I'm so excited that so many people are reading my story so soon. I would've posted earlier, but due to weather, my internet was down. But here's chapter three. I'm sure all the Clintasha fans will love the end of this chapter. I'll try to post again soon! Feel free to review and let me know what you think. It always makes me excited when people choose to do so. Once again: I don't own the Avengers.

Chapter Three: The Proposition

Clint Barton

I straightened my black jacket as I walked into the hotel. Glancing down at my watch, I grimaced. The party had already started. I was late as always. I could see the bouncer across the room, guarding the ballroom from unwanted guests. I shook my head; I still hadn't figured a way out inside. I tried to put myself in the Black Widow's shoes, tried to get inside her mind. How would she expect me to get in?

I suddenly felt very conspicuous standing in the middle of a fancy hotel dressed up like I was. I walked towards the bouncer, figuring I'd go for the obvious option. The Black Widow didn't seem to be using any of her elaborate schemes to get me here, so she might not expect me to use one of mine to get inside. I put on my calm and collected face, well aware that if you look like you know what you're doing, no one's going to question you otherwise. "Name," the bouncer asked, not even looking up at me. I swallowed. Here goes nothing.

"Clint Barton," I said smoothly. From the outside, no one could tell that I was nervous. I came off as confident and self-assured, like I belonged inside with the other party guests. But secretly, I was panicking. What if it didn't work? The bouncer looked through page and page of names. It was then that I guessed wrong. The Black Widow had other plans in store for me. Great. But then the bouncer pointed at a name.

"Mr. Barton, right there, Miss Rushman's plus one," he said simply. "Go right in. Miss Rushman has already arrived." I nodded at the bouncer as I entered the party. She put me as her plus one? I used the comm link that I'd managed to secretly secure on my person to contact Phil.

"Barton?" Phil asked.

"Phil," I mumbled, "I'm in." I looked around, trying to locate the Widow in the mess of a crowd that had formed.

"How did you manage that?" He said, surprised that I'd gotten in so fast.

"Apparently the Widow put me on the guest list." I shrugged even though he couldn't see me.

"Clint, be careful. Nothing is ever what it seems with Natasha Romanoff. She'd killed over a hundred people by the time she was sixteen."

"I know the statistics Phil. I read her file." I said, trying to blend in and keep the element of surprise I currently had over the Black Widow.

"Then you should know better than anyone that she likes to play games with her victims. And, I'm not gonna lie, this is starting to sound like a game." I hated to admit it, but Phil had a point. She'd even remarked for me to step up my 'game,' an incredible word choice in light of the situation. And yet, I was torn.

"I'll keep that in mind Phil." I said as I turned the comm link off. I waded through the sea of people until my eyes fell on her. Wow, I thought. I knew she was beautiful yesterday, but now she was utterly breathtaking. She was dressed in a curve hugging black gown that fully accentuated her figure. Her long red hair hung down in curled ringlets that perfectly framed her face, with its pale skin and green eyes. I tried to un-jumble my thoughts as I approached her, but when she looked at me, I was rendered speechless. She had been talking to a man in a slick black suit, both holding glasses of champagne in their hands. She eyed me as I stood there, unsure of what to say. Her eyes danced with mischief at my inability to do anything but stare at her.

"Mr. James," she said, "this is Mr. Clint Barton. He's my date for the night." She said, shooting both of us a smile. I tore my eyes away from her long enough to shake Mr. James's hand. Mr. Edward James was a successful billionaire who'd been successful in the oil industry and was the generous host of tonight's party.

"Well Mr. Barton, you are one lucky man. I think every guy in this room, single or taken, would love to be in your shoes. You've got the most beautiful girl here."

"Oh, you're giving me too much credit," she smiled again and looked down modestly.

"On the contrary," he said, taking her hand and placing a light kiss on it, "I only give credit where credit is due my dear."

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. As if on cue, I suddenly found my voice. "She is a sight, isn't she? You look stunning. I mean wow." It might have just been me, but I'm pretty sure I saw a blush creep into her face, settling on the apples of her cheeks. "Do you wanna dance?" I asked. The band had begun playing a slow song, and couples had started to move to the center of the room, twirling around hand in hand. She sat her drink down on a passing tray and took my hand.

"Lead the way," the words flowed off the tips of her lips like velvet. I led her to the center of the room and pulled her close, placing my hands on her waits. She wound her hands behind my neck as I began swaying her to the music.

"So what's next? You wanted me here, I'm here." I leaned closer and said low enough that only we could hear.

"Don't you have a job to do?" She asked playfully, that laughter like bells making yet another appearance on her lips.

"You know, from your file, I didn't take you as someone who'd have such a sense of humor." I replied, trying to ignore the warmth I felt at her closeness. I looked around the room as we danced, trying to check things out.

"Maybe I wasn't trying to be funny." I felt her shrug. "I mean I'm not wrong. You have a job to do, and I do too." I focused on her now.

"You have a job." The thought alerted me. I scanned the room, trying to find evidence of the Black Widow's handiwork. There were so many people at the party though, even if evidence was visible, it was unlikely that I'd find it in time.

"You can stop looking. I didn't do anything," she mumbled in a short voice. I looked down at her, nose winkled in confusion.

"Who's your mark?" Every time I thought I had her figured out, she threw me for a loop.

"Edward James," she looked in his direction before looking back at me.

"Why haven't you made your move? That's not in your nature." I pointed out, moving one hand to the small of her back and pulling her even closer. I didn't want there to be any chance of someone else overhearing our conversation.

"I honestly don't think you know anything about my nature. All you know is what you read in a file." Her voice had grown cold. I looked at her, and not that I would've admitted it, but I felt a pang that she was upset. I had this protective nature over her that I couldn't explain.

"So then why don't you tell me about your nature?" I challenged. "Why haven't you made your move?" She looked at me, seriousness glazing over her green eyes.

"Because I figured it out," she said simply, as if that explained everything. I looked at her, waiting for her to explain more, but she didn't. She just got this far off look in her eyes as she gazed around the room.

"Natasha, what did you figure out?" I urged. Something was wrong.

"It's a setup. They're coming to kill me." I became alarmed even though I kept my cool composure.

"Who is?"

"Marius Belov," she said. "I was actually impressed. They put on an elaborate scheme, one actually up to my standards. They hired a guy and gave him a fake identity with the fake backstory to prove it. They had him hire me to take out Edward James so that I would come to Barcelona. Marius had two expendable guys come after me in the ally to try to kill me and make me think he was actually attempting to come after me. The plan was for me to come here to take out James and they get me while I'm not expecting it."

"How did you figure this out?" I asked.

"I ran a deeper identity search on the guy who hired me. The details and backstory they gave him were good, but not good enough. I found some holes in his story. I put all the other pieces together after that." She didn't sound like herself suddenly. It was as if she'd lost her will.

"So what about me? Where do I fit in? Why am I here?" I asked, my eyes burning into hers.

"You don't….it's just…I don't know," she sighed. I'd never seen her so inarticulate. She was stumbling over her thoughts and her words. "I figure if I'm going to die tonight, I'd want you to do it." My heart sunk at the morbid thought. I just wanted to hold her and consume the sadness plaguing her.

"What? Why?" I looked at her with wide eyes. This conversation wasn't going where I expected it to go.

"I don't know, I guess I just felt you were a kindred spirit. I've felt lost for a long time, and I don't know, that first night in your hotel room, I just had this inkling that maybe at some point in your life, you were lost too. Plus, when I looked into your eyes, they were warm and full of life. I want the last thing I see before I leave the world to be like that, not cold and uncaring." The dark thoughts made me see the Black Widow in a completely different light. It seemed she'd been contemplating death for some time, but in a profession like ours, how could you not? I'd thought about dying myself, but never on the level that she'd thought about it. I looked around, trying to find the guys coming after her. I noticed one guy from across the room, but there were bound to be more.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her hard behind me. "Come on," I told her as I dragged her along.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" She asked as I pulled her through a door to a connecting conference room. I shut the door and locked it. She looked at me with wild eyes, her questions still standing. I knew what she was thinking: was I going to kill her now, here at the party? She wasn't ready to die, that much was obvious. Her body began to mildly shake. I never expected her to be so vulnerable, so fragile. I grabbed her arms.

"Hey, calm down. It doesn't have to be this way." I told her. She looked at me with shiny eyes, tears watering, threatening to fall.

"What do you mean?" She asked, visibly shaken. I pulled her closer.

"You don't have to do this. You can come work at S.H.I.E.L.D." I don't know why the idea hadn't occurred to me before. The Black Widow was legendary, and every bit of that was well deserved. I'd observed her for myself. She was a spectacular fighter. S.H.I.E.L.D. would be lucky to have her on their side. They'd be stupid to reject her. Her face twisted into doubt.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. wants me dead! They're not going to take me in! Do you know how many people I've killed, people that probably didn't deserve to die at my hands?! Do you know how I didn't care! I have a specific skill set. I don't care what I use it for!" She shouted at me.

"Exactly," I said, finding a loophole in her logic, "you don't care what you use it for. So why not use it for good? Come on, what do you have to lose? You were setting there contemplating death. I feel like it's worth the risk," I said, my voice growing softer, gentler as I moved closer to her still. She eyed me curiously. "I feel like you're worth the risk." Her mouth parted slightly as she stared at me intensely. Her eyes seemed to grow deeper the longer I stared at them. I reached out for her hand, letting my thumb rub lightly across her skin. "So what do you say?"

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

- Natasha Romanoff

"So what do you say?" He asked me as he rubbed circles on the skin of my hand. I felt unnerved by his movements, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I wondered if he even knew what he was saying to me. I looked at him. He really thought I was worth the risk? My heart had skipped a beat when he'd said that. I knew what I was feeling was silly, and I knew what I was about to do was stupid, but I'd resigned myself to do it anyway. I shook his hand away. He looked hurt, but I let a small smile show. I closed the gap between us, cupping his face with my hands, and pulling him to me until our lips met. He kissed me back, his hands automatically finding my waist, pulling me closer. It was like time stopped and the world melted away. We weren't in Barcelona. I wasn't supposed to die that night. He wasn't sent to kill me. We were just there, together. When I finally pulled away, I exhaled softly, resting our foreheads together.

"Do you really think you'll be able to convince Fury to take me in?" I asked in a whisper.

"Yeah, I really do." He assured me. I'd hardly ever worked with a partner. I had trust issues. But as I stood there, so close to Agent Clint Barton, I wholeheartedly placed my trust and my life in his hands, willingly.

"Ok," I conceded.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile. His smile was infectious and I felt one creeping onto my face. I'd never been so openly emotional with someone. It was nice, I thought, to not have to keep it all inside, to show someone exactly how I was feeling.

"Yeah," I nodded. "So now what?"

"Now, we make it out of here alive." That would prove to be easier said than done.