I'm introducing here most of the members of the STRAYS. Don't pay them too much attention though, I just wanted to portray the dynamics of Natasha's team. They won't appear much later on anyway.
taggering : thank you for pointing out that detail ^^" it's been corrected :)
Read and enjoy!
STRAYS
*Chapter 10*
When Clint agreed to dine with them, he hadn't expected to be seated at such a large table. Of course, Milla had understated that at least three or four people would join them. Not eight. He ended up stuck between the Mercenary and a guy named Sammuel; across him, Natasha and Jeremy. Another man, slightly plump, named Oliver was sitting next to his two kids. Added to that, a teenager and a six year old girl. The archer thought it odd to keep children and deadly adults together but didn't dare comment on it. He had no doubt the two surrounding him were as dangerous as he was.
"Who's that guy?" the teenager –Kevin, Clint remembered –asked with a frown and a heavy French accent. Before Clint could dwell on that little detail, Jeremy chipped in cheerfully:
"He's my dad! His name is Clint."
Kevin's frown deepened.
"How nice." He muttered before digging into his spaghettis. The girl sitting next to him took a keen interest and ogled him with wide curious eyes.
"Becky, what did I say about staring?" Milla chided.
"It's rude." Her daughter replied with a tiny, shy voice. The other girl her age nodded vigorously and added with a faded British tone:
"It's rude, cause it makes people uncon…confa…unconfable!"
"Children, eat now." Oliver intervened in turn, and the kids obeyed reluctantly. Clint safely supposed they hadn't poisoned the food, so started eating in turn. The Englishman caught his attention with his creepy grin. "Sorry, they tend to be curious with newcomers. So, Clint –may I call you Clint? –I've heard we share the same kind of jobs." Clint stared at the man wordlessly, neither confirming nor denying. But Oliver took it as a 'yes' anyway: "Now, does your work is alike Natasha's? Or is it more hardcore like Milla?"
"I would say a sniper" Sammuel interjected with a light French accent too. He and Kevin must be related, Clint thought. "You hold yourself like you have been in the army and your eyes are very intense."
"The guy's Hawkeye." Milla cut in, deadpan. "Rumors say he never misses a target."
Kevin snorted in disgust, and Clint safely assumed he was not in the death business and would never be. The other children kept eating and ignoring them. Only Jeremy seemed to pay a little attention between two spaghettis bites.
"Unless I'm wrong, you work for SHIELD right?" Oliver mused. The French guy looked interested all of a sudden.
"Really? For how long? And, pardon my impoliteness, my professional name is Chasseur. I am specialized in finding people and quiet assassination. I was hired in the STRAYS four years ago."
Exchange of information, Clint realized. That guy was trying to find out more about him by giving pieces of his own curriculum. Was he attempting an honest conversation? Or…Clint narrowed his eyes in suspicion; the 'details' were actually quite vague. The Black Widow was also into 'quiet assassination' but first and foremost a spy. So far, he hadn't given him anything the archer could have guessed on his own. Oh how he hated being the new center of interest! Assassins' new center of interest.
"Ten years" he replied instead, keeping it short. No need to depict his army background.
"That's even longer than mom!"
The five adults stared at Jeremy, who promptly returned to his plate. Clint bit back a smile.
"Yeah, that is."
The boy cheered up and offered him a winning grin. He had something in mind, everyone could tell.
"I know it's totally off subject, but when are you planning to take me ice-skating?"
Clint stared blankly. Becky and her girl neighbor muttered 'rude' under their breaths.
"Ice-skating?" Natasha asked, and he realized this was the first she had spoken.
"I never…" he started, but was interrupted by the boy.
"That's the first place I asked you to go, but we went to see Cars and eat at Chucky Cheese instead." Jeremy gave him a pout that would have melted a dictator's heart. "Pleaaaaase? Don't tell me you're still afraid of falling on the ice."
And just like that, the slight tension melted. The mention of the movies and the child fast-food started a huge interest. The three others looked thrilled –they had the same gossip-seeking glint in the eye but Natasha's expression was the hardest to read, stuck between highly amused and highly puzzled.
"Chucky Cheese? Really?" she said. Clint hated that tone immediately. It reminded him of when she had found a new way to tease him. "Where else have you gone?"
"The fair, the circus, movies again, the baseball stadium…" And Clint listened in horror as the boy listed every activity they had done. Now, he sounded like Jeremy had him wrapped around his little finger –which was, if he was honest, pretty much true.
"After all these places" the Mercenary said with a hint of a smirk, "I can hardly fathom why ice-skating is such a big deal."
"The first time I saw Barton on skating grounds, he lost his balance three times in five minutes." Natasha shamelessly declared.
Clint glared at her. Traitor.
"Why don't we go tomorrow?" Jeremy pushed, a winning grin plastered on his face. "It'll be my last free day before school. I really, really want to go. Pretty puppy eyes please mom?"
-STRAYS-
The night has fallen a while ago and silence had taken over the Residence. Only Sammuel wasn't in his bedroom -his turn to take watch over the cameras screens -and Barton hadn't been allowed to follow. The surveillance room was the most guarded part of the building and although Romanoff had brought him inside, he wasn't welcomed there. Instead, he was offered a spare room to spend the night, his every move probably being recorded the whole time. It didn't bother him though. Sharing the building with assassins and their children had the advantage of being particularly secured, he supposed.
It still didn't stop his mind from working over the current situation. Natasha's blasé but cautious attitude towards him, Jeremy's constant need for attention, the other STRAYS…Barton didn't know what to think, didn't know how to react. How should he react, by the way? Was he supposed to get angry? Throw a tantrum? Be happy? Annoyed? Had he been dreaming the whole thing? He didn't dare get up and try to peek through Romanoff's bedroom door to check. He knew better than to give a reason to that woman to trust him less than she already did. Because really, a man who sneaks in the room of a sleeping assassin; what would said assassin do?
Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a familiar number. It was past eleven but knowing Maria, she would still be up doing paperwork. As he expected, she picked up at the second dial.
"What do you want Clint?"
"Is everything real?"
"What?"
"Natal –Natasha and Jeremy. Are they real?"
The questions must have startled her, for she didn't answer right away.
"Maria…" he started warningly.
"They pretty much are."
Barton said the only word that came to mind.
"Well fuck."
"Natasha will kill you if you swear around the kid."
The use of the redhead's first name reminded Barton that Hill had been deeply involved in the Black Widow's –and his son's –life. And she had never told him.
"You know we will have to talk Maria."
"It'll have to wait, I'm busy right now."
"Busy with what?"
"Paperwork" she said it in such a tone he could feel the 'duh' behind. "Now can you let me finish? I promised the girls to pick them up tomorrow." She paused, as if pondering over something. "Where are you by the way?"
"At Romanoff's. I'm crashing her couch"
"Natasha brought you to the Residence?" her tone was so incredulous he raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah. Something wrong with that?"
Maria sighed heavily.
"The Residence is reserved for STRAYS agents. She isn't supposed to bring anyone external inside." Her tone understated the redhead and she would have a little chat later. "Can you let me do my job now?"
And Barton wondered if that was how she felt when he was the one to hang up on her. He nearly slammed the cell phone on his nightstand, even more frustrated by the lack of answers, laid back with his arms crossed behind his head and tried to quell the questions twirling through his mind. A couple of doors down, a certain redhead was dealing with the same problem. Natasha had been reading the same line for the past ten minutes, her mind too busy to concentrate properly. Seeing Cli –Barton again after all these years wasn't hard per say, but bringing back memories she would have rather kept locked.
Maria was going to bust a vessel when she will learn about Jeremy's little stunt. She briefly feared the situation had damaged the friendship between her boss and her ex-lover. The two relied on each other, and losing Barton would hit Hill hard.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened slightly and a small sandy-blond head appeared in the frame.
"Mama?" Jeremy called, her name sounding like a question on his lips. Natasha smiled.
"Come in kid." She encouraged him. The boy closed the door behind him and climbed on the bed in no time. He lay down, head resting on her thigh. Natasha slipped a hand through his hair and smiled. "What's on your mind?"
"Are you mad at me?"
His voice was soft and quiet as he remained immobile.
"Mad about what?"
"Finding Clint and not telling you."
Natasha's hand froze in his hair and her throat tightened. Was she upset?
"I'm not, sweetheart. Meeting your father is something you've wanted for a long time, I can't be angry at you for that."
He nodded against her lap. One of his hands rested upon her leg as he closed his eyes. One glance at her alarm confirmed it was way past his bedtime. She looked –really looked at him. He was only eight years old, and she often made the mistake of forgetting it.
"Say, mom" his voice was soft, barely a whisper. "I really like Clint. Is there any chance of you getting back with him?"
A pang clenched in her chest; after dinner, they had come to an unspoken truce for Jeremy's sake; they would tolerate each other since no kill order was on. Anything about getting involved again wouldn't be on their priorities before long. The attraction was still there –she still felt the effects of his intense gaze when he laid his eyes on her –but the lack of trust from both parts made it impossible for now.
"I don't know sweetie." Her own voice had quieted. Jeremy hoisted himself on his elbow and stared intensely at her.
"But if you could, would you?"
She smiled faintly. The kid really had to like Clint to be so insistent. It was a good thing, she supposed. Knowing Clint, he would get involved in his life in the future. He had always wanted kids after all.
"You should go to bed sweetheart." She replied instead.
Jeremy looked disappointed but didn't insist. Instead of leaving, he slipped under her covers and snuggled close to her. Natasha let him. If he needed her presence for tonight, she would allow it. She knew that she needed him too.
-STRAYS-
The ice-skating had to be the worst idea ever, but for some reason, Natasha had gone with it. Jeremy's plea and pout had completely won his mother over. Clint knew that, had that look been addressed to him, he wouldn't have lasted as long as the redhead had.
"You are completely helpless to deny him anything." Barton said with a smirk.
Natasha shot him a blank stare. They were both leaning against the border of the ice rink, checking their environment for any potential threat. So far, the cohabitation had been calm, almost normal. Had Natasha not been a bit skittish about with him hanging around, Clint would have thought himself back when they were together.
"And you aren't?" she replied with a raised eyebrow, recalling all the places he had been with Jeremy the past week.
He was saved from an answer as the subject of their conversation raced towards them and stopped his course with impeccable ease.
"This is so much fun!" Jeremy exclaimed happily. He caught Natasha's hand and tugged her over. "C'mon mom! Clint, c'mon!"
Both exchanged uneasy glances but complied anyway. Although Natasha had more experience with ice-skating due to her boy's enthusiasm, she didn't have much more on Clint who possessed natural balance. Both somehow managed to follow Jeremy without tripping too much.
They were halfway through their first lap when the boy suddenly frowned unhappily and tugged at Natasha's sleeve. They headed towards a deserted part of the rink and Jeremy checked no-one was eavesdropping when he spoke:
"I think Nao's in the back. Behind the pillar." Both assassins glanced in the direction he was referring to and Natasha winced in turn. True enough, a petite Japanese woman with thick black hair was hiding in the shadows and subtly staring at them. "Please mama, don't tell me it's another mission!"
Natasha squeezed her son's shoulder and replied:
"Just let me see what she wants. Why don't you wait for Clint on the rink? I'll be right back."
She shot an expecting look at Clint, wordlessly informing him this was STRAYS business. Father and son took the hint and skated away. Natasha left the rink and headed towards her colleague. The Japanese woman vanished from sight, but the redhead knew where to find her. Secluded corners or building shades were always their favorite rendezvous point to discuss issues. Natasha found her leaning back against a wall, gauging the risk of being overheard. She had brought a long briefcase with her, which contained her tools for hunting a prey –mainly knifes and darts.
"Care to tell me what you're doing here?" the redhead asked dryly.
"Obviously not for the same reason you are, or is it an unfortunate coincidence?" Naoto Fuyumine replied with a shrug. Her hand was still in her pocket, where Natasha knew she hid her favorite weapon. So she was on a mission. Either surveillance or assassination, although Natasha thought more surveillance; had a murder been on the menu, Naoto wouldn't have reached out for her.
"Jer wanted to skate. Is whatever you're onto going to cause a mess?"
Naoto shrugged.
"Depends. It's just an in and out in the man's locker room. I was counting on Heine, but he's got…held back."
The redhead rolled her eyes. While she usually complained about Milla's talkative habits and nosiness, Milla was a professional at core. Naoto's usual partner didn't share the same attitude.
"Let me guess; bar brawl again? How many this time?"
"He was soft; only five in the hospital with broken bones and two with concussions. He, of course, came out unscratched." She grimaced. "Hill won't take care of him until tomorrow."
"She's on a date with Captain America." Natasha replied with an implicit grin. "He finally had the guts to ask her out." The two women shared an amused smile before sobering: "What do you need?"
"It involves breaking into a locker and retrieving a USB device." Naoto said, deadpan. "I was hoping I could borrow Jeremy to fetch it."