Clintasha- The beginning

The bar

Okay important please read this first: the story is still in Natshas Pov but some parts are Clints Pov they are written like this and if he says something in those parts it is always in his thoughts so Natasha can't hear it. I hope I didn't confuse you with that.
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When I come back I can see Barton ng on a black shirt his dirty blonde hair sticking away from his head still wet from the shower. He grabs a black leather jacket and turns to me.

Okay. he admits to himself maybe he could have pulled his shirt on while still in the locker room but hey why waste a chance? The only thing he generally had to impress women was his body. At least he never managed to impress one by firing an arrow trough a wedding ring while dangling upside down from a trapeze. Plus he was sure she wasn’t interested and he was neither so it didn’t really matter at all.

“He seems to really like black.” I think before he gestures towards the door. Can’t blame him for that I like black, too. Its discreet and good for cover.
“Let’s go.” With that he is on the move. I swiftly fall in next to him as we walk to the garage in silence. When we enter the room full of vehicles he directly makes his way to a black Ducati with a purple arrow-like emblem painted on the tank.
I am sure I’ve already seen that symbol on his uniform. Arrow, Archer. Makes sense.

He chose the Ducati because she actually belonged to him not the agency and he didn’t want to take one of the S.H.I.E.L.D SUVs. They were to recognisable. And to be honest he just loved that thing. He had Fitz make it able to fly after he bought it. Coulson knew but didn’t intervene. That bastard had a flying car on S.H.I.E.L.D.s payment so he better be damn quiet about it!

He throws me a helmet  (which is also black) and takes one himself while slipping a pair of purple tinted shades onto his face.  I get on after him and we speed out into the night. He drives quick but not reckless. Probably because I am here but I can still tell that he’s a good driver. After about 10 minutes he stops in front of a bar that looks like nobody would actually care who came here.

He drove them to his preferred Bar in walk distance of his apartment. He knew the bartender. The place was save.

Perfect no curious eyes. “Good choice Barton.” I think while handing him the helmet.
Despite my earlier thoughts of this place I am a little surprised that nobody even lifts his head when we enter. They don’t really seem to care at all. Not that it would bother me. I don’t like attention from others.
We move to a small table in the very back where we can oversee the whole room but other people can’t directly see us when they come in. “I’ll get us something.” He says “What would you like to drink Romanoff?” I smirk its the first time he addresses me directly with my name. “regular beer please” I respond trying to be nice since he’s buying.
Barton returns shortly after, setting a beer next to me and a coke in front of him. I raise an eyebrow at his choice. No alcohol? “I don’t drink very often.” He simply stated taking a sip from his coke. “Besides I gotta drive.”

It wasn’t a direct lie but also not completely true. Sure he didn’t drink while other people where around but that doesn’t mean he didn’t drink at all. When he was alone in his apartment in Brooklyn on downtime he sometimes  drank himself into a coma like state for a few days. He was always sober on missions though and never let it last more than a week. But still he felt kind of guilty for that habit of his to drown the nightmares he had at night. He wouldn’t want the new girl to know. Nobody knew and it was going to stay that way. He snapped back into reality when she continued talking.

  “May I ask why?” I look at him. He shrugs “I don’t like the effect it has on people. You loose control.”

He said with a little to much casualty in his voice knowing she wouldn’t buy it. But it was true he did loose control and everyone else did, too. That’s what he was so afraid of. Being like his dad someday.
"Damn Barton. It’s been like 10 minutes and you already nearly told her your deepest darkest secret."

That sounds a lot like child abuse to me. Barton had probably been hit by his parents when they were drunk. “Your parents?” I ask. “None of your business.”