Clintasha One-shots

Roles

The ballroom was gorgeous. Dimly lit with golden chandeliers and a marble floor. It was filled with the high society of eastern europe and Natasha had to weave her way through the crowd. Her mark was a wealthy businessman, Coulson wanted them to gather intel concerning a weapon transaction and she was send to seduce the guy. 
„On your left, by the bar.“ Barton spoke through the hidden earpiece. It was their scheme. She would go in incognito while he was watching. Perched on a rooftop with a sniper riffle or occasionally his bow. Natasha shot a quick glance out the floor length windows to where she knew her Partner was hidden. High up in the shadows the spy could always trust him to have her back.
Her mark was seated at the bar, sipping a whisky on the rocks. She ordered the same and occupied the stool next to him, a seductive smile on her lips.
Two hours later, Natasha left the party alone and frustrated. “Hawkeye come in.”
“listening Widow. What did you get?”
“Nothing.” The anger clear in her voice. “What do you mean nothing?” she could hear the faint clicks of the disassembly of his modified riffle.
Natasha huffed, waving for a taxi to take her back to the hotel “Like I said: Nothing. He didn't take the bait.”
“Huh, that would be a first.”
“Meet at the hotel in thirty?” she asked and allowed herself to sink back into the backseat.
“Sure, Hawkeye out.”  The ride back to the hotel was quiet and helped her to calm down again. Usually, her skills worked on every man she encountered but Paolo Dombrowsky stayed completely unfazed.
It didn't surprise her to see Barton already sitting on the king size bed of the hotel room, focussed on cleaning his riffle when she arrived. Her Partner had a way of moving over the rooftops even Natasha had a hard time to match.
With a frustrated sigh, she kicked of her heels and went over to her bag to change. “So what now? We have a week before Fury has our asses for not getting the intel.” He asked and studied her. “I don't know. It always works.” The spy came back in sweatpants and a hoodie, dropping onto the mattress next to him. Barton hummed in acknowledgement before his riffle wandered back into it's case. “Maybe you're not his type.”
She scoffed, rolling on her stomach so she could prop herself up “I'm everybody's type.” Suddenly it hit her “Wait! That's it! He's gay.” Natasha practically ran for the commlink “Coulson come in.”
A few seconds later, the device crackled with static before a familiar voice answered “I'm listening.”
“I need you to run a search for Dombrowski’s former lovers or preferred clubs. See if any of them are female.”
“None of the one's we have in our database. I will redirect the complete file to you immediately.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Overwatch? Were you aware of that before you sent me in there, making a fool of myself?”
“The Mission planning was done by a training group of level 3's on Hill's orders. For their safety I won't tell you which ones.” There was a hint of amusement in their Handlers usual all-business tone that let on he’d known.
“Just Great, Strike Delta out.” Natasha let herself fall back on the now partly empty bed with a sigh. Instantly, she became aware of her Partners gaze. Barton sat cross-legged, back propped up against the headboard and studied her, a slight grin on his face. “See not his type.”
The punch she threw at his leg was more half-hearted “Ha Ha very funny Birdbrain.”
“What” he raised an eyebrow when the red head began to grin, too. It was never a good sign. It usually indicated someone, mostly him, was in trouble.
“Well,... “ Natasha began “Since I'm not going to seduce him...” the implication hung in the air for a second before the Archer clutched his face “Aww Nat, no.”
“Yes Clint.”
“Can't we just shoot him and beat it out of his brain?” he asked hopefully.
With a pointed look, she opened the file on her tablet “No.” 
He was aware that there would be no amount of arguing that would convince her otherwise and silently accepted his fate. If Stark would ever get hold of that mission report he’d throw himself off the helicarrier. With weights and a bomb.
“Look” his Partner showed him a website of a table dance club. “He is a regular there and they are searching new dancers. The audition is tomorrow.”
“You got to be kidding me.” His day just got so much worse. “I can seduce him in a bar or something, fine but I won't do pole dancing in a public club.” In his mind he added ‘not when Stark could hack the surveillance cameras'
She shrugged, already typing an email to register him for the audition “Yes you will. I know you can dance regularly and you ‘re basically a gymnast. It should be a piece of cake.” 
“Nat. I. Am. Not. Stripping.” The blonde insisted, crossing his arms above his chest.
“I will help you kill Stark and hide his body should he ever find out.”
A deep sigh escaped him “Fine” he knew this was the best offer he could get from her. Once they were back, he would ask Phil for permission to ‘train' those level 3's in hand to hand. 
“But I don't really know what to do. It's not like pole dancing is part of Shield training.”
“Just show me what you got and we will work from there. I can show you some basic moves. It's really just taking your shirt off and making a show about it.”
They rehearsed a few easy moves Natasha learned in the Red Room for the next hour. Barton turned out to be a quick learner. His flexibility and showman character, a courtesy of his circus days, proved Natasha right; It was a cake walk.
“There is music on the TV. I pick something and you improvise ok?” she asked already flicking through a list of chart songs. “Are you sure you can withstand my charm, Tasha?” Clint mocked her.
“Barely” the deadpan level in her voice could match Phil's, he thought before the music started playing.
Once he started his performance Natasha knew she had been fooled. His movements came with practised ease and he displayed much more talent than before. “Bastard. You tricked me.” She hissed, taking a cautious step back to keep more distance between them.
“How do you think I made money during my late circus days?” the blonde asked while he expertly removed his shirt. Slowly, and oh so teasingly. “The income from the show wasn't really cutting it. So I took some additional ‘shows'. The ladies loved me.” He stepped closer, forcing her in a corner she couldn't escape from.
“I can imagine” was all she managed before her back hit the wall and she was trapped.
The song wasn't even over when they found themselves entangled on the bed. Needless to say that the rest of the mission went down smoothly.