My Weakness

Clint and Natasha did not hold titles more superior than any other agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. They held a high level clearance, but that technically did not make them superiors or authority figures. However, it was widely known and accepted as fact that they held positions of authority amongst their peers. Both were very successful field agents and when you scored any and all aptitude or skill test S.H.I.E.L.D. offered, either Clint or Natasha was at the top. Besides that, both Clint and Natasha had the director and Coulson call on them personally and frequently to handle delicate situations or oversee projects, despite being just a 'regular' agent. Their reputations as master assassins were legendary, not only in the agency but in the entire intelligence community. So it was unspoken but accepted that while they held the same title as everyone else, they held more clout.

But, without fail, in every inducted class, there would be one or two men who thought they could have a good time with Natasha. They felt that since they had just landed a job as agents for the most powerful security and intelligence agency in the world, and here was this breathtakingly beautiful woman, that surely she must have slept her way into the position. Or that she was only there as a sexy decoy...or worst of all, as a plaything for agents. Most of the time, these men had no idea who she was at first because they had only ever heard whispers of the Black Widow; they'd certainly never seen her. There were lots of female agents, and quite a lot of them had dark hair and eyes. Nobody really expected the Black Widow to be a redhead. So when they finally did see her, she was just another pretty face they could dismiss as inferior in strength and ability.

Natasha generally assumed that this was the case and coldly corrected the assholes, sometimes with a little force if they got handsy. She rarely told them who she actually was - let someone else embarrass them with that knowledge later - but she'd do her part for feminism and take the pricks who belittled her (and female agents in general) as inferior down a few pegs. She always hoped they learned their lesson; but deep down she knew that they didn't. So few people actually learned from their mistakes.

Clint had gone to New Mexico in a hurry with Coulson to help monitor some satellite that had fallen out of the sky but no one could get off the ground. Natasha was intrigued and wished she could have gone along, but she was here with Fury, researching an old super soldier from the 40's. Plane wreckage had been spotted in Norway, and Fury believed it may contain the body of Captain America, the first superhero. Natasha was to familiarize herself with him. Not a strenuous task, but she was finding it interesting. The story of World War II was very different when told from an American perspective instead of the Russian point of view she had studied as a child. It was interesting to her how the basic facts were the same: dates, generals, casualties, and even the battle strategies, but the way they were spun and explained made it very, very different. The differences were usually incredibly subtle, but effective. As an interrogator, she was impressed and took mental notes. The story of Captain America himself was interesting; he had also been enhanced, although his enhancements and the changes to his body had been much more dramatic than hers. Very few people knew about hers, the world knew about his. He also seemed to be quite the hero, fighting for good wherever he went. She wondered if the reports she was reading could possibly be entirely accurate, or if they were skewed by the admiration of an excited fanboy. All in all, it was a fascinating assignment, but she wasn't overly thrilled with having a desk job and worried about her skill set that she so highly prized atrophying. So she spent every spare moment Clint was gone working out.

On the fifth day Clint was gone, Natasha was in the sparring gym working out alone when two freshly minted agents came in. She was busy practicing some acrobatic kicks with the dummy, but looked them over, assessing them and their threat potential out of habit. She recognized their faces and knew them as White and Wilcox, but didn't know much about them. They had a swagger, though, that Natasha never associated with good things.

Both of them were dressed in civilian clothes, as if they were just coming in from being on duty. They went to the locker rooms, looking around to see who was in there and what equipment was available for use. They spotted her from across the gym near the entrance to the men's locker rooms, and one of them - the one she knew as Wilcox - smiled unpleasantly. She felt her shoulders tighten, but made no move that she had noticed them. Wilcox said something out of earshot to White, they smiled at each other and then both leered at her. She punched the dummy again and landed a roundhouse kick, hoping it would be a deterrent. Wilcox’s eyes widened a bit and they dropped their bags, starting across the gym, smiling in a predatory way.

”Well, well. Lookie what we have here. If it isn't the Black Widow."

Natasha kept punching and kicking, ignoring them. They weren’t close enough to attack, and really hadn’t said anything to provoke an attack anyway. They were agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. after all, and she’d better have a damned good reason before she kicked one or both of their asses.

“What are you doing down here, sweetheart? Shouldn’t you be doing pilates or something?” Wilcox snickered at White's shitty joke.

She didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t do pilates, and don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Oh, come on, pretty little thing like you. Surely you need someone to treat you nice and call you sweet names?” White leered at her, Wilcox just stood behind, watching with a stupid but malicious smile on his face.

Natasha was still punishing the dummy. “I don’t need shit from a dick like you. Fuck off.”

“Well now, that’s not nice. Especially coming from you. I heard they’d started putting you in as a pussy plant just to get intel because you couldn’t pull the trigger anymore. You got soft.”

Maria Hill stepped back behind the door to listen as Natasha landed a particularly hard right hook to the dummy.

"Whoo, there, look at that!," White exclaimed in mock admiration, turning to Wilcox. "This little girl can throw a punch." He turned back to Natasha and tipped his chin up. "Tell me, sugar, if you're such a good fighter, why've they got you on desk duty? Is it because your go-to guy ain’t here to stick up for you?”

Natasha fought the temptation to jump on him and answered through gritted teeth. "Leave me alone. I don't want to hurt you."

Maria heard Natasha's tone and widened her stance, ready to jump in to the impending fight and intervene.

Wilcox laughed. "Damn, but you're cute when you're angry. Fiery little redhead. No wonder Barton doesn’t share you. What I wouldn't - "

He didn't get to finish. Natasha sprinted the distance between them and jumped, spreading her legs and kicking both of them in the abdomen simultaneously. She stood up and kicked Wilcox behind the head, knocking him to the ground then grabbed White's wrist, flipping him to his back and putting one foot on his throat.

"What's that you want to do to me, asshole? Think hard before you answer."

"Romanov, stand down."

Hill stepped in from around the door and Natasha stepped back immediately. "White, Wilcox, come with me. Romanov, as you were." Hill stood in the doorway glaring while Wilcox and White rolled on the floor, trying to get their wind back, Wilcox clutching his throat neck and White rubbing his wrist. At length, they stumbled out, still holding thier abdomen but following Hill obediently. Natasha waited until they were gone then took a deep breath. Shit. Fucking assholes. The jabs about Clint had gotten to her, but the implication didn’t escape her. People suspected. Shit.

Hill walked the two red-faced, huffing and fuming men to Fury's office, alerting him to her impending arrival via comm on the way, led them in and closed the door. She explained to Fury: "I overheard these men taunting and sexually harassing Agent Romanov. She warned them to leave her alone and they did not. At length, she physically retaliated. I intervened and brought them in here."

Fury looked the men over. "Sexual harassment I understand, but taunting her about what?"

Hill looked slightly uncomfortable before she answered. “The shift in the manner of assignments in the field and her partnership with Agent Barton."

Fury looked back at White and Wilcox. "I see. Were her actions warranted?”

“I would have hit them a lot sooner, sir. They called her a 'pussy plant.'”

“Thank you, Agent Hill."

Hill left the room, not sparing a glance at the two men.

Fury sat quietly for a couple of minutes. "Had it been me, I would have let her beat you two mysoginistic wiseasses and have your punishment be the knowledge that the woman shamed you. But I can't do that. I also can't let you get off with no punishment, because you just committed a serious offense. Sexual harrassment is a big fucking deal, gentlemen.”

"Sir, she assaulted us!"

"She responded to your harassment after giving you a warning to stop. Romanov is one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has, with a well-deserved global reputation. It would do you well to remember that. I will speak to her about her conflict resolution techniques, but she will not be punished. You two, however, are suspended for ten days without pay and on probation for ninety days. During that ninety days you’re on desk duty. And you best hope that's all that happens to you. You're dismissed."

The two men left his office nursing their injuries, wondering what Fury had meant by that last bit.

~*~

Clint had been sent to New Mexico to stand guard over some satellite he later discovered was a hammer. He had mixed feelings over these new assignments he was being given: on one hand, the hours were better, he didn't have anything weighing on his conscience at the end of the day (he had been surprised when he found out he still had one) and it was almost a foregone conclusion that he was going to be returning to Nat safely. On the other hand, he missed the thrill and excitement that had come along with being an assassin and spy in the field, and so many years of working alone made him not so much of a team player. He tended to go his own route and eat alone at lunch. Which was fine, he was a loner by nature, but still. The new assignments went against the grain a little.

He knew he was being groomed for the Avengers, but he didn't know how guarding a hammer that fell in New Mexico factored in. He could get how learning to be a team player did, though, so he tried for Coulson’s sake, who really seemed invested in the Avengers Initiative. He tried to shoot the shit with the other agents, about half of whom were local to the area, about sports and women and cars and whatever the hell else regular guys who didn't usually kill for a living talked about.

He went to the bar with them occasionally to watch them pick up women, but it just made him miss Natasha. They shoved women in his direction and he would make polite, awkward small talk. He never bought them drinks, he didn't ask them to dance and he didn’t ask them questions about themselves, he just hoped they got the message. Most of them didn't until he went silent. The guys kept sending hotter and hotter women who he was told were easy and fun, but none were Natasha. He kept shooting the women down, more and more firmly. The other guys thought he was nuts. It never occurred to any of them that he might already have a girl. He didn't tell them he did: He and Nat still had to keep work and play separate, and he'd rather not have to make up an elaborate lie about some blonde accountant. Nat would understand, but he didn't want to do that to her, not when staying silent wouldn't hurt her at all. So he just kept his mouth shut and let them think he was shy around women. He'd rather shoot pool and drink a beer or some whiskey anyway.

The New Mexico operation had been thrown up in less than a day, so even the solid buildings weren't that solid. Most were tents over scaffolding in a maze of hallways. This would have been great in the summer, but it was late winter and walls would have been nice, particularly at night in the desert. Clint was walking through one such hallway when he overheard part of a conversation that brought him up short.

"That's what I heard, too. The Widow just went off on him."

"What did he say that tipped the scale and brought down the wrath?"

"I dunno exactly. I know he called her something like baby or sugar or sweetheart, and that pissed her off pretty bad." Clint tensed. Nat was not a big fan of pet names, and only he was allowed to call her 'sweetheart'. He could imagine that might have set her off. "But the first thing I heard was that she went batshit when he said something about being nice because of her man not being around to protect her."

"The Hawk?"

"Who else? They've been fucking for years, everybody knows."

Oh fuck, Clint thought.

"And I tell you what, too. It hasn't done Hawkeye any favors. He's gone soft. He used to be this big bad assassin, now he's out here guarding a fucking hammer. He ain't sniping anymore...lost his balls. Gave 'em to the Widow, I suppose.”

Clint balled up his fists, fighting the urge to fly through the wall and tear him apart. There was a slit in the plastic. It would be so easy… But he was trying to be a team player. He owed it to Coulson.

“That’s how she got to the top of the heap, I’d bet. Fucked her way up the ladder. Most women do. She got with Barton, got all serious, quit putting out and they put her on desk duty. Shit, I bet that’s how she got into S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place. It’s a shame about Barton, though. He used to be damned good.”

Clint threw open the plastic and stepped through, enjoying the look on the men's faces when they recognized him. "Hey there, fellas. I hear I'm a pussy now?"

They stammered. Clint determined by their voices which had been the shit-talker, walked over and punched him in the nose, breaking it. He spun around, elbowing the other man in the face, catching him in the mouth and busting his lip. Clint looked down at the bleeding men. "How's that for soft, fuckers?"

Clint turned his head back and forth between the two men. “What else do you have to say, assholes? Come on. I’m real interested to hear it.”

The man with the busted lip raised his hands, getting to his feet slowly. ”Hey, Barton, I didn't mean-"

Clint pointed a menacing finger at him. "You keep your goddamn mouth shut about my partner." He nodded. "You'd better be damned glad I'm the one who heard you two and not her."

The other man spoke up, yelling through his hands. "I'll have your fucking job for this, Hawkeye!”

Clint looked at him coldly. "You be sure and tell Coulson or Fury why you got the shit knocked out of you when you run and tattle. See how that works out for you." Clint grabbed him and picked him up by the shirtfront. "But I'm warning you. If I ever hear of you saying she fucked her way to the top or that I've gone soft again, one or the other of us will show you exactly how we actually made it to the top of the heap. Got it?"

Clint threw him to the ground and walked away.

~*~

Clint sought out a quiet spot in the desert that night. He wanted to call Natasha and check on her after hearing she was in a fight, although he knew she would be okay. He wanted to hear her voice, although it had only two days. But more than anything, he wanted to see how she was after being talked to the way she had, and about him. He pressed her contact and her number dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, you. How’s New Mexico?”

“The desert is gorgeous. We should come out here sometime. The project is boring and interesting at the same time. Turns out the sattelite is a bigass hammer, and nobody can lift it. It’s just kind of stuck to the ground. Nothing we’ve tried has worked. It’s really odd.”

“Sounds like Mjolnir.”

“Huh?”

“Thor’s hammer? You know, Thor?”

“Thor? As in god of thunder Thor?”

“Yes. His hammer was gifted to him by his father, Odin. It was imbibed with special magic, and only he could lift it. It could control the weather, calling down rain and wind and especially thunder and lightning. It also allowed him to fly.”

Clint was impressed. “How do you know all of this stuff?”

“I like to read.”

He smiled. “Well, this one guy snuck into the compound to try to get it. He couldn’t, but it rained like hell while he was trying.”

He heard the smile in her voice. “Sounds like maybe you had a dude with a god complex on your hands.”

He chuckled. “Maybe so.”

“So what else is going on?”

He took a deep breath. “Well, I kicked the shit out of couple of guys this afternoon.”

She sighed. “How funny. I did that same thing this morning.”

“So I heard. I know this may sound like a dumb question, but, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Not happy, a little shaken, but okay. Are you?”

“The same. What happened?”

“I was working out, minding my own business. They came in talking a bunch of shit, calling me sweetheart, being sexist pigs. I told them to stop at least twice before I jumped them.”

“What happened to them?”

“Agent Hill stepped in before I could work up a head of steam.”

"Did you get chewed for it?"

"No, she took them off and I heard they got suspended. Nothing was said to me."

“Good. Is all that they said?”

She hesitated. “Why?”

“I heard it was more than them just talking shit about you being a woman.”

“What did you hear?”

“I heard that I got thrown into the mix.”

She sat silent for a few beats. “You did.”

“How?”

“They asked me if I was pushing pencils because my man wasn’t around to protect me. Then they said something about they totally got why Barton wasn’t willing to share me.”

Clint swore.

“Why? What did you hear?”

Clint thought quickly. The absolute truth would infuriate and hurt her, more than she already was. It would also humiliate her beyond words. He wasn’t willing to do that. “The same, more or less.”

“You sure?”

Don’t lie to her, Clint. Don’t lie. “There was some added speculation, but yeah.” There. That was honest. But please don't ask anything else, Nat. Please.

She sighed. “So does everyone pretty much know we’re together?”

“I think people speculate that we are, but nobody knows but Coulson and Fury know for sure.”

“You don't think?”

“I really don't. I think some people who are around us a whole lot speculate, but they have nothing solid to go on. Just a hunch. And it's not their business anyway. Most of the guys out here seem to have no idea I’m seeing you when we go out to the bar or shoot the shit about women. They seem to think I’m single.”

“There’s a difference in the way you talk to a guy when he’s single and when he’s with someone?” She sounded amused.

“Yes.” Like they send easy pussy over to you at the bar and are mystified when you turn it down. But then, he supposed, some guys would be mystified if a married guy turned down easy pussy, too.

She made a little snort sound, and he knew she was rolling her eyes. God, he loved this woman.

“So when are you coming home?”

“I don’t know. I'm hoping it won’t be too long, but if it’s much longer than four days or so I’m going to take a couple of days and fly back.”

“Sounds good.”

“I gotta go, I gotta get back inside soon but I wanted to call.”

“Okay, I’m so glad you did. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, sweetheart. Talk soon.”

He hung up the phone and laid back, realizing suddenly that he hadn't looked up at the stars in many years. He picked out Jupiter and Mars, Sagittarius and both dippers. A shooting star scratched it's way across the night and he made a wish, like a child.