Natasha Romanoff One Shots

"You're dead, Barton!"

Running down the halls of SHIELD, Natasha finally had that little voice in her head say, you know, this was a really bad idea. Of course, she hadn't realised that going to the mess hall with Clint Barton and his nerdy friends was going to end up like this. And besides which, it was Jemma Simmons's fault. If she hadn't said, "Are you really as good as everyone says you are?" she wouldn't be running like an idiot through the halls.

Barton was right behind her, an almost predatory grin on his face as he poured on speed. Swiftly so he wouldn't notice, Natasha trickled soap on the floor. She didn't have time to savour the surprised look on his face as he yelped and nearly fell on his face. Growling, Clint ran faster than he'd ever ran before, determined to beat her. She hadn't slowed though, meaning he couldn't catch her up completely.

Nick Fury, being the annoying bastard he was, put a stop to it just before they could round the bend and finish. Only Natasha cheated and carried on running, ducking under Fury's arm and crossing the line. Clint stared at her in surprise and a little bit of annoyance.

"What were you two doing?" Fury demanded.

"Running. What did it look like, dancing?" Natasha answered.

To Clint's bigger dismay, instead of snapping at her, Fury actually chuckled.

"I like this one," he told Clint. "She's got spirit."

"Unfair," Clint mumbled.

Natasha just smirked at him. "You wanna have a go?" She gestured to the sparring mats.

Clint grinned. "You bet."

"Twenty bucks Romanoff will win!" Simmons yelled.

Clint glared at her. "I'm very offended."

Simmons grinned. "I should hope so."

The next time Fury went into the training room he found a crowd of SHIELD agents clustered around the second sparring mat. He pushed his way to the front and found Natasha trapped under Clint.

"Concede, dammit!" Clint yelled.

"Never!" Natasha said.

Clint looked insanely happy with himself. Natasha bucked in a last attempt to get him off but that did nothing to help her current situation.

"How did Barton win?" Fury asked Maria Hill.

"I've no clue. But it looked like they were arguing and then she punched him and he tackled her," Hill replied.

"Do you think we should break it up?" Fury asked.

"No-" Maria's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God."

Fury looked up just in time to see Natasha pull away from the kiss that allowed her to slip free of Clint.

"I can't believe she just did that," Hill said quietly, voicing everyone's thought.

"Why not? She wanted to get away. Barton wouldn't let her up. She couldn't see any other way and she wasn't going to concede. What's so hard to believe about it?" Fury said. "It was just a kiss, and one without any meaning behind it either."

"Don't worry, Nick. You've never been any good at dealing with relationships," Maria grinned.

There was a loud smack that made them both look instantly to the mat. Natasha was jumping back from Clint, an angry red mark the shape of Clint's fist on her shoulder. She blew her hair out of her face and ducked his punches and jumped his leg all in one smooth move. Flipping over backwards, Natasha swung out at Clint's midsection with her foot, only for it to be caught. Using her momentum, Natasha allowed herself to be swung around by Clint.

He let go of her and she rolled over backwards into a crouch. Grinning like a feral animal Natasha launched herself at him, rolling on the ground until Clint gained the upper hand and pinned her underneath him.

They were both breathing heavily, sweat dripping down their foreheads. Clint took a deep breath and smirked at her.

"Admit defeat or I'll..." he trailed off, unsure.

"You'll what?" Natasha laughed.

"I'll tickle you," he said triumphantly.

Natasha snorted. "I'm not ticklish."

"I don't know that," Clint stated, "And I'm sure these lovely people all want to see for themselves, rather than just take your word for it, especially after last time."

Natasha frowned. "That was one time, and how was I to know the food would give the majority of them food poisoning?"

"You should've. Medical was overrun."

"Good. That'll teach them," Natasha said.

She stiffened as Clint ran his fingers down her sides and he glanced up at her in amusement.

"Not ticklish," she managed as he pinched her hips, refusing to even slightly smile.

"Fine, okay," Clint said.

Natasha frowned as he stood up, offering her a hand up. She didn't take it, instead getting up on her own account. Clint left the room smiling happily so that when Coulson walked in he was momentarily stunned.

"Clint, wait up, I need to - what the hell are you smiling about?" Coulson asked.

"Oh nothing," Clint said.

Their voices faded out as they walked further and further away.

"What's wrong with him?" Natasha asked, looking at Fury.

"He's got a plan to either make you admit defeat or make you do something else. If I were you, Romanoff, I would run as far away as possible," Fury advised.

"No thanks," Natasha said thoughtfully, heading out of the gym. "Ugh. He needs to brush his teeth more often."

Fury snickered. "Your choice."

Over the next few days, Clint was nowhere to be found. Or at least, until Friday, when most people had the day off. Natasha stopped walking just as Clint dropped down from the vents in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at him and tried to walk around him. Key word being tried. Clint wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her towards the training room.

Natasha smirked at him. "You wanna fight?"

"Something like that, yes," Clint answered.

She looked at him warily, remembered the other day and stopped dead in the middle of the room. Clint grinned devilishly at her. She back away but her back hit the metal wall. Clint pounced and from then on no one went into the training room for the remainder of the day because of Natasha's cursing.

Clint dug his fingers under her knees and she jerked, kicking him in the face. Her shoes lay forgotten in the opposite corner although there was a mark on the side of Clint's face that looked suspiciously like the bottom of a sneaker. Clint trailed his hands up her sides, earning a yell and a lot of squirming. He tickled her ribs and then, deciding it would be worth it in the long run, blew a raspberry on her stomach. Natasha shrieked and screamed curses but she couldn't get free. Only when Clint stood up and ran as fast as his legs could take him did she stand up.

"You're dead, Barton," she yelled after him and he kept on running.