Prompt as follows : "If you are still doing the 3 paragraphs thing could you do one of Clint and Natasha meeting as kids on one of her early missions. Btw I love your blog it's the best.
prompted by anonymous on tumblr :)
The first time he saw her, she was just a kid. It wasn't face to face per see, as he was just watching some security footage of her. He'd been with SHIELD for about 9 months now, but Coulson trusted him enough to show him this classified material. He was barely 23 at the time, and what he was seeing made him both angry and, even if he'd never admit it to anybody, a little scared. Because this little girl, 14 years old according to the files, was doing everything just as if she'd been programmed to do it and it pissed him off. Her name was Natasha Romanoff, and she was one of the youngest members of the Red Room. Coulson had just asked him if he'd feel alright with taking her down, but Clint had denied: he was an assassin, for grown ups. Not kids. Not girls like her who had to appreciate the joys of being a teen, not act like they were trained hound dogs. What he agreed to do, however, was try and meet her, to see if he could sense anything different about her. Coulson was sure that nothing would or could go wrong. And if Clint detected malice or an unchangeable will to kill and destroy, then he might consider killing the 14-year old.
The first time she saw him, she was just a kid. She'd just been to Stockholm on an initiative mission, which had included her getting arrested by the police force, and spending a night in prison - from which she'd had to smuggle out some confiscated drugs and break one of the police officers' hand (or any other member). She was sitting in the cell, looking down at the ground, focused on everything around her, when she heard the footsteps, followed by some Swedish arguing. Looking up, she saw him, standing out in his black leather jacket, his typically American sunglasses, and his denim jeans. He'd stopped up and was watching her, as he, apparently, ignored the police officers who were calling him names. "Leave us," he then said, in Swedish to them, as he bent forward, resting his arms on the metal bars of the cell. She didn't flinch, but her eyes remained fixed on him, like a caged animal waiting for the stick to beat her. For some reason though, she didn't feel threatened by him the same way she did by the people in the Red Room.
"I'm not here to hurt you, 'Tasha," he said, in a Russian with a slight accent. He'd learnt it during his last months with SHIELD and still had to perfect it. Languages had never been his strong suit. She didn't move. She didn't even blink. "I'm just here to talk with you, and if you don't want to talk to me, I'll just talk at you. Is that alright? You can nod if you understand me." He watched her, and she watched him. There was something different about this twenty something American guy, something that felt safe. This is why she nodded. But she didn't speak. "I hear you broke one of the officers' hand? And that you tried to get into the confiscated goods section of the station after you broke his hand." She gazed at him. He didn't sound judgmental at all. She breathed calmly, trying to remember her training. "Well, I know why you're doing this, and I'm gonna help you out. But you have to promise me that you won't say anything about me to those who train you, and that you'll forget about me. Am I clear?" he asked, and she nodded again, prompted by his gaze. Bending back, he unlocked the door with the keys he'd pick-pocketed from one of the officers, and opened it wide for her to walk out. "There. Do whatever you're supposed to do, 'Tasha. I'm sure we'll meet again sometime," he stated, as smiled at her, before walking back up the corridor, to distract the officers while she fled and finished her job. Clint could hear Coulson in his ear, whining about what Clint had done, but the archer didn't care. Natasha didn't seem like something evil. At all.