The Budapest Objective

Nine

Clint met Natasha at the same restaurant as before. There were only a few other people there. He saw Romanoff sitting at the same table, and walked over and sat down across from her. She showed signs of a sleepless night, although she kept it well hidden.

"So, Clint, I've been thinking about our issue with Cross, and-"

"No," Clint said.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"You were going to say that you could go undercover and spy on him, pretending to help him so we can get info, am I right?"

"Well, that was the general idea, yeah. How did you know?"

Clint gave her a look. "I know you better than you think I do, Natasha Romanoff."

"Whatever." Natasha waited until the waiter had brought out his cup of coffee before speaking again. "So, Clint, why can't I go undercover?"

"It's too dangerous."

"Barton, I've done plenty of other things. This isn't going to be much-"

"Natasha, I said 'no'! End of discussion."

"Why? It's not your neck I'm risking."

"I don't care who's neck your risking, you are not going to do it! Cross has ways of finding out when people are lying, Natasha. You're going to get hurt, and it'll be on me."

"Or, it could work, and it'll be on me," Natasha pointed out. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

He was seriously considering telling her that the reason he cared so much was because he didn't want to live without her. "I just don't want to lose... another agent."

She looked at him skeptically. "'Another agent'?"

"Yeah, SHIELD doesn't have agents to spare, you know." Clint changed the subject. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Great! No nightmares last night."

"Natasha, how did you sleep last night?" he repeated.

"I just told you. I slept great."

"How did you sleep last night?" he asked, yet again.

"I. Slept. Great."

"Natasha, don't lie to me. How did you sleep last night?"

She sighed. "I didn't."

"I didn't think so."

"Well, you don't have to gloat!"

"I'm not gloating!"

"Yes you are, Clint Barton!"

"Let's not do this again. I'd really like to get through this mission without tearing each other apart."

"Fine by me!"

Natasha leaned back in her seat, fuming. She was very angry with her partner, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. She stared down into her cold, half-empty coffee cup. She was in a very bad mood. What right did Clint have to stop her from helping the mission? It wasn't his call. He didn't have any authority over her. If she wanted, she could kill him.

But she knew she never could. The small, humane part of her, the sentimental part, wouldn't let her. She could kill anyone, she knew she could. But she couldn't kill him. She owed him too much.

Natasha looked up. She saw Clint hastily drop his gaze to the mug in front of him.

"What were you doing?" she asked.