Work Text:
The scarlet sun beams down furiously, coloring the streets in a rosy tint.
Heat clung like a second skin, humid and sticky.
Sidewalks and streets were crowded, as expected for a summer night.
The two agents walked along, the thud of their combat boots standing out among the noise.
Perfectly in and out of place at the same time.
Natasha tipped her sunhat, making sure it covered as much as possible.
Clint chuckles as he flicks it back upwards.
"Keep pulling it down like that and you won't be able to see anything." He teases.
The redhead huffs, but grins at the taunt.
"Sunglasses aren't the best disguise you could have chose." She argues back.
"I had a hat." Clint reasons.
"That you left in the taxi." Natasha reminds as she checks her phone.
"What? You don't forget things?" He questions.
"Not important parts of disguises, I don't." She hums, tapping away on her phone.
"Hill says we should be coming close to our accommodations." Natasha announces, quickly stashing her phone into her purse.
Clint lights up.
"Wonder what luxury we shall be staying in. I'm guessing a five star suite, with a jacuzzi and room service." He confidently yaps away.
The two agents walk along the sidewalk, Natasha closely checking each building.
She halts swiftly, grabbing Clint by the shoulder.
"Here's the place."
Clint's perky attitude dies down at the sight of their accommodations.
Before them was a very ran down, beach-side hotel.
A sun-faded sign read "Tide's End Inn".
"Hill couldn't have gotten us any better accommodations?" Clint complains.
Natasha hums thoughtfully as she double checks the message, confirming the hotel name.
"We're not supposed to be around long. It'll do." She reasons.
Natasha leads Clint inside, pushing aside the rusty metal door.
Sand dusted the floor tiles.
The air reeked of salt and something sugary.
"Hill says it's under your name, you have to check us in." Natasha explains, barely above a whisper.
Clint smirks.
"About time I got a turn to do the talking. No offense to you or your pretty voice, Nat." He cheers.
"Don't screw this up." She mumbles, the two approaching the desk.
A clerk with brunette hair tied back greets the agents.
"Hello! Welcome to the Tide's End Inn. How many I help you?" She greets.
Natasha keeps her head down, signaling for her other to begin talking.
"I have a reservation for me and my lovely wife here." Clint explains, grinning ear to ear.
Natasha's face tints itself a rosy pink.
"What name is that reservation under?" The clerk questions, tapping away on a loud keyboard.
"Barton." Clint responds, winking to his fellow agent.
Natasha sighs knowingly.
"As always, it goes to the wrong head, doesn't it?" She mutters under her breath.
"Found it! You two will be staying in room 113. Here's your room key. Check-out is at ten am. I hope you enjoy your stay!" The clerk announces, handing over two keycards.
Clint thanks the clerk as he hands a keycard to Natasha.
"Say, you wouldn't happen to know any nice spots to hit for dinner, would you?" Clint inquires.
Natasha shoots him a look.
"We got our room, no need to keep bothering the lady." She warns.
"No, no. He's okay!" The clerk assures.
"I do, actually. There's a lovely pub three doors down from us. They've got karaoke, a beachfront bar, and some delicious seafood. You can't miss it." She adds.
"Great, thanks a bunch." Clint speaks, grasping Natasha's hand.
The two agents leave the lobby, finding the elevator.
Filthy, sticky buttons, and smells fresh of someone's good time.
"The weed smell is a good sign." Clint jokes.
Natasha presses the button for floor three, humming at the joke.
"Good sign of what, exactly?" She asks.
"Nobody will be bothering us, that's what." He answers, his hands finding her hips.
Clint pulls Natasha closer as the elevator screeches to life.
The rusty box slowly climbs as the two embrace eachother.
"Clearly you're feeling some sort of way." Natasha teases softly, turning to caress Clint's face.
He looks down at her, their foreheads touching.
"So are you. C'mon, Nat. I know you are." He taunts back, planting a small kiss on her cheek.
The redhead doesn't hesitate to return the kiss, this time on the lips.
"What can I say? We never get time together with work." She reasons.
Clint laughs, a chuckle Natasha can feel as he trails a few kisses from her lips to her neck.
"You must be aching to change that, huh?" He asks.
Before Natasha can respond, the elevator comes to a very harsh stop, shaking the two.
"C'mon, let's go see what the bed looks like." Clint encourages, leading her out of the elevator.
The two stumble and laugh their way down the hall.
"110, 111, 112," Natasha reads aloud.
"Right here, Nat." Clint points to the door.
With a swipe of the keycard, the door unlocks with a click.
Natasha leads the way inside, confident with her every step.
Clint whistles at the sub-par accommodations.
Blue carpet worn and dingy.
The blond notices that the bathroom sink was stained with someone's pink hair dye, ruining the white counter.
A balcony door whose mesh had more holes than Natasha's fishnets.
As for the bed itself, not that bad.
The sheets didn't feel disgusting to the touch and everything seems to be clean.
Clint lays down with a loud thud.
Nat stands by the balcony door, admiring the view.
Sunsets are beautiful, so is the ocean, but together they're something else.
"Bed's comfy." Clint announces.
"I'm surprised it meets those high standards of yours." She taunts.
"Only thing in this room that does, they don't even got cable here. Can you believe that? Hill should get a refund." Clint scoffs as he flicks through the tv channels.
"We won't have much time for that, anyhow." She reminds, finding Clint's duffle bag.
"We have more than enough time, Nat. We're experts, this won't take us long." The blond tuts, setting the remote back on the nightstand.
Doesn't take long for the redhead to unpack their gear.
"Never assume a good outcome." Natasha warns as she zips up the empty bag.
The redhead turns to her partner, watching her lay out the gear.
"You don't watch television, why the sudden interest?" She quips, checking the condition of Clint's arrows.
"Yeah, but sometimes a sappy romance film in bedsheets that aren't yours feels amazing." He explains, quickly grabbing his bow and arrows from Natasha's hands.
"Still insisting on me watching one with you?" She teases, looking over her pistol.
"I cannot believe you've gotten this far without seeing a chick flick." He rambles, exasperated.
Natasha doesn't respond, loading the gun with precision.
"I guess I just don't see the big deal about it." She finally answers.
Clint puts down his gear, approaching Natasha from behind.
He carefully sets her gun on the bed.
Natasha leans slightly back into the touch.
"You're so focused on this mission." Clint states, hands lingering on her hips.
"Cause it's our job." Natasha responds, not missing a beat.
She sighs softly as his hands drift up and down.
"You know damn well Hill always arranges for us to have more time than we need. Stop stressing so hard, babe." Clint scolds gently.
Natasha takes off her sunhat, leaving her in nothing else but a green dress.
"Its important to stay alert. Who knows what we're dealing with?" She explains.
"Oh Nat.. what am I going to do with you?" The blond sighs.
Clint's hand jump up to feel her red curls.
Natasha leans back against him, looking up through her messy red bangs.
Sage green eyes so trusting stare at Clint.
"There we go, getting somewhere." He praises.
She snags off his purple shades next, admiring the loving eyes starring back.
Clint holds Natasha closer, feeling her body go rigid.
"What's got you tense?" He questions.
"I heard something outside." Natasha mutters, grabbing her gun and going onto the balcony.
Clint follows quickly.
"Remember, we're at a hotel, you can't empty out a round to scare people off.". He warns.
"I know. I'm just checking." She argues.
The balcony was small but quite cozy.
Solid white fencing with very few gaps, obscuring the balcony from others and protecting those atop it.
Two chairs sit along the balcony, made of intricate wickerwork.
Natasha leaned against the railing, her gun sitting beside her, waiting.
Clint steps beside her.
The view is quite nice, a beautiful beach with dozens of people enjoying the sunsetting waves.
"See, nothing out here. You're safe, babydoll." Clint assures, a hand in her shoulder.
"What if the target's hanging around?" She rambles anxiously.
"They're on the other side of the city, according to Hill. Calm down." Clint reasons.
"I'm still going to watch, just until we have to leave for the stakeout." Natasha explains.
Clint sighs dramatically.
"Seriously? We could grab dinner or see the sights." He offers.
"I'm not moving until I'm sure it's all clear." Natasha argues.
"We could do so many things." Clint bickers playfully, his hands wandering over that green dress once again.
"Clint." Natasha warns.
"Say, how's about a challenge?" He offers.
Natasha hums, in thought.
"Okay. Explain." She bites.
"I'm going to..." Clint trails off, moving behind her.
His hands wandering all over.
"Touch around, see if I can unwind you a bit."
"Where's the challenge?" Natasha asks bluntly.
"I want to see if you're still going to be so focused on work while I do that." Clint explains.
Natasha laughs.
"A few kisses and caresses will not take me off my game, little bird." She mocks.
"So, we have a deal, then?" Clint smiles.
"Try me." Natasha beckons.
"Okay, but I wouldn't be so sure of yourself." He agrees.
Natasha shakes her head, laughing more as she turns back to the view.
The waves crash loudly with the wind.
Clint's hands start high, at her shoulders.
The off shoulder sleeves of Natasha's dress allows easy access.
He tilts her head back, just enough.
"Clint, I can't see when you do that-" Natasha begins to scorn.
Clint interrupts with a harsh kiss to the neck, suckling and biting the flesh.
Natasha gasps softly, her hands reaching back to caress his hair.
"You've always been a good kisser." She purrs, focusing back on the view.
Clint scoffs as he moves off his spot with a wet pop.
"A hickey won't break my girl, huh? She's that resilient, and strong. Not to mention beautiful." He praises, trailing kisses all over her neck.
Natasha huffs, looking down, studying the crowds from the balcony.
She scans for anyone out of place.
Clint keeps kissing and sucking new marks along her collarbone and neckline.
His hands move to her chest.
Two of the nicest breasts he's seen await his attention.
He caresses them with care.
"Even your tits are tense. That's how much you're overthinking this, Nat." Clint mumbles into her ear.
"Clint." She whispers, breathless.
"Already huffy and out of breath, hm?" He teases.
"Haven't lost yet. I'm still focused." Natasha argues, eyes locked on the ground below.
Clint slips his hand down the top of her dress.
Quickly navigating inside of her bra, finding her perky nipples begging for the attention.
He pinches the nipple, rolling it back and forth between his fingers.
Natasha's body reacts before she can, hips rolling back into Clint's.
He laughs.
"Oh, somebody likes this." Clint chuckles.
He moves his other hand in to caress her left nipple.
"Fuck." She mewls.
"What happened babydoll? Thought you were all focused on the mission?" He taunts, pinching her nipples for emphasis.
"Ah!" She squeaks.
Clint continues to roll her nipples, while biting down on her neck.
"Do you give up yet?" He asks.
"No." Natasha bluntly replies.
"Suit yourself." He laughs.
With that, his hands come out of her dress top, smoothing over the fabric clinging to her hips.
Clint softly claws the green fabric, wanting to feel the dips and swells beneath.
Natasha grips the railing, wanting to keep still.
Clint hums in thought, trying to think of a challenge.
He removed his touch, and steps back.
Natasha looks back, confused.
"Did you give up?" She snickers.
Clint doesn't respond, moving in the crack between the railing and where Natasha leans.
He kneels before her.
"What're you doing?" She questions.
He grins up at her, before kissing her leg, right below where the dress ends.
"Testing your limits, Nat. Part of the challenge. Shouldn't you be paying attention?"
Natasha sighs, looking away from him.
Clint continues, kissing both of her legs, slowly moving upwards with each soft touch.
"You're so pretty, do you know that? Every last inch of you." He praises.
Natasha huffs and double checks her pistol.
Clint hears the safety clicked off before she places it back on the railing.
He grips her thighs, bracing his movements.
Natasha mumbles over the "stupidity" of the challenge.
"Hey, you agreed to it. You signed yourself up for this, babydoll."
A loud voice on the beach distracts her mind.
Natasha leans further against the railing, trying to investigate from the balcony.
He rubs and kisses her thighs with a gentle touch.
Clint chuckles at the bundle of heat before his face.
He taps her clothed mound, trying to get her attention.
"Just what are you doing?" She questions, her voice weak and airy.
"You know what I'm doing." He taunts.
Clint feels along the sage green lace, finding the clothed slit.
He drags his finger back and forth with a slow, tedious pace.
Natasha moans softly into the evening air.
"Look at you, pretty girl. Making a scene all the way up here. You're supposed to be working, no? Yet you're so wet I can feel it through your panties. What would Fury think about his prized agent getting all distracted like this?" Clint taunts, still moving his finger along her covered slit.
"Clint!" She whines.
"Shh, you got to focus, remember?" He teases.
Natasha grips the railing harsher, steadying herself against the touch.
Clint takes this as his signal, he slides her panties to the left.
He gasps softly, admiring the sparkling beauty before him.
"Beautiful." The blond mumbles.
Clint slowly moves two fingers in the slit, lewd noises fill the air.
He pushes her lips open to behold the gushing mess.
"Hurry up." Natasha demands.
"Do you get to call the shots, babydoll?" Clint scolds.
Natasha groans, a noise of frustrated need.
"No. You don't. I do. I'll give you what you need when you're ready." He warns.
Clint goes nose-first, taking in the musky scent.
He exhales softly, before pulling the hood of her clit back.
Without another thought, Clint brings his mouth to the little pearl.
"Fuck!" Natasha moans, throwing her head back.
Clint doesn't move his mouth to taunt, just keeps at work.
Swirling the tiny bead around his tongue back and forth.
Natasha bucks her hips back, but Clint pulls her forward.
"Uh-uh. Hold still." He scorns.
Clint carefully moves two of his fingers along the entrance of her, teasing with the touch.
"Please." Natasha begs.
Clint laughs against her clit.
"Please what?" He beckons.
"Fuck me." She whines.
"Alrighty then." Clint hums.
He begins pumping his two fingers in and out of her.
Her hips rock back and forth with the momentum.
Natasha lets out a harmony of mewls and moans.
"Such a good girl." Clint hums.
"Taking these fingers so well. Definitely lost the challenge, but my girl is finally letting loose. Can't let that go without a reward can I?" He continues.
"Uh-huh." Natasha whines, nodding along.
"I guess I'll reward you, even though you lost. " Clint teases.
While his fingers continue a robotic rhythm, his mouth latches back into her clit.
He feels her hips shake with growing tension.
Clint curls his two fingers ever so slightly, adding on to the trifecta of pleasure.
"Clint!" Natasha cries, white knuckling the railing.
"What do you need, babydoll?" He replies.
"Close." She breathlessly whines.
"Need to cum?" Clint confirms.
"Uh-huh. Please." Natasha begs.
Clint speeds up his work, pumping and curling his fingers with speed.
He gently kisses and suckles her clit, spelling her name with his tongue.
Natasha's body spasms with a loud cry.
Clint feels her tighten and gush all over his hand.
He slowly works her through the spasms.
"That's my girl." He praises, holding her lower half steady with his free hand.
Natasha heaves, trying to catch her breath.
Clint removes his fingers with a squelch, admiring the mess.
He climbs out from underneath her leaning form, standing beside her.
The redhead leans to his side, limbs unsteady still.
Natasha looks over to Clint cleaning his fingers off with a smirk.
"You taste so good. I could eat you for three meals everyday." He taunts.
Natasha sighs softly as she kisses him.
"You'd eat microwave noodles everyday, if I let you." She comments, grabbing her gun off the railing.
Clint's mouth opens to argue, but silences at the chirpy ring of a phone.
"That's got to be Hill." Natasha realizes, slowly stepping back inside the hotel room.
She finds her phone on the bed, and picks up the call.
"Do we have to go already, it's not even sundown!" Clint whines as he follows in.
Natasha holds a finger up, warning the blond to be quiet.
"Uh-huh, yes ma'am. We understand the urgency of being in and out. Understood, tell Fury we'll be out there in twenty minutes. Over and out." She answers.
With a loud beep, the call ends.
Clint stares in awe and confusion as Natasha switches out her dress for her tactical suit.
Doesn't matter how many times he sees it, the silky soft expanse of her body will never cease to amaze him.
"Eyes up here. Go get dressed, we have to hurry up and go." She scorns.
Clint lets out a flustered laugh.
"Oh yeah, right. Sorry." He mumbles, dressing himself with almost robotic speed.
Armed and ready, the two opt for the stairs this time.
Natasha confidently leads the way, every step a warning to those around her.
Quite the rapid change from a few minutes before.
Clint despises and admires her dedication to her work.
Out of the hotel and back on the streets, the lights starting to flicker on for the night.
"Isn't the stakeout site that way?" Clint questions, pointing to the left of the two.
"Actually, it's on the right side of the city, Hill has us a rental car for the mission." Natasha explains.
"I hope this doesn't take all night, I'd like to try that bar the clerk told us about." He worries aloud.
Natasha sighs a knowing sigh.
"Don't get your hopes up." She politely warns.
"What kind of car did Hill get us?" Clint continues his barrage of questions.
"Something unremarkable I'd hope." Natasha hums.
"Remarkable or not we always end up in a fight. Why does it matter?" Clint argues from behind.
Natasha doesn't respond, checking her directions on her phone.
"Because if we have to make a mad dash, we won't be spotted as quickly. Easier to spot a Ferrari than a Subaru." She finally answers.
Weaving through allies and cramped sidewalks, the two agents arrive at the location of their rental.
A rather shady car rental place, Clint thought.
But shady works best with S.H.I.E.L.D.
"I'm going to go check in, you wait out here. I'll let you drive." Natasha offers.
"What? Scared I'll run off so you bribe me?" Clint teases.
Natasha shakes her head, laughing softly.
"A little, actually." She jokes.
"I promise I won't run off for snacks or anything world ending." Clint promises.
Natasha nods, heading inside the rental place with a chime of their bell.
Clint leans against the front of the building, studying the nearby cars with their worn rental stickers.
"Let's see here... Grey Subaru...shitty blue SUV... Old mustang? That'd be a good one." He observes quietly.
So distracted on the cars, Clint lacks his usual edge.
Natasha sneaks up beside him, steps silent and deadly.
"See one you like?" She whispers to him, hot breath hitting his ear.
Clint yells as he steps back, making his other wheeze with laughter.
"Nat! You can't do that..." He scolds, pouty and flustered.
"Got you good." She brags with a smirk.
Clint looks back over to the cars.
"So, which one's ours for the night?" He asks.
"The red mustang." Natasha replies, tossing him the keys.
Clint pumps his fist in the air.
"Yes!" He cheers.
Natasha sighs lovingly.
She climbs into the passenger side as Clint quickly gets the car going.
"So, do remind me what exactly we're looking for tonight." Clint beckons as he drives.
"Do you ever listen to mission briefings?" Natasha scolds.
"A group of organized robbers have been robbing various California S.H.I.E.L.D. storage units of their weapons. They don't know how they're finding these locations or getting away with these crimes. So that's where we come in. We're to guard the storage unit here, and if they show up, stop them." She explains calmly.
"Why doesn't Fury invest in secure storage?" Clint huffs.
Natasha shrugs, placing her feet on the dash.
"Nobody knows." She hums.
Clint scoffs, gently shoving Natasha's legs.
"This is a nice, vintage car. Feet off the dash." He scorns.
"It's a rental that smells like cigarettes." Natasha corrects.
"Feet off the dash." Clint reiterates.
Natasha groans, but removes her feet, placing them back on the floor.
"Thank you." Clint praises.
"You're bossing me around a bit much." Natasha states.
"That so?" Clint mumbles, cocky grin all over his face.
"Yes." Natasha responds quickly.
"Well, you're stuck with me, what can you do?" Clint teases while making a swift turn.
Natasha looks out the window at the darkening sky.
The orange sunset from the balcony has faded into little stains along the blue night.
"I could do plenty of things, little bird." She taunts, Russian accent thicker than usual.
"Such as?" Clint beckons.
"Ah-ah. Drive first, fun second." Natasha reminds.
"I can multitask." Clint argues, flicking on the headlights.
Natasha lets out a snicker.
"Excuse me?" Clint asks, feigning offense.
"You cannot. You are horrible at multitasking." Natasha states with a laugh.
"Yes I can, give me one example of me failing to multitask." Clint argues, ever so sure.
"Budapest." The redhead answers without missing a beat.
Clint scowls at the answer.
"I'm right, no?" Natasha teases, putting her feet back on the dash.
The blond sighs dramatically, bumping his head against the steering wheel.
"Shut up." He mumbles, defeated.
The old mustang comes to a screeching halt.
Natasha exits the car for a quick scan of the area.
Old, rusty storage units side by side.
The place seemed forgotten.
"Coast's clear, Nat." Clint calls from the car.
"For now." She corrects, re-entering the passenger side.
Clint fiddles with the radio knobs, static echoing until a station comes in clear.
Natasha leans back into her seat as the radio host loudly chatters away about Hollywood gossip.
"What's appealing about this?" She grumbles.
"Best gossip comes from the radio stars, trust me." Clint happily explains.
Natasha lets out an indignant huff.
"You still find interest in gossip, with the lives we live?" The redhead continues.
Clint grabs his quiver of arrows from the backseat, counting each individually marked arrow.
"Hey, maybe one day we'll need to listen in for intel on some big bad Hollywood star." The blond reasons.
"That's a terrible excuse." Natasha frowns.
"Aww, thanks. I try." Clint says with a sly grin.
"Getting a bit sick of that attitude." Natasha taunts, a hint of danger lining her words.
"What're you going to do about it?" Clint teases right back.
Natasha harshly takes the quiver, tossing it carelessly to the backseat.
"Hey! Careful, some of those are explosive tipped!" Clint frantically warns.
Natasha hums, a mischievous grin appearing on her face.
"I swore Hill told you not to bring anymore of those arrows to stealth missions. Something about... going overkill? Hm...I must of forgot.." She reminds.
Clint's cheeks flush red as he fidgets with his hands.
"Yeah- right, that. Uhm...." He babbles, trying to figure out a good answer.
Natasha reaches past his stuttering form, shutting off the car with a turn of the keys.
The lights and sounds all dim away into the shadows of a summer night.
"Nat, what are you-" Clint begins, but he cannot finish.
Not with her lips on his.
With silence and swiftness, Natasha climbs onto his lap, continuing their heated moment.
Clint gasps for air between kisses, the deadly assassin refusing to give him much break.
"Giving attitude, disobeying orders.. Tsk, tsk. What to do with you, little bird?" Natasha hums seductively.
Clint only had the dim and distant light of the streets to rely on.
The warm glow of the streetlight didn't assist much, every touch gave him chills and warmth to his core.
Between kiss after kiss, Natasha's wandering hands found the bulge in his pants.
"You're not hard to work up." The redhead states, fidgeting with his zipper.
"Not with a perfect woman like you, I'm not." He praises softly.
"Praise won't free you now." She smiles.
The zipper is deafening in the sultry silence.
Natasha sinks down to the floor of the driver's side.
"Perhaps a taste of your own medicine would do you good." The redhead suggests.
"You're getting me back, huh?" Clint feigns sadness, pretending this is a punishment.
Natasha doesn't answer.
Not with her voice, but with her hands.
Soft and delicate hands work to free his aching member.
Stiff and leaking precum, it stands tall.
Clint doesn't feel anything right away, until he hears her shift.
Warm air blows against his tip.
"Ah, there you are." Clint chuckles weakly.
A gentle set of hands loosely wrap around the shaft, light and airy in touch.
Ever so agonisingly slow, her hands move up and down.
Clint whines and huffs.
"C'mon, babe. We don't have all day, make it quick." He cries softly.
The blond cannot see it, but he can feel those eyes glaring at him.
She slowly licks a line up his shaft, kissing the tip with a featherlight touch.
"You are in no place for demands, agent. You're done when I say you're done, understood?" The redhead instructs sternly.
"mhm" Clint whines, more focused on the delicate teasing of his tip.
"I asked you a question, agent. I demand an answer." Natasha scorns with a pinch to his tip.
"Yes, ma'am." He mewls, teetering that line between pain and pleasure like an acrobat.
She hums in acknowledgment, getting back to work.
Natasha moves her fingers inch by inch up and down, slow and easy.
Yet deliberate in working her partner up.
Steam on the window forms where Clint's had his left hand resting, his right gripping his knee for dear life.
"Please?" Clint whines, almost a whisper.
"What're you asking for?" Natasha beckons.
"More, faster, something?" He breathlessly pleads.
Natasha hums thoughtfully.
Her thumb strokes the slit of his tip, precum shining in the lingering light.
"Beg for it, agent. Show me you've learned some manners." She demands.
Awaiting her answer, she speeds up her handiwork just enough to make Clint squirm.
"Nat, please! I was just messing with you earlier, you know I was. Please, just- oh god please.." He begs frantically.
She ponders the answer, for what feels like an eternity.
Then in the darkness of the car, Clint feels her lips against his tip.
With that same delayed pace, she sinks down on his shaft, swallowing him whole.
She shifts up and down, making sure to keep the pace teasing.
Clint's body sputters, unable to take it anymore.
He releases with a loud cluster of moans.
Natasha makes quick work of his release, swallowing effortlessly.
Clint slumps back in the driver's seat while his partner slides off his member with a loud pop.
Natasha zips him back into place before climbing back to the passenger side.
Feet on the dash and a smirk on her face like nothing had happened.
"Nat?" Clint calls out with a sigh.
"Hm?" She hums back.
"Have I ever complimented your skills in this field?" He flirts weakly.
The redhead chuckles.
"More than enough to last me a lifetime." Nat replies.
Clint laughs effortlessly at her retort.
"Good, I'm doing what I'm suppose to." He beams.
Their soft exchange blatantly interrupted by screeching tires.
Natasha bolts out the car, gun quickly exiting its holster.
"Hey, wait up!" Clint shouts, grabbing his quiver and bow from the backseat.
He quickly comes a-trotting beside her, the two agents sleuthing around corners to the source of the noise.
Past the next aisle of storage units, a rather noisy moving truck halted.
Two men exit the front of the truck, similar to Clint's height and build.
Both men wore all black clothes and masks to protect their identities.
From the cargo hold comes the third and final man, tall and muscular.
Same clothes, same mask, a team of suspects.
"Easy group, no weapons." Clint whispers.
"Don't be so cocky." Natasha shushes.
Seemingly the universe wanting to prove them wrong, the biggest of the three draws a crowbar.
"Alright, boss said unit 342 right here is our big ticket. All the rifles and ARs a man could ever need." One of the men tuts.
Clint grabs a basic bow from his quiver, but Natasha switches it for an explosive one.
"What happened to overkill?" He teases.
"Their intel is outdated. We have old chitauri weapons in hold right now." Natasha explains.
"Tell me why we're keeping alien tech in a random storage box in California." Clint sighs.
"Holding place, Hill said they're working on the secured underground unit for the weapons." The redhead continues.
The loud clash of metal on metal interrupts the two.
Clint loads the arrow into his bow, ready to fire.
"Hill is going to rip us both new asses." He grumbles.
Natasha activates her bracelets, the widow's bites charging up.
"Let her." She replies, grinning.
Clint fires the arrow, it shoots through the air with a high-pitched whistle.
The arrow wedges itself into the grill of the truck.
Two of the three men turn to the noise, as the arrowhead beeps in warning.
Natasha and Clint duck behind the unit at the last beep.
The explosion is small but mighty, the shockwave shaking the storage units.
All three men shout in surprise.
The two agents come out from behind the storage unit.
"The avengers? I thought you guys only operated in New York!" One of the men quips.
The bigger man goes back to working the door open.
"Scare these pesky heroes off, they ain't no Hulk now." his husky voice instructs.
Both the smaller men grin as they draw handguns.
"One each?" Clint jokes, loading his bow.
Natasha nods to the left, a silent signal.
The first shot is fired, Natasha lowers to the ground.
Clint fires an arrow as he bolts to the right.
The two men split, ready to fight.
"You take the archer, Benny. I got the pretty one!" One calls out.
Clint weaves past two shots from Benny, before heading for a running tackle.
Benny aims to fire, Clint pins the firing hand to the nearest unit.
He wrangles the gun out of his hand.
"Nat, catch!" Clint calls, tossing it over.
The redhead catches the gun, now double wielding.
Benny calls out to his friend.
"Don't let her scare ya, Tim. She's just a pretty face. Bet she can't fire worth a damn!" He spits.
Clint's fist quickly connects with the right of Benny's face, earning him a tooth of trophy.
Benny collapses, clutching his missing teeth and gushing nose.
Tim stood, hands quivering with his gun.
"You two are going to regret messing with us!" He snaps.
"Is that so?' Natasha hums, monotone.
She doesn't let Tim answer, firing two shots, one in each shoulder.
Tim cries out as he collapses to the ground, panicking.
"Benny! I'm down, I'm down!" He sobs.
Natasha tucks her guns away, charging her widow bites for the big one.
Benny stands up, sleeves soaked with blood.
Clint swings a left hook to the man, knocking him down to the concrete.
The archer grabs him by the hood, grabbing one of his arrows.
He pierces the metal door of a storage unit with the arrow.
Hanging Benny by his hood.
Natasha silently approaches the last man, the muscular one struggling with his crowbar.
The big man suddenly turns around, swinging the crowbar, Natasha moves back with ease.
"Outta my way!" He shouts, rushing Natasha.
The assassin activates the widow's bites, shocking the man ferociously.
Despite the extreme voltage, he manages to charge her.
Natasha is tossed back, stumbling a bit as she sticks the landing.
The right sleeve of her suit torn open by the harsh ground, revealing the newly made road rash.
Clint bolts into action, firing a soundwave arrow.
The arrow lands in the shoulder padding of the man.
"You think that'll stop me, Robin Hood?" He quips.
He rushes to the fight, standing alongside his partner.
The arrowhead activates, sending a set of painful noises directly into his ear.
The man screams as he covers his ears, dropping the crowbar.
"Always hit my targets, don't I?" Clint taunts.
"Every target but your report quotas." Natasha banters back.
Both hold up their weapon, Nat with her pistol, Clint with a netting arrow.
In sync, they fire.
Natasha's bullet pierces the chest, causing the man to collapse.
Clints arrow explodes into a collapsible net, shrouding the man.
"Threat secured, all three suspects downed." Clint victoriously huffs.
Natasha taps him on the shoulder and points.
"Two suspects." She corrects.
Clint looks to where she points, where he had Benny.
Benny is gone, his hoodie still hanging on his arrow.
"Damnit!" He sighs dramatically.
"He won't get far, not shirtless he won't" Natasha reassures.
Clint nods as he finds his phone to call Hill.
"Agent Barton and Agent Romanov, status report?" Hill's crackly voice echoes throughout the speaker.
"Threat subdued. Two suspects downed, mild injures on red, but other than that we are fine." Clint explains.
Natasha crosses her arms, wincing at the reminder of her injury.
"I'm fine, you didn't need to report it." She pouts.
"Got it, anything else I should know before I send the clean-up crew?" Hill adds.
"We have a third suspect injured and shirtless somewhere." Natasha answers.
"Why is he shirtless, agent?" Hill questions, confused.
"Clint's fault." The redhead teases.
"I didn't think he could take it off while hanging!" Clint defends himself.
"Alright, I'll make sure to let dispatch know to keep their eyes out for our crazed shirtless bandit." Hill jokes.
Before either agent can open their mouth, an engine roars to life.
The Mustang's engine.
"Shit!" Natasha curses, running across the lot.
Both agents rush to the noise, catching Benny dashing off in their ride.
"Agents." Hill begins knowingly.
"Status update?" She beckons, Clint feeling her smirk from behind the screen.
"Our shirtless suspect has driven off with our rental." Natasha sighs.
"Got it, dispatch boys will take care of him. You two should get back, my map says you have twenty-one miles to walk. Besides, you'll need the sleep, Fury's getting you two out and back on the Helicarrier before sunrise." Hill instructs.
"Thank you." Both agents chime as the call ends.
As soon as the call ends, Clint groans dramatically.
"The ONE time I get a cool car, someone steals it!" He complains.
Natasha hums, her hand finding his shoulder for comfort.
"C'mon, let's get walking. Maybe we'll see something, like you wanted." She encourages.
Clint lightens up at the suggestion.
"Good point, your wound isn't too bad, and our hotel's on the beach. Late beachwalk?" He suggests.
Natasha laughs, soft and airy.
"I'd love that." She agrees.
Hands clasped together, the two walk the quiet city sidewalk.
Clint looks to the stars, little bright dots of light among the many shades of blue.
"That's one of the few things that connects us all, the stars." Natasha comments.
"It's cause they're the same everywhere, right?" Clint follows up.
"Mhm." She hums.
"These are the same stars I wished on as a little girl, the same ones we talked under in Budapest, the same ones above Avenger's tower, and they're all the same now. Still with me." Natasha rambles.
"That's....really insightful, and poetic. Wish I could think like that." Clint answers, astonished at her words.
"I think you're perfect as you are." Natasha praises.
Clint blushes at the surprise compliment.
"I don't know, I could be better." he attempts to deflect.
"Don't tell me you're beating yourself up because of our swift suspect?" Natasha half-heartedly teases.
"I mean? Kind of, I didn't give him as much trouble as I should. And I left the keys in the car.. And let you get injured." Clint rambles aimlessly.
Natasha shakes her head with a knowing sigh.
"I have never met someone who is as hard on themselves as you, Clint." she notes.
"I'm an Avenger, we have to be hard on ourselves!" he argues.
"We are, but we are also, human. We mess up, it happens. That's how Fury lost his eye after all." Natasha reasons.
"You got a point, a point I don't want to agree with, but a point indeed." Clint mumbles.
"We still got the job done. No casualties, no civilians hurt, minor injuries. That's a damn good job in our line of work." She adds.
"Thanks for the encouragement, Nat." He praises.
The redhead smiles, an honest and simple one.
"You'd do the same for me in a heartbeat." Natasha responds.
"I would." Clint agrees with a chuckle.
While he laughed, the archer noticed a neon sign.
"Hey, this shop's still open! We can eat dinner after all." Clint cheers.
"Dinner slipped my mind completely." Natasha admits.
Clint chuckles again as he leads her by the hand into the convenience store.
"What're you craving? Cause I'm for sure craving instant noodles." He beckons, wandering the short aisles of goods.
"I'm so glad we'll be back soon, you'll be eating a more... not processed diet." Natasha grimaces at the container of dried noodles.
The redhead ponders the collection of canned goods, grabbing one.
"Chicken and stars? That's a very 'you' choice." Clint remarks playfully.
"It's better than rubbery noodles, boiled in a never-cleaned box." She quips back.
"Who the hell has time to clean their microwave?" Clint scoffs as he follows Natasha.
The agents find the slim picks of first aid, still plenty to work with, though.
Natasha grabs the gauze and antiseptic, while Clint wanders to the fridges behind them.
For what they lack in aid, they sure make up for in drink selection.
Soda, juice, teas, coffees, everything.
Clint gives it all a glance over before he spots it in the corner.
The liquor fridge.
"You still like grapefruit, right?" He questions loudly.
"Yeah, why?" Natasha replies, confused.
She turns around to find him holding two cans of hard seltzer.
"Guess we have earned a treat." Natasha chuckles, carrying all the goods to the counter.
The cashier scans their supplies with robotic speed.
"Did you bring your wallet for once?" Clint jokes, locating his wallet.
"Yeah, of course I'd bring my wallet on a job to stop thieves." Natasha sarcastically quips.
Clint only responds with an eyeroll as he pays.
The agents leave the store, seltzers already cracked open.
Clint noted the saltier essense of the air.
"Hey, there's the beach access." Natasha points out.
"Good eye, no better place to enjoy our drinks than oceanside." Clint agrees.
Birds squawk at the agents walking across the sandy space.
The ocean loudly welcomes them with crashing waves.
Natasha takes a swig of her seltzer.
Clint grasps her free hand, feeling over her tense knuckles.
"What's got my babydoll all worked up again?" He worries aloud.
"Nothing." Natasha responds with the speed of a liar.
"Don't lie to me, Nat." Clint scolds.
The redhead sighs softly, looking to the vast ocean.
"Watching, like I always do." She responds.
"You're not scared that those dumb bandits got out of dispatch's grasp, are you? Those idiots couldn't even tell us left from right." Clint assures.
"Oh, no. I'm not scared of a few little league imbeciles." Natasha corrects.
Clint follows her line of sight, to a seagull walking along the beach.
"So what are you watching for, then?" He continues.
Nothing but nature's noise answers his question.
Natasha stays froze, silent.
Her gaze not of a piercing killer, but of a girl who doesn't wish to remember.
Clint's expression softens as he realizes what that face means.
"Oh, I get it." He assures.
"You're scared of getting used again. As you were in Russia." The blond mutters.
Natasha doesn't speak, but she nods at his answer.
"You demolished the red room, they won't get another girl, not with you around. You scared them off for good. They'd never get to you, anyway. I'd die a thousand times if it meant you could sleep at night knowing that you're safe." Clint consoles.
Natasha walks a few paces ahead, leaving prints in the sand.
She looks to the stars, silently questioning them.
"Why?" The redhead meekly asks.
"Why I'd do it? Because I love you, Natasha. You're my partner in everything. If I had to go back, live this all again. I'd still give you the same chance I did that day in Budapest. Because you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." He rambles.
Silence follows as a reoccurring pattern.
Natasha quietly trails back to Clint's side, grabbing his hand in hers.
"That's right, babydoll. You're safe with me, always." Clint assures, bringing her hand to his mouth.
He plants a delicate yet ever so dramatic kiss on the back of her hand.
Natasha blushes and lets out a soft laugh.
The beachfront entrance to the hotel appears in sight.
"I thought when we were leaving, I heard a lady and the clerk discussing vhs rentals. That's probably why they don't do cable, that and the location, I guess... Anyways, you go up to the room, I'm renting us a film." Clint explans.
The two agents stop in front of the doorway momentarily.
"Alright, see you upstairs." Natasha hums.
She quickly steals a goodbye kiss before hiking her way upstairs.
The redhead ignores the eerie silence in the hotel halls, the one that welcomes unpleasant thoughts.
"It's quiet because it's late. It's safe, I'm safe." Natasha whispers to herself.
She makes her way to their room with trademarked stealth.
A bit of fumbling with the room key, and she's in.
The balcony door was left open in their rush to leave, letting the cool night air in.
Natasha places the bag of goods on the bed.
She scoffs at the mess of clothes on the floor, Clint's fancy button-up and her dress clashing harshly with the maroon carpet.
The redhead tidies up their belongings into their duffle bag.
Next should go in her suit.
Natasha slowly strips off the tactical suit, leaving her in a sage green lingerie set.
Not what she'd usually wear to work, but time constraints were applied today.
She neatly folds her tactical gear, and unloads her gun.
Both are sat neatly in the duffle bag, leaving Natasha to attend to one last problem.
The wound on her arm.
The road rash stung and burned with every movement of her arm as she dug through the shop bag for the antiseptic.
She heads into the bathroom, scowling at the pink stained countertop.
WIth her arm over the sink, she opens and dumps a good amount of antiseptic on her arm.
Not how she's supposed to treat a wound, but if it works, it works.
Natasha bites her lip as the wound burns agonizingly with the medicated liquid.
She carefully grabs a nearby hand towel to dab it dry.
A low whistle echoes from the doorway.
Natasha chuckles, setting the towel on the sink counter.
"What movie did you get us?" Natasha asks, turning to face Clint.
Clint stares, red-faced and red handed.
He stutters a variety of excuses, holding up the vhs copy of Pretty Woman.
Natasha grabs the tape, tossing it over to the bed.
"You are stunning." The blond finally manages to spit.
"So are you." Natasha teases.
Clint shuts the bathroom door behind him, staring at the full length mirror attached.
Natasha grunts as she hoists herself onto the sink counter.
Clint turns to her again, grinning.
"Nice size mirror, perfect view of the shower, too." He rambles, both hands pinning Natasha to the sink.
"What are you plotting, agent?" The redhead questions, suspicious.
"Maybe you should investigate." Clint retorts.
Natasha can't get a word in before her lips are stuck to his.
The kiss is long and deep before Natasha breaks it with a huff.
She tugs on Clint's uniform.
"You're overdressed." She scolds.
"So are you." Clint argues, pulling on her bra with a single finger.
Natasha watches him closely as she unhooks her bra.
The green cloth falls to the floor, as does Clint's jaw.
"I swear, you act like a schoolboy sometimes." She tsks.
"Can you blame me? Tits like those are once in a lifetime, everytime." He argues while removing his shirt.
Natasha eyes him up and down like a plate of meat.
Next goes down his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.
His boxers with the little arrow pattern on them.
Natasha chuckles at the sight, but can't keep her eyes away from his bulge.
"You wore those to work?" She laughs.
"They're a gift, of course I have to wear them!" Clint reasons.
"Mhm." Natasha hums with an eyeroll.
Clint continues to argue various reasons for the silly boxers.
Natasha stealthily slips off her panties, leaving her completely exposed.
She spreads her legs, exposing her glistening folds to the bumbling idiot.
With a loud sigh, she gains his attention.
"Showing off, are we?" Clint hums, studying every sopping wet detail.
"You were talking too much." Natasha whines.
"Start the shower up, I have something I want to try." He instructs.
Natasha hops off the counter, and approaches the shower.
"We've had shower sex before, or did you forget?" She hums, fidgeting with the faucet.
"Don't worry, you'll see." Clint assures as he sheds his boxers.
Natasha puts a hand in the spray, finding it to be warm.
"Water's warm." She announces.
Clint hooks his arms around Natasha's hips, dragging her into the shower.
Before she could even blink, her face was pressed to the tile.
She turns her head to the left, finding the shower door left open.
A narrow and perfect view of the mirror.
The redhead saw her nude form, and Clint standing behind her, fully erect.
"I think my girl has forgotten how beautiful and amazing she is. So, here is what's going to happen: I'm going to fuck this pretty little cunt for a job well done, and you are going to keep your eyes on that mirror. You're going to see what I see, ok? I want you to see the beautiful girl I will always protect." He explains, hands running up and down the curve of her hips.
Natasha's face burned red with need.
"Give me a color, babydoll." Clint instructs.
"Green." Natasha answers with a nod.
"Good girl." Clint praises with a kiss to her shoulder.
His hand comes up to her chin, gently correcting her view.
"There we go, don't take your eyes off, ok?" He playfully warns.
Natasha watches as he adjusts his stance.
He grabs her ass, one cheek in each hand.
"Spread, please." The blond commands.
Natasha does as told, showing off both holes to her partner.
Clint scoots closer, lining himself up with her slit.
Natasha ducks her head away at the sight with a quiet whine.
"C'mon, don't be shy, pretty girl." Clint cooes, his free hand wrapped around her waist like an assuring hug.
The redhead peeks from the comfort of the tile, viewing the sight.
Clint carefully hikes one of her legs up, hooking it around his waist.
The hiked leg gives better view to the sensual sight.
Clint presses his tip to her entrance, emitting a small squelch.
Natasha moans at the sight, earning a chuckle from Clint.
"See babydoll, you are pretty." He hums.
"I'm going to push in now, ready?" The blond inquires.
Natasha bites her lip as she nods.
Clint doesn't hesitate, slowly he moves his shaft into her velvet-soft hole.
She mewls and arches at the feeling.
Clint grunts and whines at the pleasure.
"God you are so tight. Does babydoll like to watch? I'll have to remember that. Maybe I can get a ceiling mirror for our room at Tony's place. You'd like that, no?" He purrs.
Natasha nods as she tries to move.
"Okay, okay. I wasn't going to rush, but clearly someone's needy. That's okay, though. She's earned it." Clint continues.
Slowly, he begins pistoning his hips back and forth.
Natasha erupts into a symphony of erotic noise.
The only two things grounding her being the mirror and the shower's spray.
Her view remained the same, leg hiked with Clint's shaft slickly moving in and out.
Clint grunts with each thrust, Natasha gripping him tightly.
"Such a pretty girl. Look at you, my brave girl who stopped a bunch of weapon thieves like it was nothing. She's always working so hard, I think babydoll has earned getting her cunt stuffed." He praises.
With each line of praise the blond slams into her body a bit faster.
Tears bud at Natasha's eyes, her vision blurs, her body twitches.
"Clint!" Natasha moans loudly.
"I know, I know, you need to cum, right?" he shushes.
She nods, stringing along her whines.
Clint presses his lips to her back again.
"I better not see you close those eyes if you want to cum." He threatens, lighthearted.
The blond removes himself, almost completely.
But he slams right back into her.
"Ah!" Natasha shouts as Clint keeps the breakneck pace.
Their grunts in unison as they both approach release.
Natasha cries his name before slouching against the cool shower tiles.
Clint cums while she rides out her aftershock.
"Such a good, good girl." He praises, breathless.
He removes his member from her folds, coated in a mix of their fluids.
"Still with me, Nat?" Clint calls out.
"Uhuh." Natasha nods along.
His hands guide her fumbling form, turning her to face him.
Natasha takes two steps forward, then leans on Clint's chest.
"That's my girl. I'll get us cleaned up." He directs, finding the tiny complementary bottles of soap.
The rest of the shower stays silent, minus Clint's humming as he washes her red locks.
Natasha floats between reality and a state of bliss.
"I love you." She softly blurts out.
Clint chuckles at the randomness of the complement.
"I love you too, Natasha." The blond replies, rinsing his head of soap.
Once rinsed, he turns the shower faucet off.
Natasha manages to exit on her own, slowly regaining her footing.
She skips drying off and getting dressed, opting to curl up in the fresh blankets.
Clint peers out the doorway, watching her moves.
"Okay then, that works." He teases, drying himself.
Clint slips on his boxers before joining her in the main room.
Natasha sits up as Clint sets up the vcr with the rented tape.
Once the video starts playing with its static and vintage quality, Clint crawls under the covers.
The blond can barely settle into the covers before Natasha is nestled into his side.
She rubs her eyes as he settles with her.
Clint puts a comforting hand on her back, rubbing circles.
"You're safe." He consoles.
Natasha's eyes flutter, watching him like he hung those stars she so adores.
She falls asleep before the vhs previews end, but Clint doesn't mind.
There will always be more missions with shitty hotels, pretty views, and the best he could ask for.