Hey guys, thanks for the follows and favorites. I really appreciate it. Thanks for the review! :) Here's Chapter 2. We are still in Barcelona currently. I wanted to spend a few chapters going into my version of how the two met because a lot of the fanfictions I've read have glossed over it. I hope you guys enjoy it. Feel free to leave me a comment and tell me what you think.

Chapter Two: The Widow's Invitation

- Natasha Romanoff

"If you want to catch me, you're gonna have to do better than that," I whispered as the drugs I'd put in his drink finally knocked him out. I gently pushed him back into a lying position, running my fingers slowly through his sandy brown hair before letting him go. I just stared at him for a minute, taking in the agent S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent to kill me. He was slightly older than me, with skin tired and rough from years in the field. I ran my thumb along his cheek gently, not able to shake the feeling that he'd had a hard life before this moment. I sighed and stood at the foot of the bed, drawing my gun and readying it for the shot. This will teach S.H.I.E.L.D. to come after me, I thought, determined to make my point with a red signature. Everything was ready. All I had to do was pull the trigger.

I became a little shaken when I didn't. After all, he was an adversary, a threat to my well-being, the agent sent to murder me in the name of Nick Fury and his other agents. He was dangerous. My reputation may have preceded me, but his did the same thing. I'd heard many stories about the 'amazing' Hawkeye, the world's greatest marksman. He was lethal with a bow and arrows, so I should've been scared, scared enough to pull the trigger. But I wasn't. There was something about him that didn't make me afraid, like I knew he wouldn't hurt me, which was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever thought considering the next time he saw me, he'd probably shoot me without a second thought. Either way I lowered my weapon.

What was I doing? I rubbed my face, weariness wearing on me. I was jeopardizing my life, my entire career for what? A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who may have had a difficult past? Lots of people had difficult pasts, including many of the people I'd killed over the years. What made Agent Barton any different? Because there was a possibility that he could know the same lostness as me. No one could be as lost as me. I don't care how much it seemed apparent in his eyes when I watched him watch me. And yet, a small part of me still believed.

I walked to the door, stopping just short of leaving, thinking. An idea formed and a wide smile appeared on my face as the details planned themselves out. I walked back, determined to leave my signature in red. After I finished, I walked to the door again, taking one last look at my work. I allowed a small laugh to leave my lips at the thought of its being received, and with that, I left Barton's hotel, walking along in the still warm Spanish air.

As I walked along the side streets, I couldn't forget his eyes or the way he looked at me before he'd fallen unconscious. They seemed warm and inviting, and they made me nervous. I stopped suddenly, alarmed at my nervousness. That was a problem. I exhaled sharply and forced all thoughts of Clint Barton out of my head as I disappeared into the darkness of night. I had other things to do.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

The first thing I thought as I became conscious was that I was alive. How was that possible? I was sure that the Widow would kill me at the first chance she got. She drugged me for Christ's sake. I couldn't imagine a better opportunity for killing someone! My head hurt, sharp pains running all through my body from there. I slowly began to blink my eyes open, surprised that I was still in my hotel room. I was propped up in the bed, leaning against the pillows. I thought for sure she would have at least kidnapped me. I looked around and caught site of the gray mirror I'd peered through earlier and couldn't help but give a lazy grin. She'd written on the mirror in red lipstick: "Step up your game Agent Barton. It's time to play." Next, an address was written in her beautiful cursive writing, along with a time. She was letting me know where she was going to be tonight. It was a gutsy move on the Widow's part, one that showed exactly how unafraid and courageous she was. It almost impressed me. Hell, it really did impress me, but I wasn't really supposed to be impressed by psychotic Russian assassins whose jobs had led to the deaths of tons of innocent bystanders.

I turned on my comm link and contacted Coulsen. "Yeah Phil, I got a hit on the Widow's location for tonight."

"Really where?" Phil asked incredulously. I gave him the details, but I was met only by silence. It was Phil's unmistakable mark of suspicion. "Where did you get this information Barton?"

"I got it from the most reliable source: the Black Widow herself." Phil's silence filled the phone again. I rolled my eyes.

"Clint," he started, "how do you know she's not setting you up for a trap?"

"If she was setting me up for a trap, it'd be more elaborate. There would be false identities and intricate stories. A blunt trap like this isn't her style." I said.

"You've been following her for a couple of days and you already know her style? I don't think so Clint. The Black Widow has had years of intense Soviet training. She'll use whatever methods to get the job done. I don't know about this." I could hear Phil shaking his head at me from the comfy black chair in his office.

"Look Phil, you gotta trust me on this one. She'll be there. This is the real thing, I can feel it." I had never been surer of anything in my life. I was absolutely positive that the Black Widow wasn't trying to draw me out and trap me. She wanted me to step up my game. She wanted me to prove to her that I could live up to my reputation, especially since after last night, it was apparent she lived up to hers.

Phil sighed in defeat. I'd recognize that sound anywhere. "Fine Barton, what do you need from me?"

"Can you see what kind of information you can dig up about that address, you know what it is and stuff? And could you try and find out what's going down there tonight? If it's a party, I'll need to look the part."

"Yeah, hang tight Barton. I'll see what I can do." Phil disconnected and I laid back on the bed thinking about last night.

She'd had me. I had been stupid enough to assume she wouldn't pull a stunt like that. I assumed that I was the one with the upper-hand, the one with the file on my target, but Russian spies apparently had files too. They had a file on me, where I was staying, what room I was in. She'd snuck in here and went through my things to find the alcohol I kept. I didn't even think to check for drugs in my drink! She had every right to kill me after a rookie mistake like that. So why didn't she?

The Black Widow was known for her ruthlessness. She was a cold, calculated killer, the best assassin Russia had to offer. She had one hell of a skill set. She was stealthy and quiet, not to mention how amazing her actual fighting skills were. Her acrobatic moves were enough to unnerve anyone who was trying to take her down, and in the history he'd read on her, she'd never turned down an opportunity to take down a threat. She seemed to be a believer in the mindset 'kill or be killed.' And yet, here I was…alive. It didn't make sense. It was vastly out of character for her. I promptly decided that the only way to find out why she didn't take the chance and kill me while I was passed out was to go to the address at the specified time and ask her. Bluntness might not have been her style, but it was mine.

It wasn't long before Phil contacted me again. He told me the address she'd left for me was for a swanky, up-scale hotel on the other side of town and that tonight a party was being hosted in one of the ballrooms. No telling what the Black Widow was planning. "One more thing Barton," Phil said to me after filling me in. "It's a restricted guest list. I'm not sure how she expects you to get in there. Usually, I'd try to bribe your way in, but because of the short notice, I don't think it'd do any good." I nodded, taking in the information.

"Thanks Phil, I'll figure it out."

"Barton, be careful out there. That woman's lethal. And if you get your sorry ass killed in Spain, I'm going to have to fly out there to identify the body. Don't drag me to Spain to identify your body."

"Hey at least if it comes to that, you'll get a free trip to Spain." I quipped. Phil didn't laugh, but I could sense that he was smiling on the other end. To a lot of agents Phil was just a handler. But me and Phil, we were friends. I knew that when push came to shove, Phil had my back and would do anything to help me.

"Really Clint, be careful." He said again.

"I will, don't worry. I can handle her." I said, but after ending the transmission, I wasn't so sure that I could. The Black Widow was calling the shots. The only thing I had to go on was an address of a hotel and a time of a party, a party that I wasn't sure I could even get in to. I exhaled heavily and stood up to begin pacing around the room. I finally threw my hands up in the air and decided I'd figure out how to get in later. Right now, I had a party to get ready for.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

"Wow, senorita, if looks could kill…." One of the hotel employees said to me as I stared at myself in the mirror. I was in the process of getting ready for the party and had tried on my dress for good measure. I'd chosen a floor length black gown with a beaded top that hugged my curves in all the right places. I glanced up at the hotel employee who promptly hurried out of the room to do his work. I chuckled.

"If looks could kill, you'd already be dead," I mumbled to myself. I turned around and looked at myself from all angels. I smiled, feeling content with my dress of choice. A lot of women would feel offended about having to use their bodies for jobs, but not me. I worked with what I had, and my body was key in seducing many of my past targets, whatever got the job done. Besides it's not like I actually slept with them. I'd draw them in, get them alone, make them believe it was going to happen, and then when they let their guards fully down, I'd pull the rug out from under them, killing them when they least expected it.

I turned and listened as my heels clicked lightly against the tiled floor of my hotel room as I made my way to the bathroom to fix my hair. It was dark red and fell to just below my shoulders. I kept it simple, curling it into classic ringlets and sticking with simplistic makeup. I strapped a garter holding a gun onto my leg for the finishing touch. With that, my party look was complete. I smiled and looked at the clock. I was staying in the same hotel that was hosting the party, per orders of my current employer. The party was due to start in ten minutes, so I grabbed my black clutch and walked downstairs towards the ballroom.

Everyone looked at me when I walked. They always did. I'd grown accustomed to it long ago and now barely noticed it. I strutted to the ballroom where a bouncer was waiting at the door, a list of names in hand. "Name please," he said, looking up at me. His mouth fell open just slightly as his eyes took in the sight of me.

"Natalie Rushman," I said sweetly. When the bouncer didn't respond, I cleared my throat, drawing his eyes back to my face. "My name is Natalie Rushman. I should be on the list." He glanced down at the list.

"Yep, Miss Natalie Rushman, right there," he pointed to her name on the typed list. "You can go on in. I'm sure Mr. James is expecting you." I could still feel his eyes on me as I entered into the party. I grinned and joined the already large crowd in the ballroom. Now all I had to do was wait.