Author's Note: When I saw avengers and was struck immediately by the relationship between Agents Barton and Romanoff. The degree of trust they had with each other, the look on Natasha's face when she was told Barton was compromised. Something about Natasha's interrogation with Loki just had me thinking that there was so much more to their personal relationship then the movie was showing and I wanted to explore what they were like after everything that happened when they were finally alone and allowed to be themselves again. I realize this might strike people as a bit OCC but I think that underneath their jobs and unique skill sets they really might be normal people when they are-and only when they are- alone together. Then it somehow turned into the most explicit sexual scenes I had ever written, which I'm quite nervous about. So please let me know what you think but for the love of god be gentle! I'm somewhat of a smut virgin.

Without further ado….


The end of the world had come and gone and they were still standing.

The streets were empty. Deserted. Everyone who could was hiding, refusing to face the utter chaos that the ground had become. Littered with alien corpses. Human sized ones and then those doubling as transport ships. Above news helicopters thrummed slowly through the skies, filming the disaster New York City had become.

No one knew what to do next.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Scientists were already starting to mobilize on the ground taking samples from the only aliens they were ever going to get them from (Thor and Loki weren't options. Something to do with the pride of Asgard. Just no.)

Clint was exhausted and hurting and had glass in his skull and all he wanted was to go back to the hellacarrier and curl up in the double wide bed he and Natasha had unexpectedly been gifted with from Coulson when they got married.

It made him scratch his head and wince as he inadventedly dug the glass deeper into his scalp when he realized that not only did the quarters he shared with Natasha probably no longer exist after he totaled half the carrier but that the only person in the whole world who knew they were married (Coulson, who held on their wedding rings when they were on missions on away for each other's for extended periods like they had been for the past year) was dead.

Because of him.


This one. Only this one.

So many dead because of him.

And then, because he was just in a battle- not a mission or a job but an honest to god battle with gods and superheroes and shit- and his brain is bouncing around like a proverbial ping pong ball he realize he has not been alone with his wife except for five minutes after she knocked the mind control out of him earlier today. For over a year.

This makes his gaze swing back to Natasha and suddenly he can't stop starring at her. It's been a year since he's touched her and now all he wants is to run his fingers down every inch of her perfect skin and lick….

They're standing on the corner of fucked and up and New York is falling down around them and he's getting a hard on.

He manages to get a handle on it but he still can't stop staring and soon Natasha (his beautiful Tasha who he tried to kill in the most horrible way possible earlier this very day) is looking at him too, their eyes locked on each other. Blue on green. The space between them humming.

"Let's go." She says after five minutes without blinking.

Its hours of flying time to get back to base. Too much time. And even the time it would take to find a hotel not on lockdown and get a room seems like it would physically hurt. He has to touch her. Now.

So he backs her into a wall in a building that isn't crumbling too badly and kisses her, relishing it when she bites his lips. It's been so long since they've touched that everything moves so fast and suddenly he's inside of her and wrapped up in glorious wet silk and she's clenching and moaning and his head is resting on her shoulder. They come together and he raises his head and kisses her and it all just takes his breath away.

"I love you" he pants, telling her for the first time since they skyped a week ago (since he tried to kill her and the world ended and everything…), "I love you so much. Tasha." She says love is for children but together, when they are alone, she allows herself to be childish with him.

He's still hard inside of her- or hard again, it doesn't matter- and he starts to move again. She moans and he watches as her eyelids flutter. "I love you too." She breathes, "I've always loved you. I'll always love you." He raises his eyebrows because this is the mushiest he's ever heard her.

"Nat" he groans and thrusts inside of her.

"Clint!" She gasps and moans and writhes against him and it's all too much after a year in the desert with only weekly web calls and the palm of hand to comfort him.

"Fuck. Tasha.." and then he's coming, babbling in her ear about how much he loves her as he reaches into her center with his fingers and makes her come so hard that her head knocks into his shoulder hard enough to almost dislocate it.

"Sorry" she laughs, once she's caught her breath and he's managed to stop going on about his undying affection for her. "You ok?"

"So much better now" he kisses her again; gently this time because he loves this woman who was crazy enough to say yes when bullets were flying in Budapest and he asked her to marry him three seconds after she almost died.

"Mhmm. Me too."

They pull apart reluctantly and Clint watches as his wife does her cat suit back up thinking he's never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

Then he remembers how he was going to kill her.

She's glowing from the exertion of sex and war and he can see the faint trembles in her legs giving away how tired she is but she still catches it when his mind spins back to when Loki owned it.

"Clint, no" she says, grabbing for his hand.

But his head is full of this horrible plan he had- rape and torture and so much pain and blood- that he can't stand her touching him. He can't stand anything at all in fact, especially the shawarma that they ate earlier so he turns and throws up in the corner.

"Oh God." He doesn't know why he's talking. He shouldn't be saying any of this out loud. "Oh god. Tash. I almost killed you. I tried to kill you. I was going to…"

"You didn't" her voice is full of compassion but its steely and he knows she will be putting up with no bullshit from him here. "You couldn't. "

"You don't know what I was going to do Tasha." He says, his voice cracking as he tries to force the images of him renting and tearing his wife's body to shreds out of his head, "I was going too…" he can't tell her. She'll never trust him again.

"Kill me slowly and intimately and in every way you know I fear." She says and he can't help it he's staring at her because she's so right on target. "I had a talk with Loki."

He can't breathe, picturing her talking to that monster. Because she was right- this fucking shit was monsters and gods and magic and nothing they had ever, ever trained for. And they'd trained for everything. He knows Natasha can hold her own against anyone in the world but he also knows that he was compromised and she was desperate to get him back (just like he would be if she had been the one who was lost) and whoever decided she should talk to Loki made a bad call.

That is, if anyone but she had decided.

"Jesus Natasha." He can almost see her wince because he never calls her by her full name, never. It's always Nat or Tasha or Tash and sometimes even widow. Never Natasha. "I'm so sorry. I should have fought harder. I should have…"

"You did." She says, walking over and cupping his cheek. "Eric Selvig put a failsafe into the tesseract device and you-"

"I did nothing" Clint says bitterly. Because he should have been stronger than some scientist.

"That's not true" she shakes his head from where she has a hold of it, sounding like she's lecturing a child. "You shot Fury in his body armor, not in the head. And Loki- he didn't seem to know anything about us being together, Let alone married. And we fought you and I. Normally when we spar we've evenly matched. You're stronger than me and have more reach even if I'm faster and more flexible than you. It's a long hard battle when we're just training. This wasn't that kind of fight Clint. It was difficult I'll give you that but…"

A glimmer of hope lights inside of Clint, starting to chase out the darkness residing in him. "What are you saying Tasha?"

"I'm saying you let me win."

The possibility makes Clint collapse onto a pile of rubble. " I don't remember that" he argues, unsure why he is defending his guilt, "I remember almost everything that Loki had me do…"

"MADE you do." Tasha interjects.

He waves his hand, as if to say it doesn't matter but she catches it and kisses it when the causal contact with her makes him tense. "It matters" she says, her voice soft, "It's everything. You didn't want to do anything that that sick fuck had you doing."

He can barely look at her. "I never wanted to hurt you." To his shame his voice is cracking with unshed tears. " I remember that. Watching myself fight you and wanting so desperately to stop it…"

Natasha crouches in front of him. "You did stop it. The whole fight only lasted five minutes. And no offense Barton" she's blatantly trying to tease him into a good mood now because she knows he has a thing for her calling him by his last name (her last name too, just, well, secretly), " but you weren't all that hard to take down. "

Over the six years they've been partnered and the 3 they've been married Natasha has become an expert in patching up Clint's wounds- and he hers. So five hours after the battle once the new Avengers have been settled where Tony Stark is generously putting them up in Stark towers ( like a little kid having friends over for a sleepover she thinks- he directed both of them to the same floor with a slight snicker and a comment about matching sets) she gets to work digging the glass out of Clint's scalp.

Clint, for his part, sits silently and perfectly still while Natasha gently pulls piece after piece of heavy plate glass from under his skin and watches as the blood darkens his hair from its usual dark blond to a muddy brown shade. After the last piece is out she gently runs her fingers through his hair and tips his head up so he's looking at her standing behind him.

"I love you." She tells him. It's not like her to be so demonstrative but she almost lost him any number of ways today (all during the battle she couldn't shake this superstitious feeling that because Clint had been forced into creating the situation they were fighting he might die to fix it) and before that it had been a year since she'd seen him because he'd been stuck in New Mexico. So maybe she was allowed to be the smallest bit sentimental today.

He tips his head back even more and then they're kissing upside down and before she can even begin to process that he's managed to lift her off her feet and into his lap.

The armchair he was sitting in was huge so there's plenty of room for her knees to go alongside his as she straddles him and fuses her hips to his, grinding them slowly against his so his erection rubs against her in just the right spot. He slides his hands into her hair so he control the angle of the never ending kiss.

When they had sex earlier it was all about (as cheesy as she knows it sounds, even in the privacy of her own head) affirmation of life in the face of so much death and destruction and it's been so long and touch me right now, and oh god yes. Nothing about it had been gentle or tender which was fine because they were them and gentle or tender wasn't what they needed then.

This was different.

What feels like hours later, when he's finally done kissing her but the slow grinding motions of their hips haven't stopped even for an instant he looks up into her eyes and she's reminded again how apt the name "Hawkeye" is because her husband really can see everything.

"It's ok" he says, his unblinking eyes meeting hers. "I'm ok. We're ok." He raises her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles and she's reminded for a moment how cheesy he can be.

"I know. I know that now. But during the battle I kept thinking that…"

"That I would do something stupid in an attempt to be heroic and end up dead."

"Yes" Natasha gently ran her hands over his pecks and then down his amazing arms- nicely defined but without the kind of bulky muscle that ended up looking gross. "I know how guilty you felt. Feel. And I thought maybe it would make you take a stupid risk." She pauses and yanks sharply on his hair, "like going through a plate glass window thirty stories above the ground."

Clint winces and then grins. "Yeah that was pretty stupid wasn't it?"

"Amazingly." She says, rolling her eyes at how pleased he is with himself about it. Then she clenches his head hard and kisses him again.

He grabs her shoulders and runs his hands down her torso to cup her breasts gently pulling her nipples and rubbing them so they stand at attention. She moans and he pulls the zip down and peals her arms out of her suit, removes her bra, sliding his hands down her ribs, gently running his calloused fingers over the bruises she acquired during their fight and the battle for Manhattan.

She loves his hands and the callouses on them and feeling them makes her head tip back as he starts to trail kisses down her neck and shoulders.

"Clint" she gasps and moans as he reaches her breasts and latches on to one of them with his lips. He sucks gently and she can't keep herself from rolling her hips against his, his erection hard and insistent against her clit.

He thrusts up against her and switches to her other breast, his fingers trailing patters she can't follow against the one he isn't sucking. The motions of his fingers and the gentle sucking of his lips fills her up with hot, itchy, restless feelings. She's soaking wet and feels amazingly hollow and wants him so badly she can't breathe right.

She runs her fingers through his short hair and pulls his head up so he's looking at her again. "I want you inside of me" she says, enjoying the way his eyes dilate slightly and his cock twitches beneath her at her words, "now."

He groans and thrusts into her again; reaching to grab her hips so they're fused together tightly and she can feel the heat of him through her cat suit. They rock back and forth together and she can't stop moans from pouring out of her mouth.

She rests her head on his shoulder and pants as they come slightly closer together. But as amazing as this dry humping (call it what it is) feels it's not nearly enough.

"Stop playing around" she pants, biting down on his earlobe.

"Yes Ma'am." His voice is wonderfully husky. Clint starts to stand slowly and she locks her legs around his waist. There's a wide leather chaise lounge net to them and he deposits Natasha on it so their lower halves are still locked together. He yanks on the zip that's around her belly and pulls it slowly down until his hand his level with her center.

Gently he runs one finger over her clit making her jerk and moan. Smiling at her reaction he gently fingers the swollen nub, rubbing it in a circular motion until she's gasping for breath and can't stop the motion of her hips. Smirking he slides down her body, pulls her panties aside and swipes the flat of his tongue over her.

"Come for me" he says, licking her like she's his favorite ice cream and then latches onto her clit and sucks.

"Yes!" She gasps and thrusts her hips into his face. He licks her again with the point of his tongue, seeking out every crevice of her folds and it makes her clench and see spots behind her eyes so she reaches for his head and yanks him up to kiss her again. He reaches down and suddenly pinches her clit sending waves of bubbles of pleasure bursting over Natasha's body as she comes.

"That's it babe" he says, pulling her suit over her legs as she trembles with aftershocks, "God you are so fucking beautiful."

She can't talk yet but she moans and reaches out to pull his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process and transferring the blood from the glass cuts onto the soft cotton. "Come here" she almost whines, unbuckling his belt and freeing his massive erection.

Clint shucks his pants and then he's on her, forcing her to scramble backwards on the chaise as his arms come around her, pulling her legs around his waist and feeling the unbelievable exquisiteness of skin on skin as he sinks down into her.

She gasps and bites his shoulder. She's still too sensitive from coming just moments before and the sensation of him sliding into her and filling her makes her spasm deep inside which makes him moan.

"Tasha" he pants, hands coming to rest on either side of her shoulders. "Jesus you're so wet."

She is wet- soaking wet and it makes for a painfully good slide as he pulls out and thrusts back into her.

"All because of you" she moans as he starts to thrust faster and deeper. "Don't stop. Fuck don't stop." She arches her back and the movement forces her breasts into a close crush with his hard chest. She forces her legs open wider and grinds her clit against his groin, trying not to scream at the sensation. Who knows how well the place is soundproofed, even if there's no one else on their floor.

"Tash…" Clint grasps her hips with one hand and pushes in even impossibly deeper as she grabs his bicep with one hand and his ass with the other.

"Clint" she's close now and she can tell he is too by the way his thrusts have become erratically hard and fast. She hitches her legs higher on his torso and arches her back. Squeezing his ass hard with one hand she reaches and grabs his head with the other pulling him into a hard kiss.

And then she's coming hard feeling bursts of pleasure explode all over her body and clenching and tightening her cunt hard. Beneath the roaring in her ears she hears Clint shout and feels him come deep inside of her- the spasmodic thrusting and spurting of his cock makes her orgasm again as his thrusts get slower.

When she's fully cogent again she becomes aware of Clint's weight, heavy and reassuring, on top of her. His heartbeat pounding wildly in her ear from where her head is pressed against his neck.

He moves his head to the left and kisses her deeply, tongue running over her bottom lip as he bites it gently.

"Hey" he gently props himself up on one hand and runs his finger down her nose and over her lips.

Natasha is still breathing hard is aware she can't stop smiling like an idiot. "Hey."

"I love you" he says and kisses her tenderly.

Her smile gets impossibly wider. God she had missed this man. Their long separation had been totally intolerable and instead of making it better their web calls had seemed to make it worse. You can't touch over the internet. Though they had done their best to make it feel like they were, Skype sex just wasn't that satisfying. She didn't know what Fury had been thinking separating them for so long. They were his best team.

"I missed you" she moans, suddenly aware she has not told him yet. She slowly unlocks her legs from around his waist and rests the flats of her feet so they're perpendicular to his hips. She runs her hands over his muscular back. "I missed this."

Gently he pulls out of her and she experiences a brief flash of loss. He rolls to his side and gathers her in his arms. "Oh baby I missed touching you so much" his voice tickles her neck, "I'd sit up in my nest watching that stupid thing and think of ways to make you scream." His fingers trail a path down her body.

"Mmm" she rolls over so she's facing him. "if I wasn't so tired I'd take you up on that" she purrs.

"I wore you out pretty good didn't I? He sounds unbelievably proud of himself and Natasha rolls her eyes but secretly she'd relieved as hell that her husband is sounding like himself again. He runs a hand through her hair and looks her eye, suddenly serious. "That was amazing Nat."

"It was." Natasha runs her finger down his cheek and he kisses the pad of it when it comes near his lips. "Totally mind blowing."

"Such high praise" Clint smirks.

"You deserve it" she says, suddenly serious and talking about more than the sex. "I love you Clint."

He smiles at her, this man she married, and grabs a chenille throw tossed on the back of the chaise and proceeds to tuck it around them, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth and security. She closes her eyes and falls asleep to the tune of his breathing.

It isn't normal, what they have, though they try their best. They aren't normal after all. They're highly trained assassins and covert operatives and they know they'll never have a life in the suburbs or jobs that don't involve risk to their lives. But today they're alive and they're together and for the Black Widow and Hawkeye that makes today a good day, a win and takes some of the red out of their dripping ledgers.

Finally they are uncompromised.

A/N: That's all folks! I'm working on a much longer fic in the same little universe where this takes place (where Clint and Natasha are married) and hopefully the first part of it will be up soon.

Remember to hit that blue button and please review!