Work Text:
Sara Litchen woke up in a cold room. They must have kidnapped me again. There was one unbalanced and sticky metal chair. And she was handcuffed to it. How delightful. Honestly, what were interrogation rooms coming to these days? Disgraceful. She shook her head mournfully. What she wouldn’t give to be in last year’s room. That one had mirrored walls, a clean concrete floor, and multiple hidden cameras. This one only had one and a convincing decoy. Disappointing. Though it was well hidden, Sara grudgingly admitted to herself. No table was also a nice touch. Tables hid body language and provided shields and subsequently, a sense of safety and confidence. Better to not have one. It wasn’t enough to excuse the dirty one way mirror. In fact, it would have taken a miracle to save this room’s score of 4/10. 4/10 was generous.
The miracle walked in, her sexy figure accentuated by the flickering white light, but interrupted by the door creaking, more reasons this interrogation room sucked. The light wasn’t revealing enough of Sara’s favorite agent. It showed just enough to tease, but not enough, in her opinion. The room’s score shot up to 20/10 instantly.
“Agent Romanoff? You came all the way for little old me? I’m honored! You know I’m always thirsty to see you!” Sara licked her lips. The red head only rolled her eyes and stood directly in front of Sara, only six mere feet away. “I’m not sick. You can come closer.” Agent Romanoff tilted her head, put hands on hips, and regarded Sara stonily. “You know the drill.”
“I don't know drills. They are inanimate objects. It is quite, literally, impossible. I do have several though. What size would you prefer?” Sara replied, amused. The agent did not react.
“Do you know why you’re here,” the agent asked, still staring stonily at Sara/
“You obviously wanted to see me. I get it. I’m so sexy it hurts to forget me.” Sara winked. Romanoff shook her head, every movement exact.
“You’re here because of your concerning search history.” Sara tilted her head, aggressively reminding the crowd of an over excited black lab retriever.
“Have you been watching me personally? I’m flattered. I could show you, up close and personally.” Romanoff ignored her comment, and she instead focused on a piece of paper in her hands.
“02:00 on May 2: cost of assassin
02:30 on May 9: how to become a drug mule
03:00 on May 3: mortality rate of drug mules
02:15 on May 9: cocaine prices
03:00 on May 17: cost of kidney
03:05 on May 17: cost of appendix
04:00 on May 25: how to cut drugs with fentanyl
03:30 on May 25: how to smuggle bricks of cocaine into America from Mexico
03:00 on May 31: how to become a drug dealer
03:15 on May 31: mortality rate of drug dealers
03:25 on May 31: how fentanyl kills
03:15 on June 5: how to kill using over the counter drugs
12:01 on June 10: how to kill using sex
04:00 on June 15: mercenary bars near me
05:45 on June 15: drug dealers in Chicago
04:52 on June 28: best bullet and gun for speedy death
03:00 on June 29: amount of sleeping pill for overdose” Sara only laughed. Agent Romanoff looked slightly perturbed.
“Why do you keep doing this?”, she asked in a weary voice.
“Yeah, murder is surprisingly affordable. Who knew?” Sara shrugged. The red head walked around the chair, stood behind Sara, and put one hand on one shoulder. The air suddenly became very heavy, each breath loud and clear.
“Why do you keep doing this?” Sara struggled to respond, her mind hazy.
“I.. Uh.. Stop that!” She could hear Romanoff’s smile.
“What am I doing?”
“Go back to where you were.”
“Your wish is my command.” The agent replied huskily, walking back to her original spot. Sara shivered, but she forcibly pulled herself together. “Answer the question.”
“You know what it’s for.”
“I do.” Romanoff let the obvious question and threat (or offer, as Sara preferred to think of it) hang in the air.
“It’s for a fanfic I’m writing.”
“Why so reticent now? Do I have to pry you open like a pecan for answers?” Agent Romanoff looked extremely amused.
“I’d happily let you open me like a pecan. I’m sure you’ll find that I’m a nut worth opening.” The agent openly laughed, surprising Sara.
“That was a good one. Nice to hear new material after four years of recycled lines.”
“Those lines were not recycled!” Romanoff rolled her eyes.
“Every line you’ve ever used is in your fanfics! Of course they’re recycled. Idiot.”
“Just because they’re recycled, doesn’t mean they’re not good. Fanfiction is where I get the lines and confidence to flirt.”
“So you’re usually a meek little thing? I would appreciate that persona during these interrogations.”
“A dommy mommy? I like the sound of that. You’ve already tied me up. Finish the job.”
“I’m at work. Regardless, no.”
“I await your presence regardless. I’d sleep with you anywhere.”
“For the records and my boss, what is your fanfic about?”
“It’s a HP Drarry Mafia AU!.”
“Why do you keep tempting fate and writing it? SHIELD’s budget isn’t infinite. My job does not revolve entirely around you.”
“I can’t believe you would ever ask me that! I know for a fact that you read it and love it! I can’t stop now! Draco and Harry almost kissed! Obsession is for the Weak is a Mafia AU!. How else am I supposed to get information for it? Should I write One Direction fanfic? I did that on Wattpad when I was 12.” She let out an exasperated huff.
“I know about Obsession is for the Weak already. You talk about it every time.”
“There’s no rule against blatant self promotion. Are all the fics I’ve ever written in my file?”, she asked curiously.
“Yes.” Romanoff had backed off and leaned against the wall purposely, relieving the remaining tension.
“Including the poorly written smut?” Sara noted her new position. “You’re blocking Agent Barton’s view of the show, aren’t you? And there’s no other place to move because it’s packed in there.”
“Yes. Don’t change the subject. You really threw grammar out the window in that one.”
“I know. I was a 13 year-old virgin. I had no reason for writing that then. At least my parents never found out.”
“Oh, they knew.”
“Fuck.” Sara forgot that she was an adult for a moment.
“‘Fuck’ is right. They weren’t pleased, according to their personal emails.”
“I’m all yours. Just pull out your whips and chains, and I’m ready to cum. Wait- you hacked my parents’ emails?”
“We should get back on track.”
“Do we have to? Answer the question, Romanoff.”
“Ehhh. In a few minutes.” She continued to ignore Sara’s inquiry.
“Thank God. Those question are boring as fuck. I’ll hold you to that.”
“Not really.”
“If we’re talking about hacking my parents’ emails, absolutely. It’s creepy as fuck. If we’re talking about the boring ass questions, agree to disagree. What’s your favorite chapter?” Romanoff paused thoughtfully and pressed her lips together, leaving only a thin strip for Sara to admire.
“Chapter 21.”
“The one where Hermione double crosses Draco and challenges Harry to a fight for leadership of the Potter family branch?” Romanoff looked at Sara angrily, disgusted with her favorite fanfic author.
“No. Ron double crosses Draco and challenges Harry to a fight.” She walked forward slowly, savoring the suspense and frozen popsicle in the chair.
Slowly and quietly, Romanoff said, “What did I tell you about spoilers?” Sara gulped.
“That you’d spank me?”, she stuttered out, terrified.
“No. Worse.”
“Whip me?” In response, the red head lifted Sara up and forward by her shirt collar, straining the restrictive manacles and making her wrists and ankles hurt.
“Ok! Ok! No more spoilers!” Romanoff dropped her unceremoniously.
“That was hot. Do it again!” Sara bounced eagerly in her seat.
“Back on script.”
“Fine. This is my punishment, I suppose.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Hmmph”
“Are you a threat to yourself or anyone else?”
“Only to your ability to walk.” Sara winked.
“Are you a threat to yourself or anyone else?”
“I’m a Russian spy. Of course I’m a threat. Quite flexible, in fact. You could fold me in half and -” Sara winked again.
“Are you a threat to yourself or anyone else?” Agent Romanoff still looked angry, but the tension on her face had lessened.
“No”, Sara replied, no longer terrified, used to situations like this. “You’ve run me through the shrinks here thrice. It’s on my file.”
“We’d know if you were a Russian spy. Great Shakespearean language. Thrice? Who uses that word anymore? What are you? 430 years old?” Agent Romanoff no longer looked angry, only amused.
“I’m 27. Fuck off. You an expert on Russian spies?”
“I am a literal Russian. I’m a spy. Of course I’m an expert in Russian spies.”
“I know. How many bottles of vodka does it take for you to get drunk, by chance?” Romanoff raised her eyebrows.
“That information is on a need to know basis.” Sara looked supremely disappointed.
“Shame. I was hoping to seduce you, but I feel like you’re doing that to me. Why else would you chain me to a chair? An interrogation. That’s so not on fleek.” She winked. “Kinky.” Romanoff just blinked slowly in response and eyed Sara intensely.
“Romanoff, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid.” Romanoff only shook her head.
The door suddenly opened, as creaky as ever. Agent Barton stepped out, and with a cheerful “Are you a Destiel shipper?” entered the room. “Of course. Balthazar confirmed it already!” Barton nodded approvingly. “I don’t think they’ll ever make it canon though”, he said, dejected. Sara scoffed. “Of course they won’t! Despite the fact that it would likely give the network millions of views and provide new storylines, they won’t do it! Goddamned writers!”
Barton, taken aback slightly by her venomous tone, responded with an apologetic, “I’m here to escort you out,”. Sara waved off the comment.
“It’s your job. I’m just sorry you had to miss the show. I know the video is nothing like watching it live.” Barton nodded, dejected, but he brightened and suddenly looked mischievous.
“So.. Do you have any parting words for your paramour?” Romanoff groaned and put her head in her hands. “No haikus please. You’re not Lester.”
“Unfortunately I do not. Maybe next time.”
Clint laughed freely. “What a shame, Nat. Definitley next time.” ‘Nat’ only glared.
“Also, Nat? Hot.” Romanoff shut down, now stoic. She glared at Clint.
“Barton.” He tilted his head, puzzled.
“Meet me at the gym afterward. I feel like sparring with you.” Clint gulped, but otherwise appeared unaffected. He gave two thumbs up. Sara snickered.
“Alright! Sara, let’s go. You need to write and upload new chapters.”
Romanoff hadn’t moved or changed expressions. She was a rock. Sara responded, still peppy and flush from her performance. “Nice to see a fan. New chapter uploaded an hour ago.” Pumping his fist into the air, he yelled, “Yes! I’ve been looking forward to this for a month!”. Sara beamed.
“There’s a fan event in a few months. It should be in my file.” She glanced at Romanoff momentarily. “I’m hosting a meet and greet for VIPs. I’m also open to seeing one in person.” Barton nodded. “I’ll think about it. It’s not secure though.”
“I understand. It’d be a letdown not to see Romanoff, though. I was looking forward to giving her an extremely personal meet and greet.” Romanoff snorted disbelievingly.
“Go.” Sara saluted jauntily and sent her a kiss. Barton laughed.
“Come on, Sara. Time for you to go. I’m sure Romanoff will miss you.”
“I hope so! I always miss her, especially in my bed.”
“Go.” Sara laughed and left, escorted by Barton to a special room.
The halls were a sterile, pristine white and everything looked the same. Barton led her to another white room. On the way, several agents greeted Sara excitedly with “Hey, Sara!”, “I love Obsession is for the Weak! Can I have your autograph?” and “So, you’re the rich kid unafraid to get his hands dirty? You’re shorter, but more handsome than I thought you’d be”. Sara beamed, elated that her fanfic had made so many people’s day.
After making their way through the winding hallways, they arrived in her favorite interrogation room. “Hey! This is the good interrogation room! You guys skimped on me today. I expect better next year.” She gasped dramatically and clutched her heart. “Just sedate me already. I have to get to work tomorrow morning.” Sara tilted her neck, expecting an injection, but was completely unprepared to feel Romanoff’s lithe, warm body press behind her. However, before Sara could make another comment, those dexterous fingers pressed a chlorophyll soaked rag over her mouth and nose. Sara collapsed immediately. Everything faded to black, her only memory the warmth of Romanoff’s body. She would wake up smiling the very next day, only for the feeling to drain immediately.
Sara was late for work. Fuck.