Budapest

Chapter 14:

Clint: "Can I at least leave the room for just a few minutes?" Natasha asked, "Just for a walk?"

"Uh no, you're not a dog, you don't need walks," Fury said.

"Clint can come with," Natasha said. I looked to Fury with this.

"Fine," Fury said, "5 minutes, if you hurt my guy I will hunt you to the edge of the earth."

"I didn't expect anything else," Natasha said, grabbing my hand.

We walked out the door. "You know you could try please," I pointed out.

"Because he would totally bow to please," Natasha said sarcastically.

"He's a good guy," I said after a moment of silence.

"I'm sure. I just wish we could see eye to eye that's all," Natasha said, her voice distant. She stopped, looking over a railing which overlooked the lobby. I leaned over as well. She looked down at a group of good looking women, all in athletic wear, giggling an chatting.

In Russian.

"What are they saying?" I asked. She didn't need to know I spoke Russian. I wanted her to interpret it. To get that look she got when she thought she was out smarting me.

"Their talking about the nasty champagne on their flight over. A few are talking about the upcoming show tonight," she said, almost a note of sadness in her voice, "They're the Russian ballet." She paused for a moment, "See that girl with the blonde bun and the black sport jacket?"

"Yeah," I said, looking at who she was talking about.

"That's Galina. She was training with me. Now she's the star of the show, but she wasn't then. She was always so nice to me. Excepecially after I lost my parents," she said, smiling just a little, "And that," she pointed to a girl with a brown curling ponytail, "That's Angelina." She looked down sadly, "She was always so nice to me. Her sister was also a dancer."

"Was?" I asked.

"I killed her," Natasha said, "As my Test."

I stayed silent again for another moment. "Why don't you get out of the KGB and go back to dancing."

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, "I guess I'm just not into dancing anymore."

"Oh come on," I said, almost laughing, "You practically stalk the Russian Ballet."

Natasha laughed, "I do not!"

"Maybe not, but I know you know they were going to be here," I said, "Come on, why not."

"Even if I wanted to, I haven't danced in years," Natasha said, "I could never actually make it in again."

I got an idea, "Well why don't we see?"

"What do you mean by that?" Natasha asked, confusion clouding her face.

"Come on," I said, "Dance with me."

Natasha laughed, "I can find so much wrong with that plan."

"And what exactly is that?" I asked, putting my hands on my hip.

"There's no music!" Natasha said.

"Oh come on, you are a girl, you have watched enough romance movies to know how stupid an argument that is. Cliche even!" I said, laughing.

"Fine, Natasha laughed, "I highly doubt your the right partner. You'd never keep up!"

"I think you'd be amazed at how nimble an ex-carnie is," I pointed out.

"I hardly have the right shoes," Natasha said. I looked down at her black boots. She was right, hardly ballet slippers.

"Give them a try," I said, "Come on, what do you have to loose from dancing with me."

Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine."

She took a deep breath, "So what do you know about ballet."

"What is the Russian word for diddly squat?" I asked. Natasha laughed.

"Okay, so first thing you should know is everything you do in ballet is on your toes," Natasha said. She started bending her toes, so she got taller. She grabbed the railing, getting up on top of her toes, much to my amazement. She whispered something in amazement in Russian to herself. "Your turn," she told me, not letting go of the railing.

I stood on my tippy-toes, not hardly as awesome as she could. She laughed. It felt good to hear her laugh.

"Well I suppose we all start somewhere," she said.

"Should I try a twirl?" I asked, doing a stupid twirl and almsot falling over the railing. She laughed again. "Your turn," I told her.

She rolled her eyes, then twirled, going around three times, then getting wobbly and falling over.

"I knew these wern't the right shoes," she muttered to herself.

"Yeah, that sucked," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. She punched me in the arm.

"Just try dancing. I'm really a lost cause," I told Natasha.

"There's no music," she protested a second time.

So I started humming, hitting my hand to the beat on the railing. I hummed Livin' On A Preyer by Bon Jovi. She laughed, but danced anyway. She twirled and spun, contorting her body into amazing position. All the while laughing at herself and smiling. At one point I caught her hand, and started dancing with her, doing everything I could to impress herI lifted her up, preying I didn't drop her, while she added the elegance.

A moment later, the song I was humming ended, and Natasha just stood there, looking into my eyes.

"I said 5 minutes, Barton," a voice said behind us, although it sounded so much more distant. I blushed and let go of Natasha's waist.

"Sorry sir," I said, "Romanov here was just displaying a bit of vulnerability."

"She wasn't the only one," Fury said. Natasha and I followed him back to the room. Right before we turned into the room, Natasha kissed me on the cheek, much to my surprise.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she walked in the room.