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Clint feels the press of the intel on the inside pocket of his jacket. He grabs Natasha’s hand, pulling her along the outside of the train station. There are three men behind them, barreling through the crowd like battering rams.
Natasha reaches for the knife strapped to the inside of her wrist, but Clint pulls her hand away. It’s their first mission together and he’ll be damned if it gets bloody while there are still other options.
“Not yet,” Clint murmurs to her. He keeps his eyes forward, scanning through the crowd, while staying aware of the guys behind them. There’s no way they’ll be able to catch a train like this. The police will probably be crawling all over the place in a few minutes.
Clint drags Natasha into a handicapped bathroom. Thankfully it’s empty. That would have been a whole other problem.
“Put your hood down,” Clint orders, quickly stripping out of his black jacket and shoving it into a trash bin. He’s wearing a black button-up underneath. He pops open the first two buttons, ruffling his hair a bit. Natasha catches on quickly, dropping her hood and unzipping the sweatshirt. She ties her hair up in an elaborate braid that leaves Clint gawking at her for a moment.
When they’re done, Clint peeks out the door first. The guys have spread out, fanning through the train station. They slip through the crowd at a steady pace, Natasha’s hand in his back pocket.
“Just a normal couple, right?” Natasha says.
“Exactly.” Clint laughs at nothing and she grins back at him. Her eyes are uncertain, face carefully schooled into a happy expression. Clint wants to crack that mask, wants to see the true Natasha underneath.
But not right now. He pulls her abruptly against the wall as one of the men pass a little too close. It’s dark here but his sweep is passing ever closer. Clint’s heart pounds in his ears.
“This might sound crazy,” he whispers, “but I’m going to need you to kiss me.”
Natasha doesn’t even hesitate. She grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him in for a kiss. Clint’s intention is to keep it chaste: closed mouths, no tongue, just long enough that the men will pass them by without a second glance.
All of that goes out the window when he feels Natasha’s tongue tracing his bottom lip. Clint opens his mouth eagerly, letting her in. Her fingers twine through his hair—longer than his normal, there hasn’t been much time to visit a barber on this mission—to hold him in place.
Natasha kisses the way she does everything. It’s precise, tactical, and a little bit reckless all at the same time. She seems to know exactly how to nip at Clint’s lips and suck on his tongue to get him going.
Clint most certainly does not have to bite back a whine when she pulls away and grins at him. “I think they’re gone.”
“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” Clint replies, pulling himself away from her and straightening his shirt.
“Right.” Natasha’s grin widens to the point where it’s slightly frightening. “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me, you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Clint grabs her hand and pulls her toward the train cars. There’ll be plenty of time for that once they’re back at SHIELD headquarters and the intel is safely in Coulson’s hands rather than those of the muscle chasing them.