The Archer & The Spy (Clintasha fan fiction)

Pulled a lone ranger

"Nat? Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Yeah. I could have died of blood loss." I replied. "Do you trust me?"

"Hell yes. I'd be dead by know if it weren't for you." He chuckled. I laughed.

"You know you're, like, the first person to trust me?" I laughed.

"Yep. No one trusts you. I get to be the first." He smiled.

"Yeah." I nodded. The bushes farthest for us crackled and I jumped up. They rustled but nothing came out. I jumped into a tree and started climbing. Clint did the same. I pulled out my pistols and held them close by. He was pirched beside me with his bow drawn. Three men came into view. An arrow pierced one's chest. I shot the others. I didn't realize I held my breathe the whole time. I took a deep breathe and looked at Clint. He was looking at me.

"You're good. Fast reflexes." I had to give it to him, he waisted no time.

"Yep. You too." He chuckled.

"This fits you Birdie." I laughed.

"Haha." He rolled his eyes and climbed a ways down the tree before jumping off. He straightened his posture and looked up at me with a grin. I climbed down some and jumped down the rest, landing lightly on my feet. I stepped over the guys' bodies. "We need to hide them. If they know we're here, it'll be harder on us." Clint said. I dug through my bag and took out a pair of gloves. I started to drag one away as he took an arrow out of the guy's chest. "Girly girl." Clint muttered with a smile.

"I'd rather them not have my fingerprints." I grinned. "And there's no telling what kind of diseases these people have."

"Ya know if Russia decides to ditch you, they can give your prints to them." He laughed.

"Russia doesn't have my prints. They have nothing on me. They put me here, thinking I'd be killed. Before I left, I hacked into their shit and deleted my profile. Even if the mafia wants me and went to Russia, they wouldn't have anything. The mafia is the toughest in Europe. Anyone who got in there way would be killed." I explained.

"Just like with you?" Clint asked.

"Yeah." I mumbled. "I basically exist according to S.H.I.E.L.D. Russians think I'm dead, which is good because once I'm done with this shit, if I make it out alive, I'm pulling a 'Lone Ranger' type thing. They're rough with people." I stared blankly at the ground. Shivers went through my body as I remembered how I was 'trained' in Russia.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Clint was soft. I didn't shift my eyes from the ground. He put a hand on mine. I flinched back to reality and moved.