Welcome again to Unfinished Fic Wednesdays, where everything is made up and the points don't matter!

I mean...

No, that's what I mean.

Today's snippet comes from hufflepuffsneak who did not give any preamble, so in it's place I will remind you to send all your fic to bc.unfinished@gmail.com so we can love up on ya.

And now, without further ado, the fic:


Natasha and Clint arrived at Natasha’s apartment in Chicago at three at the morning, still on Indonesian time, still bloody and sore. The mission had run three days late and involved far too much running. Both assassins collapsed into bed and were asleep within moments. When Clint got out of bed four hours later and started pulling on his clothes, including a heavy leather jacket, Natasha woke up enough to be surprised.

“Where are you going?” she asked sleepily, missing the warmth of his body at her side.

He grinned at her. “Morning, darling. Just an errand to run. Go back to sleep.” He kissed her on the head, grabbed his car keys and headed out the door before she could think of a response.

Curiosity piqued, Natasha waited for a few moments to see if Clint had forgotten something and would come back. He didn’t, so Natasha got out of bed and hurriedly threw on a simple pair of jeans and a dull grey t-shirt.

Natasha and Clint had been partners for five years, lovers for two and despite their effectiveness in the field Natasha still didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone, it was easier that way. So while she expected Clint to watch her six and expected that he wasn’t going to poison her when he cooked, except by accident, she had seven different contingency plans in place for if he or S.H.I.E.L.D. ever decided to betray her.

She had a small storage unit only two blocks from her apartment that Clint didn’t know about. Inside was a selection of wigs, clothes, cash and IDs. She grabbed a dirty blonde wig, took the time to affix it properly to her head and checked the tracker in his car. He was stopped at traffic light, headed towards the Central Business District. Natasha sighed and quickly changed into a purple blouse and a grey pantsuit, hiding her face behind thick glasses. Talia Rollins got on a train towards the CBD five minutes later.

By the time Natasha reached the Loop the car had been parked for over five minutes. She cursed, wishing she could have tailed him in her own car, and surveyed the area around the garage. Cheerful theaters and stores competed with skyscrapers for space; Clint could be anywhere. Blending in the crowd of professionals seamlessly as Talia, Natasha set out looking for the out of place. There. In a small coffee shop filled with busy business people a couple sat talking intently. One was a young brunette woman in a chic white suit and purple blouse, the other a much older man in jeans and a leather jacket. The other patrons ignored them in favor of rushing to work, caffeine infusions under their belts.

The girl looked to be in her early twenties but even from across the street Natasha could see the intelligence in her gaze and the precision in her movements. She was just his type; young, curvy and smarter than he was Natasha thought bitterly. Natasha shook her head, refusing to let bitterness or jealousy cloud her thoughts. Natasha’s heart didn’t break, because she had never given it away in the first place. She didn't even have a plan in place for a betrayal so banal. And of all the betrayals to make, this was perhaps the best. No running for her life, no compromise of her identity. Just an affair. It was almost a relief, having whatever existed between them come to an end. Natasha turned away from the cozy scene at the coffee store and lost herself in the crowd as Talia Rollins, come down with a sudden illness at work and back to the train station to take the train home.