I don't own the characters.

Clint makes a decision to turn the Black Widow instead of taking her out. She wants to show him how grateful she is.

Rule #1: Sex is not business

Clint

The mission was crystal clear. Take out the infamous Black Widow. Come home. Write the report on it. Enjoy the glory.

It was clear and simple. So how did Clint Barton end up in his hotel room with a very much alive Natalia Romanova with an arrow through her thigh? But more importantly, why did he wake up in the middle of the night having a naked Soviet assassin in his bed?

It was her. The Black Widow, his mark, his unfinished mission who he had cuffed to a water pipe in the bathroom specifically to avoid such situations.

It was useless now to figure out how it had happened exactly. Clint reached for the special arrow that he kept under the pillow and pressed it to her neck. With the same movement he lunged forward and trapped Natalia under his body that was at least covered by an old t-shirt and his underwear.

The assassin seemed surprised by the reaction as she frowned but did not say anything. She must be in pain, Clint thought, as his weight pressed on the wound on her thigh that he had previously caused and patched up. He shifted so he could ease the pressure on her thigh and it made her wince.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Clint demanded. "How did you get out of the handcuffs?"

The Widow just shrugged with a mocking smirk. "I can get out of handcuffs sixteen different ways."

"You should have told me not to bother with it," Clint remarked.

"I wanted to surprise you, Hawkeye," she replied. She wriggled a little and pressed her hips against his now noticeable hardness. Well, she was beautiful, truly. She was only eighteen, according to the reports, at least, but she had porcelain skin, the roundest bottom he had ever seen and plum lips to die for. Quite literally, actually. It was one trait that made the Black Widow so dangerous, the way she was able to use her body to distract and manipulate. And then murder.

"If you want to end this, you could have just strangled me," Clint pointed out. He was offended. It was one thing to get out of the handcuffs. It was his fault, he should have secured her at least three or four ways. It was also acceptable that she wanted to kill him. She was his mark, after all. Yeah, he had made a different call, but perhaps she changed her mind. Perhaps she wanted to sink back into her old and familiar assassin life. But damn was it cold that she wanted to seduce him and murder him afterwards.

Natalia frowned. "Why would I want to end this?"

"Well, you are naked. In my bed. You are the Black Widow. That's your method, isn't it?"

She seemed confused and a tad… indignant. "First off, I have several hundred methods. You think I'm afraid of your toys?" She asked as she carelessly hooked her finger under the shaft and pushed the arrow back. "And no, I didn't come here to fuck you and kill you after."

"What's your plan then?"

She shrugged. Instead of replying right away, she sneaked her hand onto his now almost painful erection through the boxers. He gasped softly. Damn, she's good.

She smiled seductively clearly enjoying her power over the archer. "Getting on your good side," she said and leaned over so her lips brushed against Clint's neck.

Clint pulled back swiftly as if her kiss burned his skin. It did, in a sense. He reached over his bed and grabbed a t-shirt from the chair next to it. He dropped it on Natalia's stomach and sat up. "Put this on."

"What is it now?" She asked. She glanced at his hips and licked her lips.

Clint averted his glance suddenly feeling an immense need for fresh air. He got up and stepped to the window, opening it widely. He took a deep breath. When he turned back to the bed, Natalia sat on it wearing his violet t-shirt with her legs crossed.

"It's not like you don't want it," she remarked.

Clint crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I don't. I just have a hard-on. It'll pass."

The Widow smiled and moved on all fours. The position only accentuated her perfect breasts under his shirt which didn't help Clint. At all.

"Stop this," he snapped. "Stop it goddamnit." He jumped on the windowsill. Dangling his legs usually helped him get rid of some frustration. "Nobody ever said no to you?"

Natalia looked honestly taken aback. "Why would they, Barton?"

Clint remained silent for a long moment. The Black Widow might be able to kill with her pinky finger but she sure as hell did not understand sex. At all. On the other hand, where could she have learnt about it? Clint doubted she had ever had a meaningful relationship. She had always been a killing machine, not a woman. Up until this point. Clint felt sad over the life, the pain, the assault this young woman had had to endure.

"Alright, Natalia. It's time to go over some basic rules."

"Natasha," she replied. She returned to her previous position crossing her legs under her.

"Excuse me?"

"Natasha Romanoff. You Americans butcher my language. This is my English name. Please use this one so I won't have to cringe inwardly every time you call it."

Clint couldn't help but chuckle. There she was. The real Natasha Romanoff. Now that she was not in femme fatale mode, her sarcasm suddenly appeared.

"Alright Natasha. First, you don't need to use sex to get on my good side. If you were on my bad side, you'd be dead. You don't need to resort to such games. You want something, you tell me. You get mad at me, you punch me. You wanna let off some steam, you challenge me for a fight. It'll be good for training too."

Natasha frowned. "You want to fight me?"

Clint nodded. "Eventually, yes. You have good tricks. I am always open for learning new things."

"But you don't want to fuck me."

"No," Clint replied. He could see Natasha picked up on the lie; luckily she let it slide. Obviously he wouldn't mind to have sex with her. But not now and not like that. To be honest it would be probably best to forget about it altogether. He was about to bring a Soviet assassin that he had been supposed to kill back to SHIELD. It was complicated enough already.

"What else?" Natasha asked.

"If you want to kill me, tell me now. No hard feelings. We can have a duel up on the roof and get it over with."

"Why are you so fixated on the murder thing? You said you wanted to give me a chance. If you changed your mind—"

"I didn't," Clint cut in. "I don't want to take you out. I think turning you would be much more beneficial. For me and for the company. And also for you. You want to leave that life behind, don't you?" Natasha nodded. "That's what I'm saying. Now the thing is, we really have to be on the same page about that. I won't keep looking over my shoulder." He paused. "So, Miss Romanoff, do you want to kill me or not?"

"No," Natasha replied simply.

Clint smiled. "Good." He jumped off the sill. "You can sleep in the bed. I'll take the couch. Tomorrow we're leaving."

Natasha nodded. "Clint?"

"Hmm?" Clint asked as he grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the bed and headed to the couch that was at the other side of the room.

"Why didn't you just shoot me?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Clint smirked. "Are you mad about the wound?" He asked as he prepared the makeshift bed.

"Not mad enough to snap your neck for it."

Clint could swear she was smiling. "Good night, Natasha."

"Good night, Hawkeye," she responded softly.

Clint was still not sure if he had made the right decision. It was the first mission he refused to carry out. As he was listening to Natasha's breathing he realised it didn't matter anymore. He had saved someone. Wasn't that the objective SHIELD claimed to have? Helping people and giving them hope for a better future? Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow claimed a little part of herself back today and named it Natasha Romanoff. It was worth sacrificing the part of Hawkeye that always followed his orders without question.