Natasha lifted her fork, heavy with a chunk of warm apple pie. She usually didn't indulge in sweets but she didn't want to disappoint Clint, who at the moment was savoring a piece of blueberry. He hummed in his throat whenever he swallowed and Nat found it endearing. The small bakery they sat at was a popular spot for couples seeking a sweet treat at night.
"Do you like it?" He asked.
"Yes, it's delicious." She smiled.
"So, err, are you from Russia?" He asked.
"I moved here when I was a teenager." She replied, taking another bite. She admonished herself for being so cryptic, she wanted to know Clint, and vice versa. "My Father is Dmitri Romanoff." She admitted, looking away.
"You're kidding me." He put down his fork and laughed. "Why are you working in a restaurant?"
"I don't have many friends, and I can't study forever." She shrugged.
"Oh, you go to school too?" He asked.
"Yah, I'm following in the steps of my Father."
"Lawyer then, that's very prestigious." He laughed and Nat noticed a crumb below his lips.
"You have a little-," She reached over with her thumb and wiped at the corner of his mouth. He reached up as well and his fingertips brushed the top of her hand. A shiver ran down her spine. "Sorry." She tried to pull away but he held her hand put and laughed as he slid his tongue to collect the bits of pie.
"Sorry." He let her go with a grin.
"What are you studying?" She asked, trying to distract him from her vicious blush.
"Don't laugh at me, but I want to be an actor."
"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yah, I mean I've been an extra in a few important shows, but I want a real role."
"Why would I laugh at that?" She asked.
"I don't know, it's not a very realistic job is it? I mean Darcy always says I need to be more ruthless when-." He cut himself off at the mention of her name.
"Have you been friends with her for a long time?" Natasha inquired.
"Well, since I started working two years ago. She's an easy person to be friends with. So, what's it like having a famous father?" He asked, laying his hands on his thighs. Natasha was briefly distracted.
"Nothing special, he isn't the most caring father, but he always pushed me to succeed."
"Tough childhood?" Clint asked.
"I spent most of my time at boarding school then later at an academy downtown. Not much parental interaction." She shrugged and Clint frowned. "What about you, any family?"
"Yes," He grinned, "My mom and Dad live in Cardiff with my two little brothers and I have one older and one younger sister."
"Big family." Nat remarked and Clint's mouth softened.
"Yah, they're all great."
Natasha was distracted by a rumbling in her pocket. She looked down to see a message from her brother. She read it quickly and stood up abruptly. "Sorry," she grabbed her coat. "Emergency, I have to go."
"Oh well, I hope it's nothing bad." He stood as well, his brow furrowed.
"My brother is just having problems. It's nothing bad, I'm sure. I had a great time." She smiled and the two left together. In the parking lot they said their goodbyes, Clint pulled her into a hug and she settled into his warm arms before getting into her own car and leaving. Her brother had been found on the banks of the Thames, two bullets in his shoulder, passed out.
She pulled up to the hospital a few minutes later, parking in the expansive garage. He had really done it this time. The nurse at the front directed her to floor 5. Not urgent care, that was good. Room 234 was void of flowers and empty except the young red-haired man that laid on the hospital bed.
"Anton," Natasha called to him from the doorway. His head turned and smiled brilliantly at her before greeting her in Russian. "Dad making you do his dirty work again?"
"No, this wasn't a Dad job." Anton explained. "I got hired by the government this time, not at all as clean an operation as I had expected from the British."
"Crime syndicate, Drug dealers, or terrorist plot?" Nat joked, moving to sit beside Anton.
"Nuclear launch codes." He chuckled dryly.
"Can't talk about it?" Now she was intrigued.
"Classified information, Ms. Romanoff."
"Too classified for me, Mr. Romanoff?"
"Definitely too classified." He closed his eyes and laid back.
"You're really gonna do this?" Nat's eyes narrowed. "I was trained on how to bring people to the brink of death through torture."
"Ok Dad." He rolled his eyes. "I'm shot Natasha, bullets entered my body, have some sympathy."
"Let me see." She moved closer to his bandages. He had been sown up in two small circles an inch apart. "What did the doctors say?"
"Minor tissue damage, bullet grazed the joint, no important veins abused. Four weeks bed rest."
"Was the mission completed?"
"I'd like to think so. I had a partner, some British guy. Barton something. Wonder if he's ok. Natasha?"
She had frozen, eyes wide. "Barton? Brown hair, average height?"
"Yah, wait, do you know him?" He tilted his head.
"I thought I did."