Several Nightcaps Later // WandaNat Bartender AU

6

"Paper football?" Peter suggested.

Wanda shook her head, though Peter couldn't see it as she laid flat on one of the worn down booth seats. "No, neither one of us knows how to fold the ball."

"Tic tac toe?"

"No, we're not third graders. Well, you might be, actually."

Peter frowned. "Work with me, Wanda. The dinner rush is gonna come in soon and I just wanna cheer you up."

"Cheer me up?" Wanda sat up, quirking an eyebrow. "Did something unfortunate happen to me that I'm unaware of?"

"I just... figured something happened with that redhead last night. You're being kinda mopey."

"I'm just tired."

Peter eyed her suspiciously for a moment before exclaiming, "hangman!"

Wanda groaned, massaging her temples. Usually, Peter wasn't this persistent.  "What's up with you today, kid?"

"Wanda, you can't call me 'kid'. You're only like, four years older than me," Peter half heartedly chuckled, his brown eyes not meeting the bartender's.

"Don't deflect."

Shrugging, Peter scratched the back of his neck. "I just don't know how to tell you this..."

"Tell me what?" When Peter didn't respond, Wanda sighed deeply and stood. "Come on, Peter. Let's go talk on the roof."

Hands shoved in her worn jeans pockets, the bartender strode confidently across the lobby to the stairwell, avoiding her manager's gaze. If you looked confident in what you were doing, odds were nobody would question it. Peter glanced around nervously as he followed, hoping no one would stop the pair as they climbed up 20 flights of stairs to the roof access.

"We really should come up here more," Wanda said with a wry smile as she walked out onto the roof. "It's b-"

"Wanda, I got into MIT," Peter blurted out, the metal door closing behind him.

Taken aback, Wanda spun to face the young bellhop. "You what?"

"MIT," he whispered, making his way to the edge of the roof, looking out onto the cityscape that stretched for miles in front of him. "I got in."

"Holy shit, Peter, that's amazing!" She smiled, broadly and genuinely, for a few moments until she realized what that meant. Why Peter had been acting different today. "You're leaving."

"I have to," Peter shrugged. "I love it here, I do. But there's no way I could handle the heavy course load and try to get hours in. Plus, I um, I got a grant, so I can just focus on school."

"I am so, so happy for you Peter," Wanda said, stepping up to hug the boy. "I'm gonna miss you like hell, though."

Eyes full of sadness and gratefulness, Peter hugged the older woman back, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'll miss you too."

Burning with the threat of tears, Wanda wiped her eyes, still in the embrace. She really was ecstatic for the kid, but deep down she knew if she had the chance to trade places with him, she would take it without question. Pulling away from the hug, Wanda kept an arm around the bellhop and surveyed the bustling city below. It was strange, looking at the familiar city from this high above, so detached.

Wanda squeezed the boy's shoulder, exhaling. "I'm proud of you, Parker. You've got big things coming up."

-

Truly, Natasha loved stakeouts as much as the next spy, but her partner had a knack for planting them in the wrong location for far too long as he was too prideful to admit his intel steered him wrong. This was such an occasion, as the two had sat in their black recon vehicle for nine hours trying to get a look at a high profile drug runner, all to no avail.

"Barton, this is getting ridiculous," said an annoyed Natasha. "The mark clearly isn't here. Let's move on."

Suddenly, Clint slammed his hands down on to the wheel, cursing in frustration.

"Damn it!" He exclaimed as he started the car and peeled out.

"Whoa," Natasha responded. "What the hell was that for?"

Clint took a breath. "Sorry, Nat. I just really wanna get this right."

"I know." Her eyes searched his face.

"Let's just try one last location. It's not even midnight, right? A deal could still go down."

Natasha set the coordinates on the car's outdated GPS. The pair rode in silence for a while, Natasha studying her partner the entire ride. Clint's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

"I know you, Clint. What are you not telling me?"

Clint sighed. "I should've known. You're too good at this to not notice when something is up."

Tapping her nails on the console, Natasha waited for her partner to continue. When he didn't, Natasha fully shifted in her passenger seat to stare at him.

"Um, hello? Wanna tell me what's going on here? You know I'll find out eventually, so just get it over with and tell me now."

After a steadying breath, Clint confessed, "I'm retiring."

Natasha slouched back into her seat. "I knew it."

"What?"

"I knew it! The high stakes last mission, all the nerves, all these damn stakeouts. You get to take down this big don and ride off on a white horse, the valiant hero."

"Nat, come on-"

"You get your perfect picket fence life and I'm still here. I'll still be here Clint, doing the only thing I know how to do." Natasha let out a bitter laugh. "The only thing I'm good at."

"Nat," Clint said softly. "I'm getting older, I'm getting slower. No one can do this forever."

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know. I know, Clint. I'm not mad at you."

"But you're resentful."

Natasha chuckled. Between two international operatives this experienced, no emotion, no glance or comment, went unnoticed. It was certainly tiring, being this seen by someone, but she could see Clint right back.

"Maybe I am, Barton."

"I wouldn't blame you if you were. I know you want more for yourself."

"There is nothing more, that's the problem. I was raised in this job, in this life. You know that. I can't just drop it."

"Maybe you could-"

Clint stopped short, staring intently out the window. Following his gaze, Natasha's eyes widened in realization.

"That's him, that's the runner," Natasha confirmed.

Pulling over, Clint positioned the car on a side street to get a better view. This was the mark alright. On the busy city street adjacent, a scruffy looking young man with platinum blonde hair and a blue jacket sifted through the crowd with ease, a brown paper bag in hand. Eyes constantly darting around, head on a swivel, he entered a pawn shop and, though Natasha and Clint waited for several hours with eyes glued to the door, never exited.

"This is huge, Natasha," Clint said finally, eyes still on the door. "That kid just led us to their safe house. He's the key."

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Author's note- Thank you all so so much for 100+ reads already. I'm blown away, thank you. I appreciate every read, comment, or vote I get.

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