Clint x Natasha FanFic's

Perfectly Normal by Hawkeyethehotguy

Perfectly Normal by Hawkeyethehotguy

They were perfectly ordinary. She sat quietly at a cafe table, feigning interest in some clichéd romantic novel as she sipped on her morning espresso. He was taking in the sights, map in hand, mindlessly wandering the city streets of Paris. No one would suspect her of harboring a nine-inch blade in her jet black knee-high boots or him of concealing a collapsible bow hidden in his pack beneath a spare t-shirt. They were perfectly ordinary. Or so it seemed.

"How's the coffee," she heard her partner inquire in her ear. She glanced up from her book to spot him on a street corner a block away, pretending to be incredibly lost as he studied his map intently.

"Bitter," she replied in a low voice as to not attract attention.

"It's times like this that I miss Dunkin' Donuts."

"We'll be home soon enough," she reminded him. "You have eyes on the mark yet?"

He turned himself around, playing the part of the hopelessly confused tourist perfectly as he searched in the distance. Any passerby would have thought he was plainly looking for a street sign or a metro station, not a high value target on SHIELDs hit list. "Coming up on your right in fifteen seconds." And with that, he turned onto a side street, falling out of sight. "Let's get this over with."

Promptly, she rose from her petite cafe chair. Sitting delicately on her ring finger was a diamond ring, unsuspecting and seemingly ordinary, just like her. As she strode closer to the mark, she twisted the ring to face inward, the same direction as her palm. She removed the gem to reveal a needle, poisoned and nearly undetectable to the naked eye. A foot away from the mark, she let the heal of her boot catch a crack in the sidewalk, sending her tumbling into the dark-haired man in his early forties. Her hand fell to the man's neck as she caught herself, the needle pricking just at the jugular.

French apologies fumbled out of her mouth quickly and effortlessly, like they would out of any other Parisian who tripped onto a perfect stranger. The mark, none the wiser to the poison racing towards his heart, assured her no harm was done.

"Êtes-vous bien? Je suis vraiment désolé!" she said with mock embarrassment.

"Oui, oui," the mark told her impatiently as he straightened his suit, "Tout va bien." Acting as though he had been severely inconvenienced, the mark maneuvered past her with a scowl and hurried down the block.

When their target was out of earshot, she whispered into the com, "The guillotine has been dropped."

"Five," her partner counted down, a smirk obvious in his voice, "four... three...two... one."

On his count, the mark dropped to his knees, coughing up blood by the bucketful. As passerby's screamed and called for an ambulances in vain, the unsuspected master assassin sauntered down the road in the opposite direction.

"So," her partner piped up in her ear after a minute, "we've got time before we have to leave... wanna get something to eat?"

She smiled to herself. "Is this a date, Hawkeye?"

"Yeah, why not? This is the city of love, after all."

"Okay, sure," She adjusted her route, taking a left onto Rue de l'Universite. "I think I know a place that's very popular with you tourists."

Twenty minutes later, a couple sat under the Eiffel Tower. They were splitting a dessert, conversing in French about nothing in particular, and enjoying each other's company. They were perfectly ordinary. Or so it seemed.