Before I begin, I would just like to say that I just watched Avengers for the first time. A friend of mine finally sat me down and made me watch it. Pretty epic movie. I enjoyed it.

When he first saw her, he thought nothing of her. Well, he thought she was pretty... fit and he'd love to go hand-to-hand with her. The jeans she wore hugged every curve and made every man, at the bar, stare at her. Her shirt didn't help either. It hugged her about as tight as her jeans hugged her legs. Boy did Clint almost lose it when she stood up. He felt a bit juvenile for thinking it but all that he could think was, Damn. That ass! It wasn't like he had Natasha to worry about. She'd thrown him out and told him to stay far away from her. He took that as ... permission to hook up with some bar floozy. If he only knew what he was getting himself into.

She noticed him from the moment he walked in. She knew exactly who he was and most likely what he wanted. His eyes were glued to her, well her body, just like every other person in the room, who happened to have a y-chromosome. Paying for her drinks, she stood, knowing his eyes would fall to her ass, and left. He would be an idiot not to follow her; at the same time, he'd be a damn near fool to follow her. It was a lose-lose situation for Clint and she was loving it.

He knew nothing of the mysterious woman, yet Clint followed her. He'd set his eyes on her, now all that was left was to conquer her body. That's all he wanted. She looked strong, like she could handle herself. Why she picked a dark alley to wait for him in, he'll never know.

Standing in the dark alley, she waited for him to follow. Her back arched pushing the front of her body forward, she grew impatient waiting for Clint. Nearly giving up, he came into view. A smirk perched on his lips, he charged for her.

Slamming her against the wall, a hand placed behind her neck and the other having a tight grasp on her arm. She'd let out a soft laugh that tickled the back of her throat and caused Clint to become quiet confused.

"Who are you?" He growled.

She giggled, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She pushed forward, proving to Clint that she was strong than she looked, and pressed her body against his.

Not leaving an inch between them, she licked her lips and asked, "I know how the night ends, but what do you intend to do in the meantime... Mr. Barton?"

Clint pushed her off of him. This was no longer a game.

"How do you know who I am? Do I know you?"

She shook her head, "No, but I know you. I've been following you for a while now. I'm surprised that it took you this long to find me."

He raised an eyebrow, "How long have you been following me?"

"Since your redheaded girlfriend kicked you out..."

Clint had to admit, it stung to hear about Natasha. He hadn't seen her in weeks. He missed everything about her. Now this bitch would pay. He started slamming her into a wall. Wall after wall. Back and forth.

"You're going to have to do much better than that Barton. I'm highly trained and a little wall slamming isn't going to hurt me."

He grimaced, "But it's enough to do some damage."

She shook her head, "I'm afraid not."

Reaching around her back, she pulled out a small pistol and held it to her arm. Clint flinched when he heard the gun go off. His stomach turned a bit when he heard the giggles coming from the woman. Not a single sound of pain came from her. He looked down at her arm, expecting to see a wound. But there was nothing. Her arm was in perfect condition.

He began inspecting her arm, poking at it and pulling it close to his face. Trying to figure out how she'd done it. The gun was real, he'd heard it go off. It sounded a bit muffled, that was how he knew she'd kept it pressed against her arm.

"Any theories?"

Clint shot a her a look, "You're either an alien or some kind of god." In all honesty, he was hoping it be the first one.

"I'm not an alien."

He gulped, "You're a god then?"

"Not exactly. I'm a spy, obviously. It's my job to be strong, but not indestructible. No, we all can thank my ex for that."

He was curious, "Who's your ex?"

"A god."

This caused a small chuckle out of Clint. He loosened his grip on her. "I'm sorry for slamming you into walls."

"Don't be. No harm, no foul."

But there had been harm. Maybe not physical harm but emotional harm. Towards Clint. The woman hadn't opened old wounds, she'd ripped them open and poured in salt.

They stood in a few moments of silence. She'd started to notice how green his eyes were and how toned his arms are. He looked good. She couldn't help but check him out. And do something so out of character for her. She actually blushed when he caught her checking him out.

"Tell me your name."

She smiled and asked, "Why?"

"You know my name. The least I should get to know is yours."

She could feel the sexual tension building between them. She wanted him and he wanted her. But first he had to have her name. He knew he wouldn't be conquering her, not the way he wanted to. A name would do him just as much good. It would be easier to find her again if he knew her name.

"Come on. The faster you tell me your name, the sooner we can carry on our night."

The way he'd said our night made her shudder. It was a shudder of pleasure. How the hell had Clint taken over the dominate role? She'd had a perfect grasp on it. And now... it was in his control.

The ball was in her court so she lied, "Brenna."

"Brenna. I like that. Is it real?"

She shrugged, "As real as you want it to be. Tonight, I'm Brenna. That's all that matters."

The next morning, "Brenna" awoke in the gritty motel she and Clint had gone to the previous night. She stood up, and went to the bathroom. Mother nature was calling. Afterwards, she came to find Clint was gone. Probably left after she'd fallen asleep.

There was a note on the table next to the bed.

I've paid for the room. Hell only knows why. Maybe I enjoyed last night a little to much.
You were... incredible. It's been a long while since a woman had tired me out. No, I didn't
leave after you fell asleep. I had fallen asleep waiting for you to.

Brenna is a beautiful name, and whoever it belongs to, I'm glad it was to you.
Hopefully I'll find you again and get to hear about how you know who I am. I'm quite
curious.

Barton

Smirking, "Brenna" picked up the clothes that were thrown about the room and dressed herself. The only thing she couldn't find was her wallet.

"Dammit Barton!"

Well , there it is. Probably so OOC for Clint but ya know what? NO CURRS AND NO REGRETS.

Hope you all enjoyed it.

Review please.

-RoseRedGurl