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“Hey, asshole. Where do you think you’re going?” You momentarily paused mid-step, gripping the handrail for support. His footsteps, quiet though they were from several floors below, echoed down the empty stairwell.
“What do you want?” Screw him. You had a dinner date, and there was no way you were going to miss it for this jerk. Breathe. Ignore him. You kept walking.
“Alright, I’m not sure how ‘sis’ run things, but I’m pretty sure you’re... wait up... hmmph-“ You turned to see him clutching the railing, having jumped the gap between your floors. “Yeah, pretty sure you’re not supposed to go on dates during an assignment. It’s like they’re paying you to get laid otherwise.” You bit back a smirk as he clambered back onto solid ground, looking up at you like a lost puppy with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen.
“It’s SIS, for the last time. Y’know, it’s bad enough that we’re in the same hotel. If you don’t stop stalking me, people are going to start talking.”
His smile disappeared. “Let them. I don’t care.”
You drew a deep breath. Held it. Leaned back against the railing and exhaled. Not again. “Clint...” you murmured. Covered your eyes hoping that, God, he’d just disappear or you’d wake up or something, anything that meant you weren't standing here in this stupid dress in this stupid hallway with this stupid idiot.
When you opened you eyes he was in front of you. You shook your head. “It’s bad enough that we’re both still breathing. I've never failed a mission, which... fine, sure. People fail all the time. It’s no big deal.” Clint stepped forward, rolling his eyes. Antagonistic little shit. You hunched back against the railing. “But- seriously, if I slept with my goddamn mission, I’d lose my job. My life too, more than likely. So would you. You think SHIELD are going to let you get away with-“
“Fuck SHIELD, and fuck the Service. I’m not going to kill you.” He said, taking another step forward, barely a foot away now. “And you’re not going to kill me.” His hands landed on the railing either side of your waist. God, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. “So how about we call it quits, and you let me take you out to dinner?” He barely whispered this time, watching your lips as he spoke. You exhaled shakily, hyper aware of every movement in the still and quiet of the hallway. His fingers brushed against your hip, soft as a feather, tracing circles into your skin.
Your resolve crumbled. You nodded weakly.
You’d barely moved an inch before his lips were on yours. You felt him smile against them. You couldn't help but grin and then you were just standing there, two trained assassins, foreheads pressed together and grinning at each other like love sick teenagers.
“So... is pizza good for you?”
Several miles away in a quiet diner, a man in a pristine suit picked up a call.
“Barton got to our agent. She’s a lost cause. Eliminate her.”