Sorry for the long wait. My family is crazy.
Her nose was cold.
There was a soft blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and a small fire warmed her toes.
"sʺyestʹ' malenʹ'kiy."
His voice was deep and soothing. Warm meat was pushed into her hands. It smelled delicious, and she tucked in happily. There was warm laughter beside her, deep and comforting, coming from a man who sat beside her. He put an arm around her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arm to coax some warmth back to her bones.
She liked him, he let her eat as much as she wanted and he had kind grey eyes. She did not often meet people with kind eyes. So, on a whim, she decided to trust him and leaned into his side.
It was the closest thing to perfect happiness she had ever experienced.
Slowly the fog began to clear; something was dragging her out of it, urgently pulling and tugging at her mind. She didn't want to leave, didn't this happy warm haze to fade forever.
The man next to her let out a groan that vibrated through her chest, an arm tightened against her waist and there was hot breath against her neck.
Her eyes snapped open to a face full of hair. The man was practically lying on top of her. They were wrapped up together in a scratchy wool blanket, his face buried in her neck and an arm holding her close.
Fighting off the drug induced sluggishness that weighed down her limbs; she wildly shoved him away, and quickly crawled backwards till her back came up against something cold and solid.
She stared at him, willing her mind to focus and formulate some plan of action. The man…Clint Barton, she now recalled…stared up at her with an unfocused confused look. He looked like she felt.
Her vision swam. She was going to be sick…
He drove for as long as he could manage, which turned out to be not very long. His head was throbbing something terrible, and his vision began to blur around the edges; he was in no condition to continue for much longer. What was it they said about operating heavy machinery with a concussion? Did a car count? He supposed it did…
What was he doing? Oh right. Safe place. He had to find a safe place to park the damn car before he passed out. Out of sight, off a main road…his mind, while processing slowly, automatically ticked off certain requirements for what constituted a "safe place." Well…safe-ish. There were no guarantees, especially when one was temporarily mentally compromised.
They were in a fairly large city, which was a plus. More places to hide and more places to rip off supplies from without drawing too much attention.
Oh! Parking garage! Score!
He parked in a dark corner in the second to lowest level and then turned to check over the other occupant of the vehicle. She was sprawled across the back seat, out cold with a blanket haphazardly thrown over her. Her skin was pale white.
There was no way he'd be able to get her anywhere else tonight. He could barely walk, let alone drag around an unconscious woman. Not to mention it was terribly cold outside and they were both half naked. What a sight that would have been.
With nowhere to go and one blanket between the two of them, it really didn't take a genius to figure out what had to be done.
Without a thought, he gracelessly crawled into the back and slipped under the blanket with her, promptly succumbing to unconsciousness.
He really should have thought that one through a little bit more…
He was awoken rudely by a painful shove to his already substantially abused chest, he let out an undignified yelp as he fell awkwardly in between the seats.
Still a slight murky from sleep, it took him a moment to register the situation. He looked up to find Natasha huddled against the car door, frowning at him with distrustful eyes and looking very much like a frightened little girl.
It was surreal to think this young girl was the fearsome Black Widow. She was banged up and bruised; and looked completely lost, seemingly helpless, like one of those kids on those commercials asking for money to support them. "For only a dollar a day, you can make sure little Natasha eats three meals a day and gets proper medical care." He had a feeling she hated that he was seeing her like this, catching her in genuine weakness.
Their awkward impromptu staring contest abruptly ended when her pale face turned green. She groped for the door handle and gracelessly stumbled out of the car, coughing and retching.
He followed quickly, pulling the blanket with him and tripping out behind her into the frigid air. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and because he's really a nice guy, reached out to pull her hair out of her face and hold it out of the way. Apparently he crossed some sort of line because she stomped on his instep. There wasn't much force behind it given that neither one of them was in tip top shape at the moment, but he got the message and backed up to give her space. It probably didn't help her trust issues to wake up to him half naked and on top of her.
She pulled the blanket tight around herself and leaned her forehead against the cold concrete wall. Closing her eyes and she took a few deep breaths to center herself. When she finally turned to look at him she looked like a grumpy exhausted cat. He would have laughed at her tired scowl if he didn't think she'd make him pay for it in some painful way, his ribs had been mistreated enough for one lifetime already.
It's not every day you help your mark escape death. What were they even doing anyways? Liev was dead, and the intelligence lost with him. Beyond using each other out of their current fucked over situation, they had no reason to continue playing nice. She was probably going to try to either kill him or ditch him first chance she got, but for the time being they needed each other, and they both knew it. It was going to get interesting real fast.
For his part, Clint had already decided he wasn't going to even try to kill her again. Once he could, he was going to call up SHIELD and put this whole strange affair behind him. Fury was gonna be pissed.
"You look like shit." he said with a ghost of a laugh and the best charming smile he could muster in an attempt to dispel the awkward tension that had settled between them. She merely scoffed in return, all trace of the frightened little girl completely wiped from her face and a perfectly sculpted mask was firmly back in place. She dropped the blanket and gracefully made to way to the back of the SUV to sort through what might be useful
Clint caught himself staring open mouthed at her attractive form. Rubbing his hand over his face, he put his own game face back on and joined her in assessing what they had to work with.
As they worked side by side, Natasha stood uncomfortably close to him. Brushing up against him unnecessarily, purposefully reaching for the same things as him so that their hands bumped into each other. Clint did his best to ignore it, her every move was calculated to throw him off balance. She used her sex appeal like a clever weapon and he had no intention of letting her slip past his defenses like that.
They came up with some road flares, a first aid kit, a couple of knives, and a glock. Clint was the one to pull out the weapons, carefully setting them between him and Natasha in an attempt to make it abundantly clear that he had no intention pulling anything. Natasha however, quickly snatched up the knives and slipped one into her bra, and the lighter one into the waistband of her panties, leaving him the glock. It was pretty damn sexy and Clint had to force himself to look away. There was a smug pull of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulled himself away from her side to break into another car to put some distance between them.
She was distracting him and she knew it. The maddening woman.
He found a light jacket in the car and quickly draped over her shoulders. Rather than shrug it off as he half expected she pulled in around herself and zipped it up (guess the cold finally won out). Thank God for that.
She hotwired a nondescript tan car while he dumped their scavenged supplies into the back and slipped into the passenger seat, content to let her drive while he downed some aspirin from the first aid kit.
It's a strange feeling not knowing what day it is or even where the hell you are. Who knew how long they were held in that place. Outside the sky was grey and cloudy, blocking out the sun. The car's clock said 8:17, but who knew if it could be trusted. Plus whatever the time change was from where they were to where they are. His internal clock was all fucked up.
The street signs were written in Cyrillic, meaning they were probably in Natasha's backyard. She maneuvered through the city with practiced ease, doubling back, signaling left and turning right, and getting on and off the highway (or whatever the hell they called it here)to smoke out any possible tails.
"You know where we are?"
She nodded but remained silent. The irritating woman.
"Care to share?" he asked, annoyed.
"Simferopol' "
He gave her a blank look. "Where now?"
"Doesn't SHIELD teach their agents in Geography?" her teasing tone took him off guard. She was a strange woman.
"Crimean peninsula, the Ukraine." She finally divulged.
"Hm." The other side of the world. Great. This mission wasn't supposed to be a world tour. What he wouldn't give for a hot cup of Irish coffee.
They rode in silence for over an hour. Just driving in circles. Again and again.
"Are we there yet?" he whined.
She shot him an annoyed look and kept driving around for another 20 minutes, just to irritate him he suspected.
Finally she pulled into an underground garage. She parked and led him through an underground tunnel that came out on an alley. She made quick work of the lock, and pulled him into an old abandoned building. She took him up to the roof and then, unexpectedly took off in a sprint and leapt off the edge. She landed gracefully on the roof of the adjacent building, and then turned to star expectantly at him.
Clint groaned internally. His landing wasn't nearly as elegant, he tripped into a roll reawakening every little ache and pain. Not waiting for him to regain his feet Natasha carefully lifted one of the sunroofs, making strange practiced moves.
Disabling booby traps, Clint realized as he observed her. This was a safe house of some kind.
They dropped down into a rather comfortable studio apartment. Natasha quickly shed her borrowed jacket and pulled on some warm sweat pants and a t-shirt from the bureau. He'd never been so relieved to see a fully clothed woman in his life.
"There should be some clothes in there that will fit you."
He grabbed some clothes and made a beeline for the bathroom while she busied herself with re-engaging her security measures.
He took a long hot shower, washing away the grime and letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles. It was the only good part of this trip so far, so he reveled in it. He'd worry about SHIELD, and the Black Widow, and the shady organization they just missed off in a minute. For now, his world consisted entirely of the delightful relaxing hot shower.
He'd just stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hips when she slipped in through the door. She stood with her back against the door and a heated look in her eyes. He was like a deer caught in head lights; all he could do was stare dumbly at her.
Ah hell.
She attacked.
*puppy dog eyes*
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