Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Hawkeye/Black Widow
Challenge/Prompt: beattheblackdog 83: Professional
Word Count: 738
Date Written: 14 October 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics, not the author, and are used without permission.
Clint pauses in flipping through the magazine his niece had accidently left behind. “Here’s one,” he says, trailing the text with his finger. “Have you ever thought about becoming a professional blank rather than the job you hold now?”
Looking over at him from where she’s been practicing various fighting stances and gymnastics, Natasha smirks. “You already know the answer to that one. I was a dancer, or I thought I was. Now are you going to get off your butt and join me or not?”
He quirks an eyebrow at her. “With an invitation like that, how can I refuse?” Yet he turns another page and lowers his eyes back to the magazine. He waits until her attention is fully absorbed again in her practice before lowering the magazine, soundlessly dropping it onto the couch, and padding over to her.
She looks at him again just as he steps in front of her. Clint’s face gives nothing away. He makes as though to strike her, but as she parries his strike, he grabs her hands and pulls her against him. There is no music, but he starts to dance any way. Her body glides against his, as graceful as ever. He pulls her closer and sways them more slowly.
“Clint, this is -- “ she starts to protest.
He cuts her off. “A waste of time? Nah.” He shakes his head. “You’re never a waste of time, Nat,” he whispers, his lips brushing her ear just underneath a lock of her fiery red hair. “And you were a dancer and still are. You just dance in different arenas now and kill anybody you don’t want to dance with.”
“Barton -- “ She starts to pull away.
He holds her tight. Gripping her hands in his, he moves his body again, and hers moves instinctively against his. He flashes her a wide, bright smile. Her hands tense within his, and he knows that she’s wanting to smack that smile right off of his lips. He knows too, however, that if she didn’t want this, didn’t want and trust and yes, possibly even love him, he’d already be flat of his ass and she’d be free, possibly grinding a heel into his chest for daring to be so stupid and bold.
But he doesn’t let her go. He continues to lead their dance instead, swaying their bodies across the room and holding her tight. He hears a soft beat in the back of his mind, and he matches that rhythm that he likes to think of as her heart beating in time with his. Maybe it’s corny, but this woman does crazy things to him all the time. It’s past time he returned the favor.
“We’re many things, Natasha,” he tells her. “You taught me that first. You may be a killer, but you’re a dancer too and my best friend . . . “ He plants a kiss on her temple, then her cheek, moving in for her lips. “And my lover when I’m lucky.”
“What makes you think you’re getting lucky tonight, malen'kiy mal'chik?” she asks with a smirk.
“I’m already lucky,” he counters and spins her. Still not letting go of her right hand, he pulls her back against him and wraps his arms around her lithe body once again. “Because I’ve got you as my friend, if nothing more.”
Natasha shakes her head. She rolls her eyes. “Ty psikh.”
“Da, I’m crazy. We both are.” He grins at her. “Makes life a little bit more fun, doesn’t it?”
Her blue eyes meet his, and in that gaze, his heart melts. Yes, the things this woman does to him are crazy, but they’re the best kinds of crazy. They’re the kind of crazy for which he lives. He used to live for the fight. At one time, he lived to protect those few people he still cared about. Now he lives for her, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let her get too caught up in being a professional killer that she forgets to enjoy life. After all, she’s the very essence of what makes his life enjoyable; the least he can do is return the favor.
“Maybe we are lucky,” she says, leaning up, and kisses him. Now Clint knows he hears their heartbeats rushing together as one. He sways them to a stop and just stands, kissing her. Yes, indeed, this is the very thing that makes their lives so worth living!