Chapter 2:No More Mr. Nice Girl
Please review! A glimpse of Tony is in this. We all love Tony and his wit :)
Natasha followed Mayamid up a long winding marble staircase. She envied and viewed the magnificent architecture that went into something like this. Pale marble awnings, rich wood floors and granite banisters were on each side of her as she walked, her arm linked in Mayamid's as he told her about the various artworks they passed. Natasha looked down over the banister on her right side, and saw the party still in full effect. No one had missed the prince. She quickly scanned the crowd for Clint, knowing he'd have placed himself in an easy position for her to find him. She spotted him right away, almost in the center of the room, his arms wrapped around Mayamid's new bride as they slow danced. He looked up, and caught her eye. She gave a small nod, and he returned it. Natasha turned back to Mayamid and began asking generic questions about the artwork. Finally, he stopped outside a set of thick white french doors. A guard stood on either side of them.
"My dear, would you care to join me for a refreshment?" The prince asked.
Natasha smiled, and in return licked her bottom lip. She glanced down and found Mayamid's pants practically ready to burst open at her latest gesture. Oh, how easy men like this were.
Mayamid beckoned forward, and the guards opened the doors. He turned to them. "No interruptions. At all."
The guards nodded.
Natasha walked into the bedroom which was easily as big as the hall downstairs. A Canopy bed was center in the room, draped in wedding white. Natasha felt her stomach turn. This was set up for the honeymoon, and he was willing to christen that bed with her. Low music played, the lights were dim, and a bottle of champagne and au devours sat against the west wall. The east wall was decorated with plate glass windows. Natasha walked casually over to the windows to plan her escape route. There was no ledge, but they were only one story up. When she jumped, her landing wouldn't be that bad at all. She heard the door close behind her with a slow click of the luck. She frowned. Really? He was locking her in?
He'd pay for that.
Mayamid joined her at the window and took her hands. "You are lovely in the moonlight, my dear."
Natasha smiled, walked over to the bed and sat down. She tapped the space beside her, and he joined her. He tackled her, pinning her to the bed. He was a fast worker. His hands went immediately to her thighs, reaching up between them. Oh, hell no. He was not going to find her gun while reaching for the promised land. Natasha reached her her right leg up and kicked him with a force that knocked him onto the floor.
"Oh, you like it rough!" Mayamid exclaimed, grabbed her leg and dragged her to the floor. She busted her mouth on the corner of the bed's boxspring. That hurt. Playtime was over. Natasha jumped to her feet, reached up under her dress (Mayamid practically drooling) and turned her gun on him. "Enough, Mayamid."
Mayamid stared up at her from the floor. "Oh, I have whips and chains!"
She kicked him in the face, and he groaned, clutching his bloody nose. He lay on the floor, moaning. She walked to him and pressed the point of her stiletto into his chest, her gun still on him. "What do you know about the Ten Rings?"
"I think you broke my nose, you bitch," He said.
She smacked him across the face. "That's not all I'm going to break if you don't answer me. You shout or alert any guards, and well, this place will get more fun. I'll not only take them out, but your new bride as well. You don't want that blood on your hands, Mayamid." She spat. This was her mission. Gather the intel. If she had to threaten him with this, so be it. She was done spilling innocent blood, but if she had to take out his guards, she could live with that.
He continued to moan in pain. She reached down and grabbed his left arm as his right was glued to his nose. "One wrong twist and you'll only have one arm to stroke it with." She siad. "What do you know about the Ten Rings?" She asked as she applied pressure to his arm.
"They're a cover!" He reached behind and tore at her dress.
She applied more pressure and felt the pop of his shoulder disconnecting. "Don't do that again."
Mayamid howled with pain.
"A cover for what?" She demanded.
"A cover for Ling! General Ling in China! He's in charge of all of it. He runs the show."
"How are you connected?"
"I pay him for protection, filtering the money through the Ten Rings. He gives me weapons. We bargain on the nukes. He's got them all. I need to stand up against other people, other countries. I can't have my palace destroyed, my children murdered. I do this for them. All for them." She let him go and he slumped to the floor. She placed a hand to her ear. "You get all that?"
"Copy that, Agent Romanova." Hill said.
Natasha walked to the window, and glided it open. She looked over her shoulder at Mayamid. He had passed out from the pain. She rolled her eyes. The drop looked a lot longer when she was faced with it. But Clint was waiting for her, and she knew she was past her deadline. She took a deep breath, and jumped.
Clint sat silently in the shadows of their extraction point. This was where he was at his best. The cool night air greeted him. He watched, waited, and listened. He could see the city lights in the distance. He could hear the rustling of the wind through the trees. Natasha was late. He peered into the darkness, looking for any sign of her. He had tried reaching her on her comm. three times, and was about to go in after her when there was movement to his right in the distance. It was definitely human, he picked up the rapid footfalls. He squinted, and saw a female outline running toward him.
"Sorry I'm late." Her voice greeted his ear, and he smiled.
"Your conversation with the prince has been uploaded to headquarters. Fury's got people tracking Ling's whereabouts."
She smiled at him. She could always count on him to get the job done. "Where's the chopper?"
"It's close."
Natasha stripped off her shoes, and frowned at the broken heel. "Dammit. I liked these."
Clint looked her over, and noticed her dress had been torn in a few places. A few places that he didn't mind, truth be told. She had a few scrapes and bruises on her arms, and a fat lip. "Are you alright?" He asked her.
"Yeah, I feel fine now. That antidote of Banner's..." She bit her bottom lip.
"What is it?" He asked her.
"China's horrible this time of the year."
He laughed, shrugged off his jacket, placed it around her shoulders and buttoned her inside of it. "You're going to freeze in the chopper with your dress in rags."
She snuggled into his jacket. It smelled like him, and it was warm. She cocked her head to the side, and rested her head against her shoulder, and softly closed her eyes. Her mission was over. She was exhausted. Clint smiled down at her, grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled her into his arms. What a remarkable woman she was. She was beautiful, talented, smart, and she was here in his arms. She was the one person he was remotely close to. "You're beautiful," He whispered.
Her eyes opened once more, and she looked up at him gazing down at her. He caught a glistening of tears in her eyes as she looked up at him with her wounded face and tattered dress. She had been called that numerous times this evening, but this was the only time it sounded sincere. The air between them was so charged, and they were so close, and all she would have to do would be to reach up on her tip toes and plant a kiss against his warm lips. They were in sync, these two, and it was like he knew exactly what she was thinking. He bent his head down, and reached a hand up to rub his thumb along her swollen bottom lip. She stared deep into his blue eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers. She had never wanted anything more in this moment. He lowered his hand, and bent his head further. She reached up and...
"Natasha, Clint, chopper ETA thirty seconds." Hill's voice in their ears broke them apart and they looked skyward when the whooshing of the trees overhead called their attention. She thought she heard Clint give a knowing chuckle, and then rubbed her back affectionately.
The ride back to base was uneventful except for him taking the seat next to her and asking if she was warm enough. How close they had become to becoming something more. Something more than partners who moved in sync. More than allies. More than friends. She caught him staring out the window, wondering if he shared her thoughts. Would it be so bad if she and Clint became lovers? She wasn't in Russia anymore. This wouldn't be anything like what happened to Alexei... or would it?
No, she thought. SHIELD was nothing like the KGB. Still, she knew they would frown upon their relationship should they choose to have one. With all of this on her mind, she laid her head against Clint's shoulder and closed her eyes.
"Well, if it isn't Blackhawk." Tony greeted the pair on the helipad of Avengers Tower the next morning.
Clint walked by him without a word, but Natasha stared at him. "What?"
"Blackhawk. You know, I combined your names, like Brangelina, Penis..."
Natasha cocked her eyebrow. It was too early in the morning for Tony's jibber jabber. "Penis?"
"Combination of Katniss and Peeta, two fictional characters from the The Hunger Games trilogy. You should read it. It has... killings."
Natasha shook her head and walked past him after Clint.
"What happened to your dress?" Tony called after her.
Natasha walked down the hall to her room, only to find it locked. Or perhaps the door was jammed. Natasha struggled with door, and let out an exasperated sigh. How she just wanted to kick the damn thing in, but she knew if she damaged Stark's five thousand dollar door, he'd be more pompous than usual. Clint's room was right next to hers, so she decided to ask if he could give her a hand. What she really needed was to get out of this dirty dress and take a shower, and clear her thoughts. "Hey, Hawk?" She called.
"Yeah?" He asked, walking out of his door. He was dressed in a plain black shirt and loose sweatpants, and his hair held crystaline drops of water. She turned her attention to his face instead, as that shirt fit him a little too well.
"I can't get my door open."
Clint stepped in front of her and tried the lock. "It's stuck."
"I know that."
"I don't want to break it."
"Well, don't turn it so hard."
"Did you tell Stark?" He asked.
To both of their surprise, the door was pulled open, and a lovely young blonde haired, blue eyed woman stood before them.
"Oh, that's Bobbi." Tony said behind them.