The Los Angeles Operation

Seven

"I can't believe we're working together!" Barbara exclaimed.

"Yeah," Clint said with minimal enthusiasm.

"I had a great time last night." Morse reached for Clint's hand.

He pulled his hand away the moment he felt her touch it. He did not need Natasha to be mad at him again. He hated being in the dog house.

"Is something wrong, Clint?" she asked.

"No, of course not. I enjoyed last night, also." He forced a smile.

"I'm really excited about the upcoming mission," Morse said.

"It's not as fun as it sounds, being out in the field. It's dangerous, and one wrong move could easily cost you your life."

"But you enjoy it, don't you?"

"Sometimes. Most of the time. It usually depends on who I work with."

"Why does that matter?"

"Well, if the company's good, the mission's a blast. If not... not so much."

"Well, I'm lucky to have such great company, then."

Clint's stomach churned in an uncomfortable way. He was less than comfortable with all of this. He knew that Natasha didn't like Barbara, and having to go on a mission with her... she'd hate it. He didn't want to deal with that.

"So, Clint, are we taking a jet?"

"I think so," he answered.

Clint caught a flash of red hair rounding a corner, going to the training room. That place had become like a sanctuary for Natasha. She practically lived there. Clint turned and started following her down to the training room.

"Where are you going?" Barbara asked.

"The training room," Clint replied.

He walked for several strides before he started to jog. Morse had to run to keep up with him. They nearly knocked into several agents before getting to the training room.

Clint ran into the room and saw Natasha disappear to a little-used corner of the room where some of the used targets were kept. It was only a matter of seconds later that they heard gun shots. Clint slowed his pace before walking up to Natasha. She was shooting at an already messed up target.

"You alright?" Clint asked. He felt like that was the only thing he ever said to her. Maybe it was ridiculous how much he asked her that.

She appeared not to hear him.

Clint grabbed her hand and pushed the gun down to point at the ground. "Tasha, we all need to talk."

"About the mission?" she guessed.

"Yes, about the mission."

"What about it? It seems pretty straight-forward."

Clint grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to look at him. "You know exactly what it is we need to talk about."

"Your girlfriend?" Natasha asked, bitterly.

"No," Clint said, trying his best to keep his raising anger in check. "We need to talk about what we need to do to keep  you for doing something stupid this mission." 

Natasha looked at him, her eyes seeming to bore a hole into him. "Oh? And what might I do?" 

The anger consumed him without warning. He was sick and tired of all of this: trying to keep Natasha happy while trying not to offend Barbara while still trying to look professional. It was more than he could take. He stepped forward and stood mere inches from Natasha, looking down into her eyes with a fire burning in his.  "Listen to me, Romanoff: I will not put up with this any more, do you understand?" His voice shook with anger and frustration.