he was the one • winterwidow

⊱ five ⊰

- make you mine / public -

"You think we're going to be able to hear Clint's horrific singing from up here?" Sharon laughed, pulling at Nat's hand as they emerged onto the balcony to leave.

Their room was pretty high up from the pool area, near where the event was held at the bar.

"You mean his yelling?" Natalia matched her tone as she followed Sharon down the staircase.

It was nice to have another palm in her hands rather than a firearm. Nat would always chase the feeling it gave her when either of her friends grasped her hand, almost like electricity ran thick through her veins. It wasn't enough though. She wanted to hold someone close without it being looked down upon or borderline socially unacceptable to do such so randomly.

But that isn't who she was built to be.

At least the view put Nat off the pain in her chest as they walked the rest of the way to the bar.

Another blonde figure came staggering and running toward the pair as soon as they emerged through the threshold of the open glass doors.

"Wow, you guys aren't dressed to beat some ass. Should I be upset or surprised."

"Lucky, Barton, you should consider yourself lucky." Sharon nudged his shoulder.

Grin sinking into that frown that had become more apparent in the man the last few months, Clint shook his head. "I miss Lucky."

Out of the corner of her eye, Nat could've sworn she noticed Sharon grimace slightly, clearly distraught that she had reminded her best friend of one of the things she brought him here to forget about.

So she took the liberty of helping her out. "What song you singing tonight, Clint?"

"Well, you girls took far too long to get down here. Seriously. What takes you guys so long? Nevermind, erase, reboot- I don't wanna know. Anyways I decided to start with a little living la vida loca for some foreplay-"

"Never say foreplay again, please."
Nat winced.

"Okay, Okay. Come on." With that, Clint raced through the doors again and headed near the actual bar area where families were sat across the several circular tables spread along the room.

Before they caught up with him, Sharon sent Natasha a quick glance for her thanks. What Sharon forgets about Clint is that, once he's had a few drinks in his system, he's practically a goldfish.

Having gotten there way before anyone else had, the archer had picked out one of the best places to sit in the whole place. It was a table with actual good chairs, situated in perfect distance from the stage where it was clearly visible, yet also close enough to admire the hillside.

As the other two sat, Nat pressed her hand into Clint's shoulder and spoke over the classic 'holiday' music that pumped through the small speakers on each secluded corner of the walls.

"I'm gonna go get some drinks. What do you fuckers want?"

"Any purple cocktail. I'm not picky."

"Purple rain. Got it. You?" Nat nodded to the other agent on the table.

"Cosmopolitan."

Sharon slid over a bright gold small square piece of plastic from her coat pocket before Natasha could leave with their orders. "Don't forget the card!"

Nat lifted the card in the air to show her she had it secured in her palm before she headed to the bar.

It was only then that the words rang in her head.

"We have an American working here. Started a year or two ago, takes the night shift. You two may get along."

Too late to turn back now.

There was no queue to the bar. Most people who had got here already had ordered their drinks, or had gone to get dinner at the same time, as there was a drink selection in the restaurant.

On the other end of the counter, facing the opposite direction, was a man with short black hair and what seemed to be muscular arms underneath a long sleeve compression shirt washing up some glasses.

As if he sensed her presence, he turned around and met her gaze, sight lingering on her face for a few moments before ultimately walking over.

His eyes were a piercing black. Almost something that could intimidate her with his menacing stare.

It only intrigued her further, however.

"What can I get for you?" The Greek guy from yesterday really wasn't kidding about him being American.

His accent wasn't thick, but definitely distinctive with the many different ones around them.

"A purple rain, cosmopolitan, and a... margarita on the rocks." Nat placed the card on the surface as she spoke.

He smirked, picking up the suitable glasses as he did so. "Thirsty, huh?"

"Ha." She laughed dryly, avoiding his eyes once again.

"Tough crowd," He slid the first drink to her as he fixed the last two. "I see how it is."

"I'll give you another chance. If you're lucky enough."

He nodded, shaggy hair slightly falling on his forehead. It wasn't long but clearly not cared for enough that it was perfectly short. "Alright... American too, huh?"

"You bet. You're New York too, right?"

The bartender nodded, lips curving up slightly. "How could you tell?"

"I have my ways."

He placed the last two beverages on the counter and took her card to process the drinks.

"You work here every night?" Nat questioned, suddenly wanting more conversation to commence between them, as if the silence that fell on them dragged her down with it.

He gave her a simple nod. "'Course. I've had the night shift since I got here."

"I'll see you this time tomorrow night then. You best remember me." She winked, taking hold of the three glasses.

"Don't think I could forget a face like yours, Natalia."

She almost felt exposed, fists tightening as if ready to strike.

"How did you-"

He held up the card, gold colouring glimmering in the bar light.

"Ah," She placed a drink down to slide the plastic in her pocket before picking it back up, relief filling her. "Please. Call me Natasha."

"See you tomorrow then, Natasha."

"Guess you will. Maybe I'll get a name next time."

"Yeah," The bartender trailed off slightly, nodding a goodbye to her as he picked up the previous towel up once again. "Maybe you will."