Warnings: none
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: fluff, romance | Smut: none
Word count: 1263 | Status: complete
It’s a calm summer night in Tuscany, but Clint can’t really enjoy himself. It would be one thing if he was spending the night alone, sitting in the tallest tree he could find with the wind in his hair and the leaves under his boots. It’s no coincidence that his codename is Hawkeye. He’s always felt the most alive in a makeshift nest with the world at his feet.My comment: If you’re a bit down and looking for cute fluff, this will be the one for you, because who doesn’t like to see them flirt in an undercover mission?
The real problem is that Italy has never agreed with him. Too warm all the time. He’s more partial to Sweden and other Scandinavian countries.
There is one very good reason that he’s standing out on this balcony in the middle of the dreariest cocktail party in the history of dreary cocktail parties, dressed to the nines in his finest monkey suit, and trying to forget that his wine is of the wrong label and far too dry. It’s not the bomber who’s sent a dozen anonymous threats to blow this whole place sky high tonight, and it’s definitely not to sample the high class Hors d'oeuvres (which all taste like stale balloons to Clint’s low class American tastes). The real reason is in a curve hugging red dress, swaying her hips for the balding old man she’s been charming information out of for ten minutes.
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