Natasha stared out of her window, watching the sun set over the New York skyline. A sick feeling left her sleepless at night, and for once it had nothing to do with her past. A slight smile pulled the corners of her lips. Her past had never seemed so far away.
The nightmares: gone. The threats: faced with friends by her side. She was happy. Blissfully, disturbingly happy.
She felt two strong arms wrap around her waist, and leaned back against a firm chest.
Clint smiled. He gently kissed her neck. "Natasha," he whispered, "Steve's almost done with dinner."
She nodded. "Okay."
He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked out on the city. "What's so interesting out there?"
"Nothing. I'm just thinking." She paused. "Wish we were back in Tahiti."
"Not so fast, Nat. Dirty word, remember?" Clint teased, referring to memory-altering surgery that had both saved and ruined their best friend's life.
"I meant the place, you idiot."
Clint chuckled. "I know. Me, too. It does get a little crowded around here."
Natasha turned in his arms to face him. "You don't want to leave, do you?"
"Nat, every time I mention this place being crowded or half-destroyed or crawling with security cameras, you think I want to retire. Please get this through that pretty head of yours once and for all: I don't want to leave. I love my job and I love my team. The only way I'd leave is if we had to. Okay? Will you trust me on this?"
She sighed. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I guess I'm still not over SHIELD."
"It's okay, Tasha." He kissed her forehead and held her closer. "I love-"
"Pardon me, but dinner is being served in the lounge," the familiar British voice said.
Natasha sighed in annoyance. "Vision. We have talked about this."
"Technically, you yelled and I was too shocked to speak-"
"Just... knock," Clint said.
Vision nodded. "Very well." He turned and phased back through the wall.
Clint chuckled. "You'd think walking in on us would be enough to make him remember to knock."
Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled away. He followed her into the glass elevator, down two floors, and out into the Avengers' dining room.
Clint drew in a deep breath and grinned. "Smells great!" He took his usual seat on the couch. "What is that?"
Tony leaned on the back of couch and muttered, "You got the thing, right?"
Clint smirked. "Of course I did! You really think I'd go out shopping without a good reason?"
"Well, where is it?"
"Behind the vent in the training room."
"Got it." Tony looked over at Vision and nodded. Vision stood and quickly flew out of the room. Tony sat in the chair to Clint's right.
Dishes and glasses floated into the room, surrounded by a red glow. They fell in exactly the right places, as if by a magic spell. Clint frowned as the caster walked into the room, and stood up.
"Wanda, what did I tell you?"
She merely shrugged. "I can do whatever I want." Her accent was thick and smooth, something close to Russian.
YOU ARE READING
The American OperativeFanfiction
The Avengers are a permanent team. The aftermath of Ultron has left the world full of mistrust for super powered individuals, and that gives organizations like HYDRA the upper hand. With Coulson leading a secret band of agents in a new SHIELD group...