Clint x Natasha FanFic's

Internat Promises by jacedesbff

Internal Promises by jacedesbff

It wasn't like they'd never slept together - literally or in the Biblical sense. They had. Because, well, each of them needed to prove to themselves that they could, because if they could have sex and still be good friends and partners, then it meant that they weren't in love, right? That's what they told themselves. That and the fact that neither of them was willing to let the insane sexual tension between them rule their partnership. After all, they were the best in their field - nothing as weak as emotions or hormones could rule them.

Until Loki.

Losing a partner to death was one thing - it came with the territory. They avoided talking or thinking about it because the thought of losing each other was too painful, but at least it was an expected hazard in their line or work. Magical mind possession? That was new, even to a couple of battle-tested, seen-it-all, emotionally-guarded super-assassins.

Clint was trapped in his mind, forced to watch as his physical shell did whatever the hell Loki wanted it to, and it was then that he finally acknowledged how he really felt about Natasha. Because, really, what's the point of lying to yourself when a mythical god from another planet traps you inside your head and makes your body attack your partner. It's one thing to avoid admitting you love a woman because you don't want to lose your best friend. It's acceptable to choose not to follow the scorching hot path of desire (again, that is, and as frequently as possible) because you just know it will wreck the best partnership you've ever had. Yes, when you're in control of yourself and your surroundings, you can allow yourself to ignore what you're really feeling, what you really want, what you really desire. But that just doesn't work when you have control over nothing. Because then the only thing you can control is what you feel.

As Clint watched his body fight its way through the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier, he finally acknowledged, if only to himself, that he was in love with Natasha Romanoff and had been for years, that he wanted more than just friendship, more than a professional partnership, a hell of a lot more than transitory sex. He wanted everything that Natasha was - the stolen childhood, the emotional walls, the brilliant mind, the passionate observer of the world, the fighter who could absolutely kick his ass - all of her. And he wanted her to have him in the same way. And if he ever got the chance, he was going to tell her the first chance he got.

Natasha Romanoff could confidently take on men twice her size. In fact, she would rather go against huge guys than those her own size - big men were used to getting by on physical intimidation, usually sacrificing skill in the process. Natasha was very good at exploiting that lack of skill to her advantage. Her ability to do this was not an accident or luck - the comely assassin had worked tirelessly most of her life to get to the point where her diminutive size was very rarely a hindrance when facing an opponent.

Most people familiar with Natasha's skill set assumed her high level of readiness was simply who she was, that it was part of who she had worked to become. Clint Barton knew differently. Part of the Russian conditioning program for Black Widow operatives required their constantly being pitted against opponents considerably bigger than themselves, starting when they were recruited, often as young as age four. Agents-in-training either got good enough to overcome sheer size or they died. Natasha became very, very good.

It didn't matter how good or skilled or fast an operative became, though - no one could beat The Hulk, and everyone knew it. While neither she nor Clint had ever fought the green monster face-to-face, Natasha didn't have to know that she didn't stand a chance against him. Facing The Hulk took her back to being the helpless little girl forced to defend herself against grown men who beat the crap out of her. The monster brought back all of her feelings of inadequacy and helplessness. And unlike that long ago time, there was nothing she could do to better prepare herself to face this threat. She truly was at his mercy.