Author's Note: So first, about Clint and Natasha's undercover names. I just couldn't help myself (you should know this by now about me.) It allowed me to write a couple of sentences that would have made me ecstatically happy had they been in newspapers or something. Second, Clint being 35 at the "start" of this fic, has a past. It will be referenced in this chapter and appearing more in future chapters. And Third this is a very, very long and very, very explicit (sexually so) chapter. Fair warning. Sometimes I'm really proud of this chapter, sometimes I think it wouldn't be out of place in a trashy romance novel. So it's up to you to decide-was it any good for you? Last I'm sorry it took me so long to write this-but I really wanted to get their first time and the development of their relationship right.

Blackhawk Down Chapter Five:

The Year of Getting to know us part 2

December 28th 2006- Hellicarrier, somewhere over the Pacific

Its three days after Christmas when Coulson and the Black Widow meet for the first time. In order to get them in a room together Barton had to agree to give up haunting the observation deck for two weeks so Romanoff could have it. It wasn't like he was giving up much-he doubted they'd be on the carrier for another two days much less two weeks.

"Agent Coulson, Agent Romanoff. Agent Romanoff, Agent Coulson." Barton perfunctory introduces his handler to the deadly spider he brought home as they all crowded into Coulson's organized office.

Phil and Romanoff are eying each other warily. Barton knows that Romanoff is thinking she could take Phil if she needed too-which she probably could (he's never sparred with anyone whose as good as her and if they were the same size and he didn't have the advantage of superior reach and arm strength she'd be kicking his ass all the time instead of just half the time) but Coulson is deceptive in his bureaucratic suit. The man has hidden depths. Barton knows it well.

Coulson breaks the staring contest first. Thus far Barton has not seen anyone been able to bear the full weight of the Black Widow's stare for long.

"I have your first mission Agent Romanoff."

"It's about time sir" Romanoff says seriously.

Coulson hands Romanoff a file, the same one Barton's been scrutinizing for days. "You're going under cover in Portland Oregon to watch the actions of Dr. Hamish Grant and his wife Melissa. They're suspected of Plutonium smuggling. You're cover will be as a Carpenter husband and wife team updating the Grant home. SHEILD already got you the contract."

"Scarlett?" Romanoff questions, looking at the thick file "you named me Scarlett? Seriously?"

"You will be Scarlett and Jeremy Fusco" Coulson continues, "and during the week you will watch the Grants. Weekends they spend in Salem Oregon with their daughter, son in law and two grandchildren. It has already been determined by other agents that their family has nothing to do with the smuggling nor do they continue their smuggling activities while on these trips. So weekends you will return to the hellicarrier either for more training or you will be sent on short term assignments. We expect this mission to last a minimum of six months."

Romanoff turns her stare on Barton, the look on her face clearly unhappy. "I'm used to working alone…"she starts.

"Not at SHEILD, agent." Coulson smacks down his authority like the hand of god. "Here you're no good to us if you won't work with a partner. And Barton's the best we got."

"Barton doesn't normally work with a partner" Romanoff shoots back.

"That's changing" Coulson says. "You're his responsibility until Fury trusts you and this mission requires a two person team. It's also the perfect way to evaluate your skill at undercover work and your flexibility in changing assignments quickly. But let me make it clear Barton is in charge here. Regardless of your years of experience in the field Barton is your senior when it comes to field work"-when it comes to everything Barton thinks-"and you will follow his direction whether you like it or not."

Feeling a little left out of the conversation Barton asks the one question that didn't have an obvious answer in the briefing packet. "What's our cover excuse for slipping away every weekend?"

"Sick parents in San Francisco" Coulson says, "Now you need to be ready to leave in three hours. We'll take the quintjet to Fort Lewis in Olympia and from there the two of you will drive to Portland. I'll be monitoring the operation from the fort and we can have backup to you in about 10 minutes by jet should you need it. Now get ready."


Natasha is incredibly uncomfortable going deep undercover with Agent Barton. It's not that she doubts his skills in the field-he was able to follow her without her realizing it and she's seen him shoot that stupid bow of his- but the idea of living with a man she owes her life to is more than a little uncomfortable.

She's also never had a deep cover assignment. Before she left the Red Room and struck out as an independent contractor the longest she was under was a week and a half. But she knew what happened to deep cover operatives.

They got soft. And they got close. To one another.

She didn't want to be close with Barton. She didn't need a friend; she didn't need a lover. And it was obvious he was opposed to both.

And Agent Coulson had made it extremely clear to her that by sparing her life and bringing her to SHEILD Barton had become responsible for her every action, meaning if she left, he would be the one to hunt her down and kill her. And there would be major consequences for him as well. She didn't understand why this man she didn't know had actually put his life and career on the line in more ways than one to save her.

These thoughts kept running through her head as she went to the facilities department to pick up the clothing she would be using on the op. Apparently there was already a car filled with the possessions of Jeremy and Scarlett Fusco and the house they'd be staying in was already stocked with the couple's larger items.

She comforted herself with the idea that she'd only need to be alone with Barton for five days at a time.

The quintjet ride to Washington was filled with Coulson filling them in on the more obscure details of their mission. Jeremy Fusco was of Italian descent and spoke the language fluently-as did his wife Scarlett who he'd met when both were on a study abroad program in Rome to learn old world style carving. They'd known each other seven years and had been married for five. They were both master craftsmen but starting their own business had been hard so instead of doing the kind of art work they wanted they were restoring old houses to their former glory and flipping some of them. They would be living in North West Portland and only two houses down from the Grants, leaving them the perfect vantage point to watch them. Coulson had split their age difference in half making Barton seven years younger and Natasha seven years older leaving them both at 28. Scrutinizing Barton carefully Natasha decided that he could pass for 28. She knew she could.

They left Coulson at Ft. Lewis around 8:00 pm and took the pickup loaded up for them and headed south. Barton drove.

The silence was deafening. And awkward. Natasha was comfortable with silence but sitting here saying nothing to this man who had saved her and then spent the next six weeks fighting with her in a carefully controlled environment was terrible.

"It says we have a cat" Natasha says, willing to do anything to break the silence.

Next to her Barton sighs and abruptly pulls off the road. He unhooks his seatbelt and turns to look at her.

"Look" he says, taking off his sunglasses and revealing his incredible multi colored eyes to her, "this isn't going to work-not like this. We're supposed to married. We're supposed to be in love. We need to at least be able to be friends to pull this off."

"How do you propose we do that?" Natasha asks, genuinely curious.

"I have a few ideas" Barton says, grinning in a way that makes her stomach clench.


Halfway to Portland it occurred to Barton that they could never pull this mission off if they couldn't even talk to each other. During training he and Romanoff had gotten along fine-but they'd never had to talk, only to field strip rifles and spar and practice language drills. With him studiously avoiding any hint she was a woman-much less a beautiful one-the whole time. That wouldn't work here. He couldn't mark her as sexless in his mind and have this be something they would pull off.

This mission was estimated to last at least six months. In order for it to be successful their relationship needed to change.

So he pulled into a roadside diner and watched Romanoff as she settled warily into the booth opposite him, scanning the room discreetly for exits and possible enemy contacts.

"So" he said, folding up his sunglasses and setting them by the silver ware, "I think we need to start over. My name's Clint."

Romanoff eyes him suspiciously. "Natasha" she said in a clipped tone.

"Great. Nice to meet you Natasha." He holds his hand out to be shaken.

She takes his hand reluctantly. "It is nice to meet you Clint."

"Now" he says, grabbing the menu from where it was stuck between the salt and pepper shakers and perusing the pie selections, "I purpose we get to know each other a little. Do you know how to play two truths and a lie?"

Roman- Natasha considers it. "No."

"Ok, good. This is a modified version anyway. We each get to ask the other person three questions but the person answering them only has to be truthful for two answers. The third answer is earned and told when you trust the other person enough to spill."

Barton watches as Natasha considers his offer carefully. While he's waiting for her answer he flags down a waitress and orders two cups of coffee and a cherry pie for each of them and then plays with the plastic menu. He's never been all that good at sitting still.

"Here is perhaps not the place to discuss" she looks around the diner warily, "certain things."

"Oh that's no problem" Clint says, pulling a small disk out of his pocket and hitting a button in the center of it. "This will keep us from being recorded and mess up the auditory systems of anyone more than 3 feet away from us so all they hear is whispers. The house is a safe zone for talking by the way."

"In that case I am…amenable to your proposal."

"Great" Clint smiles, desperate to form some sort of connection to this women beyond training partner. The mission depends on it. "I'll start. Ask me any three questions you want to know."

He watches Natasha's inscrutable eyes and tries to guess what she'll ask. There's the Big One, obviously, but he doesn't think it will dealt with this soon. The coffee arrives.

"Do you know anything about being a carpenter? I don't."

Clint snorts into his newly arrived coffee. "Yes I do. I'm pretty god with my hands-I make my own bows and arrows so wood carving isn't anything new to me. And we'll have help with the remodeling from other SHEILD agents stationed nearby to watch the Grants outside the home actions. "

"Why the bow and arrow?"

Clint shifts in his seat. He doesn't like it when people ask this question. It degrades the beauty of his bow to have it be questioned. "A couple of reasons. One, it's very distinctive. There's only a couple other people in the world who use a bow and arrow as their calling card and most of those can't make the kind of shots I can. Two, I'm better with it than with a gun. Always have been. Not by much but you know how much the smallest percentage can count against you in the field."

Natasha nods, appreciating, he thinks, the professional courtesy of a true and prompt answer. Then she looks down at her hands, clasped around her own coffee cup.

She looks up, emerald eyes huge. "Why didn't you kill me?"

Clint blows a hard gust out his mouth. So she's going for the Big One early on anyway. Meeting things head on-that's the Black Widow he's been watching thus far.

"Pass." He says. Her frustrated expression tells him everything-this was the one question she really wanted the answer to. "What did you want me to lie to your face? That's not how partners treat each other."

"I thought this was two truths and a lie."

"Ok, we'll change it. Two truths now and one truth to come later."

"Fine." She rolls her eyes. The pie arrives.

"My turn."

Natasha is more than a little curious about what this man- Hawkeye one of the best assassins and the best marksmen in the world- could possibly want to ask her about herself. In a diner. Halfway between Olympia and Portland. Before a long term mission begins.

It's amazing how much her life has changed in the last six weeks.

"So" Barton-no Clint she reminds herself" asks, "what's your middle name?"

Startled she blurts out the answer before she can think, "Alianovna."

"Pretty." Clint comments, taking a fork and starting to dig into his pie. "Is Natasha Romanoff your real name?"

"I, I don't know" Natasha says, unsure where this certain spurt of honesty is coming from. These were all questions she had been asked by SHEILD upon her official instatement as an agent and she supposed based on what he was asking Barton-no Clint- had not read her file as she had read his. Or perhaps he had and this was a test to see how honest she would be with him. "I was very young when the red room took me. They called me Natalia Romanova and so I answered to it."

Clint nods, a frown on his expressive face. She realizes for perhaps the hundredth time what a good looking man her new partner is. It had been fairly difficult when they were training and he did not wear shirts with sleeves to not be caught staring at his arms.

She feels a totally uncharacteristic blush beginning to rise in her cheeks and toys with her pie to avoid having to look at Clint any longer.

"Well we might as well be even" Clint says, sliding his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles under the table- perfectly relaxed posture belayed by his hyper alert eyes. "Why did you agree to come with me back to SHEILD?"

Natasha purses her lips together and thinks of what her answer should be. He was helping her after all, that was immediately clear when she became of his presence. But she had a bullet or two left after their shootout. She could have taken him out. He wouldn't have been expecting it.

The truth was she didn't know why she hadn't killed him-why she came with him. And she didn't need to answer the third question now. She could think about it.

"Pass." She says, shoving a forkful of pie into her mouth.

Clint nods, seeming pleased. "All right. That's a start at least. Now we need to get going- and remember, when we leave here we're Jeremy and Scarlett, not Clint and Natasha."


The second leg of the trip actually passed in a comfortable way as "Jeremy" and "Scarlett" play silly word games and" do you remember" to solidify the details of their cover. They get into Portland late, turning the pickup down Hawthorn Street around 11 o'clock at night and parking in front of a cozy two story house with a wide front porch painted a bright yellow with dark blue trim. It was classy and quirky and the overall beauty of it made Clint smile.

Clint-Jeremy, walked over to his wife and slung his arm across her shoulders as they stood in the night air staring at their new home-and more importantly the house two lots down where the grants live.

"Well I know we bought it online and it's only temporary" Jeremy said, rubbing his wife's shoulder and silently congratulating Natasha when she didn't tense up or flinch at his touch, "but I think we found a pretty good home base for a while."

Scarlett turned to her husband and smiled, a real smile. "I agree. And who knows-this could be the perfect place to start a family."

Jeremy's jaw dropped. "You mean that?" he asked, voice heavy with the promise of tears of joy.

"I mean it" Scarlett said, placing a hand each on her husband's broad shoulders. She started squealing when he unexpectedly picked her up and started twirling her around.

"At your three a clock" Natasha whispered, "lady in 402 staring out the window with a wistful expression."

"That's Melissa Grant" Clint whispered, burying his head in her shoulder to disguise the movement of his lips, just in case anyone knew how to read them. "She's thinking what a cute couple we make."

He pulled away and gently set Scarlett down on her feet. "I know you're beat hon, from all the driving today-why don't we just go to bed and deal with the clients and new neighbors tomorrow?"

"Sounds perfect" Scarlett smiled. "I just need to feed Sebastian and we can crash."

"Mmm" Jeremy wrapped his hands around Scarlett's waist and pulled her closer to him. "Sounds promising."

"It does, doesn't it" Scarlett responded as Natasha cursed her stomach from fluttering like she was a lovesick girl.

Jeremy leaned into Scarlett and brushed her lips with his quickly and gently. "You find Sebastian and I'll make the bed ok?"



The two assassins stood on either side of the double bed and stared at each other.

"Ok here's the drill" Clint said, sounding remarkably like he had when teaching the new recruits, "It's highly unlikely anyone will come into this room when we're sleeping and even more unlikely that anyone could without waking one or both of us up with plenty of time to plan something. But we have to be prepared. Meaning we sleep together-like two people who are married and in love do."

"You don't mean-" Natasha started.

"No, I don't." Clint said, briskly cutting off that avenue of conversation. The only way he was going to get through this particular part of the mission was by pretending his so cold, deadly and sexy partner was in effect sexless.

"Ok" Natasha agreeably climbed into bed. It wasn't like she hadn't been through worse. And in an odd way she trusted Clint. She certainly trusted his instincts and his shooting. And he wouldn't have gone through all the trouble he had with her only to kill her in her sleep.

Clint climbed in the other side of the bed, took a deep breath and scooted towards the Widow lying next to him and slowly and gently spooned her, reaching out to lay a hand across her stomach.

Natasha immediately tensed. Clint could tell she wasn't used to being touched in a manner that didn't indicate violence but he thought after their little display in the front yard she'd be ok with this. He knew he was being forced to trust her here. There was no reason she couldn't kill him in his sleep and just take off, never to have to deal with SHEILD again.

Clearly she was thinking the same thing.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" she whispered

It was time for the Big One it appeared. "I don't really know how to explain it." He said. "I went into the mission despising you-you were just this indiscriminate killer. But I didn't understand you even with all I knew about you. There were so many inconsistencies. Like how you would give money to the homeless and make so many of your kills painless. Then I saw you with Fitzroy and that kid and I could tell you weren't this completely cold blooded killer like I thought you were. I could tell there was something about you that was as resigned as I was to the work that we do. And you were still-I don't really know how to put it-human. Not many people in this business are."

Natasha stared down at her clasped hands wrapped around her pillow. "What if you were wrong?"

Totally surprising her a gentle squeeze came across her abdomen. "I wasn't."

Natasha continued her inspection of her nails-clipped and painted with clear varnish to fit the image of a woman who worked with her hands. "Does this mean you trust me?"

"I trust you enough to sleep with you." Clint said. "Goodnight Natasha."

"Goodnight Clint."

Clint seemed to fall asleep immediately, the deep untroubled sleep of the trusting. Natasha remained awake longer, eventually lulled to dreamland by his steady breathing and the reassuring thump of his warm heartbeat behind her.

What she didn't know but would find out later: Clint had never slept through the night next to any woman, not even his ex-wife. But then he'd never had a partner before either.

December 2006-April 2007- Multiple Locations

The initial meeting with the Grant's went very well as Jeremy and Scarlett walked through their three story painted lady and took measurements. Natasha showed an unexpected talent for concept sketches and Clint was truly gifted when it came to wood working.

Together they watched the Grant's for the first week, taking careful note of everything in their home and keeping track of the phone tap they'd set up. It was more than Clear the Grant's found them to be an adorable couple- especially after they'd caught them kissing when they'd come a little too close to being caught setting up the tap on the phone line.

Neither assassin knew how they felt about the kiss. It was painful obvious to each of them that the other was an extremely attractive specimen of their sex and competent to boot. But this was the first week of their official partnership and they both knew the stakes. There was no room for recreational sex here.

Then the weekend came and they drove the two hour trip to Olympia and took the quintjet to the hellicarrier. It was time for their first official short term assignment-their first assassination as a team.


Brussels was cold and snowy. The natives walked about with heavy fleece caps and scarves tucked into long overcoats.

Clint was having none of it. He worked best with his arms free.

Natasha watched shivering even in her fur coat in sympathy as the light flashes off the piece of mirror Clint had set up on the roof across from the café as a signaling device. It was her job to lure Anton Fisher, a cutting edge chemist who used his talents to make a brand of heroine that was 10 times as addictive as the regular stuff, with half the negative side effects. If it hit the street there was no way of knowing what kind of havoc would be wreaked. He was currently in negotiations with 4 drug cartels to sell his formula. The night before Clint and Natasha had killed the bidder for the Russian cartel and had Natasha take his place. She would win the bidding war with a fake account someone in SHEILD's cyber division had set up. Lure Anton back to her hotel to celebrate and along the way, in a deserted ally, Clint would kill him.

Coulson quarterbacked the op from the carrier, his voice in both agents' ears. It went off without a hitch. One more dangerous drug forever off the streets and one more scumbag gone for good.

Fury couldn't admit it to their faces but he was impressed with how well Barton and Romanoff worked together after only a week.


April 2007- Hellicarrier, somewhere over the Atlantic

Time began to pass quickly as Jeremy and Scarlett worked on the Grant's house during the day and Natasha and Clint spied on them at night. The two developed a serious respect for each other and on their weekend missions a deep commitment to watching the other's back. Their partnership began to form in every sense of the word.

Winter turned to spring and spring to summer. 8 assassinations and 4 short term covert ops later and slowly Clint and Natasha began to change. They became a unit, a cohesive moving set of parts that corresponded so well no one could tell the individual parts apart. They slowly opened up-Natasha blooming like the proverbial flower in the attention Clint lavished on her and their partnership. And Clint himself came out of the hard shell he had maintained at SHEILD for so many years and especially since his divorce a year ago.

It was little things at first. Remembering how the other liked their coffee. Changing their sleeping arrangements so Clint wasn't always the one spooning Natasha. Falling immediately to sleep in each other's arms instead of staying awake waiting for a fatal blow. Sparring matches that became legendary and highly anticipated spectator sports when they were on the hellicarrier.

Then one night while on the carrier Clint heard Natasha screaming through the thin metal wall that separated their quarters. He immediately got up and picked the lock for her sterile, mostly metal quarters, walking in without hesitation. Only to find her brandishing a gun at him.

"Tasha" Clint said, swallowing deeply. It was the first time he'd called her anything but Natasha but the instinct to shorten her name had been bugging him for weeks. "Tasha it's me. Clint. You can put the gun down."

"Clint?" Natasha asked, voice scared and confused with sleep.

"Yeah it's me" Clint moved closer and wrapped his hand around the butt of the gun. "Give me the gun ok 'Tash?"

"Ok" Natasha sounded heartbroken and confused as she handed over the firearm.

Clint ejected the magazine from the gun and popped out the round in the chamber, setting the empty weapon on the desk table. Slowly, with his hands up to indicate his peaceful intention-because Natasha was lethal weather she was armed or not- he approached the bed, sitting down by Natasha in the gloom.

"You ok Nat?" he asked, letting himself go all out with the nicknames that had been crowding his brain for so long.

"I just….I had a…"

"A nightmare. That's ok. The best of us have them. You think you can go back to sleep?"


"Ok" Clint pulled down the covers covering Natasha and slipped under them.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked, voice more tired than protesting.

"I'm going to sleep with you. This bed is barely big enough but you never have nightmares at home."

It didn't escape either of their notice that he referred to their cover house as 'home.' But neither mentioned it.

"You can't just sleep with me" Natasha protested, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Sure I can" Clint said. "We do it five days a week." He lay down next to her, pulling her down with her and wrapped both his arms around her waist. "Now sleep."

"Ok" Natasha breathed, relaxing into his embrace, "but just for tonight. And if you call me Tasha or Tash or Nat again I'm going to have to kick your ass especially publicly."

"You can try" Clint chuckled. "night Tasha."

Needless to say they slept together every night after that, whether on the carrier or off. Coulson clearly knew but ignored it and Fury didn't seem to know or care. Their success rate was outstanding- a true 100% with all sorts of valuable intel coming in on the Grant thing indicating a problem much larger than a dentist and his wife refining plutonium. They could fuck in public for all he cared. The counsel wouldn't like it and Hawkeye was still responsible for every action the Black Widow took but the way they worked together it didn't seem to be a problem.

But it changed everything.


July 4th 2007- Portland, Oregon

They became real friends and suddenly neither of them could ignore the massive attraction they felt to each other anymore. Natasha started touching herself in the shower, tentatively, and whishing Clint was doing it instead. And Clint started having difficulties not getting hard ons when they snuggled up at night. Both of them yearned for the few kisses they could reasonably share in front of the neighbors.

It all came to a head on the Fourth of July. It was a Friday and normally they'd be on rout to the carrier because the Grants were with their kids in Salem but Coulson had deemed it too suspicious that they would miss such a major neighborhood holiday.

The lights overhead from the fireworks were amazing, sparkling jeweled constellations that flared to life brighter than the stars and died a quick fading death. The whole neighborhood was grouped out on Waterfront Park watching them as they were lit one by one across the river. Families crowded on blankets and lay back staring at the show.

They'd gotten to the point seven months into this assignment where they couldn't tell if they were pretending anymore. Either of them. It wasn't like the odds on this happening were long: though they were both experienced agents long term deep cover was a rarity in any agent's career for a reason-people tended to specialize in it because it was so stressful. Covers became more than just covers when you were living them every day, day after day, week after week, month after month.

So at this point they were just as much Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff as they were Jeremy and Scarlett Fusco- and while Clint and Natasha liked and respected each other, Jeremy and Scarlett were in love.

So they back on their plaid flannel blanket, head to head, and stared up at the fireworks with the rest of the street, whispering softly to each other occasionally. And when Clint's head turned just the right way and they were both smiling from a silly joke Natasha had just told, their mouths nearly met.

"I came with you because you offered me an out" she suddenly blurted, averting her eyes from his, "and anything would have been better than the hell I was living through. I was totally alone and somehow I knew if I went with you I wouldn't be anymore."

"Thank you" Clint said, "For trusting me." And then he rolled over slightly and kissed her.

They had kissed before of course, to sell their cover. Pecks in front of neighbors. Even made out once when they came a little too close to getting caught in the targets living room when Clint was supposed to be installing baseboards he hand carved. But this was different.

Nobody told them they had to sell this kiss.

This kiss was for them.

Their mouths met slowly, hesitantly, gently. Closed at first, then opening slightly, caressing each other's lips.

Natasha rolled over and propped her upper body up so she could lean down and deepens the kiss, which was now upside down . Clint snaked his hands up her face and into her hair. Tongues got involved.

The fireworks were truly beautiful-the night itself gorgeous. But there wasn't any mystery as to by the Fusco's suddenly decided to go back inside.

The blanket was hastily dropped on the kitchen table and Clint was pressed up against the kitchen wall before either of them spoke. Clint wrapped an arm around her waist and once again wormed his fingers into her hair.

He stared into her eyes. Blue on green. Unblinking.

"Tell me doesn't make me a pedophile" he said, completely deadpan.

For a moment Natasha froze, thinking the 14 year age difference actually meant that much to him. Then she burst out laughing and buried her head in his shoulder for a moment. "And here I thought you could count."

"Only as high as I have fingers to count on."

Natasha smiled and it made Clint's heart clench. It was so different these last two months, seeing her happy and energetic-like a regular person, not a highly trained brain washed child assassin.

"So you must not be able to count at all now, seeing as your fingers are otherwise occupied."

Clint wiggled his fingers around her waist and wandered them down to her hipbone. With his other hand he shifted down to massage her neck. He pressed down on a knot and the release of tension made her moan.

Oh he wanted to hear that sound again.

"They could be even more occupied." He said voice husky.

Natasha eyes were bright and languid when she looked at him. "Show me."

Clint moved his hand from her hip to her thigh and quickly pulled her leg around his waist, pulling them closer together and turning them, slamming Natasha into the kitchen wall. She retaliated by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and going in for a kiss.

Through the window the fireworks lit up the kitchen.

Clint grabbed her other leg and effortlessly lifted her off the ground. Their lips fused together and Natasha tangled her fingers in his short blond hair.

"I want you" she told him, panting as she pulled away from his mouth "Do you know I've never wanted anyone before?"

Clint smiled. "I'm honored." He said, dead serious. "I want you too."

Clint gently unhooked Natasha's legs from around his waist and pulled her up into a bride hold. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him, doing her best to distract him as he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom.

Reaching the bedroom door Clint turned around and bumped it open with his back so Natasha wouldn't hit the doorknob. Still securely in his arms, arms around his neck the Russian wiggled her hips to be let down. With her feet on the floor she peeled her shirt off and crooked her finger at Clint.

"Come here" she ordered, voice smoky with lust.

He came closer and she grabbed the front of his t-shirt and drags him in for a kiss. It was more than a little filthy and clearly shows him what she wants him to do down below.

Clint grabs Natasha's hips and slides his hands down to her ass and pulls her towards him with two hands and grinds against her, his already hard cock pulsating against her. It makes Natasha tremble and wetness pool between her thighs.

She's never chosen before. Her marks that the red room decreed she get sexual with she got sexual with, barring another solution. With SHEILD seductions had involved only a little play acting and no sex-but still no choice. But here, now, in this room, she is choosing. The experience is heady and her body has never felt like this before. Trembling, waiting to come undone. And wanting this man, and only his man, to do the undoing.

She breaks away from the kiss long enough to drag his t-shirt over his head and slides her hands down his chest, past his pecks and down his abdominal muscles to the waistband of his jeans (the nature of their mission means Clint lives in t-shirts and jeans during the week. She loves it) she fingers the button on his jeans, pops it out and drags her fingers down the zipper, pressing against his cock as she does so.

It makes Clint shiver with need. He grabs onto her torso and rubs his hands over her ribcage, sliding his hands underneath the back of her bra and unhooking it, tossing the lace scrap to the floor and brings his hands around to caress her breasts.

Natasha throws her head back and moans. He covers her mouth with his and swallows the noise. Hands on her hips now he picks her up again and gently tosses her on the bed. With a predatory gleam in his eye he stalks over and she lies back on the pillows awaiting him. He pulls down her jeans and underwear in one smooth motion and she raises her hips to assist him in getting them off.

The sight of her finally naked takes his breath away.

She watches as he shucks his own remaining clothing, so hard his shaft is standing up perpendicular to his stomach, the tip glistening with pre-come. The sight made something clench repeatedly inside of her and her already humming clit started to pound with desire. She needs him to touch her and she knows how to make that happen without asking so she spreads her legs on the bed and raises her hand to tease a line down her body between her breasts. Just when she's about to reach her center and touch herself his hand grabs her wrist.

She looks at him. He looks back. His pupils are so dilated his eyes are almost black.

"Un un darlin'. That's my job." By this time she's adjusted to Tasha, Tash and Nat. Darlin' is new though. She thinks she might like it.

He takes her hand and raises it to his mouth kissing it, taking one of her knuckles into his mouth and swirling his tongue around her finger. Then he took his own hand and ran it down the same path her hand had traveled. When he came to her open mound he ran two fingers firmly through her folds, causing a deep moan to come out of her. Her cunt is dripping with moisture.

"You want to see how occupied my fingers can be? I'm going to make you come Tasha" he informed her, "I'm going to make you come till you scream."

Then he quirks two fingers inside of her and pressed hard on her G-spot, the heal of his hand pressing into her clit.

She comes immediately, an orgasm ripping through her hard. Natasha's voluntary sex life has been surprisingly minimal and she's had surprisingly few orgasms herself much less had an orgasm with a partner and the stimulus is simply too much. She cries out. Clint's cock twitches and he fights not to come himself.

"That's it." He leans forward and kisses her forehead as she falls back on the pillows and shakes. "So beautiful Tash."

She grabs his hand and pulls on it, using the leverage to topple him on top of her. The way he falls on her leaves his cock perfectly lined up with her cunt, pressing against her clit.

"Oh Jesus Nat I want to fuck you" Clint says, voice horse and gravely. She responds by tilting her hips up, making his cock thrust against her most sensitive spot.

"Yes." She moans. "Yes."

He lines up his cock with her cunt and pushes inside. The feeling of being filled relives the terrible aching Natasha's been enduring. One of Clint's arms wraps around her shoulders, his other hand pushes against the headboard for leverage.

When you want the person you're with its so different Natasha discovers. Returning Clint's thrusts is no chore and the heavy pulse of his hardness inside of her is only an additional turn on. He's long and thick and nothing has ever felt as good as he does inside of her.

Clint kisses her again. She's so wet and warm and so very tight-and what she said about never wanting anyone before is swelling his head in the worst way (and some other places-he doesn't think he's ever been this hard.) She wraps her legs high around his waist and he grabs the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and rubs circles with his thumbs. She's moaning and clenching and he's thrusting and kissing (he hasn't been able to tear his lips away from hers and even if he does they only travel as far as her neck. Generally speaking he's not for kissing during sex anymore because it makes it so intimate but he can't seem to help himself here.) Barely any words are exchanged but it's all so intimate and amazing that they both know there's no way to go back.

Clint thrusts deep inside of her and hits some spot Natasha didn't even know existed and she can't help from letting out a small scream.

He looks up from kissing her and she's seen all kinds of expressions on his face but this one has them all beat. "Yeah? You like that?" he pants out.

His voice is so sexy, deep and rough and all husky right now and it makes her clench inside.

She slips her legs so the death grip she has on his waist loosens and her feet rest on his calves instead. The new angle is fantastic.

"Yeah" she moans. "Oh yeah. I like that."

He hits the same spot over and over and over again until she can't keep little cries from coming out of her mouth. He trails kisses down her neck and collarbone and then twirls his tongue into her ear.

"I believe I promised to make you scream" he says, voice deeper than he's ever heard it. "And that one before didn't count. I mean a real scream."

She's going to come any second now and she's desperate for a release. "You did."

He reaches down and hitches both of her legs above his shoulder, bending her double and proceeds to hit that spot he found three times in quick succession.

She doesn't really want to give him the satisfaction because there's an odd game of one-upmanship going on here but she can't help the scream of pleasure that rips through her throat.

"That's it baby" he says, kissing her deeply and in a way that would make a nun faint to see it, "god you are so fucking beautiful when you come."

His voice is-she doesn't know how to describe it but hearing him call her beautiful and the sensitivity of her recent orgasm makes her come again, so hard she couldn't make a noise if she wanted to.

"Oh fuck. Tasha, Jesus that it so…" and then he lets out a loud grunt/shout and she can feel him come inside of her, thrusting erratically and spurting hot come.

After she recovers enough to notice she realizes he's holding his weight off of her on his arms and she reaches up and knocks them out from under him with a well-placed gentle blow to the forearm area. He looks at her quizzically.

"I like you on me."

"Mm. I like you under me."

She laughs and so does he and any lingering tension there was breaks and they are suddenly two lovers who are very good friends-perhaps the only friends the other has-who are comfortable with each other and the situation.

She stretches languidly and the movement stirs him inside of her to begin to harden again.

"Oh" she moans, "Oh, oh!"


"That! That feels so good-you getting hard inside of me." She moans again and lifts her hips and starts to rock them.

Clint rolls them onto his back so he can watch her, careful not to slip out of her. He sits up against the headboard and she rises in his lap, leaning back against his propped up knees.

"Oh, oh oh!" She rocks back and forth, clenching him as he gets thicker inside of her.

Clint runs his hands up her sides and gently thumbs her nipples, bending down to capture one in his mouth and sucking hard. The act runs a line of pure pleasure from her breast to her groin and makes Natasha cry out even louder.

"Yes!" she pants, riding him for all he's worth, "oh yes, oh god, please…" and then she comes, clenching down on his fully erect cock and falling against his chest.

After a moment of complete silence in which only the faint boom from the fireworks could be heard Clint speaks up. "That was the sexiest thing I have ever, ever seen."

"Yeah" Natasha asks, pressing hot open mouthed kisses to his chest and neck, "You liked that?"

"Watching that was…Jesus Natasha I don't think you have any idea what you do to me." Natasha is reserved for serious situations now, such as yelling at her in the field, or apparently, telling her how astounding she is in bed.

"Mmm." She moans, rolling her hips over his and grinding down on his erection. "I think I have some idea."

"Fuck" Clint swears and leans back on one hand so he can thrust up into Natasha. She gasps but continues to mouth him, licking around his nipples now.

"That's it" she moans, "please fuck me. Jesus Clint this is so good, it's so amazing to be able to-" she cuts off, embarrassed.

"To be able to choose?" He asks, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Yes" she looks him straight in the eye, pressing her upper body to his and gently rolling her hips and using her inner muscles to squeeze his erection. "To choose."

Clint smiles and kisses her, abruptly rolling Natasha over to the sound of her squealing and thrusting deeply into her.

They continue for much of the night, giving up only when the birds of dawn inform them they have mere hours to get ready and back to the hellicarrier for their weekend assignment.


December 2nd, 2012- Quintjet somewhere over the Southeast

It's been decided that due to the unknown status of Clint's head injury that Rodgers' should fly the quintjet as they head to the sight of the latest Loki related disaster.

To be fair this can't really be blamed on Loki but more on his rabid fangirls and boys who claim he is just misunderstood and maybe the earth would have been better off with him in charge and even he can't seem to stand.

Clint had read up on them the night before, not really being able to sleep. This memory loss thing was too weird for any real rest to be occurring. Except during the memory induction procedure-then he had slept-and dreamt.

Oh how he had dreamed.

He looked up at Nat sitting across from him in the back of the jet. She looked angry, exhausted and nervous. Not at all the picture of the Black Widow he had gotten from reading their mission files, which Fury had sent over as soon as he realized the situation. Not at all the warm loving woman from his dream.

But at least now he had conclusive truth she was telling the truth. His dream had been so vivid, so absolutely true to life that he had been hard pressed to wake from it at all much less without a hard on.

In fact just now it was hard to look at her without eliciting some sort of reaction from his body. She was so beautiful, so deadly and so… his.

That is if the dream and everything she had been telling him was to be believed. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her about it as Pepper whisked her away right before they left. But according to Stark and Banner (who were not happy with the disruption of their experiment-though nowhere near as angry as Nat) it wasn't a dream but a memory. And if it was a memory, well then-holy crap. It appeared she was right about everything. He loved this woman. He had married this woman. He spent lazy Saturday mornings in bed with this woman.

He hadn't thought there would be anyone after Bobbie-especially so soon-though he guessed really it wasn't so soon was it? It had been over six and a half years.

Though he hadn't told them the nature of the memory Stark and Banner had seemed surprised that any memory at surfaced at all-much less one that was as vivid as he described. And one that had nothing to do with the mission events of the last month or so.

Yeah, he wondered what that was about. Maybe watching the recording of the procedure was worth something...

But now he had to put it out of his mind. They had a mission to complete. A weird one, but a mission at that.

It seemed Loki's army (as they called themselves, thankfully having no relation to Loki's real army which had attacked in May of 2012) had taken over a chemical factory just south of Houston. Despite being mostly teenagers the army had an overall IQ of more than 135 and a psyche profile that made Barton look positively normal. There was simply no knowing what they could do with the chemicals they had gotten their hands on. And there were their hysterical parents to deal with. It simply wasn't a job local PD could take on-especially with the multiple jurisdictional issues involved as the army was from everywhere in the world.

"So what's the plan Cap?" Iron man's voice crackled through the coms as he flew beside them in his suit. Thor was thankfully flying inside the jet-having not been cleared for airspace like stark had been.

"Same as always" Rodgers sounded weary. "Hawkeye you get up high and pick off the stragglers-non lethal shots only these are just misguided kids. Iron man you sweep the perimeter initially but then get inside and see what you tell about what they're doing. Banner we don't need the hulk on this one, we need you. So the Black Widow will get you inside to their main lab which sat imaging says is in building C-and I'll interface with the local PD and keep the perimeter tight."

"And what shall I do my friends?" Thor boomed, his voice especially loud in the confined space.

Captain America hesitated for a moment. It wasn't all that often Thor joined them on earth-much less for missions as routine as this one was looking to be. "Stick with me Thor" he finally decided, "we don't know what kind of surprises these girls may have planned for us-and if you're down low you can pick off the stragglers Hawkeye misses."

"I don't-"

"He doesn't-"

"- miss" Came simultaneously from Barton and Natasha.

Baron looks up and his eyes locked with Nat's for a moment and it was all he could do to keep breathing. How had he not noticed this level of pain in her eyes before? It was like an actual ocean of despair.

He looks away quickly. Mind on the job Barton.

They start their descent towards the factory. Rodger's sets them down on the conveniently located helipad atop the building and each Avengers hops out to do their thing.

"Fuck" Natasha swears as she guides a mostly helpless Banner through the maze of booby traps and trip wires Loki's army has set up. She's never been this distracted during a mission ever. But Clint is out there with no idea how things have changed in the last six and half years-though he does seem to have familiarized himself with the new arrows he's invented since then.

And then there's the baby. She can't allow herself to get hurt in certain ways she just can't. By all rights she should have done as Pepper insisted and stayed out of this one but she couldn't Clint go back into the field for the first time since losing his memory and be without her to watch his back. No matter what Pepper said about him having a whole team Clint was usually the most isolated of any of them during a battle-up high and away from most of the fighting but still vulnerable to attacks from multiple assailants.

Still she couldn't risk triggering one of the traps. They had to go slow. Unleashing the Hulk in this confined maze filled with chemicals was not an option.

They finally reach the lab in building C and Natasha can't keep still anymore. Banner heads directly for the microscopes and reams of equations decorating the white boards and she makes a snap decision.

"Here" she says, hanging over her glock to Banner. "You know how to use this. I have to get up high and help Clint."

"Natasha I can't kill anyone-these are mostly just little girls" Banner's protests.

"Don't worry about the gun is loaded with tranqs. They should take down an elephant without harming it." In fact the tranq they use in all SHEILD standard guns is one Clint mostly devised based off of one they used in the circus when the elephants became rambunctious. "I have to go Banner."

"That's a negative Black Widow stay with Hulk" the cap breaks through her ear piece and man is he a stickler for code names during operations. Banner isn't even the hulk right now.

"Sorry Cap-something's wrong, I can feel it." And with that she makes for the roof.

"Haven't heard anything on the coms Widow" the cap responded.

"His Taser arrows disrupt coms temporarily" Natasha replied, angry their team leader didn't already know this. "Banner will be fine. I'm going."


Barton had it easy for the first few minutes, firing off tranq and Taser arrows and downing everyone he targeted. Thor and the Cap didn't have much to do at the perimeter. Eventually he started to run out of arrows then and that was when the extremely well organized teenage army realized if they swarmed the guy on the roof they'd have a hell of an easier time getting out of there.

Somehow-from sparring with Nat he supposed-his body was now pre-programed for a lot of non-lethal but extremely debilitating combat. Which was good-he didn't feel like killing any crazy teenagers today.

But despite all his speed and skill and dexterity eventually Hawkeye was pulled down by the sheer mass of attackers. There were over 50 of them and man where they determined. And his coms were down for now so it looked like he was on his own.

Just as he was fighting off three of them who had him a choke hold he saw a flash of red over his shoulder and the sound of gunshots. The distraction allowed him to get his own gun free and fire off more tranq rounds until the number of kids on the roof was down to a more manageable 30.

"Got bored babysitting Banner?" he asked as he and Natasha moved into an instinctual back to back stance.

"Knew something was wrong with your Hawk ass" Nat responded

"Is that like a married person's thing?" he asked, well aware the com link for a 10 foot radius around his was down. She hadn't exactly specified that their marriage was a secret but it sure felt like the rest of the team had no idea what was going on with them.

"You tell me" she said, taking down a lanky teenage boy with a thigh choke, " I've only been married once. I think it's like a partner's thing."

Hawkeye just nodded and kept his mouth shut as back to back he and the widow proceeded to cut a swath through Loki's army that left those remaining conscious running.

The coms suddenly crackled to life. "'e got an influx of kids heading this way" Caps voice was tired but happy, "Could use some extra help in arresting them all."

"We're on it" Hawkeye and the Black Widow spoke in synch again, then looked at the other, each of them smiling hesitantly.


Early December 3rd, 2012-Avengers's Tower

Barton watches as Natasha rolls her neck. This annoying need to touch her-so strong it makes his palms tingle- had only gone away during their oh-so-brief mission earlier today. That dream he'd had had only made the feelings from this morning stronger. He didn't like this. He felt the extreme need to beat something up or break something. Or someone. Preferably Loki. Beating up on his sad little army that the guy didn't want hadn't been satisfying. And despite the shortness of the mission they sheer number of people to be arrested and processed and guaranteed the Avengers were stuck in Houston for hours and hours.

This memory loss was just beyond annoying. It wasn't like he had just gone back to where he was six years ago. He had gone back to where he was with all these new urges and feelings for a woman he was supposed to kill.

That must have been what Loki wanted he realized. Removing all memoires of her and leaving him with a disinterested sort of semi-hatred where love and trust used to be. It left him so off kilter. Wanting her and not trusting her. Wanting to touch her so badly and not knowing if he could…

Oh fuck it. She looked tense, like she'd pulled some muscle or something.

He cleared his throat. "Come here" better to not make it a question. He didn't want to know if she was uncomfortable with his touching her right now. For some reason the thought made him ache. "Let me take care of that for you."

Nat-he's schooled himself to think of her as that now-raises her eyebrows. But all the same she puts down her teacup and takes a seat in one of the bar stool chairs that ring the kitchen counter.

He walks behind and with one of his hands, moving slowly unsure if this is the right thing to do, he gently sweeps her hair into his fist.


Well, that's familiar. The way her hair feels in her hands. But then doesn't all hair feel the same. Soft and …hairy?

He throws off the thought and sets his other hand at the base of her neck. He's good at this-massages. He's good with hands in all ways but medical care in the field could vary from wound care to getting someone in extreme pain not to fall into shock. Soothing massages could be a part of that.

He sets his fingers to work and makes his way from the base of her neck to her shoulders, letting go of her hair and allowing his other hand to wander down to her left shoulder.

She lets out a noise that sounds a lot like a moan.

Oh he wants to hear that sound again.

"That feels good" she moans, "so good."

Jesus it's just like a line from his dream and he can't seem to help it that he's starting to get an erection.

That energy from this morning is starting to build up again in between them and his hands stop massaging and start caressing. She twists her head to look at him and the look in her eyes can only be described as hungry.

"Clint…" she's whispering his name but he's not focused on the sound so much as the shape of her lips as the word leaves it. He can read lips- a leftover benefit from the terrible three months he was fully deaf-and he's seen his name said before but never so…

Oh Jesus fuck it.

He leans down and she hoists and herself up so she's sitting on her knees and twists around in the chair and then their lips and touching and he's kissing her like he's drowning, like he can somehow devour her…

The angle is too awkward, he's leaning down too far and he can't get his arms around her so when she wraps her arms around his neck he just lifts her out of the chair because all that archery has made him incredibly strong and she practically climbs up his body until her legs are wrapped tightly around his waist and her center is pressed into his rapidly hardening groin.

He carries her to the couch and sits down, leaving her in his lap. Their lips don't leave each other but she's squirming against him and he's pushing into her and Jesus it's like they're teenagers dry humping in the back seat of one of their parents cars.

He run's his hands up the inside of her thighs, forcing her legs further apart and grinds into her-he can feel the heat coming from her center on his cock and all he wants is to rip off her clothes and bury himself in her.

His lips leave hers and run down her jaw and neck. He's never wanted anyone this much in his life.

"Why do I want you so much?" he asks, kissing the hollow between her collarbones and pulling her suit down until the zip is past her breasts. "Why didn't I kill you?"


Natasha stares at Clint, dazed. He's kissing a path down between her breasts and she can't stop the movement of her hips into his and she feels so empty it almost hurts, but she can't get her mind off what he just said.

Why do I want you so much? Why didn't I kill you?

This Clint doesn't know her. This Clint doesn't love her. He may want to be with her but it's not…it's not enough.

She manages to tell her body not now and pulls away from Clint.

"I can't do this" she says. Manners dictate the next words out of her mouth. "I'm sorry."

She climbs off him, one leg at a time and backs away.

"You don't know me now" she says, studiously not looking at his face, "you don't even really care about me now. I can't-you're not my Clint."

And with that she leaves. Headed to the cold spare bedroom she has claimed as her own.



Barton buries his head in his hands and tries to ignore the demands of his pulsating cock. Why had he thought that was a good idea?

Well, clearly he hadn't been thinking. Even less so than normal than when sex is involved. He'd just…wanted.

He still wanted.

A cold shower sounded like a good idea right about now.

And then he had someone he needed to talk to.


A/N: That's it folks! Coming up next time: Clint meets with a very important person from his past and learns the true extent of what Loki had him do under his mind control. We learn what Loki's army was up to in that factory and the method to fix the amnesia is tried again with somewhat startling results. Also a new contender for Natasha's somewhat unclear affections is made apparent.