AN: I'm not even going to lie about how much difficulty this gave me. This is the first fight scene, albeit small, I've ever written, so give me a little pardon here. I even went back and rewatched their fight to get an idea of how to transcribe a fight, but I kept it short. And, ahem, I haven't written sex in a long time. But I had an idea and I ran with it. And I'm bound to have a few typos that I didn't catch, I haven't had anyone edit it for me, so go easy on those.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Marvel/Disney owns the characters, the ever-great Joss Whedon wrote the screenplay for the movie and I'm just playing around with his characterizations.
Summary: Set after the movie. Natasha and Clint deal with what happened during the Loki battle.
Rating: M. Hard M.


Natasha crossed the living space of her hotel suite to the small kitchen and grabbed a chilled bottle of vodka and a small jar of red caviar from the fridge. She knew how amusingly stereotypical this would have seemed to anyone if she weren't alone and breathed a chuckle to herself as she poured the liquor into a highball glass.

It had been six months. The battle in New York had left Natasha exhausted physically, and emotionally compromised, so she ran. Unwilling to let her teammates see the breakdown she had begun to feel, Natasha bounced from hotels across the globe, running from her friends and her responsibility. She was still hovering over the edge, the assassin in her wouldn't let her lose control and withdraw into emotional oblivion. She brought the vodka to her lips, the harsh scent filling her senses before knocking back a swig. It deliciously burned her throat and down into her stomach.

"I don't ever think I've seen you look more Russian."

Natasha stiffened instinctively, readying the heavy glass to throw and preparing to pounce at the intruder. The familiar voice stopped her, and instead she gracefully turned around to lean against the counter coolly. "I was wondering how long it would take for Fury to find me."

"We've known where you've been the entire time, Nat." Clint took her relaxed movements as time to look her over and assess her; her curls were wild, her face was unmade-up, and her tank and shorts loosely draped her small frame. She looked as if she hadn't left the room in at least a day, and not like the skilled assassin she truly was.

"Then what took the retrieval order so long to be fulfilled?" She took another sip of the vodka, closing her eyes a second longer than a blink to savor the warmth.

"One hasn't been issued." Her brow furrowed, but Clint continued, "And I know you, you wouldn't come easily if you were forced."

"As soon as SHIELD and the team needed me, I would have been there in a heartbeat." Natasha set the glass back on the counter and crossed her arms; something in his tone threw her defenses up. "But I've been keeping tabs on any real threat, and didn't find it necessary to return yet."

A noncommittal grunt came as a response from Clint who had begun to sweep the room with his eyes before turning and slowly making his way to the balcony. The sun was setting when he snuck through, and it was well into twilight now, daylight faded quickly in the fall. He peered down over the half wall of her balcony. She was on the top floor and had left her sliding door open; as if she wanted someone to climb through and discover her.

"Why did you come." It wasn't a question, but more of a demand; a challenge. She'd crept behind him, blocking the entrance back into the room, waiting for his answer.

"Why did you leave." He snapped back.

Her eyes scanned his face, trying to notice a cue, looking for a tell to play to her advantage. His face was worn, tired and harder than the last time she saw him. "I needed to get away, take a break from saving everyone's asses and playing peacemaker among the bickering."

"Don't give me that shit, Tasha." He crossed the space between them, crowding her against the glass panel.

"I saved your ass from becoming a mindless drone, didn't I?" Natasha kept her voice even as she raised her chin in defiance and balled her fists, coiling her body like a spring. He didn't back away, wouldn't accept her fabrication, so she made her play. "You were too busy trying to take me out on that helicarrier, and it resulted in Coulson's death. That's on your ledger just as much as mine."

Clint stepped back, too many emotions flashed in his features for even Natasha to recognize. It wasn't a total lie, Coulson's death ate at her in the same way as being tossed against a wall like a ragdoll by The Hulk terrified her. They were lessons that she had accepted and used in her advantage. Her guilt and sadness was still there, but she knew that it was magnified in Clint; she could tell he had lost sleep over the deaths of the agents and was unable to wipe their blood off his hands.

"You shouldn't have come." She slipped back inside with her back to him, hips swaying in her telltale satisfactory way.

Clint knew that strut; she reserved it for walking away from a kill when she was smug. She played him, and he snapped. He stalked up behind her, and she spun around, her green eyes flashing the same anger as his grey ones. Clint threw a right hook that Natasha narrowly dodged before she slammed her fist into his side. She brought her fist back up and meant to connect with his jaw, but he dropped into a crouch and kicked her legs out from under her. Natasha exhaled sharply as her head cracked against the small table behind her. Gritting her teeth, she kicked herself up off the ground and wildly swung her backhand. The blow to her head disoriented her just enough for Clint to block and grab the arm, and cross them both across her chest. He felt her shift her weight to kick up at him, and he countered by slamming her to the wall, locking her knees between it and his thigh.

"There are other things you should have stayed around for. Things you can't just keep tabs on from half way around the damn world!" He spat. She found his trigger, played his guilt. He caught her gaze.

"I needed. To get. The fuck. Away." She ground out, growling and writhing, trying to break his hold. "SHIELD didn't need me-"

"I needed you!" He cut her off and she stopped fighting his in grasp. Dropping her gaze, he repeated softly, "I needed you, Nat. You're the only person who understands how being compromised… losing control like that feels. And you disappeared on me. We're partners, we're supposed to-to have each other's backs, always."

A moment passed in silence. Natasha watched him clench and unclench the muscles in his jaw in an attempt to regain control over his emotional outburst. She licked her lips in hesitation before she began, "I couldn't hold it together." She felt his eyes on her face and she shifted uncomfortably beneath them. "I still can't. I've almost died countless times before this, and I've lost even more people than that along the way. But… but when I got that call, telling me you'd been compromised, I did everything in my power to get you back." She swallowed hard, and kept her eyes down.

"Then why did you leave? If you wanted my safe return, you should have followed it through to the end."

"I… made it personal. I was compromised the day I got that call, and I was blindsided. I was terrified, and I still am. I can't lose you." Her voice weakened throughout her confession, ending barely above a whisper.

"Tasha," Her green eyes finally met his; glossy and unsure. "I would have done the same for you."

Clint dropped the hold on her wrists and brought a calloused hand up to her face, sweeping his thumb over her cheekbone. He brushed away the tears he knew that she would never let fall, feeling the softness of her cheek under his worn fingers. He dipped his head down and caught her lips, softly and deeply kissing her. He moved his lips against hers, coaxing them apart and teasing his tongue into her mouth, just barely sweeping it past her lips before pulling away to catch her look.

Natasha opened her eyes and stared up at Clint. She saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before and it made her nervous. She moved her hands from their useless position against her chest to his shoulders, one snaking up his neck and tangling into his hair, pulling him back down into another kiss. The kiss was hungrier this time, controlled by Natasha, trying to fight away the tenderness she'd been running from. She nipped at his lips, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, exploring, and challenging him.

His other hand raked up and down her side, over the material of her tank while the hand on her face dropped down to her hip, squeezing and caressing. He lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he found the way to the bed without trouble. Natasha laughed into the kiss knowing he had mapped the room in his mind already, mumbling on his lips, "Snipers. Always planning and gauging."

"I didn't plan for this." The weight of his statement was enormous, the implications extended beyond this night and into their past and future. Clint laid her on the edge of the bed, propping himself above her and looking into her eyes. "And you aren't going to lose me."

He dipped his head down and gently kissed her, and she surrendered her feverish pace to his slow passion. He kissed his way down her neck and across her collarbones, stopping to suck, nip and swirl his tongue when he noticed the hitches in her breathing. She was already grinding her hips up into him when he recaptured her lips in another searing kiss.

Natasha's nails dug into his back as he moved his attention to her ear, nibbling the lobe, and placing light kisses along the shell before repeating these actions to the other, drawing breathy moans from Natasha's throat.

"Clint, please." She begged up at him, eyes dark with desire. She tried in frustration to grind her heat into his bulge, but he'd pinned her thigh beneath his knee to the bed, cutting off her movement and taking all of the control. He was going to drive her into a frenzy before he gave in to her pleading.

He returned to her neck as one hand found her breast, kneading and palming the soft flesh through her shirt. Natasha couldn't handle the lack of skin contact and her hands flew from his back to pull the material over her head, and quickly undoing her bra, shooting him a smug look before rolling her eyes up and moaning as she felt calloused fingers find her nipple. Clint rolled it between his finger and thumb, squeezing and pinching to the point of pain before releasing and building it up again. He kissed and licked his way down to her other breast, ghosting his tongue around the areola, teasing her until she arched up into him. He took the little bud into his mouth and sucked, flicking it with his tongue and biting softly.

Natasha helplessly writhed beneath him, gripping his arms, the sheets, anything within her reach. She couldn't take it. Her hands slid down his chest, grazing the muscle under his suit before settling on the hardness straining against his pants. She heard his breath catch, and elicited a groan as she cupped him and began to stroke the length of his cock through the material. She outlined him with her fingers and desperately rubbed her palm up and down while she began undoing his belt and fly with her other hand. She fumbled with buttons and zippers, probably the clumsiest she'd even been, frenzied in her lust. Clint stopped her hands, and pinned them over her head.

"Let me take care of you."

It was gentle, but a demand. Natasha nodded shakily; she knew there was no use in trying to protest right now. He let go of her hands and she left them relaxed on the bed as he propped himself up fully over her, pausing all of his ministrations to look at her. She was flushed and breathing erratically, her breasts heaving. She was still squirming, despite his leg holding her to the mattress. There was no questioning her beauty, but laid out like this, she looked feminine and soft without the deadly overtones. He captured her full lips in another kiss and began sliding a hand down her stomach, feeling the taut muscles under her soft skin, and under the waistband of her shorts. She gasped and mewled into his mouth as his fingers circled on her clit with the perfect amount of pressure. He slid his hand down further, middle finger testing her opening; she was soaked and he plunged the digit in. Natasha broke the kiss and she threw her head back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on to him as if her life depended on it as he inserted a second finger. He drew them in and out, teasing her before slamming them in completely and stroking her walls with them, finding that sweet spot.

"Пожалуйста. Please, I need you, I need all of you." She was shaking; he was pulling her closer to the edge, coaxing her release. She could feel the heat and pressure building in her lower abdomen. She nearly sobbed when he pulled away. Sitting up, she watched him strip frantically. He was beginning to lose his composure, the muscles in his chest flexing and relaxing as he threw off clothing. He fought his boots and socks off and lunged back to her, and tore her shorts off. Nose to nose, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them both fully into the bed. Their eyes met as he poised himself at her entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside, stretching and filling her; completing her. She arched into him and his lips found her throat as he withdrew before filling her again. His movements in and out of her were slow and deliberate, rotating his hips and pushing as deep inside of her as possible. He gradually began increasing the pace and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him into her and meeting his thrusts.

Her head tossed and her hands were tearing at the sheets even before his slow movements turned to a feverish pace, his hips still twisting rhythmically, hitting that perfect spot deep in her sex. Her moans were getting louder as he brought her nearer and nearer to climax.

"Пожалуйста, мне нужно… Боже мой.. Пожал… Ах, да… О, Боже… Пожалуйста." Natasha babbled in Russian, eyes clamped shut as she felt her body start to go taunt as he slammed into her.

"Tasha. Look at me." Her eyes snapped open to meet his. The strain of control furrowing his brow, curling his lips.

"Боже мой.. Так хорошо. Clint." He held her stare as she nearly screamed his name, and her eyes became misty, tears from pleasure welled up and spilled over and down her temples. Her breath caught in her throat, her arms found his neck again as he finally pushed her over the edge, and she came undone. She screamed unintelligible words, Russian and English twisted together, and her whole body shook; screaming and sobbing, and holding onto Clint as if he were the only thing keeping her alive. She contracted around him, milking him, and with a few more thrusts, he came. Her name tumbled from his lips in a rumble as he followed her into oblivion.

Clint collapsed on top of her, burying his head in her throat, exhausted. Her fingers traced small circles on his neck and her legs were tossed lazily around him, neither of the two was willing to move and break the spell. He placed wet kisses on her collarbone before finally rolling onto his side, keeping an arm over her waist.

Natasha opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words to say. After that display of tenderness and vulnerability, she was more terrified at the thought of losing him again. He was her weakness, the only person she could lose complete control for; she wasn't sure what scared her more, admitting weakness or the loss of control.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was husky. "I should have stayed, I-"

"We both needed to break." He interrupted, "I would have come with you."

"I didn't want to let you down."

"You could never." He turned to her and flashed a quick smile. "I think Fury already knows that if he splits us up again I'll put an arrow through his other eye."

"We always have been much better as a team." She laughed. Natasha thought of making a joke about always having to do the dirty work while he ran point, but decided to just lie contently instead.

They were better as a team, after so long they'd come to depend only on each other, only trusting each other. They knew each other intimately, and needed the other in order to handle what was thrown at them. Love was for children, but their partnership went beyond simply that. They were two halves of a whole, and the realization frightened them both.

"I'm ready to go back whenever you are." Natasha was resolute in her words. He'd forced her to succumb to the emotional release she'd needed, she had sunk into that oblivion.

AN: That might feel abrupt, but I could have gone on FOREVER with small conversation and it would have been awkward and pointless. Quick things, I tried to keep a the extent of their relationship as ambiguous as it was in the movie. Was this the first time they'd slept together? You choose. I'm not sharing my thoughts. And the whole idea of this was that Natasha needed to let go of her control in order to understand why she cared to get Clint back so much (I'm sorry if any Clint emotional issues still feel unresolved, it's just not where I was diving) and I tried to use her slipping into Russian to signify that a little bit (obviously the oblivion and the sex took her there). For those of you who didn't translate it, she's repeating "Please, oh god, yes, please." And then, "My god. You feel so good." (Thanks to freckleKaren for fixing that for me) I hoped you like it. Reviewing would make me feel happy, and would be a LOVELY birthday present to me, it's tomorrow May 20. Thanks for reading :)