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There was a kid in Clint’s kitchen.
Natasha couldn’t find a reasonable enough explanation for it.
They stared at each other for several seconds, frozen in place, the girl holding Clint’s empty coffeepot over two steaming mugs. Natasha looked her over. She had dark hair and light eyes, average height, didn’t seem particularly threatening, but the assassin knew to expect anyone to be a threat at that point. Most importantly, the girl didn’t seem to resemble her partner even remotely.
They spoke at the same time, the girl asking in confusion, “Can I help you?”, while Natasha demanded to know who she was.
The girl pursed her lips and settled the pot in its place. “I mean, you’re the one who just barged in, but sure, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm.
“Where is Clint,” she asked, softening her tone. Maybe getting into interrogation mode wasn’t the correct approach.
“Why? Are you here to kill him?”
Natasha blinked. “What?”
The girl snorted and smirked. “I keep telling him his only enemies are his old man joints but he never listens.” Natasha tensed and put an arm on her hip, closer to the holster tucked into the back of her jeans.
“How do you know him,” she tried again. The girl couldn’t be older than fifteen, maybe sixteen, and Natasha could see no reason whatsoever for her to be familiar in any way with her partner.
“You keep asking questions,” the brunette mused, and Natasha tilted her head in assessment.
“And you keep dodging them. Is he on the roof?” It was a shot in the dark, but the girl shifted. Natasha smiled. “So he’s on the roof. How do you know him? He doesn’t let a lot of people near his coffee.” Her eyes trailed on the discarded bow on the counter. “Or his bows,” she added.
The young one scoffed. “This one is mine.” The spy’s eyebrows quirked in surprise.
“He’s teaching you?”
“What is it to you?”
“I’m his partner.” She raised the key still clutched in her left hand. The kid pulled her lips back in a grimace.
“Oops.” She laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I’m Kate.” She didn’t extend a hand, but the situation was far beyond that by this point. “Clint said you wouldn’t be coming back until next week.”
Natasha raised her brow. He wasn’t even supposed to know that. What was he doing talking about her to a little girl? Kate shouldered her bow and grabbed the mugs, taking a sip out of one and wincing.
“Why does his coffee always taste like shit?” Natasha smirked.
“I periodically switch it with decaf so he’d sleep more."
“Is it working?”
“Not really, but it’s fun watching him suffer and not understand what’s wrong with it.” Kate barked out a laugh.
“That’s marvellous. I won’t tell, promise. I probably need to cut back on caffeine too anyway.” The redhead opened the door for her and followed her up the stairs. “Hey, I still don’t know your name,” Kate called over her shoulder. Natasha contemplated whether or not to give it to her. It was surprising Clint hadn’t told her that too. If she lied now, he would slip up later. The girl was going to find out anyway.
“Natasha.”
“Cool,” she chirped. “Are you his partner partner or, like, partner partner?”
Natasha narrowed her eyes. This kid seemed to have never heard that curiosity killed the cat. She reconsidered her connection to Clint. A snarky coffee addict shooting arrows and not knowing when to stop talking? She wouldn’t be surprised if they were related after all.
“What is it to you,” she threw Kate’s own answer back at her. It wasn’t any of her business and it wasn’t anything like that anyway. They were partners, friends, and getting involved wasn’t worth the mess that would follow.
The girl shrugged and pushed the rooftop door with a shoulder. The midday sun flashed into their eyes.
“Hey, loser,” Kate called out and Clint turned to face her. “I got a surprise for you.” She stepped aside just in time for the one-eyed golden mix to jump up on Natasha’s thighs with an excited bark timed perfectly with his owner’s happy “Nat!”
She scratched the dog’s head and pushed him off her, moving towards the man. Clint wrapped her in a hug and she finally, finally relaxed for the first time since returning from Croatia. For the first time since coming home twenty hours ago, she felt at home.
“I missed you,” he said with a grin after finally releasing her. Her lips twitched and she looked away, focusing her attention back on the teen. She was watching them with a badly concealed smirk over her coffee. He followed her gaze and shouted over to her.
“Hey, Katie, why don’t you go grab some arrows from the target, we’re almost out.”
“You shot them, you retrieve them,” she retorted.
“Please?” She groaned and jumped from her perch on the ledge. Clint turned back to Natasha. “Before you say anything, yes, I did run a background check on her. Her dad is shady but she hates him with a burning passion and we’ve been running an investigation on him for the past four weeks.”
Natasha took a deep breath.
“I’ve been gone for a month, Clint.”
“I know, and it was the longest month of my life.”
“It took you, what? A week? To get yourself a ward.”
He grimaced. “Kate isn’t my ward.”
“Like Lucky wasn’t your dog?”
“That is different,” he hissed. She crossed her arms and gave him the disapproving look he always looked away from. He didn’t disappoint. “Look, she was doing a suicide mission. She was playing superhero in the streets with a hoodie and a bow, what was I supposed to do?”
“Not further her training,” she pointed out.
“She wasn’t going to stop doing it just ‘cause I told her,” he snorted. “And you know what they say, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
Kate chose that moment to drop half a dozen arrows on the cement a few feet away from them, jutting her hip to the side and crossing her arms in turn with a scowl.
“And just a suggestion,” she snapped “Next time you feel like talking about me, maybe put to use some of that subtlety you’ve been telling me about. I heard, like, half the conversation.”
They stared at her for a second, and then Natasha smirked.
“She’s funnier than you,” she mused. “Probably smarter too.”
“Pfft. Probably?–”
“Hey!”
“–I’m definitely smarter than him.”
The spy took Clint’s coffee from him and took a sip. It really was gross. She patted herself mentally on the shoulder. She leaned next to Kate’s cup and quirked an eyebrow.
“How old are you, anyway?” The girl flexed her jaw.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m sixteen, it’s not the end of the world.”
“You’re practically a baby,” Clint snarked at her.
“I was younger than her when I started out,” Natasha pointed out, and Clint bored his eyes in hers. Lucky trotted over to lay in her feet.
“It’s not the same.”
“Start out what?” The girl practically had her ears perked up. The agents exchanged a look, and Natasha settled on the half-truth.
“Martial arts.” Kate waved her off in disappointment.
“Been there already,” she grumbled. The spy smirked.
“I doubt it. You might know the basics, sure. But it doesn’t come close to the real deal.” Kate was looking at her with confusion in her eyes. “Have you used your skills in a real fight?”
“Nat,” Clint hissed. “Cut it off.”
“Last week, actually,” Kate admitted. She rose to her full height and lifted her chin up. Natasha smiled gently.
“They get you?" The girl shook her head. “Lucky. Last time I fought someone, I ended up with a concussion and two cracked ribs.”
Kate winced in sympathy but Natasha’s eyes hardened. Lucky raised his head to look at her.
“The truth is, no one out there is going to care that you’re a woman or that you’re young, they’re not going to care how good of a fighter you are. They’re not going to go easy on you or spare your life if it gets down to it–“
“Nat, stop.”
“Why? Don’t you want her to know what it’s really like? Fighting for your life, fighting for someone else?”
“She’ll learn.”
“Not if she gets killed before that.”
“What do you suggest then,” Kate cut in. Her voice was level, face expressionless. “That I stop helping the neglected and violated? That I let criminals walk freely just because they have friends somewhere or because some cop doesn’t care?”
“You’re aware there are several mobs in New York, right?”
“So what?”
“So, they can have you and your family killed if you throw hands with the wrong goon.” Kate looked away and shook her head, jaw locked tight. Natasha bit her tongue and sighed. She was most likely going to regret this decision. “I’ll help.”
Two heads snapped in her direction, mouths gaping, talking in synch.
“You will?”
She suppressed a shiver and nodded in resignation. “Marksmanship won’t keep you alive if you’re left without your weapon. Hand-to-hand skills are just as important."
Kate laughed, throwing her head back.
“You guys. It’s like I’m being trained by spies.” The agents exchanged another look.
“Sure,” Natasha said, just as Clint scoffed and joined Natasha to reclaim his coffee.
“Where did that idea come from, Katie.” The girl looked at him and tilted her head.
“Well you have to admit…” She trailed off, eyes flickering between the two adults, Natasha’s mysterious air and Clint’s numerous scars over his arms, the way they talked without saying a word, being partners. “Wait,” she laughed, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Natasha smirked at her.
She was messing with her, right? She had to be. There was no way they were spies. Yes, okay, Natasha fit the vibe, she’d been away for weeks and carried herself with the confidence that she could easily out-best both of them. Natasha being a spy was believable. But Clint? Goofy, lighthearted Clint who drank crappy coffee without realising it was messed with, and walked his dog to the pizza place four blocks down every week like clockwork, who taught her arrow tricks and was asleep almost every time she came over to practice. That guy was not spy material.
That guy… had enemies and resources to help with her investigation. That guy had admitted he could shoot a rifle just as well as his bow in the middle of a coffee break. That guy had a codename. That guy had warned her of the dangers of her afternoon hobby like he knew what it was like to beat up criminals in dark alleys.
The air rushed out of her lungs.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed. “You’re spies.”
Natasha had the audacity to chuckle. “See, I told you she’s smarter than you.”
Clint glowered at her and stepped toward Kate. Her eyes snapped to him. He had his hands raised, like she was a scared animal about to flee or attack.
“Katie, let me explain.” She glared at him and stomped over to punch him in the arm.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier,” she growled at him.
“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out earlier,” Natasha called from where she was still leaning on the ledge. Kate scoffed. Clint tried to protest.
“Come on, have you seen the guy? You make it all snap into place.”
“Cool,” Natasha said and pushed off the edge. “Now get into stance,” she commanded. Kate stepped back in alarm.
“Wait, now? Here?”
The woman shrugged. “Sure. I have the evening off.”
“Nat,” Clint tried, but she interrupted him.
“You know what? Clint's right. He should demonstrate first.” He groaned dramatically and looked longingly at his abandoned coffee.
“What did I get myself into?”
“Shut up,” his partner grinned. “This was your idea. Suck it up.”
Hours later, after Kate had left, Clint and Natasha were sprawled out on his couch in front of the TV with beers in hand, Lucky nestled with his head on her thigh while she ran her free hand through his fur.
“I can’t believe she took it that well,” Clint snorted.
“I can’t believe you managed to keep it to yourself that long,” she laughed. Her partner pouted.
“I’m a spy, Nat. I can keep secrets.”
“You told her about me, though,” she pointed out and took a sip. He furrowed his brows.
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend.” Something lodged itself into her chest and she took another sip to chase it away. Clint cleared his throat. “Anyway, how did the mission go?”
Natasha shrugged. “Boring. Surveillance and undercover infiltration.” He nodded and they fell into comfortable silence.
“She’s got a superhero name, by the way.” Natasha looked at him from where she was picking the bottle’s label. He had a sour face and her lips twitched. “Hawkeye.”
She couldn’t help the cackle that bubbled out of her. “No.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “And the worst part is, she came up with it herself. No help from me. And she refuses to change it. She doesn’t understand the trouble she could get herself into for parading around as me.”
Natasha leaned her head back on the couch. He had a point. Especially if they were out of town and someone they’d pissed off showed up looking for them.
“So you’re not worried that what she’s doing might get pinned on you?”
“Nah, if anything, that’s a way to keep her safe. S.H.I.E.L.D. covers up anything involving our names, so as long as I’m on good terms with them, she’s out of trouble.”
“You’ve really thought about this,” she mused as she moved her head to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his on top of hers.
“She’s a good kid in a bad place. I wasn’t sure I’m the right guidance she needs, but with you on board now, she’s gonna turn out to be better than us. Less messed up.” He paused for a second and nudged her arm with his where they were pressing. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Natasha smiled and hummed. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Finally, she was at home.