This Dance

The large dining like room was packed with many of Shield's finest agents, all dressed and arriving in formal attire for the night's event. It was an annual dinner and dance event that the agency had done since it's inception, and most every Shield member looked forward to the event. It was a chance for most to actually socialize with their fellow co-workers and relax over a few glasses of wine. Just as the evening began to get started, and the formal agents began to group to their friends, a young thin red haired woman subtly walked over to the back corner of the large room, to stand there alone.

This woman had straight long crimson locks and wore a slightly long and well fit red dress, black heels, and dark eyeshadow that brought out the green in her eyes. Her thin hands grasped a small glass of wine which wasn't even halfway filled with the deep red liquid, and she sipped it quietly as she looked over all the agents who socialized freely with each other.

This Russian women had only been in Shield for about 3 months, and the only person she talked to in the agency was her manager Phil Coulson, the man who "encouraged" her to come to this event. Really the young women was regretting coming with each second that passed, for as she stood there gingerly sipping her glass and her emotionless empty eyes looked over the hundreds of men and women, she began to feel more and more out of place.
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It wasn't because she was Russian, because she knew English just as well and could fluently speaks it like it was her native language. It wasn't because she was shy either, because the 20 year old women would be one hundred percent comfortable with pretending to seduce any of the male agents who walked by her. It was because she had a reputation. Everyone in Shield knew who she was. She was the lethal Black Widow, famous Russian assassin who most thought was their enemy for years, until 3 months ago when she suddenly joined Shield. Yet no one trusted her, let alone affiliate themselves with her.

Upon entering Shield, Coulson noticed she would likely not fit in very well, and so was trying to help her the best he could. But she didn't want his help, she could handle herself and she didn't care if she was lonely, after all she had been lonely all her life. She wanted nothing to do with these people, or this event and so taking another sip she decided it was no use staying.

The slow song that started the dance for tonight began and the red haired agent prepared to leave when another agent suddenly walked up to her. A young man in his late twenties who was dressed formally in a black suit and tie seemed to have taken notice in the isolated woman standing in the corner. Looking up at him as he walked over she raised a brow, as if to ask what he wanted. He quickly straightened out his suit, for it was obvious he wasn't as "proper" as most of the other agents who seemed to have ironed every crease in their suits. But his casual appearance for some reason almost made the red haired women more willing to see what he wanted.

As she got a better look at him she immediately recognized him as the man who brought her into all this, or more accurately, the man who was assigned by Shield to kill her, but instead spared her life. Before she could say a word he outstretched his hand towards her with a small friendly cock of a smile and a glint in his young grey blue eyes. For a minute she wanted to ask what he was doing, but soon put it together, he wanted to dance with her. She let out the softest of sighs and avoided eye contact as she put her wine glass down and hesitated for a moment, before reaching her own thin hand out and taking his.

With a gentle gesture he lowered his hand and led her slowly towards the edge of the other agents who were talking and dancing. He didn't lead her into the center or really anyway near anyone else, but they also weren't isolated. The tune was slow enough for two very inexperienced dancers to try and figure out how to properly move to the beat, but fast enough to keep them both moving. She found herself confidently keeping her hand steady in his hand, as he began to sway lightly to the tune, his black shoes shifting on the hard floor smoothly but not without clumsy mistakes after every other step he took.

She noticed his relaxed gestures as his shoulders swayed steadily and she began to loosen up her stiff posture to ease into his movements. Despite always considering herself a bad dancer she seemed the more professional of the two, for her movements were elegant, smooth, and accurate, while his were gentle, as if not to pressure her, but constantly he made awkward turns and tripped over his own feet. Yet while she almost gave him a puzzled look whenever he stumbled about, he would only let out a lighthearted laugh at himself and continue.

Towards the end of what seemed like the briefest of dances, her sharp eyes wandered upward to gaze at his. He gave her a warm smile and carefully turned her around in a twirl like movement, and then brought her back securely into his arms just as the tune slowly faded out. As he held her there for just the briefest moment she found herself feeling almost optimistic about the fact he was there, a man she barely knew, yet she trusted him enough to hold her that close to him. There was just something so simple, so genuine in his eyes and gestures that suggested he was much more than the men she was so used to. She was so used to men with aggressive lust and desire for nothing more than her body. But this young agent of Shield seemed simply eager to have her hand in a short dance.

She found herself smiling softly and genuinely in return towards him, and as the music faded fully she didn't bother to let go of his gentle hand immediately, and neither did he. But after a moment or two he lowered his hand and nodded with another cock of a smile and spoke up as he began to walk beside her,

"Sorry if I uh...stepped on your feet a few times," he said through a laugh but with the smallest blush of humiliation on his face.

She was rather caught off guard by his sudden statement and found herself only shaking her head as if to say "it's fine". He then rushed ahead of her a few steps and picked up her black jacket, and turned around on his heel and handed it to her. She took it without a word and with that he quickly loosened his tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top button. She was even more surprised yet not upset to see he was walking out with her. He opened the large glass door and held it as she walked out quickly, pushing her long flowing hair back and throwing on her jacket.

As the nights breeze blew on the two, he rolled on his heels and said as he walked beside her, "You know, I don't ever think I caught your name."

She again was surprised by this man's sudden interest in her, but he acted so casual and easy going she hardly found it awkward. Clearing her throat she said in a low and raspy yet confident tone, "Natali-"

She cut herself off quickly before realizing this man wasn't someone she needed to keep her real name from, he wasn't like all the men she had introduced herself to all her life. Pushing a lock of crimson hair behind her ear she corrected herself smoothly, "Natasha, Natasha Romanoff."

He smiled softly and replied quickly with a nod of his head as he opened up his own car door, "Pleasure to meet you Natasha, name's Clint Barton. Well...I'll be seeing you around then?" He asked as he climbed into his car and looked at her once more.

"I'm sure you will Mr. Barton, have a good evening." She added finally as she wrapped her arms around herself to clutch her coat close to her and began to walk to her own car.

He nodded as if to say "you too" and there was a final glint of compassion in his eyes before he shut his car door and drove off. Just before Natasha reached her own car she looked behind her as Clint drove off, and smiled to herself as she climbed into her own car.