So basically, I'm sick of hearing about Hawkeye/Black Widow... Just cuz I am, and also I like the dynamic they have now and I think that a romance between them would mess it up... So I'm writing something different. I know he like, marries Mockingbird and stuff, but I'm pretending that the movie and only the movie is canon to the Avengers, since comic books get a little confusing and it doesn't seem like the Mockingbird thing works out all that well anyways. Also, I know nothing about all the science-y stuff I mention, so I tried to keep it real vague and if I'm wrong about it, I apologize. I don't actually know what I'm talking about on that front. So, here goes. Let me know if it's worth continuing. Hope you enjoy and please please please review!

She leans over the table and shakes her head. "No. You couldn't get subatomic particles to behave that way no matter how hard you tried. I'm sorry, Jane. It just can't happen."

"What can't happen?" He materializes suddenly at her side, his breath tickling her ear as he murmurs his question. She can feel warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt as his hand comes to rest on the small of her back under the pretense of getting a closer look at the papers spread across the table.

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, but she fights it down. "Agent Barton. It's been awhile."

"Didn't I ask you to call me Clint, Dr. Howard?" She can hear the smirk in his voice, a tone which she's sure that only she and Agent Romanoff can sense, and she just smiles slightly and shakes her head. He continues, "What are we talking about?"

Dr. Banner doesn't even look up as he begins to explain to Agent Barton about subatomic particles and Jane Foster's ideas for making a few improvements to the Avengers' uniforms and weapons. It's all Rebekah can do to realize that his mouth is moving, much less process the words coming out of it. Despite her Ph.D. in Biology and M.S. in Chemistry, everything Dr. Banner is saying sounds very technical and she can't understand a word of it. Suddenly, the hand slips down a couple of inches and she feels something being tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. She barely represses a shiver as his hand trails up to linger briefly on her back, then disappears, leaving a cold spot where it had rested just a moment before. "I see. Well, maybe Mr. Stark is right and I really ought to leave all the science to the scientists," Barton chuckles. "I'd better go do my sweep. They always miss a piece of trash or two."

Rebekah laughs with the rest of the group, and after a minute or two, straightens. "My head is killing me. Let me just grab a couple of aspirin and I'll be right back." The group nods, Captain Rogers waving her off distractedly as he struggles to keep up with the scientific jargon being bandied back and forth between Jane, Dr. Banner, and Tony Stark. She sighs with relief, knowing that the only time Captain Rogers isn't watching her is when he's trying to understand all the intellectual talk between the rest of the Avengers and any others related to the team who happened by. He's been watching her since her first day on the ship, trying, she assumes, to figure out who she is and where exactly she fits in. It's not a bad question, since she isn't exactly sure herself. She thought she was just being assigned to assist Jane and Dr. Banner with their work, but finding that she'd been assigned to the very same locale as Agent Clint Barton has raised a few red flags in her mind. It's been years since they've seen each other. It could have just been a fluke. But the odds of something like this happening by chance around the Avengers seem slimmer than the odds of being struck by lightning on the day you win the lottery—twice.

She slips around the corner and pulls the note out of her pocket, glances at the few hastily scribbled words, then moves down the hall and into the parachute hangar, and for a moment, she stands, unmoving, as her eyes adjust to the darkness. "I'm glad you found my note."

She snickers to cover her uneasiness. "It's not as if you made much attempt to hide it. I mean, I would have had to be developmentally and functionally retarded and maybe paralyzed from the waist down to have missed your hand on my ass." She glances around the dark hangar, searching for a sign as to where he might be hiding.

"Alright. Let me rephrase: I'm glad you decided to come," the smirk has returned to his voice. Suddenly, he drops to the ground behind her and she jumps, startled. "Sorry about that," he grins.

"No you're not." But she can't help returning his smile for a brief moment.

A low chuckle escapes from his throat as he takes a few steps toward her. She steps back until her back comes in contact with the wall. Still he advances. "It's been too long, Beck."

Her breathing grows short as he places each of his glorious arms against the wall on either side of her, trapping her. "I don't see how that's my fault."

For a moment, the intensity in his gaze falters, and he purses his lips. "I know. I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… left." For that moment, when he's looking dejected and almost… vulnerable, she supposes, she's bombarded with all the memories from six years ago, and closes her eyes as she clears her head.

She forces her eyes open again. "Left? No, Clint. You disappeared. You didn't leave so much as a note in my back pocket."

He leans in and breathes another apology before angling his head to reach her lips with his. At the last second, she turns, and his lips land harmlessly on her cheek. She summons the last of her resistance and ducks out from between his arms. Just before she closes the door behind her, she whispers, "Not how it works, Barton."

So there's Part One. Want a Part Two? Leave a review and let me know!