(Avengers/White Collar) heroes and thieves at my door for auctorial
Title: heroes and thieves at my door
Author: kerrykhat
Fandoms: Avengers/White Collar
Characters: Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson; Neal Caffery
Pairings: Neal/Natasha flirting
Rating: PG
Word count: 2366
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Marvel owns "The Avengers" and all related characters; Jeff Eastin owns "White Collar" and all related characters; I own nothing.
A/N: Thank you to akat for cheerleading me and beatrice-otter for beta-ing! The title comes from the song "Heroes and Thieves" by Vanessa Carlton
Summary: Nathan Caufield could be just a simple conman underneath his charming exterior, but given the prey Natasha was chasing, she couldn’t be too careful.
“Signorita Redman, thank you for gracing us with your presence,” a distinguished looking older gentleman greeted his guest. The warmth in his voice didn’t quite reach his grey eyes, however, a detail worth noting.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Ambassador,” Natasha Romanov replied, giving Ambassador Giancarlo Copello a smile as he raised her hand to his lips. “I’m honored that you included me in this event.”
“But of course!” Copello answered gallantly. “A party without beautiful women is not a party, no?”
Natasha gave him a nod and another smile before gliding into the glittering ballroom, with several pieces of Roman antiquities on display. Despite arriving fashionably late, as per her alias’ tendencies, she estimated only half of the invited guests were currently in attendance. After a brief cursory scan, Natasha plucked a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter and began making her rounds.
SHIELD suspected the good Italian ambassador to Great Britain of assisting in a large art smuggling operation specializing in his country’s antiquities. Normally, they would have left that to the proper authorities, but they had reasonable intelligence indicating that in addition to that, Copello was also passing along confidential information to a local Hydra branch. Of course, Copello didn’t know that he was aiding and abetting terrorists. He believed he was being paid a handsome sum to provide inside information to arms suppliers aiming for new contracts with the Italian Army. Given that organization’s annoying tendency to sprout new tendrils much like its namesake’s heads, its total elimination was given the highest priority, diplomatic immunity be dammed. That’s where Natasha came in.
Under the alias of Nadine Redman, a British-American socialite of the class that flitted from one function to another, she had infiltrated the circle of Copello’s niece. A nice enough girl with more looks than sense, she was Natasha’s gateway into the ambassador’s residence. Through that, it was easy work to access the ambassador’s files and communications with his conspirators from his not as secure as he thought office. Natasha wasn’t surprised to find that he doesn’t know the full extent to what he’s involved in. From her brief meetings with him, it’s clear he only has the position because he’s an old crony of the Italian Prime Minister.
Natasha would be glad when this assignment was over. Give her rogue militants over incompetent idiots any day.
There was a reason, other than preserving her cover, that Natasha was dressed in a deep blue gown and wearing a small fortune in jewels. Based off of Copello’s secret calendar (which she had copied during her exploration of his office), his contact would be in attendance to receive the latest batch of information. Natasha intended to be there.
“Nadine, you’re here!” Martina exclaimed when Natasha joined her and several of her friends.
“You know the traffic here in London, darling,” Natasha replied, giving the younger woman a kiss on both cheeks.
“Of course.” Martina winked at Natasha before turning back to the man she had been talking to. “Nadine, this is Nathan Caufield. Nathan, Nadine’s the one I was telling you about.”
“Oh?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow and an extended hand. Caulfied was a pretty boy, with intense blue eyes, thick dark hair, and an almost practiced air of charm hovering around him. With an experienced eye, she noted the muscle beneath the exquisitely tailored suit. Something about him was familiar, although she couldn’t place it at the moment. Another detail filed away until it could be of further use later.
“All of it good, of course,” Caufield replied smoothly, raising her hand to his lips. There were faint calluses on his hands, although not in the locations that would indicate regular firearm use.
“I should hope so,” Natasha laughed, playfully smacking Martina’s exposed shoulder.
“I hate to run, but I think Zio is looking for me,” Martina apologized, glancing over Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ll chat later.”
“Of course, dear. At least you leave me in such good looking company.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Caufield agreed with a wink directed at Natasha.
“You both are too good for me. Ciao.” With a wave of her hand, Martina wove her way through the room towards her uncle, leaving Natasha alone with Caufield.
“Care to dance, Miss Redman?” Caufield asked, extending his hand with a carefree smile that looked far too practiced to Natasha’s experienced eye.
“Only if you call me Nadine, Mr. Caufield.”
“Very well, Nadine. Would you like to dance?” Caufield asked again, this time bowing slightly.
“Charmer,” Natasha accused him with a laugh, but took his hand and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor.
Caufield smiled and admitted, “Guilty as charged. And please, call me Nathan.”
“Very well, Nathan,” Natasha replied. Although his accent was (for the most part) a fairly generic American English, with a touch of East Coast, there was a barely inaudible base to it. Natasha wouldn’t have noticed it, but given her training, it was almost inevitable. Midwestern United States, somewhere around St. Louis if she was a betting woman. “So what is it that you do?”
“I used to be involved in finance, but decided to get out while I was still young,” Caufield answered with a one-shouldered shrug. “After one of my good friends, Nick Halden, got himself involved with that nasty Adler business, I decided it was time to get out myself.”
“Hmmm,” Natasha hummed in agreement. She vaguely remembered the Adler incident. There was nothing to that rather elaborate scheme the financier had concocted. Just plain human greed, although that wasn’t to be discounted given her current assignment. “Yes, some of my good friends lost quite a bit of money in that affair.”
“Well, it was a good a sign as any to get out,” Caufield agreed. “I had enough money saved up, so I decided to tour Europe while I could still afford it. I wanted to be ahead of the curve on my midlife crisis,” he added with a conspiratorial air. “Where else but Europe to find both beautiful women and beautiful art?”
“How is it that you know Martina?” Natasha asked, glancing up at him through her lashes. She vaguely recalled seeing Caufield’s name on the invite list, but there was nothing that called attention to him. Given how he was acting, trying to charm her, Natasha as positive that “Nathan Caufield” had more to him than had been revealed at first glance.
“Art class, believe it or not.”
“You’re a fellow art student? Martina has mentioned some people in her class being exceptionally gifted.”
“While I do consider myself to be a fair hand with the brush, actually...” Caufield leaned down to whisper into Natasha’s ear, “I was the model.”
“Really?”
“Everybody needs a hobby.”
“So do you have any other hobbies worth noting?” Natasha laughed, her focus on Caufield but still making note of everybody in the room. Copello was still at the entrance, greeting his guests.
“Some, mainly gymnastics and rock climbing, but being a model has always been my favorite,” Caufield admitted, before changing the subject. “What about you? Martina mentioned something about the National Ballet.”
“Once, long ago,” Natasha answered with a sigh. The hobbies that he stated could explain the calluses on his hand, but there was still something more to it. He could be just a simple conman, but given the prey she was chasing, she couldn’t be too careful. She had learned long ago to trust her instincts, and right now they were saying that dismissing Caufield at face value would be a mistake. “It almost seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Now, I merely patron the arts and try to support those I can.”
“A worthy cause.”
“Is that why you model? To support the poor art students?” Natasha ran an appreciative eye along his torso before looking back at this face.
“Possibly,” Caufield said with a wink. The tempo of the music slowed, and Caufield drew Natasha slightly closer. “I can give you a special modeling session. If you’d like.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha spied Copello and a nondescript little man make their way towards the door that lead to Copello’s office. Smirking at Caufield, she leaned up to whisper in his ear.
“Maybe we could go to the Ambassador’s gallery and I can see how you compare to the classics,” Natasha suggested impetuously, knowing it would be perfectly in character for Nadine. She felt Caufield’s pulse quicken slightly at the suggestion. But his pupils barely dilated, which meant that there had to be another reason for his excitement, and then there was the look of barely schooled glee. Another inconsistency to review once her mission was complete.
“Are you sure about this?” Caufield whispered as Natasha led him through a service exit that looped around to her intended destination.
Natasha gripped his hand tight, pulling him after her. “What’s life without a little risk?”
“There is that,” he agreed when they reached the locked door.
“Martina gave me the access codes,” she muttered, feeling Caufield press himself against her back and start to kiss her neck. A position, she noted with detachment, that gave him the perfect view to look at the keypad as she entered the code. Well, well, well, Natasha thought, putting together the various pieces of the puzzle: the odd calluses, his reaction to Natasha taking him to the gallery, becoming friends with Martina. I’m not the only one who’s trying to break in. Only, if she guessed right, Mr. “Nathan Caufield” was only after something as ordinary as art. She wasn’t surprised. The ambassador had a notorious art collection, and the fact that he hadn’t been robbed before was in and of itself rather remarkable.
Whoever Nathan Caufield was, he was certainly a bold one.
“Stop that, you’re distracting me,” she admonished Caufield after purposefully fumbling the first attempt. She needed to buy just a little more time if she wanted her plan to work.
“Oh?” he murmured against her skin, causing involuntary goosebumps to rise along her skin. His hands skimmed her hips, and Natasha briefly allowed herself to consider the possibility of a brief assignation with him once she completed this assignment. She dismissed it just as quickly, however enjoyable it would be. She couldn’t risk this cover being blown by her using it longer than the mission required, not when there were still many uses for it.
Such a shame. The man did have a talented mouth.
Hearing approaching footsteps, she entered in the correct code, timing it so that the lock clicked just as two men rounded the corner.
“Signorita Redman?”
Natasha looked up, eyes wide in fake astonishment. She stumbled back into Caufield, letting the door close. “Ambassador? I-I thought you were still in the ballroom.”
“Clearly I’m not,” he answered, his voice pointed. Behind him, Natasha spotted her target, the nondescript little man from before. Good.
“Oh. Um. This is embarrassing,” she muttered, allowing herself to blush. “I’m sorry, I just...”
“Didn’t expect to be discovered?” Copello asked with a raised eyebrow. Natasha nodded, schooling her face into one of shame. “I understand. We all have those moments. Perhaps we should go the party?” he suggested, gesturing for Natasha and Caufield to accompany him.
“Sure,” Natasha muttered, gripping Caufield’s hand tightly. They followed Copello and his associate down the hallway, stopping just before the doorway.
“Next time, Signorita Redman, Signore Caufield, please try to be more discreet,” Copello advised them with a conspiratorial air. “Few people make use of the courtyard this time of year.”
“Thank you for understanding, Ambassador,” Caufield replied, giving Natasha’s hand a reassuring squeeze. They passed through ahead of the ambassador and his companion, enveloped once again in the light and noise of the party in full swing.
“I think I’m going to go now. No offense or anything, Nathan, it’s just that after what happened...”
“I understand,” Caufield reassured her, giving what Natasha believed to be a trademarked smile designed to blind and confuse. “Maybe some other time?”
“Possibly,” Natasha replied slyly. “Although I won’t have anything to compare you to.”
“Just leave that to me,” Caufield promised before giving her a relatively chaste kiss on the lips.
Nobody stopped Natasha when she retrieved her coat from the attendant in the lobby. Nobody followed her to the place that Nadine Redman called home. And nobody tailed her when she left, disguised in a dark wig and practical clothing, through a service exit to the small hole in the wall restaurant where she had her rendezvous.
“Did you have any problems?” Coulson asked from across the table.
The restaurant was secure; she didn’t know how, but Clint was somehow managing an eatery of some sort without any (overt) health code violations. She gave her food a distrustful poke with her fork.
“None.” She slipped the flash drive that had been her goal across the table. “He didn’t notice when I lifted and replaced the drive with our device.”
“And the ambassador?”
Natasha smiled. She’d used the print that Caufield--or rather, Neal Caffery--inadvertently left on her bracelet to run a search on him to discern his true identity. “I think the good ambassador will soon have other concerns,” she answered calmly. Copello, she believed, would soon be lighter several key pieces of his priceless art collection. Since many of them were not so legally obtained, the last thing he would want was more scrutiny on his extracurricular activities.
Indeed, if Natasha subscribed to those sorts of beliefs, Neal Caffery appearing when he did was almost heaven sent.
Coulson’s right eyebrow rose ever so slightly, but he refrained from asking what she meant by that. “Very well,” he replied instead. “Keep being Nadine Redman for a few more days while we see where our tracker leads us. Hawkeye will contact you with more information.”
A few more days as Nadine? Natasha smiled at the thought. Now that she had an idea of what Caffery was playing at, she could certainly find ways to make them interesting.
Including, for starters, taking him up on that modeling offer.
-END-
Prompt:
Avengers/White Collar - Neal/Natasha, maybe seducing each other on the opposite sides of a con?
Author: kerrykhat
Fandoms: Avengers/White Collar
Characters: Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson; Neal Caffery
Pairings: Neal/Natasha flirting
Rating: PG
Word count: 2366
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Marvel owns "The Avengers" and all related characters; Jeff Eastin owns "White Collar" and all related characters; I own nothing.
A/N: Thank you to akat for cheerleading me and beatrice-otter for beta-ing! The title comes from the song "Heroes and Thieves" by Vanessa Carlton
Summary: Nathan Caufield could be just a simple conman underneath his charming exterior, but given the prey Natasha was chasing, she couldn’t be too careful.
“Signorita Redman, thank you for gracing us with your presence,” a distinguished looking older gentleman greeted his guest. The warmth in his voice didn’t quite reach his grey eyes, however, a detail worth noting.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Ambassador,” Natasha Romanov replied, giving Ambassador Giancarlo Copello a smile as he raised her hand to his lips. “I’m honored that you included me in this event.”
“But of course!” Copello answered gallantly. “A party without beautiful women is not a party, no?”
Natasha gave him a nod and another smile before gliding into the glittering ballroom, with several pieces of Roman antiquities on display. Despite arriving fashionably late, as per her alias’ tendencies, she estimated only half of the invited guests were currently in attendance. After a brief cursory scan, Natasha plucked a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter and began making her rounds.
SHIELD suspected the good Italian ambassador to Great Britain of assisting in a large art smuggling operation specializing in his country’s antiquities. Normally, they would have left that to the proper authorities, but they had reasonable intelligence indicating that in addition to that, Copello was also passing along confidential information to a local Hydra branch. Of course, Copello didn’t know that he was aiding and abetting terrorists. He believed he was being paid a handsome sum to provide inside information to arms suppliers aiming for new contracts with the Italian Army. Given that organization’s annoying tendency to sprout new tendrils much like its namesake’s heads, its total elimination was given the highest priority, diplomatic immunity be dammed. That’s where Natasha came in.
Under the alias of Nadine Redman, a British-American socialite of the class that flitted from one function to another, she had infiltrated the circle of Copello’s niece. A nice enough girl with more looks than sense, she was Natasha’s gateway into the ambassador’s residence. Through that, it was easy work to access the ambassador’s files and communications with his conspirators from his not as secure as he thought office. Natasha wasn’t surprised to find that he doesn’t know the full extent to what he’s involved in. From her brief meetings with him, it’s clear he only has the position because he’s an old crony of the Italian Prime Minister.
Natasha would be glad when this assignment was over. Give her rogue militants over incompetent idiots any day.
There was a reason, other than preserving her cover, that Natasha was dressed in a deep blue gown and wearing a small fortune in jewels. Based off of Copello’s secret calendar (which she had copied during her exploration of his office), his contact would be in attendance to receive the latest batch of information. Natasha intended to be there.
“Nadine, you’re here!” Martina exclaimed when Natasha joined her and several of her friends.
“You know the traffic here in London, darling,” Natasha replied, giving the younger woman a kiss on both cheeks.
“Of course.” Martina winked at Natasha before turning back to the man she had been talking to. “Nadine, this is Nathan Caufield. Nathan, Nadine’s the one I was telling you about.”
“Oh?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow and an extended hand. Caulfied was a pretty boy, with intense blue eyes, thick dark hair, and an almost practiced air of charm hovering around him. With an experienced eye, she noted the muscle beneath the exquisitely tailored suit. Something about him was familiar, although she couldn’t place it at the moment. Another detail filed away until it could be of further use later.
“All of it good, of course,” Caufield replied smoothly, raising her hand to his lips. There were faint calluses on his hands, although not in the locations that would indicate regular firearm use.
“I should hope so,” Natasha laughed, playfully smacking Martina’s exposed shoulder.
“I hate to run, but I think Zio is looking for me,” Martina apologized, glancing over Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ll chat later.”
“Of course, dear. At least you leave me in such good looking company.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Caufield agreed with a wink directed at Natasha.
“You both are too good for me. Ciao.” With a wave of her hand, Martina wove her way through the room towards her uncle, leaving Natasha alone with Caufield.
“Care to dance, Miss Redman?” Caufield asked, extending his hand with a carefree smile that looked far too practiced to Natasha’s experienced eye.
“Only if you call me Nadine, Mr. Caufield.”
“Very well, Nadine. Would you like to dance?” Caufield asked again, this time bowing slightly.
“Charmer,” Natasha accused him with a laugh, but took his hand and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor.
Caufield smiled and admitted, “Guilty as charged. And please, call me Nathan.”
“Very well, Nathan,” Natasha replied. Although his accent was (for the most part) a fairly generic American English, with a touch of East Coast, there was a barely inaudible base to it. Natasha wouldn’t have noticed it, but given her training, it was almost inevitable. Midwestern United States, somewhere around St. Louis if she was a betting woman. “So what is it that you do?”
“I used to be involved in finance, but decided to get out while I was still young,” Caufield answered with a one-shouldered shrug. “After one of my good friends, Nick Halden, got himself involved with that nasty Adler business, I decided it was time to get out myself.”
“Hmmm,” Natasha hummed in agreement. She vaguely remembered the Adler incident. There was nothing to that rather elaborate scheme the financier had concocted. Just plain human greed, although that wasn’t to be discounted given her current assignment. “Yes, some of my good friends lost quite a bit of money in that affair.”
“Well, it was a good a sign as any to get out,” Caufield agreed. “I had enough money saved up, so I decided to tour Europe while I could still afford it. I wanted to be ahead of the curve on my midlife crisis,” he added with a conspiratorial air. “Where else but Europe to find both beautiful women and beautiful art?”
“How is it that you know Martina?” Natasha asked, glancing up at him through her lashes. She vaguely recalled seeing Caufield’s name on the invite list, but there was nothing that called attention to him. Given how he was acting, trying to charm her, Natasha as positive that “Nathan Caufield” had more to him than had been revealed at first glance.
“Art class, believe it or not.”
“You’re a fellow art student? Martina has mentioned some people in her class being exceptionally gifted.”
“While I do consider myself to be a fair hand with the brush, actually...” Caufield leaned down to whisper into Natasha’s ear, “I was the model.”
“Really?”
“Everybody needs a hobby.”
“So do you have any other hobbies worth noting?” Natasha laughed, her focus on Caufield but still making note of everybody in the room. Copello was still at the entrance, greeting his guests.
“Some, mainly gymnastics and rock climbing, but being a model has always been my favorite,” Caufield admitted, before changing the subject. “What about you? Martina mentioned something about the National Ballet.”
“Once, long ago,” Natasha answered with a sigh. The hobbies that he stated could explain the calluses on his hand, but there was still something more to it. He could be just a simple conman, but given the prey she was chasing, she couldn’t be too careful. She had learned long ago to trust her instincts, and right now they were saying that dismissing Caufield at face value would be a mistake. “It almost seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Now, I merely patron the arts and try to support those I can.”
“A worthy cause.”
“Is that why you model? To support the poor art students?” Natasha ran an appreciative eye along his torso before looking back at this face.
“Possibly,” Caufield said with a wink. The tempo of the music slowed, and Caufield drew Natasha slightly closer. “I can give you a special modeling session. If you’d like.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha spied Copello and a nondescript little man make their way towards the door that lead to Copello’s office. Smirking at Caufield, she leaned up to whisper in his ear.
“Maybe we could go to the Ambassador’s gallery and I can see how you compare to the classics,” Natasha suggested impetuously, knowing it would be perfectly in character for Nadine. She felt Caufield’s pulse quicken slightly at the suggestion. But his pupils barely dilated, which meant that there had to be another reason for his excitement, and then there was the look of barely schooled glee. Another inconsistency to review once her mission was complete.
“Are you sure about this?” Caufield whispered as Natasha led him through a service exit that looped around to her intended destination.
Natasha gripped his hand tight, pulling him after her. “What’s life without a little risk?”
“There is that,” he agreed when they reached the locked door.
“Martina gave me the access codes,” she muttered, feeling Caufield press himself against her back and start to kiss her neck. A position, she noted with detachment, that gave him the perfect view to look at the keypad as she entered the code. Well, well, well, Natasha thought, putting together the various pieces of the puzzle: the odd calluses, his reaction to Natasha taking him to the gallery, becoming friends with Martina. I’m not the only one who’s trying to break in. Only, if she guessed right, Mr. “Nathan Caufield” was only after something as ordinary as art. She wasn’t surprised. The ambassador had a notorious art collection, and the fact that he hadn’t been robbed before was in and of itself rather remarkable.
Whoever Nathan Caufield was, he was certainly a bold one.
“Stop that, you’re distracting me,” she admonished Caufield after purposefully fumbling the first attempt. She needed to buy just a little more time if she wanted her plan to work.
“Oh?” he murmured against her skin, causing involuntary goosebumps to rise along her skin. His hands skimmed her hips, and Natasha briefly allowed herself to consider the possibility of a brief assignation with him once she completed this assignment. She dismissed it just as quickly, however enjoyable it would be. She couldn’t risk this cover being blown by her using it longer than the mission required, not when there were still many uses for it.
Such a shame. The man did have a talented mouth.
Hearing approaching footsteps, she entered in the correct code, timing it so that the lock clicked just as two men rounded the corner.
“Signorita Redman?”
Natasha looked up, eyes wide in fake astonishment. She stumbled back into Caufield, letting the door close. “Ambassador? I-I thought you were still in the ballroom.”
“Clearly I’m not,” he answered, his voice pointed. Behind him, Natasha spotted her target, the nondescript little man from before. Good.
“Oh. Um. This is embarrassing,” she muttered, allowing herself to blush. “I’m sorry, I just...”
“Didn’t expect to be discovered?” Copello asked with a raised eyebrow. Natasha nodded, schooling her face into one of shame. “I understand. We all have those moments. Perhaps we should go the party?” he suggested, gesturing for Natasha and Caufield to accompany him.
“Sure,” Natasha muttered, gripping Caufield’s hand tightly. They followed Copello and his associate down the hallway, stopping just before the doorway.
“Next time, Signorita Redman, Signore Caufield, please try to be more discreet,” Copello advised them with a conspiratorial air. “Few people make use of the courtyard this time of year.”
“Thank you for understanding, Ambassador,” Caufield replied, giving Natasha’s hand a reassuring squeeze. They passed through ahead of the ambassador and his companion, enveloped once again in the light and noise of the party in full swing.
“I think I’m going to go now. No offense or anything, Nathan, it’s just that after what happened...”
“I understand,” Caufield reassured her, giving what Natasha believed to be a trademarked smile designed to blind and confuse. “Maybe some other time?”
“Possibly,” Natasha replied slyly. “Although I won’t have anything to compare you to.”
“Just leave that to me,” Caufield promised before giving her a relatively chaste kiss on the lips.
Nobody stopped Natasha when she retrieved her coat from the attendant in the lobby. Nobody followed her to the place that Nadine Redman called home. And nobody tailed her when she left, disguised in a dark wig and practical clothing, through a service exit to the small hole in the wall restaurant where she had her rendezvous.
“Did you have any problems?” Coulson asked from across the table.
The restaurant was secure; she didn’t know how, but Clint was somehow managing an eatery of some sort without any (overt) health code violations. She gave her food a distrustful poke with her fork.
“None.” She slipped the flash drive that had been her goal across the table. “He didn’t notice when I lifted and replaced the drive with our device.”
“And the ambassador?”
Natasha smiled. She’d used the print that Caufield--or rather, Neal Caffery--inadvertently left on her bracelet to run a search on him to discern his true identity. “I think the good ambassador will soon have other concerns,” she answered calmly. Copello, she believed, would soon be lighter several key pieces of his priceless art collection. Since many of them were not so legally obtained, the last thing he would want was more scrutiny on his extracurricular activities.
Indeed, if Natasha subscribed to those sorts of beliefs, Neal Caffery appearing when he did was almost heaven sent.
Coulson’s right eyebrow rose ever so slightly, but he refrained from asking what she meant by that. “Very well,” he replied instead. “Keep being Nadine Redman for a few more days while we see where our tracker leads us. Hawkeye will contact you with more information.”
A few more days as Nadine? Natasha smiled at the thought. Now that she had an idea of what Caffery was playing at, she could certainly find ways to make them interesting.
Including, for starters, taking him up on that modeling offer.
-END-
Prompt:
Avengers/White Collar - Neal/Natasha, maybe seducing each other on the opposite sides of a con?