#fic:two

Clint lives in a black and white world. It makes things easier, really. Targets are sharper, and he knows how things work. Stuck on a mission in the depths of Russia in winter, he knows everything is pretty much black and white anyway, until he glances down his binoculars at his target. He's memorized her face, so he knows it's the right person, but no-one had thought to mention her hair colour, or the brilliant green of her eyes, standing out starkly against the black and white of the terrain. He's mesmerized by the colours and knows that he cannot take the shot. He won't be the one to put her down. Instead, he stows his weapon, and starts to move towards her. He knows she's dangerous, and he just has to hope she's not going to see him as a target. ➳ Read more

His skin tastes like salt water. She starts at his hipbone and traces the trails of ocean that slipped down his tanned flesh, lapping up the salt. She explores every ridge of muscle in his flat stomach, loves the strength of use and hard work she can feel there. He is strong because he fights, not because he vainly lifts weights. He is strong and flexible, and she wants to twist him into knots of pleasure. It was a close quarters mission. They were holed up together in a goddamn shack on a beach in Nicaragua, tracking a drug cartel, and close quarters with her when it had been a good goddamn long while since Clint had gotten laid meant that he was about to claw down the fucking walls. And Natasha, in her typically uncanny way, could read it in him. He plunged into the Caribbean, but the water was too warm to cool him off, to quench the hot lust that kindled in his body at the sight of her. He thought she had gone into the jungle to check their cameras, but when he burst into the shack clad in just his wet boxer-briefs, she looked up at him from the book she was reading. ➳ Read more

Mexico was nice. Clint leaned back in his beach chair and rubbed at the scar on his leg; it ached despite the hot sun. But he liked Mexico, and he liked the sight of Natasha in a white bikini swaying across the sand, margarita in hand and red hair blowing in the breeze. They started out as rivals, two assassins working for the same boss, and there was only room for one hitman at the top. Much to their mutual annoyance, they ended up on the same job, both given the assignment probably in the hope that one would kill the other. They killed the mark together, because it was that or die trying to finish the job separately. Clint found Natasha in his bed that night, naked and seductive, and he knew she was there to kill him. He fucked her anyway, pinned her to the bed and fucked her until she screamed, and then she took her turn, tying his hands to the headboard and blowing his mind. After that night, they decided they worked well together, in bed and out of it. He was the guns and she was the brains. She was a beautiful distraction and he never missed a shot. They stole from the best, traded in secrets, killed for the highest bidder. ➳ Read more

Working in the circus, Clint’s seen a lot of sideshow attractions. He’s seen them come and go, some staying for years while others only last a season. He’s seen those that are real and those that are fake. Usually those that are real weren’t as interesting as the phony ones.The phony ones all mimick fantasy creatures. Unicorns and baby dragons. Satyrs and centaurs. There were even a few that pretended to be merpeople. It was easy to see why Clint wasn’t impressed with the new attraction. She only travels by tank, which Clint thinks is ridiculous. He hears her protest over the bathing suit top she needs to wear until a few good points make her put it on (reluctantly, of course). Her tail, though it looks life-like, is something she constantly wears. He wonders when she ever leaves her tank or how she even goes to the bathroom in that thing. There are a few scales on her skin and a fin on her back and he admires the details, as well as make-up work, that went into her design. He’s not fooled though. He still thinks it’s all an act. ➳ Read more

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When she got to SHIELD, fresh out of the Red Room program, Natasha had never made her own decisions, never been in charge of her own time. And suddenly there she was, an agent who was facing the most dangerous foe she'd ever seen--the revolutionary idea of weekends, of time to be herself. For the first time in her life, Natasha balked, and she wasn't sure, later, if it was because she didn't know how to take a day off, or because she didn't know what self to be when the choice was left to her. How she managed to go six months with barely any days off, taking mission after mission after mission, wearing out partners and handlers and support staff, Clint wasn't sure. She probably had to make some promises, tell some lies. But she did it. And when Hill found out, she was furious that Natasha had managed to skirt the rules about mandatory rest and recovery after missions. But Hill's fury was never hot; never the safe kind that burned itself out on revenge. Hill was methodical and evil. She assigned Natasha to Strike Team Delta, because, she said, if Clint was going to recruit pain-in-the-ass agents, then Clint could deal with them himself. ➳ Read more

It’s been a long week and Lucky is pawing at the door, so Clint ignores the gathering clouds on the horizon and takes Lucky out for a long run. It seems like a great idea, just him and his dog, the stresses of the world drowned out by the music blaring through the special sport headphones Kate gave him for Christmas. At least, it’s a great idea until Lucky spots a sleek black cat sunning itself on the sidewalk like it owns the place. “Aw, cat,” is all Clint has time to say, and then Lucky is off. The cat hisses and shoots around the corner, Lucky following behind. Swearing, Clint tries to run behind them, dodging confused tourists and angry locals. He collides with a shopper and nearly sends her bags flying. ➳ Read more

For several months he had tried to conceal the desire he felt for her whenever they are in close proximity but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. His desire for her would be his undoing and possibly the end of his career with SHIELD. He had made his peace with that thought some time ago and was content to sacrifice life as he knew it for he chance to be the one man she lit up for when she stepped into a room. Now however, she needed him more than she had ever needed him before and he was determined no matter the cost he would be there for her. ➳ Read more