Natasha was in dire need of her first caffeine fix of the day. It had been a restless night and sleep had been a stranger. She had too many nights lately where sleep had been a stranger and that first cup of coffee in the morning was the only thing that got her going.

Of course the line was unbearably long this morning. Almost made her want to start shooting people just to get them out of her way. The barista recognized her and put her order in without Tasha having to say a word. Natasha slapped some money down on the counter, enough to cover the coffee and a tip and then waited.

Finally her name was called and she went to reach for her cup of nirvana. A guy in front of her grabbed his and headed for the small serving area where they kept the cream and sugar. Natasha looked for her cup, but didn't see one with her name on it.

Now someone was going to get shot.

She turned to see if she could find the person who lifted her cup. That's when she saw the man who had been in front of her.

She looked at him and a brow rose. "Do you have something that belongs to me?"

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The first thought in Clint's head was 'wow, pretty redhead', followed hotly by 'Gonna be shivved over a cup of coffee'. She had the same stone-dead stare that his sargeant had when they ran out of coffee on base. Looking down at the hell-brew in his hand, he promptly handed it over. "Toxic sludge, no soy, no foam?" he asked lightly. "Sorry, the name looked close enough to my order."

picword: you want what

The stone-dead stare faded and the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "That sounds like my order," she said. She checked the name and when she saw "Natalie" written on the cup she took a sip. A look of pure bliss appeared on her face.

"Thank you. I'd hate to start the day off on the wrong foot by hurting someone."

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It was his turn to smirk when the killing-aura vanished from her expression at the first sip. "Ah, a hard core caffeine fiend." He shrugged at her thanks, seeing at he stole her drink and drank some of it. If the right verb for it was 'drink'. "No no, I get it. The fallout paperwork'd be a nightmare and the coffee'd be cold afterward."

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"Not to mention blood is so hard to get out of clothes," she said in complete seriousness.

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He laughed and cleared his throat to cover the reaction. But damn was that true. "Hence wearing black, I got it." Spying another untouched coffee on the counter he squinted and verified the 'Nicolai' before snagging it and taking a sip. Bingo.

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Natasha was observant enough that she caught the name. "You don't look like a Nicolai," she commented before taking a sip.

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"Mm, that's what my dad said as well." He shrugged through, confessing to the fake name. "It's harder to bastardize 'Nicolai' with a grease crayon than 'Clint'." He added just enough cream to bring the roast out over the bitter, sipping to test. "I should have been the bigger man, but it was really early and I wasn't."

picword: oh really

"I can understand," she said. "Natalie Roman." She held out a hand.

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He took the hand and shook it in return. "Clint Barton. Hey, can I get you a pastry or something? For drinking some of your coffee." Smirking, he added, "Judging by the coffee, you're not really a cakepop type.."



*dying at the picword*

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"A scone would be lovely," she said. "Appropriate payment for trying to lift my coffee."

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"Thanks for being so gracious." He waved at the cashier-barista, getting the girl's attention to order two scones to go. "Hate to be the 'jerk who stole my coffee' story at work."

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"Much better than the schmuck who has spilled coffee all over him," she said. "Thank you, Mr. Barton."

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He smiled and toasted her with his proper cup. "Any time. See you around perhaps, Ms. Roman."

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She held up her cup in return and slightly tilted it toward him. "I certainly hope so, Mr. Barton." A smile stretched her mouth. She could face the day if they all started out with running into a hot man.

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