Clint/Natasha AU: Criminals
by Eiluned (shittoavenge)
lyrics from “Dirty Laundry” by Bitter:Sweet
Mexico was nice. Clint leaned back in his beach chair and rubbed at the scar on his leg; it ached despite the hot sun. But he liked Mexico, and he liked the sight of Natasha in a white bikini swaying across the sand, margarita in hand and red hair blowing in the breeze.
They started out as rivals, two assassins working for the same boss, and there was only room for one hitman at the top. Much to their mutual annoyance, they ended up on the same job, both given the assignment probably in the hope that one would kill the other. They killed the mark together, because it was that or die trying to finish the job separately.
Clint found Natasha in his bed that night, naked and seductive, and he knew she was there to kill him. He fucked her anyway, pinned her to the bed and fucked her until she screamed, and then she took her turn, tying his hands to the headboard and blowing his mind.
After that night, they decided they worked well together, in bed and out of it. He was the guns and she was the brains. She was a beautiful distraction and he never missed a shot. They stole from the best, traded in secrets, killed for the highest bidder.
Natasha settled on her chair, a smile curving the corner of her lips, the sun bright on her pale skin.
“You were thinking about ditching me in Stark’s lab,” Clint said, and Natasha looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Why didn’t you? Or are you going to ditch me here? Or, better yet, kill me? That way you’d get all the money.”
One last job, and they could tell Justin Hammer to go fuck himself. Just break into Stark Industries and steal the schematics for a weaponized suit, and then they could take the money and run, go hide out in Mexico until the furor died down, and then they could go anywhere.
Stark caught Natasha in his lab. Clint had never been in a Mexican standoff before, but he trusted Tasha’s trigger finger more than he was worried about Stark’s. Rich boy probably never shot a gun before in his life.
Natasha saw the guards before Clint did. A bullet hit him in the thigh, and he went down, but she kept her gun on Stark. She thought about leaving Clint there, but something held her back. She wasn’t used to the feeling, but she thought it might be loyalty.
“You two are good,” Stark said, thumbing the safety back on and setting his gun to the side. “I don’t know how you got through my security, so you’re probably the best. I can’t believe Hammer could actually afford you. Why don’t you put your guns down, kids, and we can work out a deal.”
Stark’s pocketbook was bigger. They left Hammer drowning in his own blood and wiped his company clean.
Mexico was nice, and Stark’s paycheck—plus a little extra skimmed off of his accounts—sat in an account in Switzerland with two names on it—not their real names, but they laid claim to it anyway.
Natasha took a long, salty sip of her margarita, rolling his words around in her mind the way she rolled the tequila and lime around her tongue. “I like you,” she finally said. “I like having you around.”
He could read her well—he was the only one who could read her. That was as good as he would get from Natasha, but she might as well have come out and said that she loved him. When she kissed him, he could taste salt and lime and Patrón Silver.
Clint sat back in his beach chair and wondered when they would get bored. There was always another job.
The thing that really kills me about all of these “Sam would be in as much trouble as Mercedes for their love” plot devices is the absolute refusal to grasp that Sam would have been taught that Mercedes was only good for serving his needs, be they sexual or otherwise. Sure, some people overcame that (kind of), but there’s a reason slaveowners could have 15 kids with a slave & never free them or their mother. There’s a reason it wasn’t illegal to rape a black woman until after the Civil Rights Movement, & there’s a reason much of the Civil Rights Movement is founded in black women agitating to be safe from white men.
Real talk, Sam having sex with Mercedes wouldn’t have meant any consequences for him (yes, even if she got pregnant), but it would have meant lots of consequences for her. Especially if she said no to him, or to any of his friends/family that might come calling. Want to know why the language around Slutwalk doesn’t speak to a lot of black women? Some of us know what it feels like to have the color of your skin = slut to people who might otherwise claim to be decent human beings.
Umm, so I was rummaging through FF.net in search of new Glee fic & I feel like I need fandom to acquaint itself with exactly what it would have meant to be black & female during Jim Crow. I understand the desire to explore that time period, but there is no way Mercedes could have gone off on white people in the segregated South left & right and survived. And I have no idea why you’d write her Dad as a deadbeat to explain her mother sending her away when basic safety concerns would merit that anyway. Not to mention, white people would not be trying to punish Sam for having sex with her. Interracial marriage was illegal, but there is a long long history of white men sleeping with WOC. And yes, they were still racist. A Sam raised in the deep South in the 50’s & 60’s could have found Mercedes attractive & still been a bigot. Hell that could happen now. Also, she would not be talking about white privilege. Just saying, if you’re going to write historical fiction research is your very best friend.
I HAVE WITHIN ME WORDS UNENDING! RIVERS OF WORDS! OCEANS!
REMEMBER WHEN YOU PEED YOUR PANTS IN GYM CLASS?
THAT WAS TWELVE YEARS AGO! I AM NOW THE SINGLE GREATEST WRITER OF SEMI-EROTIC STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION FANFICTION IN THIS WHOLE FOREST AND YOU WILL SHOW ME SOME GODDAMNED RESPECT!
HEY, PEE PEE ARNOLD, THEY’RE HAVING A SALE ON PAMPERS AT WALGREEN’S.
SHUT UP! I’VE ALSO BEEN WORKING OUT! I AM JACKED! LOOK AT MY QUADS! YOU THINK WRITERS OF STEAMY KLINGON-ON-ROMULAN ACTION CAN’T BE ALL RIPPED UP? THINK AGAIN! THINK TWO TIMES ABOUT THAT SHIT!
YOUR MOM CALLED. SHE SAYS SHE ACCIDENTALLY SHRANK YOUR RUBBER SHEETS IN THE DRYER.
OH MY GOD YOU EAGLES ARE DICKS!