Trust

A/N: My God it's been years since I've written fics, but since The Avengers, and Clint and Natasha... I can't resist. I. LOVE. JEREMY. RENNER. LOVE HIM.

Chapter 1: Working Girl

Natasha walked the bar, trailing her finger along its smooth wooden surface. Her stilettos clicked seductively as she walked, rubbing against a blister at the back of her heel. Well, she was working, and beauty had a price. Every male eye in the place was on her, and that's exactly what she wanted. Two eyes in particular made her smile. First, was Clint. She knew he was high on the catwalk by now, watching her back. The thought comforted her. There was no one else she trusted completely anymore except for him. He knew her deepest secrets and fears, and how to reach her. Only one man before him could do that to her...

"Keep smiling like that, and I'm going to have to take down a whole room of men." Said Clint's voice in her ear.

"Shh, I'm working." She snapped at him in a hush.

"Well, heads up. He's on your six."

Natasha smiled. "I know." She turned slowly, resting her back against the bar, her red tendrils brushing its surface, and scanned the crowd for her target. He was the other eye she wanted. The place was swanky. There were hundreds of couples that had come to Dubai for Prince Mayamid's marriage. She and Clint weren't here for the festivities, however. This man had relations with the Ten Rings, the terrorist group that had abducted Stark a few years back. SHIELD wanted information from the Prince and his dealings, and whether or not he was indeed funding that group.

She spotted the prince chatting with a guest, but stealing looks at her every few seconds. Natasha subconsciously rolled her eyes. This man was a notorious pig, and even at his own wedding, didn't have eyes for only his new wife. Still, that was what Natasha banked on. She licked her lips and moved her left leg slightly just enough that it would poke out of the thigh high slit. She waited for a smart comment from Clint, but he was silent. It did get the prince's complete attention, and he excused himself from his guest and made his way over to her. Natasha smiled. Time to go to work.

The prince was a short fellow, with a mop of short hair that reminded her subtly of a lion's mane. He drank in her beauty, more importantly her low cut Dolce & Gabanna black dress, and smiled. "I noticed you're here alone."

Not quite. She shrugged, "It's my style."

"Ah, a luxury I could never afford."

"Funny thing to say at your own wedding."

The Prince laughed, "You are talking to a man who just married his seventh wife." He reached for her hand, "Prince Mayamid. And you are?"

"Natalie." She said, "Natalie Rushman."

The prince brought her hand to his lips, "Enchanted, Miss Rushman."

"I bet he is." Clint scoffed.

Natasha smiled at Mayamid, supressing a laugh at Clint's snide comment, and turned back to the bar. If it hadn't been for her years of practice, she'd have laughed at Clint. But she was on the clock, and she was in the zone and there was zero tolerance for a fuck up right now.

"Can I get you something?" He asked, resting beside her.

Natasha smiled. "A lager would be nice." She could drink any man under the table, even Clint on a good day, and this prince that stood beside her with his mane of hair and his fake smile and pompous charm… piece of cake.

Prince Mayamid raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised that someone as beautiful as you prefers such a vile drink."

"Does that line actually work?" Clint demanded in her ear and she knew he was just rolling his eyes.

"What would you suggest?" She asked Mayamid. Did he actually think she went for drinks with a little umbrella?

Mayamid smiled, and nodded to the bartender. "Two of my specials."

Natasha's internal red flag went up. Whenever a guy in his position ordered a special, it was more or less spiked, and she was glad for her angel in the sky. He'd have a bird's eye view of exactly what toxin was being put in it. She pulled up short. Angel in the sky? Where the hell had that thought come from? She loved Clint, yes, more than any man she had ever known… even more than her husband. Oh, how she loved Alexei…

Don't go down that road right now, Natasha. Her brain yelled at her. Focus. You need information from this douchebag, and the drink you're about to receive is more than likely laced with something. Natasha moved her leg casually, and the holster on her inner thigh was a comfort. In it held a loaded .22, one of her favorite guns. Beside the gun was an antidote that Bruce had concocted, especially for this mission. It would counter-act a poison in the blood stream.

Sure enough, Clint's voice came in her ear, "Watch out, that drink is hot. It was clear, more likely than not, it's Seraphin."

Natasha gritted her teeth. Seraphin was a widely used date rape drug. It was world wide, and fairly cheap on the black market. However, she used this time to get closer to the prince, and circled her arms around his neck. He smiled at her advance, and tucked his arms around her waist. He leaned in close and whispered,"I like an affectionate woman." He said.

Years of training kept Natasha close to this pig, even though his breath smelled like salami and she could feel something growing against her abdomen. She needed her answers, but not here, and she needed him pliable.

"Here you are, sir." The bartender handed Mayamid his drink while Natasha's sat on the bar. Clever. He'd know which one was spiked.

Mayamid snatched his from the bartender, and then gave Natasha hers. "What shall we toast to?" He asked her.

Natasha thought a moment, and then said, "To weddings."

Mayamid grinned, and clinked her glass. He waited for her to take a sip. Natasha discretely took a whiff to see if she could pick up anything right from the bat, but nothing rang a bell right off. She sipped it slightly and rolled it around on her tongue. It was fruity, but it was…off. And then, that slight bitter taste tipped her off. It was Seraphin. Clint was right. She had tasted this drug numerous times. A little went a long way, and she'd soon be feeling the effects. Drowsiness, then unconsciousness, then eight hours later, waking up with one nasty hangover. An untrained tongue would have passed the taste off on the alcohol. Her teeth snapped against the lower row. How many women had fallen prey to this? Her leg that held her holstered gun spasmed slightly. How she wanted to shoot off a certain part of the prince's. Something he'd miss dearly…She swallowed slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol burn her throat.

"Get that out of you." Clint warned.

Mayamid downed his drink with a flourish and watched her anxiously.

Natasha sat hers on the bar, and circled her arms around his neck again. "Let's go somewhere private."

Mayamid smiled, "In due time. Drink first, my dear."

Natasha hitched her leg up and around his waist, and she felt that familiar bump against her again. "I'm not that thirsty."

"I can't watch this." Clint grunted. And then, "Heads up, his old lady's coming."

Damn. This was something she had hoped to avoid. She did not want Mayamid's new wife to see him with a strange woman. The girl was clean and didn't deserve that. Natasha glanced up at the ceiling. Clint knew that look. She wanted him to head his new bride off at the pass. Clint acted fast. He stowed his bow and arrow on the catwalk. Holstered his gun in his inside vest pocket. And straightened his dark Armani suit. "On my way. Barton out."

Mayamid brought his lips to her neck, and out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Clint descend from the heavens, and her breath momentarily caught in her throat. There were no ways around it. Clint Barton was an incredibly handsome man and he could handle a bow with elite precision. His face fell when he saw her with the prince, and he quickly adverted his gaze. Natasha felt a pang. She hated seeing him hurt. But he shouldn't be hurt… this was just work. Still, his expression…

"Let me take you somewhere more comfortable," Came a throaty voice in her ear. How she wished that voice had been Clint's. How it was he kissing her neck like that. But there was no time for that. Maybe she needed a solo mission to clear her head doing surveillance in Kenya for six months. Something to keep her on her game and not thinking about Barton. But when she wasn't thinking of him, she was still thinking of him…

Get back to work, Natasha.

And that's when it hit her. Her eyelids became heavy, and her eyes rolled in her head a few times. She needed that antidote, and now. She put on a smile for Mayamid, and let him lead her away. They passed a woman's room, and she dashed inside, went inside a stall, and put her hand to her ear. "I'm with Mayamid, I think he's taking me to his room. I'll get the info on those nukes. I'll meet you at the extraction point in an hour. Natasha out." Her voice barely sounded like her own, her speech was so slurred. She kicked open the stall door, walked to the sink, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, and she finger combed it back into place. She reached into her holster and pulled out the antidote. The small crystal vile glistened in the lighting. She tugged open the stopper, and gulped it down. It burned, and it didn't taste half as good as her drink. She took a deep breath. Instantly she felt better. Her vision cleared, the heaviness in her head gone. Thank God for big green scientists. She'd have to send Banner a fruit basket. She put the empty vile back in her holster, pulled open the door and re-joined Mayamid.