The first time Natasha notices that things at SHIELD are, well, downright weird is when a young agent stops her on the way to sparring, eagerly hustling into her path.
“Are you really going to work with him?” the girl asks breathlessly, her eyes wide. “With Barton?”
Apparently word had traveled fast, and Natasha’s not surprised. It seemed like nothing was really much of a secret when it came to SHIELD, despite the fact that the organization itself was built on lies and crypticness.
“That’s the story,” Natasha replies, her voice dull. She almost wishes for the days when people were too scared to approach her in the halls. It hadn’t even been that long ago, but over time, she had started to blend in so much that even if she knew she still had hard edges, no one else seemed to see them.
“Oh my god,” the younger agent says, sighing longingly as if Natasha has told her she’s meeting a movie star. “You’re so lucky.”
“Am I?” Natasha can see the door handle to the gym and suddenly, she really wants to punch the living daylights out of something.
“Are you kidding?” The girl’s mouth falls open. “God, I would kill to be partnered with Clint Barton. I mean, to work with someone that good looking all the time? Just his arms --”
Natasha cuts her off by reaching forward, pulling open the door and flashing a strained smile at the girl. “I’ll keep that in mind when I’m dismantling a bomb that could kill me,” she says, abruptly pushing past her and slamming the door. She breathes out slowly in the quiet of the gym, relieved to be alone, and then her lips curve into a small smile. She may not be the person people ran away from in the halls anymore, but she could definitely still be the bitch of SHIELD if she wanted to.
“Everything okay?”
Natasha looks up and meets Clint’s eyes across the room. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt that’s definitely two sizes too small, his muscles bulging around the tight seams, and gym shorts that show off his tanned, scarred legs.
“Yeah. Just got ambushed on the way here. Seems like you’ve got an admirer.”
read the rest here on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9911354
FILL : like a shadow or a friend, PG, no warnings
“Are you really going to work with him?” the girl asks breathlessly, her eyes wide. “With Barton?”
Apparently word had traveled fast, and Natasha’s not surprised. It seemed like nothing was really much of a secret when it came to SHIELD, despite the fact that the organization itself was built on lies and crypticness.
“That’s the story,” Natasha replies, her voice dull. She almost wishes for the days when people were too scared to approach her in the halls. It hadn’t even been that long ago, but over time, she had started to blend in so much that even if she knew she still had hard edges, no one else seemed to see them.
“Oh my god,” the younger agent says, sighing longingly as if Natasha has told her she’s meeting a movie star. “You’re so lucky.”
“Am I?” Natasha can see the door handle to the gym and suddenly, she really wants to punch the living daylights out of something.
“Are you kidding?” The girl’s mouth falls open. “God, I would kill to be partnered with Clint Barton. I mean, to work with someone that good looking all the time? Just his arms --”
Natasha cuts her off by reaching forward, pulling open the door and flashing a strained smile at the girl. “I’ll keep that in mind when I’m dismantling a bomb that could kill me,” she says, abruptly pushing past her and slamming the door. She breathes out slowly in the quiet of the gym, relieved to be alone, and then her lips curve into a small smile. She may not be the person people ran away from in the halls anymore, but she could definitely still be the bitch of SHIELD if she wanted to.
“Everything okay?”
Natasha looks up and meets Clint’s eyes across the room. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt that’s definitely two sizes too small, his muscles bulging around the tight seams, and gym shorts that show off his tanned, scarred legs.
“Yeah. Just got ambushed on the way here. Seems like you’ve got an admirer.”
read the rest here on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9911354