Work Text:
As you stepped into the ballroom, you reached for your earpiece, tapping it twice. "I'm going in," you whispered, twisting your earring to make sure the camera was on. "Copy that," Nat's voice rung through your ear. "We'll be watching you like a hawk," Clint snorted, and you rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn't see it from where he was standing.
"Just stay low," Steve instructed, "don't attract too much attention to yourself. We don't want people to know there are Avengers there. They might not know exactly who you are, but there are always people around who know everything you don't want them to know."
You avoided a waiter with a tray, and picked up your pace to scan the room. "Clint and I are up on the roof now," Nat said. "Roger that," Sam answered, and you saw him walk into the ballroom through another entrance. He smiled as he saw you. Softly, he whistled as his eyes scanned your body. "Damn Barnes, aren't you a lucky fella?" Bucky grumbled something into the comm. He wasn't in the ballroom yet, because Steve and Tony had wanted you and Sam to check it out to make sure it was relatively safe.
You turned, lifting your face. There was a huge chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, illuminating the entire ballroom, and there were small lights on some of the walls. There was one part of the ballroom which was entirely made of glass, and looked out on the beach, where there were several firepits, casting capricious lights on the white sand.
"I have my eye on the target," you said, pressing your finger to your earpiece. He was sitting close to the bar, surrounded by several barely clothed women and men, laughing along to their conversations. He had a glass of champagne in his hand, but you were almost a hundred percent sure that he wouldn't drink it.
"Me too. I'm going up to the gallery," Sam commented, "so get a good sight." "Wilson, you do that. Wait until further order to step in. Y/L/N, you know the plan." You nodded along to Tony's words.
The plan was simple. You and Sam were to scan the room for any dangerous people or objects - there were barely any. There were of course a few people standing on the gallery that looked just a bit too much like guards, and some people outside on the balcony's, but that couldn't really watch what happened inside. With these sorts of events it was suspicious if there was too much security - and then he'd have to move up to the gallery to get a better sight. Then you'd mix into the crowd, pick someone to dance with, and then you'd have to get close to the target, to talk to him, and ease him into conversation. Then came the hard bit. You were the centerpiece in this plan, but you didn't mind. You'd done things like this before in Budapest, Prague, Oslo, LA and other cities. You had to seduce him in some way, and get him to come back to your bedroom with you. If necessary, you had to sleep with him, but Steve had promised you it wouldn't get that far. As soon as you were in the room, you had to make sure Bucky had a clear shot, and then everything would be done. It sounded easier than it was.
Your target was a former HYDRA associate, and he was on high alert. Natasha and Clint were your back-up. If the situation would become dire, they would jump through the ceiling or a window to get you to safety and if possible kill the target.
Nobody said anything as you slid to the bar and order a Vodka Martini.
"Y/N," Nat said softly in your ear, and you tried to look as nonchalant as you could while stirring your drink. "He noticed you."
You didn't look behind you, you just stayed focused on your drink as if it was the most important thing in the world. He just made it a lot easier for you. You leaned over just a bit, and hoped that the back of your dress - or the lack thereof - would show him enough skin to convince him to come to you.
"He's coming towards you now," Sam warned you, and you quickly turned off the earpiece. Then a warm body slid beside you, and a big hand landed on your waist.
"Hello there, beautiful," he murmured in your ear, breathing hot on your neck. You tried to relax your muscles and turned slightly, to be pressed chest-to-chest with him now. He looked down just a bit, and got a sight of your low cut V-neck. When he looked up again, his eyes were dark with lust and he smiled. It was the smile of a predator.
"Tell me," he said slowly, "what are you doing here, all alone?"
You smiled flirty, leaning into him. "Looking for a guy like you to charm me." You winked at him, before turning around and sipping your drink.
You turned again, drink in your hand, and he stepped back to give you the minimalist amount of space. He was handsome, you had to admit it. And if you weren't a SHIELD agent and an Avenger, you would probably like doing this too. But he was murderer. And very, very dangerous.
"I'm glad I found you, then, before anyone else could," the man smiled, "the name's Marcus. You can call me Marc."
You giggled. "I like Marc. My name is Elenora." You twirled a loose curl around your finger, and smiled up at him, trying to display your look of innocence.
He smiled, too. "What's your favourite colour, Elenora?" You scanned his body. He was wearing a blue tuxedo, and the jacket was just tight enough to show his muscles. "I like blue and red," you said, "but yellow is definitely the best colour to exist in the world."
"That's great!" He said, "Because my favourite colour is yellow too."
You sipped your drink silently, watching him intently, trying to figure out his next move. He was definitely relaxed. He probably thought of you as just another conquest in his bed, but right now you didn't mind, because it meant he wouldn't be so alert.
"What do you do for a living, Elenora?" He asked then, looking at you with a smile. It didn't escape your notice that his eyes trailed to your breasts and your backside more often that not, but that was - again - just another good point for now. "I'm an artist," you said airily, "I paint mythical animals mostly. My clients pay me well." You fumbled with your silver bracelet and smiled. "And you?"
He smirked. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I don't have an actual job, you know." No, because you go around and kill people when you're paid to do so, and you don't even think about the consequences, you thought to yourself.
"But this is your hotel, right?" He nodded. "It is, it is. Passed down from my father to me. I don't run it either way. I have my assistants for that." He chuckled, and you smiled, sipping the last of your drink. You could already feel the alcohol burning in your throat, but you were able to hold your alcohol pretty well, so it wouldn't be a problem tonight.
"Would you mind giving me a tour?" You asked, holding out your hand for him to take. He was smart enough to know what the request really was, and he smiled before taking your hand. "I would love to."
As he guided you through the crowd, his hand slipped on your back, and his fingers touched your skin under the fabric of the dress. When you looked up, you could see Sam practically fuming. He said something, and you were a good lip-reader, so you translated it into, "He's being awfully touchy tonight."
You didn't respond, however, and just followed Marcus outside.
He slammed the door of your bedroom behind him, and then he pushed you up against the wall. The only way you knew how to react was by wrapping your legs around his waist as he caught your lips in a fiery kiss.
"Do you want to keep the dress?" He asked, pulling away for a second, and you nodded. He smiled, and then he carefully helped you out of it, leaving you standing in front of him in your underwear. You shivered because of the cold, but then he pushed you back on the bed. You let him kiss you as his hands roamed your body, while your mind was working.
Where the hell was Bucky?
Marc nipped at your skin, and he straddled your waist, pushing you down into the mattress. Your alarm bells were going off inside your head. And then, all of a sudden, he bit down in your neck. Hard. You held in a scream, and only whimpered. You squirmed under his grip, but stopped moving when you felt something sharp against your stomach.
"You're going to sit still," he said, "and tell me exactly why S.H.I.E.L.D. is sending their agents after me." You stared at him, furious. What the hell? How could he have known?
"Well?" You felt a sharp sting in your stomach, and you gasped. Before you had time to say something, however, the glass doors to the balcony broke, and Bucky jumped into the room, Steve and Clint behind him.
Marc was fast, though, and he got up swiftly from the bed, already launching at the men.
You turned on your side, and took a deep breath, pressing your hands on your stomach. Excruciating pain filled your stomach, but you bit your lip and told yourself to not make a sound.
A soft gurgle was heard, and then the familiar thump of a body falling on the ground. You breathed out, and then you felt a warm hand pulling you back. You looked into Bucky's eyes, whose face turned horrified when he saw the dark blood slipping through your fingers onto the bed.
"Y/N?" He asked, his voice unsure. "Buck, what's wrong-" Steve stepped up next to the bed, but fell silent when he saw you. Clint appeared next, and he immediately started talking into his earpiece. "We need the Quinjet, now," the archer said. "Y/N's hurt."
Bucky choked back a sob as he took your hand. "Hey," you said, softly smiling, "it's going to be okay." He shook his head. "God, this is my fault," he groaned. You squeezed his hand. "It's not," you said, "it's not your fault, love. I'm going to be okay. I promise." He pressed his face against your side, closing his eyes. You caressed his cheek, and put your head down on the pillow.
"Don't sleep," Steve warned you, "don't you dare leave us. The others are almost here." You could almost feel your heart beating. It had a steady pace. You liked it.
Before you knew it, Bucky had lifted you from the bed, and carried you out to the balcony, where the Quinjet hovered, and he passed you to Steve, who immediately laid you on one of the tables. You groaned in pain, and shifted.
"It looks bad," Bruce commented nervously, already touching the wound. You heard the Quinjet fly off, and you started dozing off already.
"It's a clean wound, though, and there hasn't been so much blood that left your body, Y/N," the scientist said, "so I'm just going to stitch it. You'll be fine."
You nodded, and braced yourself for the soft pain that would come with stitching, and you felt Bucky grab your hand. You turned your head to smile at him. He leaned down to kiss you.
"See? I told you I would be fine."
He smiled.
"I know doll. I know."