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“What the hell is going on, Nat?”
Clint burst into her room, eyes blazing, muscles straining against the fitted leather of his mission suit, looking about ready to kill something. Overall, a very appealing sight. If he had been any other man he’d be dead right now, considering she was cleaning her gun, but as it were, this was not an unusual occurrence between the two SHEILD agents.
Still, Natasha took a moment to admire the picture he made before calmly addressing his accusation. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Like hell you don’t! I come out of a debriefing with Fury and find out Bobbi’s in the infirmary. Oh, and you’re the one who put her there. So, I repeat, what the hell is going on?”
Pacing the room like an enraged tiger, he was making her nervous. It was only years of training that allowed her face to remain carefully blank.
Knowing it would aggravate him, she threw a coy glance over her shoulder. “Who said I put her there?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the half dozen agents that witnessed you kicking her ass!”
This was completely out of character for Natasha. His fiery partner was known for her short fuse, but she had never gone off on someone without a reason. To Clint’s knowledge, Bobbi and Natasha were little more than passing acquaintances. He couldn’t fathom what would have provoked his Tasha into beating another agent within an inch of her life.
A practiced sigh passed her lips. Natasha placed her beloved weapon safely back in its case and turned to face her partner.
“Oh well, it was just a misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about, Clint.” Nat offered with a shrug of her shoulders.
“She looks like a purple Smurf, Tasha. That is something to worry about.”
She turned on him, one perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Does she now? Did you get pictures?”
“Natasha!” Clint was about to tear his hair out in frustration if she didn’t quit with this innocent shit she was pulling. He knew her too well to buy that line.
“What? I told you it was a misunderstanding.”
Making for the door, she breezed past him in hopes of escaping before she said something she couldn’t take back. Two steps to freedom, and he caught her arm in a surprisingly firm grip, yanking her back to stand in front of him.
“Bullshit! What exactly did she misunderstand for you to put her in the infirmary?” The steel gray of his eyes burned into her, demanding the truth. Something in her snapped at that look.
“That she could break your heart and not answer to me about it! That is what she misunderstood. She’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet in her.” The Widow all but screamed. Opps.
Wrenching her arm from his lax grip, she stalked away from him, lest she do something she might regret later. Yeah, like knock that dumbfounded look right off his handsome face, she thought darkly.
“Nat…” Clint trailed off at a loss for words.
Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. Clint and Bobbi had been seeing each other, or at least as much as they could between missions, for a little over a year. With ash blond hair, a lean body, and none of the biting wit he was accustomed to, she was the anti-Natasha. This alone made her perfect for him. But, like most things in his life, they hadn’t worked out. Admittedly, the fact that she’d been cheating on him for the last two months of their relationship may have played a large part in their breakup. Overall, he wasn’t that torn up about it.
Despite his feelings regarding his ex, he was stunned by his partner’s confession.
“Seriously, Clint, I wouldn’t have killed her. Just maimed her a bit. I promise.”
Natasha was a bit concerned when her normally unflappable partner all but collapsed on the corner of her bed.
“Are you alright?”
Concern quickly morphed into annoyance when his shocked mask gave way to a shit eating grin.
“Wait a second here. Do you mean to tell me you did all of this to…defend my honor?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Barton.”
Ignoring her reprimand, he stalked after her. “I’m shocked, Widow. I’m flattered, and truthfully more than a little turned on, but I’m shocked.”
Crimson stained her cheeks prettily. Disgust filled her at her body’s reaction to his words. She was the Black Widow, for heaven's sake; she did not blush.
“Keep it in your pants, Hawkboy. The Mocking Bitch and I had an axe to grind, and you just happened to be a convenient excuse.” She sneered, hoping he would drop it.
Silence stretched between them, his eyes taking her in, studying her. Striping her bare with his knowing stare until he saw something that sparked a glimmer of hope within him.
She was jealous!
Now he had a choice. He could see her moss green eyes darting about the room, almost frightened, looking for any escape. Clint knew he could press her, maybe even get her to admit that there was something between them, but he could also get a knee to the groin for his trouble. Not a pleasant option.
His options weighed and measured, he released her gaze, painting on his most mischievous grin.
“Whatever you say, Widow. I know this,” gesturing to his well-sculpted form. “It's hard to resist, but you really didn’t have to beat up an ex to get my attention.”
He gave an eyebrow waggle and earned a smile in return.
He’d let her go, she knew.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she matched his wit with her own lethal sarcasm. “As I said before, big boy, don’t flatter yourself.”
Laughter still ringing in the air, steel blue and moss green eyes caught and held. Volumes were spoken with that one look.
Natasha was the first to look away.
“Oh, I’m flattered, but don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He teased on his way to the door.
She watched him go with a sting in her heart but a fond smile pulling at her lips. Pausing at the door he turned back to her, eyes serious.
“For now Natasha.”
With a wink, he ducked out the door, avoiding the flying stiletto aimed at his head.
The End.