the base location," he said matter of factly, and he would, even if he had to take over the operation.
"I should put you on probation!" Fury snapped, his gaze hardening, before he made up his mind.
"Romanoff's off the mission," Fury stated, throwing his money into the middle with a sulky manner.
"You try to stop her," Clint responded. He knew there was no stopping her and he felt foolish for thinking of leaving her behind even for a second. He was stronger than this, he told himself, he wouldn't get compromised in the middle of the field. He had priorities, he reasoned. He folded his cards, even though he had the straight to win him the game.
He watched his twenty dollar bill disappear into Fury's wallet and used the moment to look around the room, Natasha was still no where to be seen.
After that, the game settled into a calm silence. Banter about the games, and Phil's obvious tell surfacing, but nothing more on the mission at hand, once Fury had left to prepare the evening's back up and to check on the intel being processed. Barton had done better under pressure of his presence, he had almost won a few rounds. Now it was impossible. He couldn't get Natasha out of his head long enough to concentrate on the numbers and symbols in front of him. His money was speeding away from him, all because he could taste her in his mouth still, feel the silk of her dress if he just closed his eyes. He could stop and remember that soft whimper she'd given out when he'd kissed her below the ear. Even how she'd practically ripped the bowtie off of him, pulling at his buttons. He wondered if she would dominate his dreams, or keep him in an insomniac state for the whole night, and he realized he wouldn't mind either. He could replay every moment in his head. As if he was back in the car and her fingers were slipping under the fabric of his shirt again, they had been so hot against his skin, the only thing in their way had been their own good sense, and the mission at hand. He'd zoned out, giving the Natasha in his mind his full attention, pulled out of a fantasy of ripping that red dress off her, when he heard Maria addressing him.
"Clint?" Maria was staring at him when he tuned back in.
"What?" he asked, suddenly defensive.
"It's your turn, has been for a while" Coulson responded, rearranging his cards, that was his tell.
"Yeah, call," Barton responded, though he didn't know how high the bet was. He was trying to shake memories of Natasha out of his head, but it just made them stronger. Hatching a billion new fantasies and experiences he wanted desperately to try. He was loosing the game bitterly now, passing up cards when they could guarantee a win, missing Maria and Phil's obvious tells, completely oblivious to anything but Natasha in his mind. Neither of them noticed, and they wouldn't know what was really going on, but the fact that he had managed to zone out just to think about Natasha was terrifying. He needed to protect himself, there was a reason she was called the Black Widow, after all.
He saw her a mile away. Then, his fear become exponential as Natasha approached the table. Her hair down in front of her face, straightened, wearing casual clothes. She looked dazzling and his breathing stopped, he wondered if anyone else noticed but knew that he kept it hidden well. He feared for a second that she would join them and that he would proceed to loose all his money.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked, and when Maria raised her eyebrows, she lied without a break. "We need to look over specs," Natasha explained.
"Fury says you're off the mission," Phil relayed, laying his cards down on the table with a smirk. Proud of his 2 pair.
"Then Fury can stop me," Natasha responded.
He stood quickly, as he knew he would when she asked for him to join her. He wondered what they would do, if they would actually talk about the mission, or if she would moan his name in his ear again, pull him against her and make him forget about anything but her. He got dizzy just thinking about that, or perhaps that was all the blood rushing to his head. Either way, he was eager to be alone with her and find out.
"Cards, Barton," Maria stopped him, revealing her straight with a cocked eyebrow, confident she was the victor.
"Right," he nodded, passively. He wasn't in the moment, still in the memories of the car, the feeling of Natasha's fingernails pressing into his back as she greedily kissed him. It was enough to put a guy out of work, he thought, before bringing himself back to the moment. It was hard enough being next to her, he could barely concentrate. He half wished, for his own well being and here that she wouldn't join him in the mission, defying Fury to find out the truth. But he knew her better than that.
He flipped over the cards and grabbed his jacket, not even realizing he won until Agent Coulson exclaimed,
"You want your winnings?" he asked and Clint turned around, now remembering he had a full house.
"Yeah," he collected the bills and smiled before following Natasha. Just as he left the table, he heard Maria exclaim,
"See, this is why I hate playing with spies."
His heart raced with anticipation as they approached her room. He tried to keep his mind clear, but he had no idea what to expect.
"What is this?" he asked, slowly coming to the realization that he wouldn't be reliving the fantasies of the car anytime soon. His eyes scanned over her bed, where there were stacks of weapons, including his bow, his quiver of 2 dozen arrows.
"I'm going to find out who killed my parents," she responded in a clear tone, too powerful to be real.
"Jesus Tasha," he breathed out deeply, preparing a speech to stop her.
"Are you coming or not?" she asked.
"I can't let you do this," he responded.
"You're my partner!" she snapped in a rage.
"Exactly why I need to keep you focused on the mission at hand"
"What mission!" she reacted, grabbing the gun nearest to her, she attached it to her side and started outfitting her clothes with knives, guns and other various weapons. He thought suddenly, that whether, physical or psychological scars, she could do more damage to any man with just her bare hands .
I'm off the case, I blew my cover, remember?" she looked furious at him for an instant but the emotion subsided.
"I'm sorry, I had to say something! You know you shouldn't come if you can't focus at he task at hand," he justified as an apology for exposing her to Fury.
"you're more distracted than I am!" she pointed out.
" I know," he agreed, a sudden embarrassment at the fact that she had noticed. He wondered how much the agents at e card table had caught on.
"But that's over now," he replied, burying the feeling. " I would never let it affect me during the mission," he responded, thinking of adding that he was allowed to relive fantasies of them together during a simple card game.
"Good, then you can come with me" she responded, still attaching weapons to harnessed all over her body. Some places so secretive he couldn't help but think of touching her there, running his lips all over her. So that she would forget all about anything at was worrying her.
Fury won't let you get away with it," he pointed out, cringing at each new weapon she attached to her person.
"You can spot him from a mile away," she reasoned.
"So that's why you want me to come?" he asked, wondering if she had completely forgotten about their tryst only a few hours ago. If she just saw him for his skill set. He wondered if he would go with her, abandon everything, betray the mission at hand to satisfy her curiosity. He didn't even have to justify it, he knew he would, instantly and that terrified him.
"No," she paused before she approached him, commanding him to look at her. "You're my partner," she said in a steady voice.
"That's all?" he asked, not knowing even what he was asking.
"You're the only one I told," she explained suddenly, before adding, "The only one I can tell,"
"Where do we start?" he asked in a steady voice, still disbelieving himself. He needed to distract himself from her somehow, and perhaps action was the best way.
"I have the name of Horvat's colleague, and I traced reports of him back to Moscow around the year my parents were killed-"
"When did you-"
"You played hours of poker, Barton," she explained and he grinned, laughing at himself.
"I should have known you would look into this on your own, immediately," he commented.
"I kept waiting for you to barge the door down and tell me not to," she confessed with a laugh, eyeing him uneasily. "Why didn't you?"
"I was a bit distracted," he responded, bowing his head in slight shame, before he looked up to meet her gaze head on. "Was that your plan all along?" he teased, standing up. She smiled weakly, but she knew that he understood, the car had been a mistake, an exception, one they would bury until they had time to deal with it. Until they weren't spies, and their lives weren't filled with running towards danger.
"Tasha, we can't do this," he said suddenly, when he reached her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to gaze at him.
"But-"
"I know you need answers, but we can't do this now, you know that,"
"I have to," she responded, looking down suddenly.
"Listen to me," his voice commanded her attention. "You're not thinking straight, you're letting emotions control you,"
"Funny, coming from you," she countered, her anger felt.
"Yeah but I'm not about to sabotage myself in an enemy operation," he pointed out.
"I need to do this," she contradicted, tears springing to her eyes. "You're supposed to get that! You're supposed to help me!"
"You'll get yourself killed," he pointed out.
"I can handle myself, I've been handling myself ever since I was-" the volume of her voice raised with anger, but he kept his tone the same, steady and calm. If he couldn't talk sense into her, he knew he would help her find the answer. He would become a rogue agent to help her find the truth, just for her.
"Tasha, please," she listened to him and he searched for words in the silence. He pulled her into his arms, forcing the hug. At first she resisted, feigning anger, or hurt or a billion other emotions, but then she sank into his embrace. Her arms wound around him, pulling him into her air tightly. He stroked her hair, brushing his fingers through it as he whispered.
"You're being impulsive, you need to think about this, it means everything to you, I know that. So I know that you have to do this properly. We'll get the bastard, you'll weave a web, get him in a trap and when you have him, you won't just kill him, you'll be able to ask him everything and know every secret that's ever haunted you. I'll help you, I promise you." His breath felt hot against her ear and she nodded slowly, pulling out of his embrace. He didn't realize he'd been successful until she began ripping the weapons off of her.
"I would have gone," she said in a low voice, perhaps ashamed of herself.
"And we would have gotten him," he nodded, feeling suddenly empty without her in his arms. "But not the way he deserves, and you wouldn't have had time to find out everything you deserve to know," he responded. She nodded, the edges of her mouth curving into a smile.
"How much money did you lose?" she asked.
"Hey, let's not discuss that," he faked shock, but her smile pulled a laugh out of him.
"Please, you were missing Maria's tell," she pointed out.
"I got it all back," he contradicted, unable to hold back the smile that mirrored hers.
"Only when I showed up!" she teased back. "Not that you even noticed you'd won," she smirked, her eyes glimmering.
"It's not my fault you look so good," he pointed out, pulling her back into his arms. The sudden movement startled her enough for a gasp, before her palms landed on his chest, her smile inches away from his.
"You really would have come with me?" she asked suddenly, deflating the moment. He nodded, unable to form a response with her lips so close again. He kept the reel of their kisses from the car away, prepared to make another collection of memories to be stored in his mind.
"You would have gone with me into a stupid ill thought out plan just to help me find out the truth?" she asked again, and for a second time all he could do was nod.
He thought he had been ready for the kiss, but this was not what he had expected. He was ready to relive all the heat and intense passion of the car, but this was different. As her lips grazed his in a soft manner, and as she held on, her eyes closed, holding him tightly in his arms, he felt himself fall deeper into that forbidden place. As he sunk into the kiss and pulled her closer against him, he felt himself get compromised even more. Unable to let go from the deep kiss, one that reflected truth, and trust and that word that she would never use. When she pulled away, he wondered if she could tell that everything had changed, but he realized other things were going on in her mind. She made room on the bed slowly, and he could do nothing but watch her in silence. He was struggling with his own speech, emotions and feelings billowing over him, ones he was not supposed to have. Ones that could burn him as a spy faster than losing any cover. Then, he stayed silent because he'd already made up his mind to be here for her. He didn't matter in these moments, he told himself, and he watched her with admiration, wondering how she could keep that cool head of hers, and all that pain submerged in her thin fragile shell. He wanted to hold her forever and promise her that they would find her parents' murderer. That they wouldn't act impulsively, but would find out every morsel of information the asshole had, and then finally, make him pay.
She pulled him to the bed once the weapons were on the table and he sat beside her in the silence, not once looking for words. He wrapped an arm around her and no longer wished for a heated night. He didn't think he could handle falling in love with her anymore, but the night was just beginning. One that would change everything.
"You're the only one I can talk about this to," she started. "I better not say anything compromising," she laughed darkly, but that was just what she was about to do.
If she only knew that sometime later her secrets would be spilled out to a maniacal norse god, she would have held her tongue. She couldn't stop the onrush now though, as she told him everything about her childhood, in a steady voice. She told him about her parents murder, her young spy training, things that even Shield or a dozen interrogators had never gotten out of her.
He listened carefully, nodding and trying to console her whenever he thought the timing was right, but she was strong, impossibly so and he wondered, if he had lived through the same things, how fast would he have fallen apart?
She fell asleep in his arms, exhausted from the revelations of that day. He tucked her into her bed with a blanket and refused to leave her side, even if it meant reading the same set of files over a billion times. Nothing would have made him leave her side.
[tbc]