STRAYS
8
Jeremy remained silent the whole trip. Smart kid, he knew when to keep his mouth shut, Clint thought as he eyed Natasha's blank expression. The woman seemed lost in her own thoughts and beating herself all over again, likely over the whole situation. Since Clint had come by bus, he had to join them in the car. He had no idea how long would be the drive, if the assassin would try to lure him in a dark corner and, in spite of her earlier words, attempt to kill him quietly. The archer perfectly knew Romanova was far more skilled than him at close range. Jeremy was currently his life-insurance and the archer wanted that kid at arm's length.
They stopped in front of a banal building in a banal, quiet neighborhood. More precisely, they stopped in front of a big residential building. It could either be a comfy apartment complex or a huge modern-like mansion, he couldn't really tell. The moment they passed the main entrance, Jeremy opened his mouth but Natasha cut him straight:
"You. Bedroom. Now. We'll talk about this later."
Before Clint could protest, the kid buzzed off towards the nearest elevator, threw a worried and guilty glance in their direction and disappeared behind the door. Natasha turned towards him.
"This is between you and I." she spoke slowly, definitively on edge again. "Can we call a truce for now, for Jeremy's sake?" When he frowned at her, she added: "No attempt from either part. I don't think SHIELD would like it."
But as she spoke, Clint spotted her fingers twisting towards her thigh. Alarms blared in his mind; he had seen Maria initiate a very dangerous maneuver that started the way. Without further thinking, his hand sprung towards the knife he kept hidden in his trousers. Before he could blink, Natasha was on him, fist tight and ready to hit. Clint ducked reflexively and jumped aside. She aimed to kick to his waist, but he anticipated her move, stopped her leg with both hands and used it as a balance to push her back against the wall behind. His full body forced her to still, knees pinning down her legs, hands holding off her elbows and chest pressing against hers. Natasha was fast, very fast, but he was stronger and easily kept her immobilized.
The growl in the back of her throat caught him slightly off guard, as did the venomous glint in her eyes.
"So what now?" she hissed. "You're planning to take me down like this? I never realized the infamous Hawkeye was such a coward."
"Pot meet kettle, sweetheart" he muttered in return, not loosing up his grip for a second. If he did, her hands would be at his neck faster than he could think 'oh shit'. His position was quickly becoming quite uncomfortable; her body was wriggling against his and a certain part of him was starting to react to their proximity. He had her pinned against a wall before, but for very different reasons.
A noise distracted him a semi-second, but that was enough for Natasha. She head-butted him in the nose –which diminished his grip over her wrists, kneed him in the groin –his groan of pain rang like music in her ears, and hit his throat with her hand wide open, palm flat under his jaw. Clint released her and staggered backwards, a short reprieved she used to take him down with her favorite thigh-choke technique.
The moment he hit the ground Natasha was straddling his waist, ready to pounce at his throat and incapacitate him for good. A small voice of reason reminded her that Maria would definitively not be happy and Jeremy might sulk and pout for months, but Hawkeye had made his intentions clear and…
"Jeez Red, I didn't realize your idea of foreplay was so rough. You gotta be a she-male in the sack."
Both assassins raised their head in surprise. Before them, Milla stood with her arms crossed, a positively amused smirk on her face. Natasha raised an eyebrow, Clint all but forgotten; the woman was dressed in black sweatpants, grey shirt and worn out whitish blouse stood with arms crossed. Her hair was slightly smoking, her face darkish safe for the eyes (she must have been wearing goggles at some point) and her clothes giving away a strong scent of burn. She looked like she had just survived a scientific explosion.
"You were working on that special bullet again?" the redhead asked in disbelief.
"I was working on dosing the caliber when I happened to catch your little act on camera. Thanks to your distraction, I might have added a bit too much explosive in the tube." Milla replied dryly. She stared intensely at Barton and frowned. A flicker of recognition ran over her face, and Clint wished he could say it was reciprocal. "Nice to meet you in the flesh, Hawk. Take my word for it, death-white skin really doesn't suit you."
The archer stared at Natasha in puzzlement. The redhead looked as put off as he for being interrupted.
"Barton, meet my partner Milla Jovova, aka Alice." She grumbled awkwardly. "You must have heard of her."
Alice? Okay, wow, Clint thought. First Natalia Romanova, next Alice the Mercenary. He was certainly not expecting to stand face-to-face to his ex-lover and meet one of Europe's most renounced mercenaries today. She didn't look that tough, especially in that oversized lab squint attire, but he had known for years not to rely on appearances.
"Thanks for the rescue" he eventually said. Milla shrugged and turned.
"Thank Red for finding the damn room. I was about to blow you up." Clint blinked. What was he supposed to reply to that? "By the way, if things keep heating up between you two and you want to make up for the lost time, you have a bedroom, Red."
Both spoke at the same time:
"We're not making up…"
"She attacked first…"
Natasha snapped her attention back to Clint.
"I attacked first? You moved to reach that knife-"
"Like you weren't planning to take one out yourself!" the archer snapped back, crossing his arms, refusing to feel intimidated because she held the upper position, literally speaking.
"I was tempted, didn't mean I was going to act-"
Milla clapped her hands loudly and cleared her throat.
"Children, calm down." Both assassins quieted, glaring at each other. "Now, let's act like responsible adults and sort this out. You claim she made the first move?" she asked Clint. When the archer nodded, Milla turned towards Natasha: "And so do you?" The redhead narrowed her eyes. "Reminder: why are you here? Sort out your misunderstandings, right?" When none replied, the Ukrainian woman rubbed her temples. "Right. Fine. Whatever, be stubborn and quiet if I care. This is what's gonna happen: first, Red's gonna get up. Second, you're gonna shake hands. Third, you're gonna use your special living room so we can keep an eye on you kids. Got it? Do it now." Pause. "Before I get really annoyed and call the boss."
Seconds went by. Natasha reluctantly moved, allowing Clint to finally stand up. Under Alice's insistent stare, she offered her hand –although the expression on her face let it think she'd rather be feeding a starving tiger. Clint vaguely wondered why the redhead assassin was following her orders; was the 'boss' threat so efficient?
"Red's hand is not a giant poisonous snake." Alice's voice cut his thoughts straight. The two women suddenly exchanged a look and Clint recognized the signs of an inside joke. "Shake it, or I will believe the Hawk is actually a chicken."
Natasha actually smirked. His blood slightly boiled and he grabbed her hand perhaps more forcefully that he should have. The redhead hid her wince well, he had to give it to her.
"Good. Your living room Red. If I can't see you on screen in ten, I'm coming after you."
And this was how Clint found himself standing in a very homely, purplish colored room. The walls were lightly tanned, the only window opening in the wide back garden but the archer had no doubt there was an exit hidden somewhere. He also had no doubt the room was under strict surveillance with hideouts for weapons. It had been the case in their old living-room, he thought with a hint of nostalgia.
"Marry me." The words tumbled out of his mouth before Clint could stop them.
Everything that happened next happened in slow motion. He saw Natasha's eyes widen, her mouth part slightly, her shoulders –her whole body tense, and read the disbelief on her face. Her red hair was wrapped in a towel, her skin glowed –she was stepping out of a shower. He swallowed hard. They had never talked about it, never suggested they'd push their relationship to that level.
What if she said no? She'd have every right to; after all she was barely twenty and he was turning thirty one in a few months. They had stopped being fuck buddies and started a real relationship for three months only. He had a job that could put her in serious danger or kill him early. There would be things he could never tell her, things he could never give her no matter how badly he wanted to. And yet he wanted her by his side. He was pretty sure no-one would love her as much as he did and if she said yes (or even if she said 'no') he'd treat her like a fucking queen till death did them part. She was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him and he would never find someone like her, he knew it.
"What?"
"Marry me." He repeated with more conviction. The panic he felt inside was still there, still ready to eat him up, but he wouldn't let it show –although he was pretty sure she would see right through him anyway. "Please?" She stood silent, staring at him with her impossibly wide eyes like he had gone crazy. Maybe he had gone crazy. "Uh, Nat?"
"You're serious?"
"As serious as a heart attack." He said, eyes boring into hers.
"I –I…" Any other day, he would have smirked having turned his girlfriend speechless. Right now, he was downright terrified. "I don't know what to say."
Her voice was faint, quiet and unbelieving. She had told him people tended to leave her behind. He had promised himself he wouldn't be one of them, knowing fully his job –and life in general- didn't always allow such dreams. Barton suddenly wanted to take back the five past minutes –heck the five past days – and not walk past this jewelry shop, not notice the goddamn ring and not let himself being drawn by that stupid idea.
"Maybe yes?" he joked before turning serious again. "You don't have to answer." He replied, swallowing heavily. "If you'd rather…we can…I mean, just forget about it."
"No!" she protested immediately. "It's just…I wasn't expecting…" Natalie stared at the ground, biting her lower lip like she did every time she was thinking over something. After a terrifying minute of silence, her shoulders released some tension and he heard a very low-whispered: "Okay."
"Uh?"
He wasn't sure he had heard well, and to what she was 'okay' with. Forgetting everything? Not answering right away? Marrying –. She looked up back at him and he would never forget the tentative, shysmile that grew on her face.
"Okay. Let's try this."
"Barton?"
Clint suddenly realized he had been lost in thoughts again and reported his full attention on her. They stared at each other in silence for a total of five minutes and twenty seconds. Not that he was counting.
"I was sincere, you know." Natasha said quietly.
"Uh?"
"When I said yes, I meant it." He must have looked lost, because she added: "You were remembering your proposal, right? You were touching your ring finger."
Was he?
"Does it matter anymore?" he asked, desperately wanting to hide how deeply her words hit home. The night she had said yes had been the highlight of his life -never had he felt so goddamn happy, but he'd never tell her. She stared at him intensely, as if trying to decipher his thoughts, then shrugged.
"I guess it doesn't." Natasha hesitated a second before walking to the couches and taking a seat. Clint figured that action must have cost her a lot; he could see the tension in her eyebrows as she waited for him to imitate her. He waited a full minute before following her example and settling in a deep blue leather sofa. The thing was damn comfortable too.
"So" she spoke again. "What do you want to know?"
Clint suddenly realized she was nervous. It had been nine years, but he hadn't quite forgotten her tells; her too-still hands, a slight stiffness in her neck…He felt slightly better, knowing they were both in foreign territory here.
"I don't know, maybe the beginning? Why did you…" he paused, took a deep breath. "Why me?"
I keep putting off and off their discussion. Some part of me must dread that time :P
Thank you for reading so far, and let me know if you enjoyed :)