Ten: Ever So Enticing @
Series: 28 for 28
Disclaimer: Joss owns the Buffyverse. Marvel (and Joss) owns The Avengers.
Spoilers: Season 7 & the movie.
Series Summary: 28 stories and crossings to celebrate 28 years.
Part Summary: A meeting of minds...only partially conscious.
Title Quote Source: As a Blonde by Fefe Dobson
A/N: Eh, Espionage? Part 2. Yeah, a fun little subset that brings me more Clint. Also, I hate autocorrect.28 for 28
Ten: Ever So Enticing
"You're wearing a Halloween tee shirt," Barton's voice had Kit's sleep blurred eyes blinking as she came to a dead halt in the kitchen of the swanky Central Park adjacent apartment the Council owned.
"It says 'I Don't Do Costumes'. That could mean anything, including my rampant kinks," Kit shot out, wishing she'd passed out in more than the baseball jersey tee and her tiny sleep shorts after the tequila shooters last night.
"It's the middle of March."
"The shirt's comfy. Don't judge me," Kit ignored him as she made a beeline for the coffeemaker. Clint was perched on the island, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, judging her. Bastard had no right to look that hot this early in the day. Why was he even in the apartment? "What the hell are you here for?"
"You infiltrated two covert operations."
"Oh my God, are you for serious?" Kit stood up on her tiptoes to grab a coffee cup. Honestly, just because the slayers enjoyed a challenge at every opportunity did not mean she should have to do Parkour to get a cup of coffee. She turned back to him to find his head tilted slightly. Okay. Ignoring that. "It was magic. And don't give me that magic-isn't-real shit, because you know it is."
"For a week, I can see buying that excuse," Barton accepted with a slow nod. "But for three months? No."
"After a while, I just became invisible to you," Kit shrugged, not really in the mood for this conversation that was doing wonders for her self-esteem. Not after so very many tequila shooters. "You're a master assassin, don't tell me the average man in glasses bit never worked for you. It worked for Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman."
"Those are comic book characters," he snorted.
"Oh, excuse me. I forgot you're a super secret superhero bedecked in leather Spanx," Kit took a sip of her coffee, black because she wasn't in the mood to deal with sugar and her fancy creamer on a stomach formally full of tequila. "Look, I get it. You're looking for a way to keep your organizations from being infiltrated again. You're covering your bases and hoping someone with nefarious plans doesn't hit you next time. And you're pretty much screwed, because there's no way to cover all your bases. You of all people should know that."
"But a true one," Kit blew on her coffee and took another sip. "Like my boss says, you can cram and prep until the flying monkeys come home to roust, but then you'll be all tired and irritated and take an arrow to the knee.
The snort of laughter had her head ringing and she was cursing out her surprisingly early bout of witty banter for the ringing. She'd actually forgotten what it was that he did for a living.
"Of course, you might be the one putting the arrow in the knee. Whatever floats your boat, Hawkeye." Barton straightened at the mention of his codename and gave her a devastating grin. God, he would pull out the panty melter this early in the morning, wouldn't he? She took another lengthy pull on her coffee. "Now, fess up. You picked Hawkeye cause you have a burgeoning man-crush on Alan Alda, don't you?"
"The man is a legend."