"Go on, talk to him. I'll be right here when you get back, promise." I chuckle as I nudge my boyfriend towards the bar where Steve was sitting.

"Okay, okay." he raises his hands in mock surrender with a smile. "You don't have to tell me twice."

"I already did!" I call at his back as he walks away and I turn back towards the table with the food on it and help myself to the appetizers.

I was at the annual Star Industries' Fall Gala with the rest of the team. Currently my dad was out charming associates, Bruce and Betty were hiding, Natasha was teaching Thor how to waltz, Steve was people watching, and Clint and I were just enjoying each other's company before he went to go talk to Steve.

I dip another fruit piece in the chocolate fountain as I watch men in suits twirl with ladies in elegant dresses, being mindful not to drip chocolate on my own deep purple sequined evening gown.

"Can I help you with something, beautiful?" a silky voice purrs behind me, and I slowly turn to see a boy about a year older than me, dressed in a light gray suit with a silky navy tie.

"No, I think I have everything under control here." I reply in a monotonous tone, the guy's tone sending shivers down my back.

"Are you sure, gorgeous?" he presses, and I instinctively lean slightly back.

"Yeah," I assure him. "Pretty sure. Who are you?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" The guy chuckles. "I am Darren Walkerton, Jr." he tells me, extending a hand.

"Son of Darren Walkerton, Sr., head of Walkerton Industries?" I ask, tentatively shaking his hand then discreetly wiping a hand on the tablecloth behind me.

"The very same. We are looking forward to receiving those tablets, Miss Stark." he smirks, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Ah, yes, we look forward to doing business with you." I gush quickly, trying not to look too much like a cornered animal.

"You know what would make that contract even better?" he purrs. "If the companies were tied by their heirs."

I blink at him absorbing the implications of that last statement. "Mr. Walkerton-"

"Please, call me Darren." he cuts me off. "And come on, what is a beautiful girl like you doing out here all alone? I'm sure you'd like some company."

"Actually-" I try again, only to get cut off once more.

"One little dance won't hurt, will it gorgeous?" Darren presses, leaning a little closer.

"Mr. Walkerton." I almost yell, refusing to be cut off again. "I do not think my boyfriend would appreciate that much." I warn him, risking a glance over his shoulder towards where Clint and Steve are sitting, both of their eyes a little darker and their shoulders tense. Steve leans over to whisper something to Clint, who nods stiffly and sets his Sprite down.

"-boyfriend is a lucky guy, Miss Stark. But I am positive he wouldn't mind a pretty girl like you dancing with another man." I catch Darren in the middle of a sentence. "He wouldn't mind at all, right?"

"Actually," I whisper, "he would." I grab Darren's shoulder and spin him around, putting him face to face with a ticked off Clint.

Clint clears his throat quietly, drawing himself up to his full height of six feet. "Who would you be?" he asks, his voice dangerously calm.

"Darren Walkerton Jr, heir of Walkerton Industries. I was just asking this beautiful lady to a dance-"

"Yeah, see, that's the problem." Clint drawls, cutting him off and sidestepping him to stand next to me. "That 'beautiful lady' is my girlfriend. Who, if I do not hurt you by some miracle, can kick your butt in under three seconds."

"And who, exactly, are you, 'Mr. Hotshot Boyfriend'?" Darren sneers, complete with finger quotes.

"I," Clint drops his voice and steps forward into Darren's personal space, "am Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye. I am an assassin, sniper, and Avenger."

With every credential Darren paled a little, so that by the end he was wide eyed and whiter than Dracula during a fast.

"Now," Clint continues, "You will be removed from the premises by a good friend of mine, Captain America. If you ever come within five feet of Taylor Stark again, you will not live to see the next day. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yes s-sir, M-Mr. Barton." Darren squeaks and stutters.

Clint doesn't say anything, just waves a hand. Steve steps out of the crowd to our lefts, flashing me a smile and roughly throwing Darren over his shoulder without breaking stride.

"Possessive male does not suit you." I sigh as Clint straightens his charcoal grey vest and turns back to me.

"I know." he agrees hesitantly. "But he was being a creepy douchebag."

I nod quickly. "That he was. Sort of like that one waiter."

Clint nods, satisfied that his point was driven home. "Why do you always attract the worst guys?"

I shrug. "I have no clue, maybe it's the tech, the money, or the fame. Besides," I point out, "they aren't all bad. I got you."

"True." Clint nods with a cheeky grin as I brush a crumb off his dark purple handkerchief. "Care to dance, my lady?"

I tip my head slightly to listen to the slow melody that just came on over the speakers. "Don't mind if I do." I grin, taking the offered hand and allowing myself to be spun onto the dance floor.

I laugh as Clint tickles my side, retaliating by brushing my fingers across the back of his neck, causing him to twitch and squirm.

I might have a bad record with attracting guys that look more at home in the Mafia or a dark alleyway.

But I have one card to trump them all: the guy that is at home with me.