The Road Home (Clintasha)

5. Outpatient/Memories (Clint) *EXCERPT*

    He could see everything. Everything that Guy couldn't know, everything that no one could know, but everything that ended up mattering.
     The Budapest assignment very quickly spilled over into the streets of Hungary. The Russian reinforcements came to kill him and excommunicate her, and they merged with local security scrambling and failing to contain the madness. They ended up back to back countless times, defending themselves and each other from the onslaught. She was a remarkable fighter. However they trained her, it was effective. She made them drop like flies; whether it was at a range with a Beretta, or if some incredibly lucky idiot got up close, it was quick, effortless, and on to the next. Out of her corner of his eye, he couldn't help but watch her and marvel-and had the feeling that she was watching too.
     Eventually the waves of bodies proved exhausting, and they were forced back into what used to be a cellar before hell broke loose in the city. They waited on an extraction for hours on hours, it seemed-thank God waiting was all that was required, it was surprisingly well barricaded. The screams and the shuffling and the blasts went on for hours, but they waited them out. They had no choice. It was a desperate situation made less desperate as they began to open up to each other-a shared intimacy, at first out of desperation and entrapment, but then coming from something else. God, he'd been so awkward at first. But it didn't really end up being significant, did it.
   He'd found out more about her gradually, and betraying his agent's instinct against fraternizing with the enemy, he told her some about himself, through broken fragments of Russian on his part. The guilt passed very quickly; she had been betrayed now, and from what he'd gathered, many times in her past. They were on the same side. In fact, he felt safer having her around.
   Eventually a particularly strong blast knocked them to the ground. They were mobilizing, forcing themselves in. Natasha found her feet first. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. They were concerned, of course, but in that brief panicked moment, they could only look at each other. It was clear they had a new understanding of each other. Her hair was a mess, streaks of dirt covered her face, but the wildfire in her eyes burned so bright, so warm, so inviting. Their lips meet, his fingers entangle themselves in her hair, and suddenly nothing else matters, because for this brief moment, Budapest melts away. This was the wildest shot he'd ever taken, but he liked his odds.

"Clint Barton, I think I love you..."

Clint...

Clint...

  
Clint...

   "...Clint? Agent Barton, you awake?"

TO BE CONTINUED