Fill in the Blank - Clintasha

11

**Jan 27th, 2010**

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Nat declared, her voice muffled through the closed bathroom door. "You don't have a clue what you're getting into."

"It's been two weeks, Nat. Two fucking weeks of surveillance for one goddamn target," Clint groaned, his arm thrown over his eyes as he tried not to fall asleep on the couch again. "Trust me, I'm prepared. Hell, I'm way too fucking prepared if you ask me. Wanna know the way this woman takes her coffee? What shade of hair dye she uses? Cause I'm your man."

"That doesn't tell me you're prepared. It just tells me you don't know how to do surveillance properly," Nat replied, a light note of teasing in her voice that made Clint smile despite himself. It had been a long time since he'd heard her in such a good mood. She'd been snappy since they'd landed.

He reached over to the nearby table and took a deep sip of his coffee, sighing in content. Truth be told, England was pretty fucking good so far; no one made eye contact and the weather wasn't overly hot or overly cold. What more could he ask for really?

"I know, I know. Klara Sokolov, professional lie detector, yadda yadda, I know what I'm doing." Honestly, Clint didn't half buy the 'tell your lies just by looking at you' story, but Nat seemed pretty sold so he didn't get much chance to argue.

Nat's laugh echoed through the door, light and heart-warming. "Of course you do." The sound of something being sprayed could be heard loud and clear, which was impressive because Clint's aids were fucking him about recently. He thought something or other had got into the insides, maybe sand or water, but whatever it was, it was pissing him off to no end. "We can show our faces at the party today and then do the hit next week instead. I'm not going to rush this."

"Nat, seriously. If I have to spend another goddamned week watching that bitch read magazines and drink tea all day I'll jump out the fucking window."

"Now, don't go getting ideas." The bathroom door swung open to reveal Nat in a striking, navy dress that swept down to the floor and pooled elegantly at her feet. "And I'm sure you'll survive one week."

Jewelry glittered at her neck and ears, attracting the eyes to the elegant slope of her neck and the sharp dip of her collarbones. Clint's eyes were glued there for a breathless moment, tracing that sharp curve and biting his lip. Nat had dyed her hair a few days back, now a rich chocolate brown and it fell from the intricate braid at the back of her head to brush her shoulders. It was really fucking hot in this hotel room all of a sudden, which was weird cause Clint swore the A/C was on.

Cute curls falling to frame her face and glasses perched daintily on her nose, Nat looked like a completely different fucking person. It was fucking freaky so, naturally, the first thing out of his mouth was, "Who'd you steal all that shit from?" Because Clint was smooth like that.

Nat acted like she hadn't heard him, pulling out a pocket mirror -- from a purse that Clint knew she hadn't owned yesterday -- and checking her makeup. "No one who will miss it, I assure you." Came the answer finally after several long seconds.

Clint couldn't keep his eyes off her, and he was glad she wasn't looking at him to notice. Awkwardly, he stood from the couch, trying to straighten out the creases in his rented suit as best he could. There was little point, he supposed, he would be standing next to Natasha all evening, after all. Anyone would look like trash when they're standing next to that.

"Sokolov likes young, attractive men to keep her company. Maybe if you can keep her distracted long enough for me to make a move we won't have to wait, but I'm not guaranteeing anything. I would rather wait," Nat stated, artfully applying lipstick between her words.