Under or Over: Hawkeye & Black Widow

CHAPTER #3

Once again Barton had to wear the blindfold when leaving the compound. The difference was this time on the way out, he peaked a few times. He knew exactly where her private island was. He found it to be a clever location. They arrived at a private airstrip and then got into a car that drove them to an awaiting helicopter. The helicopter took them to the S.H.E.I.L.D.'s airship. Nick Fury debriefed them, gave them car keys and a wad of cash to agent Barton to play his part. Then they were dismissed to begin their mission. When they were returned to land, they saw the car that would add to their cover story. It was a silver Lamborghini Murcielago LP640.

"I'll drive us to the hotel first to change," Natasha smirked, taking the keys.

"Try not to kill us," Clint teased. As he knew she would, the car pealed out, leaving rubber behind.

The car was fast, super fast and they were at the hotel in no time. They were having their gear and evening wear delivered to the hotel, because the car itself had no room to spare. Twenty minutes after they checked in, their stuff arrived. They shared the room under the false name, as husband and wife. Barton was ready before her.

"I'll be downstairs at the bar, come find me when you're ready. I have the car keys and room key." Once he heard her reply, Clint left.

Barton's eyes took in the possible escape routes and every detail he needed to feel comfortable staying in the hotel. It was out of habit more than necessity. He also scoped out their venue for the ball. Under the tuxedo he had a shoulder holster with one gun and two clips. He had a blade attached to his left wrist, and on his right ankle he had another blade. The gala was being held on the rooftop solarium of the hotel they were staying at. Barton determined there was a service elevator for waiters and staff. This is where he would enter, to avoid weapon detection. Romanoff would go through the main entrance elevator, since women were not patted down, just had their purses checked. She would be wearing a small wrist purse. As Clint Barton walked into the bar, he noticed some of the ladies turn their heads to watch him go by. He smirked, knowing he looked good in his tux.

Barton was sipping a dirty martini, when Romanoff walked in. She was stunning, both men and women stopped what they were doing to watch her. She'd put her hair up and was wearing dangling diamond earrings, with an emerald chocker necklace. Her tiny dark green purse, matched the necklace in colour. There was an easy elegance about her, with an air of danger. Everything about her was intoxicating. Barton got up and gave her his arm, leading her to a private table. He kissed her cheek, before she sat down. A waiter appeared immediately, practically tripping over himself to serve them.

"What can I get you to drink?"

"For my wife, a vodka and sprite with a lime twist. For myself I will have another martini." Clint advised, flashing his bank roll as he peeled off a few bills to pay for the drinks.

"Right away sir!" The waiter disappeared.

"Wife, you look particularly delicious tonight," Clint teased.

Natasha replied, "thank you dear husband."

They were speaking in code. They'd used it before, when playing a husband and wife team. He had just advised her that so far everything was falling into place. The waiter returned and handed out the drinks.

"You look very lovely tonight ma'am. Will you two be attending tonight's gala?" The waiter asked, practically swooning.

"Thank you. Yes. Do you know if other guests have already arrived?"

"A few," he replied.

Clint stood up and took the waiter aside. "I want to surprise my wife with a bottle of her favourite champagne tonight. I have it specially imported. Is there a way I could get it into the gala, without offending my hosts?" He took out his huge clip of bills.