protected || natasha romanoff [DISCONTINUED]

that's what she said

"i hate dressing up," barton mutters, pulling at his collar.

i adjust my necklace. according to carter, it has a tracker in it. and i don't doubt it- she's not going to risk anything on this. there shouldn't be any other HYDRA agents at this party, so all i have to do is find my target, and i'm sure he'll take it from there.

"suck it up," i say, "it's better than roughing it."

"not really," he sighs, and we separate before any other partygoers can see us together. his comm is disguised as a hearing aid, and his hearing aid looks like a comm.

don't let him see you, i want to say, but it's obvious. i climb up the steps carefully- i can run in heels, but it doesn't mean i like it. a guard standing at the front door smiles at me. "name?"

"lewis, isabelle lewis," i say smoothly.

he checks his list, and then nods, letting me in. i smile at him and head straight for the bar, ordering a vodka. i perch on one of the bar stools, sipping my drink, scanning the crowd. as i expected, langhorst sits next to me.

"loosen up a little, will you?" he jokes.

i take another sip, smirking. "this is your stupid fault."

he rolls his eyes. "they didn't trust you, and they never would everyone knows you're a monster, especially now." i try not to choke on my drink.

"so what do you want?" i ask, getting tired of the small talk.

"there's an agent here, watching you," he says, avoiding the question, "the one with you before."

"i know. how careless do you think i am?"

he puts one hand on my thigh. "hopefully not too careless to finish what we started."

i put my hand over his, scanning the crowd one more time. "not here."

he pulls away reluctantly. "i've still got those files."

i hide my panic, taking another sip of my drink. "after. not now," i say, staring straight ahead.

"fine," he says bitterly. "i'll be waiting."

i nod, still not looking at him. he moves away and sigh.

"natasha, you can't go with him," clint says in my ear. for a second, i'm scared he overhead the conversation, but he's observant.

"i don't have a choice," i murmur, standing up as well. i need to blend into the crowd- i look suspicious. "meet me somewhere. i have too many knives on me."

barton doesn't reply, but i catch him walking towards a washroom. since this is someone's house, i just lock the door behind me when i follow him in. i don't look him in the eye, i just start taking my weapons off me. "he'll expect me to have weapons on me, but not this many."

"you're wearing a skintight black dress, how many-" he shuts up when i take off my heels, pull out the soles, and take out the knives hidden in them. i take another out of a hidden pocket in my clutch, and unstrap another from my thigh.

he takes them from me without saying anything. "don't worry, i'm still armed," i mutter. "don't tail me."

i stalk back out of the room, blending into the crowd easily. i know he will, but hopefully he'll stay out of my way.

i follow langhorst to his car after the party. we both sit in the back, and his driver forces his way into the late night traffic. but my target wastes no time. langhorst puts his lips onto mine, and after a moment of hesitation, i kiss him back.

"natasha," clint hisses in my ear, "get out of there. you don't have to do this."

i ignore him and deepen the kiss just to make him mad. he's probably bugged the car, or he can see through tinted windows. neither idea is reassuring. i wrap my arms around langhorst as the car swerves. in one smooth movement, he's holding a pocketknife to my neck.

clint smashes through the window, and i glare at him. "i'm going to kill you," i snarl, elbowing langhorst in the face. he drops the knife to hold his hands to his body nose, and i elbow him again in the confined space. i push the car door open and shove langhorst onto the road, hoping barton's got the driver. i shove him against the wall of the nearest building, pulling out his phone. what an idiot. i guess he wanted leverage, though. i fish the poison out of his mouth before he can kill himself.

"agent romanoff, stand down," carter says in my comm.

i take a step back, taking a deep breath. i pocket his phone, letting two other agents take him away. barton must've called for backup. speaking of barton, he jogs up to me, a lopsided smile on his face.

i turn away from him. i'm pissed. he screwed me over. i was about to get intel from langhorst, until clint came in and ruined it.

"natasha!" he calls, his feet slapping on the cement.

i spin around, glaring at him. hopefully into his soul. and i guess it worked, because he steps back. "i- what's wrong?"

"you fucked up my mission!" i snap. "i had him right where i wanted him!"

"did you? because from what i saw, he was about to make a move on you!" he yells.

i stop for a second, taken aback. clint has never gotten mad at me before. not when i ran away, not all the times i betrayed him... but now. when he thought i was putting myself in danger. "that's my job," i finally mutter.

"do you like sleeping around?" he asks. "i get it if you do, but-"

i choke back a sob. "fuck off," i gasp. it feels like he stabbed me in the stomach. and then twisted the blade around.

i turn around again, and fortunately nobody stops me as i walk quickly down the sidewalk. do i like fucking strangers? i guess not. i've never had a choice. people always let little things slip if you know how to apply the right pressure. but i suppose being good at something doesn't mean enjoying something. so i don't know.

but everyone was right. i am a monster. i just pushed away my only- friend. i guess that's what clint was.

i cross my arms and keep walking. i leave the tracker on, though- i have a lot of enemies, and, okay, i kind of like clint. kind of. i would be fine with him saving me. but i can save myself.

"agent romanoff," carter says, sounding official.

"yes, ma'am?" i need a shower. i can still feel his hand on my thigh. it feels like there's a layer of dirt that i need to scrub off.

"i just wanted to say that tonight was a success," she says crisply. she's not good at small talk, i guess. but neither am i. "so congratulations, you're an agent again."

"thank you," i say, "i'm going to-"

"yes, of course," she says, stepping out of my way. a streetlight catches a grey hair. she hides her age well.