Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.


"Agent Barton," Natasha said evenly, shifting her backpack onto her shoulder as she peered through the doorway of the hangar.

He looked up from the pamphlet he was reading and regarded her with a polite smile. "Agent Romanoff," he nodded once. "Has director Fury sent you with a mission for me?"

She shook her head coyly. "No, just wanted to welcome you aboard. Properly" she added with a devilish grin.

"Ah," he closed the booklet and tossed it aside. "I see." He gestured for her to come inside. "That's very kind of you." His eyes traveled up and down her body so fast that the average person would have missed it had they been looking, but she knew she had his interest.

She smiled and closed the door behind her, tossing her backpack aside. "May I call you by your first name, Clint?" she asked as she moved closer to where he was standing.

"Please do," he said, with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Clint," she breathed once she was standing directly in front of him. She peered at him through her thick eyelashes for a moment before reaching up to caress his face.

He took a half step backward, surprised at her blunt intimacy.

"What's the matter?" she cooed, inching closer to him once again.

"Nothing," he answered. "Nothing at all."

"Good," she said, almost with a purr, as she advanced. With one long stride, she closed the gap between them and reached up to encircle her arms around his neck.

He placed both hands on either side of her waist. "Is this how you welcome all the new agents?"

"No." She placed a soft kiss near his ear and it was all he could do to keep steady. She winked. "Only the special ones."

He kept his mouth in a straight line and looked her straight in the eyes, unblinking, as her fingers started to slowly brush the hairs at the back of his neck.

She looked back at him, her gaze intense.

"Was there something you wanted, Natasha?" He asked when he realized that she wasn't going to back down.

"There's always something I want, Clint. And I'm very good at getting what I want."

"I can tell," he said softly.

She smiled slyly as she lowered her hand down the back of his neck, across his collar bone, to his shoulder, his chest, his torso…

Clint grabbed both her hands in his and raised them up where they both could see. "You're an astonishingly beautiful woman, Natasha, and if the situation were only slightly different then I'd have had you up against that wall five minutes ago."

She cocked her head to one side expectantly. "But?"

"If you'll please excuse me, I really should find Director Fury. He told me earlier he'll have another initiation test ready for me sometime this evening."

She pouted. "There's nothing I could do to persuade you differently then?"

He shook his head. "Not this time, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha nodded curtly. "Of course," she said, stepping aside with her hand out.

"I'll be seeing you," He offered politely as he walked to the hangar door.

She waited until he was about to turn the doorknob. "Agent Barton," she called, reaching for her backpack.

He stopped with his hand still on the knob, not turning around.

"This was the test. You passed."

He looked over his shoulder at her with a slight grin. "I know," he replied.

"Your reputation precedes you correctly." She grinned back and tossed the backpack to him. "Fury had this made for you," she said, bemused. "You should try it on for size…Hawkeye."

"Is that what he's calling me now?" He laughed as he unzipped the pack, then wrinkled his nose when he pulled out his new uniform. "Purple is not my color."

"Really?" She regarded him thoughtfully. "I think it suits you just fine."

"Okay." He set the bag down. "But I'm not wearing the mask."

"Why's that?"

"Because I have nothing to hide," he said softly.