natasha romanoff oneshots

a ray of hope ran through and disappeared

sorry for disappearing. i don't have an excuse. it will happen again.

i have at least five drafts with 2000+ words that i just... don't know how to finish. so here's a role reversal i wrote in october (yes, october) that i was originally going to use for something else. 

the title is a line from "knife" by rerulili

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coulson hides his disappointment as romanoff practically ignores him. it's been two years, and she still doesn't trust him. as far as he can tell, he's the only one that trusts her.

she talks to hill after briefings, and occasionally to carter. she liked may, until may cut everyone off. natasha hasn't asked, but she knows something happened. she stays away from the other agents, and they avoid her.

coulson, after putting on his sunglasses, backs lola out of her parking spot. romanoff doesn't seem uncomfortable in the silence, but he sure is. "how was your week off?" he asks as he steps on the gas.

"boring," she responds. "it wasn't needed."

he frowns. "you got stabbed." she's still favouring her right side.

"lightly!" natasha protests. "i know you think i should take more time off, but i've got a plan. it's minimal contact. all you need to do is do what you do best.'

"be super charming?" he asks jokingly.

"more like annoying," she grumbles.

in no time at all, coulson's parking lola in front of a run down bar. inside, his target- clint barton- is sitting in the corner, arguing with someone. he shuts up when coulson sits down with them, though. the other person leaves in a hurry, and barton grumbles something under his breath. then he gives coulson a big, fake smile.

clint eyes the man across from him. he pulls his sunglasses off, smiling. it seems genuine, but he also gives off government vibes. oh god, is it the CIA? before kate stole his pizza arrow prototype and left, she told him the CIA would track him down. i wonder how she's doing. her eighteenth birthday was, what, three weeks ago? does that mean it's too late to send her a gift?

clint still can't believe his former protegee stole his only pizza arrow.

"um, hello?" the man says, waving his hand in front of clint's face. "are you hawkeye?"

fuck! what should he say? if he is from the CIA, that could be bad. but he does need money, especially since he scared clint's customer off before he got paid.

he should really start collecting deposits.

"yes, but i need half the money upfront."

"money isn't an issue."

ew, he's a rich guy. "and i only kill people who deserve it."

"that's fine," he says, standing up. "i'm sure you're fine with talking somewhere more private?" he glances suspiciously at the bar's other patrons.

funny, clint didn't peg him as the paranoid type. he's about to protest, but the man slides him a stack of bills. "you'll get the other half once the job is done."

this job could pay clint's rent for, like, four months. or he could buy a pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for even longer.

being alive is expensive.

clint stands up as well. the things i do for money.

as soon as they're outside, the man shows clint his badge.