Two of a Kind
Title: Two of a Kind
Author: LaughtersMelody
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Avengers
Disclaimer: I still don't own the Avengers, but I own a size-able student loan. Is anyone interested in a trade?
Genre: General
Pairing: Hints of Clint/Natasha
Type: One-shot
Spoilers: Set pre-movie so no real spoilers.
Characters: Natasha
Secondary Characters: Clint
Summary: A few months into their partnership, Natasha had adapted to working with Clint Barton. But she didn't delude herself into thinking that she and Barton were the same.
A/N: Occasionally, I have seen Clint portrayed as a very easy-going guy, but that wasn't quite the impression I got from the movie. He has a sense of humor, certainly, and appears to be a bit of a smart aleck, but there also seems to be a very dark edge to his character. I think that's one of the ways that Clint and Natasha are alike. It was that idea that inspired this fic.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace.
I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think!
~*~*~*~*~
Two of a Kind
Eight months ago, in an alley in Zürich, Natasha Romanoff had stared down the shaft of an arrow that had been aimed unwaveringly at her heart. But the moment that could have ended her life had given it a new direction instead.
And for that, she owed Clint Barton.
It was one of the reasons she hadn't objected when Fury had partnered them as soon as S.H.I.E.L.D. had cleared her for field duty. She knew that Fury's decision had less to do with her debt and more to do with Barton keeping an eye on her, but she found Barton to be tolerable company, and watching his back seemed to be an acceptable way of balancing the scales.
Thus far, their partnership had been a good one.
Still, she didn't delude herself into thinking that she and Barton were the same. He was a killer, certainly, but there was a difference between a killer and a predator. Killers killed when necessary, but they took no pleasure in it; predators, on the other hand, played with their prey…they reveled in the hunt and the kill.
Natasha fell firmly into the latter category. Barton, she was certain, fell into the first.
But, their differing philosophies had yet to be an issue, much to Natasha's relief, and overall, it had been surprisingly easy to adapt to working in tandem. Their skills and personalities complimented each other well, and their latest mission was no exception.
It was a rare, simple assassination, with minimal groundwork on her part. Their mark was a man named Luis Fischer, a German who'd slowly been acquiring a large stockpile of weapons. He'd gotten overconfident, however, because his last order had been large enough to attract attention. Since Fischer had connections to several prominent criminal organizations, S.H.I.E.L.D. had decided to eliminate the threat before Fischer found a reason to use the weapons he'd purchased.
It had been child's play for Natasha to draw him out, plying him for information with flirtation and beer. When S.H.I.E.L.D. was satisfied that they'd learned all they could from him, she and Barton had been cleared to go ahead with the hit. Her part in the operation complete, Natasha stood on the roof with Barton as he waited to take the shot.
The night air was cold and crisp, the wind stronger than it had been on the street, but Barton didn't seem bothered by it. She watched as he raised his bow, drawing the string back with ease. He was a picture of stillness, every muscle taut and ready, focused. The lines of his face were cold and hard, just as they'd been in that alley in Zürich. But there was something different this time.
In Zürich, he'd shown no emotion when he'd looked at her…nothing but a faint flicker of something she could only call recognition.
He didn't look that way now. There was a small smirk playing at his lips, at odds with the blank expression he wore. It struck her that this was the first time she had watched him use his bow this way, not just to defend them, or to distract pursuers, but with the sole intent of taking a life.
A door opened on the street below, and Fischer stepped out onto the sidewalk, turning up the collar of his jacket, never guessing that it would be the last thing he ever did.
Barton released the string, and the arrow flew, hitting the Fischer in the chest with a soft thwack.
The man crumpled, unmoving, and Barton lowered his bow, something dark and satisfied appearing in the depths of his eyes, his smirk widening slightly before the expression smoothed away entirely, his face an emotionless mask once more.
Perhaps, Natasha thought suddenly, they weren't so different after all.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think!
Take care and God bless!
-Laughter
Author: LaughtersMelody
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Avengers
Disclaimer: I still don't own the Avengers, but I own a size-able student loan. Is anyone interested in a trade?
Genre: General
Pairing: Hints of Clint/Natasha
Type: One-shot
Spoilers: Set pre-movie so no real spoilers.
Characters: Natasha
Secondary Characters: Clint
Summary: A few months into their partnership, Natasha had adapted to working with Clint Barton. But she didn't delude herself into thinking that she and Barton were the same.
A/N: Occasionally, I have seen Clint portrayed as a very easy-going guy, but that wasn't quite the impression I got from the movie. He has a sense of humor, certainly, and appears to be a bit of a smart aleck, but there also seems to be a very dark edge to his character. I think that's one of the ways that Clint and Natasha are alike. It was that idea that inspired this fic.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace.
I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think!
~*~*~*~*~
Two of a Kind
Eight months ago, in an alley in Zürich, Natasha Romanoff had stared down the shaft of an arrow that had been aimed unwaveringly at her heart. But the moment that could have ended her life had given it a new direction instead.
And for that, she owed Clint Barton.
It was one of the reasons she hadn't objected when Fury had partnered them as soon as S.H.I.E.L.D. had cleared her for field duty. She knew that Fury's decision had less to do with her debt and more to do with Barton keeping an eye on her, but she found Barton to be tolerable company, and watching his back seemed to be an acceptable way of balancing the scales.
Thus far, their partnership had been a good one.
Still, she didn't delude herself into thinking that she and Barton were the same. He was a killer, certainly, but there was a difference between a killer and a predator. Killers killed when necessary, but they took no pleasure in it; predators, on the other hand, played with their prey…they reveled in the hunt and the kill.
Natasha fell firmly into the latter category. Barton, she was certain, fell into the first.
But, their differing philosophies had yet to be an issue, much to Natasha's relief, and overall, it had been surprisingly easy to adapt to working in tandem. Their skills and personalities complimented each other well, and their latest mission was no exception.
It was a rare, simple assassination, with minimal groundwork on her part. Their mark was a man named Luis Fischer, a German who'd slowly been acquiring a large stockpile of weapons. He'd gotten overconfident, however, because his last order had been large enough to attract attention. Since Fischer had connections to several prominent criminal organizations, S.H.I.E.L.D. had decided to eliminate the threat before Fischer found a reason to use the weapons he'd purchased.
It had been child's play for Natasha to draw him out, plying him for information with flirtation and beer. When S.H.I.E.L.D. was satisfied that they'd learned all they could from him, she and Barton had been cleared to go ahead with the hit. Her part in the operation complete, Natasha stood on the roof with Barton as he waited to take the shot.
The night air was cold and crisp, the wind stronger than it had been on the street, but Barton didn't seem bothered by it. She watched as he raised his bow, drawing the string back with ease. He was a picture of stillness, every muscle taut and ready, focused. The lines of his face were cold and hard, just as they'd been in that alley in Zürich. But there was something different this time.
In Zürich, he'd shown no emotion when he'd looked at her…nothing but a faint flicker of something she could only call recognition.
He didn't look that way now. There was a small smirk playing at his lips, at odds with the blank expression he wore. It struck her that this was the first time she had watched him use his bow this way, not just to defend them, or to distract pursuers, but with the sole intent of taking a life.
A door opened on the street below, and Fischer stepped out onto the sidewalk, turning up the collar of his jacket, never guessing that it would be the last thing he ever did.
Barton released the string, and the arrow flew, hitting the Fischer in the chest with a soft thwack.
The man crumpled, unmoving, and Barton lowered his bow, something dark and satisfied appearing in the depths of his eyes, his smirk widening slightly before the expression smoothed away entirely, his face an emotionless mask once more.
Perhaps, Natasha thought suddenly, they weren't so different after all.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think!
Take care and God bless!
-Laughter