FILL: Fic - In love and war, rated M for sex, no warningsanuna_81August 21 2012, 16:18:48 UTC
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They say everything is allowed in love and war. Except love is for children and war is for fools.
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Natasha isn't sure she likes the list of rules that SHIELD has, but at the same time, their disciplinary procedures usually don't involve killing their operatives. She is still not trusted enough to be sent on a mission on her own. She is being trained, observed, briefed, and everything she does, every intel she gives is being checked and double checked. She knew, of course, that this would happen and she agreed to it, but it doesn't make the process go any faster, and she doesn't feel any easier. She likes to spend her time sparring, but most other agents don't enjoy sparring with her.
Then there's agent Barton. Hawkeye. Clint. That guy who was sent to put an arrow through her, and he could have, but he didn't. Instead he offered her a cigarette and told her that he really didn't want to spill her blood. She looked at him and she knew that he could do it, that his decision wasn't caused by some kind of a weakness but a conscious choice. She thinks about it - the way the rain poured over the street, wide and empty as he waited for her, his cigarette a single spot of light in the long sea of darkness. Clint is like that light, small, just a spot, but it's there and you can't miss it. It's an unnerving thought, too large to fit, and it's pricking her mind. She owes him. The notion is constantly there, even when it's silent.
She feels indebted.
He doesn't share the sentiment. He doesn't believe in debts. He doesn't believe in the past, it seems, even though he has scars just as deep as hers. (She suspects. He didn't tell her directly, but there are things, hints, and she knows how to read people.) He's there, and he keeps his eye on her. She likes him, because when he looks at her he doesn't see Black Widow everyone is still afraid of.
They say everything is allowed in love and war. Except love is for children and war is for fools.
*
Natasha isn't sure she likes the list of rules that SHIELD has, but at the same time, their disciplinary procedures usually don't involve killing their operatives. She is still not trusted enough to be sent on a mission on her own. She is being trained, observed, briefed, and everything she does, every intel she gives is being checked and double checked. She knew, of course, that this would happen and she agreed to it, but it doesn't make the process go any faster, and she doesn't feel any easier. She likes to spend her time sparring, but most other agents don't enjoy sparring with her.
Then there's agent Barton. Hawkeye. Clint. That guy who was sent to put an arrow through her, and he could have, but he didn't. Instead he offered her a cigarette and told her that he really didn't want to spill her blood. She looked at him and she knew that he could do it, that his decision wasn't caused by some kind of a weakness but a conscious choice. She thinks about it - the way the rain poured over the street, wide and empty as he waited for her, his cigarette a single spot of light in the long sea of darkness. Clint is like that light, small, just a spot, but it's there and you can't miss it. It's an unnerving thought, too large to fit, and it's pricking her mind. She owes him. The notion is constantly there, even when it's silent.
She feels indebted.
He doesn't share the sentiment. He doesn't believe in debts. He doesn't believe in the past, it seems, even though he has scars just as deep as hers. (She suspects. He didn't tell her directly, but there are things, hints, and she knows how to read people.) He's there, and he keeps his eye on her. She likes him, because when he looks at her he doesn't see Black Widow everyone is still afraid of.
Read the rest here at AO3.
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