"I don't want to go on missions with him anymore, sir,"

It was rare to see the Black Widow requesting anything. It was more like her to keep it to herself. After all, she was a spy, trained to deal with anything. 'Anything' would include rookies, the idiots who thought muscle was all that mattered; even ridiculous missions that were way below her skill level.

The last mission was a success, but it didn't mean anything. They had, in fact, finished much earlier than expected. Director Fury sent her, as well as Agent Barton to Budapest to track a villain, a man whose dastardly deeds had found itself under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. She stifled a smirk as she turned to look at the famous Hawkeye standing beside her.

"After your first mission together?" The director asked, raising his eyebrows. He had never known Agent Romanoff to complain about a partnership. He assumed that they would've gotten along, and the mission was quite the success story, finishing early even. His eyes flickered towards the man standing next to her, quite confused, but Agent Barton's face only reflected his own puzzlement.

"It didn't work out. Incompatibility," she replied curtly, her eyes narrowing slightly. In fact, it wasn't just incompatibility, no. If it was just that, she would've ignored it and moved on.

Under the huge arches of the sloping Cathedrals and across the tall beams of bridges, they continued their stroll together. Clint smiled, watching the smile grow on Natasha's face as the city began to light up. They had been walking around, sightseeing to pass time. They had been around the river a couple of times, but as the sun went to sleep, the views changed completely.

"This is pretty… phenomenal, I have to say," Natasha admitted, watching the glowing lights across the river.

"Big surprise? They say that everything looks nicer at night," Clint chuckled, nudging her with his shoulder. "That includes me, I suppose," he joked, turning to see his partner's reaction.

"Not really, the city's prettier than your face, no questions asked," she laughed, rolling her eyes. She slapped his arm lightly. "I'm sort of happy that we finished our mission early,"

"Of course you are, dear, who wouldn't?" he replied with a smirk. "I'm pretty glad I get to share this night with a pretty lady like you," he laughed at her dismal expression. "What? Am I the first person that's ever said that to you?" he asked in mock horror. She rolled her eyes again, her nose flaring slightly; an indication of her hidden smile.

"Hey pretty lady, want to dance?" the drunken laughter came from behind them. Two obviously intoxicated men sauntered towards them.

"No thanks," she replied coldly, clenching her fists. "I doubt anyone would want to dance with someone like you,"

"You'll regret that!" the man swung his fist towards her face. She smirked, gripping onto his arm and flipping him over. Clint watched in silent amusement, knowing she could handle these two by herself. He gave her a thumbs-up. She almost laughed.

Bam! She heard the sound of the impact before she felt it. The blow to her stomach didn't hurt as much as her wounded pride, but the moment of distraction gave the men an upper hand.

Moments later, they were on the ground, staring up in fear at an angry Hawkeye. "You mess with my girl again, you'll lose more than just a broken rib," he hissed, grabbing the drunken man by the collar. Throwing him onto the ground, the two quickly scrambled up, running away from the couple.

She didn't let his selection of words go unnoticed. When was she his girl?

"You alright there, Tasha?" Clint asked worriedly, arms around Natasha. She nodded dismissively, more distracted with her mistake than the worried looks. She could only remember words from her past: 'Never underestimate your opponent, Natasha, or it'll be too late,' her instructor had told her. She would never make that mistake again.

"What is the problem with Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff?" Fury's voice broke into her train of thought.

She remembered everything from Budapest. There was a thrill every time she had fought alongside him. Her heart would beat faster, and when he would make the predictable witty comment, she'd always have to stop herself from smiling in amusement. It was harder to put on a poker face around him. There were the nights, laughing and sipping wine in the ballrooms, pretending to be a married couple while trying to track the gentleman. There were the days spent finding clues the enemy had left behind carelessly, and nights spent talking in their hotel room. She had gotten closer to her partner than she wanted to.

Her nose flared slightly, her lips were raised at the edges. Agent Barton could tell she was trying not to smirk. He had seen that look before, more often than she had hoped. She seemed unsure what to say, turning towards her partner with a scrutinizing gaze. Their eyes connected, before her even gaze turned back to the director. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

"…He makes me laugh."