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Mr and Mrs Barton Part 14

Clint:

He sped through the streets in his, uh, borrowed vehicle and was grateful for the lack of traffic this time of night. He had to catch up with Nat. Trying to blow him up wasn't really a final thing for him. He did shoot at her earlier, so that kind of made them even.

Kind of. Sort of. Not really, but he's always been a sucker for punishment and a fool when it came to love. Ask Phil. Or Bobbi. Or Fury. Or Katy-Kate.

Whatever, that's not the point. The point is that he needs to get to their house before Nat takes off again. He's been able to find her so far because she hasn't wanted to disappear. At least not yet.

He's going fast enough so that he catches a glimpse of her entering their house, and so he knows that he's not a complete idiot. He knew where she was going to go. However, he may need to go in by way of a side door. Nat probably has the front door booby-trapped. He would have, too, if he had been there earlier.

Though his methods would have the goal of capture. Knowing her file? She may lean more towards the deadly side.

He sneaks in, and grabs the gun that Phil insisted he put inside of the ugly fish thing Fury got him as a joke gift. It probably had cameras in it for eyes. That's the bad part of working for the spy of spies, he's always spying. Or seems to.

She shoots at his head and Clint drops down to avoid getting a head full of lead. "Is that your way of saying 'I love you'?" He couldn't have stopped the comment from leaving his mouth, even if he had tried.

It gave away his position, but the incoming shot gave away hers. "Still alive, honey?" Perfect. She was on the other side of the wall, on the kitchen side.

He sneaks further along before hitting a stand table. Why are there tables randomly in hallways? Seriously. He's able to catch the ceramic thing that Nat brought home one day for decorating purposes. No hallway needs tables just for decorating purposes.

He's not able to catch the small lid that went on the thing.

He drops down just as she blasted a hole in the wall bigger than his head. Okay, so she may be out for his head. But she still loves him. The people in his life show affection in odd ways, and her assassin way is probably similar to that of Phil's.

The man did shoot him before to help a cover. It kept him alive.

He pokes his head up just to shoot a couple of shots over her head. He didn't want to hurt her; he just needs her to not shoot him before they do something the both of them will regret. Like killing him.

She must have pulled the gas line, because of the random things he was aiming at causes an explosion to blast outward and surround the room in smoke. Now this just sucks.

His sight was his strength. His hearing? Not so much.

Natasha:

Hawkeye, in his file, was an excellent shot. However, the way Clint was shooting at her, he was either a terrible shot or wasn't aiming for her.

His mistake.

But she still needed to get him away from his gun. Which is why she made the explosion happen by pulling on the gas line that led to the stove. The explosion would throw him back and fill the room with smoke.

Her hand to hand combat skills were unmatched.

She slams into his body and is surprised that he's able to stop her hit to his throat. He tries to hit her, but she barely has to move to avoid his more broadcasted looks. She's able to flip him on his back, but before she can pin him he was already moving forward.

Nothing in his file showed that he was good at gymnastics.

She hides the surprise by hitting him again, straight in the face this time. He hits back, with more of a street brawler stance than what she has been trained against. He was slightly off balance, at least she thought he would be when she tries to sweep his legs from under him.

He goes down, just to do a back flip to land next to his gun. She's already grabbing the gun she had stuffed under the couch for a just in case situation.

Both of their shots were lined up. If either of them pulled a trigger, they were sure to hit the intended target. Why wasn't he shooting??

"Come on!" Nat bites out, anger and desperation fueling the fire in her voice.

Her eyes lock with his, and she's not quite certain to make of the look in them. Her job is reading people, but in this moment she isn't sure what she's reading.

Lust? Love? And regret?

His smile is sad, but he slowly and deliberately lowers the weapon to rest on the ground beside him. "No."

Clint:

He's probably signing his death warrant, but he doesn't care. He cannot pull the trigger. Shooting her would be like shooting himself. Screw his orders. He always took them as suggestions anyway.

Clint barely has time to catch the body slamming his before the momentum has them fall on the now completely ruined flooring. Not that he's going to live long enough to really be that concerned about...

Her lips are on his, and her hips are straddling his own. She's pulling on his clothes and he returns the favor in fervor.

She pulls back, and it's strange being on the bottom. Not that he doesn't like it, but he expected her to be trying to choke him with her thighs or something. That wouldn't be the worst way to go. Six months ago he thought he was going to be calling it quits by way of honey comb.

His missions just seem to get weirder and weirder over the years.

She's still staring down at him, and he's starting to think she's changed her mind when she runs a finger over the old scar he got from a bullet would early on. "Durak."

"What?" He doesn't recognize that word in his, well, distracted state.

She's already bending down and distracting him even more.

He'll ask her later. After he figures out how strong she is, and she learns how flexible he can be.