Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers or any related media, I'm just trying to ease the pain of waiting for the DVD release.

AN: Written for an avengerkink prompt. You can find it at the end to avoid spoiling the fic.

The Secret Sex Life of Agents Barton and Romanoff

"You missed all the fun," Natasha says, her voice pitched low like she's trying to seduce a mark.

Clint looks up from his book - he promised Steve they'd talk about the end tonight and he's still over a hundred pages from finishing - and finds Nat framed in the doorway. She pushes away from it with her hip, swaying more than is strictly necessary as she approaches the bed. As the door slides closed, Clint hears Tony call out.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"We'll do plenty you wouldn't," Nat says, her eyes fixed on Clint. It's too quiet for Tony to hear but it's said just before the door seals shut. Until it opens again, that's the last piece of information Jarvis will relay to Tony about what happens inside.

Clint fingers the corner of his page, idly folding it down. "What's that?" He nods to the silver-grey mess dangling from her hand.

She toes off her shoes, letting them fall where they may on the way to the bed - or it looks that way at least. Clint knows a woman's high heels are a pair of lethal weapons in the right hands and Natasha's just left hers where they'll be easy to reach should the need arise.

"That Parker kid's new cable." She tosses the fraying cord onto the bed. It's light for how much of it there is and most of that is only because it's thicker than is strictly necessary. Clint knows the only reason the kid made it any thicker than dental floss is because Natasha idly mentioned such a thin, strong cord would be useful in her line of work. Parker doesn't like being in the same room as Natasha anymore.

The centimeter-in-diameter cable is actually in at least half a dozen pieces, most with ripped ends. Clint picks one up with his free hand and runs one calloused fingertip over the fine threads.

"It won't be holding the Hulk," Natasha sums up. Rather than bother with buttons she pulls her blouse over her head and tosses it onto a chair. Her pants follow and she picks up one of the longer lengths of cable before bending towards the nearest bedpost.

Clint rolls his eyes. "Seriously? Do we have to?"

Natasha levels him with a look that is neither accusing nor pleading. "Do you know what happens if we don't do this?"

A groan that sounds something like, "Not this again," slides out of Clint before he can stop it.

Natasha ignores him. "Tony Stark wins. Do you want that to happen?" She holds her hand out, the cable resting gently on her palm. This is his decision. He could end this whole thing right here and now. The madness could stop.

But he does love seeing Stark's attempts at looking unimpressed.

And, not that Natasha tells him, but he's pretty sure Stark's desire to outdo them has made Pepper happier. Driven Tony means happy Pepper means happy employees and shareholders means better economy. So really this is a public service.

Clint snatches the cable out of her hand and twists around to secure it to the bedpost.

"We're gonna have to break the bed this time, you know," he says, trying to sound disgruntled.

Natasha's already at work at the foot of the bed. "I know," she says like it's nothing.

Cables secure to all four bedposts, Clint crouches on the pillows and begins examining the headboard. Natasha grabs the waist of his pants and pulls him back so he's sitting on his heels in the middle of the bed. She's laying on her stomach beside him, one arm folded over the pillow she favors. It's just like every other pillow on the bed but for some reason this one's hers.

"Not yet, we've got plenty of time." Were she anyone else there might be a yawn in there or a tremor in the hand that slides away from him. Clint's known her long enough to see what she's not showing though and when she saves his book from falling off the edge of the mattress he takes it and sits down beside her.

He reads aloud, one hand sliding up and down her bare back to ease away the stress of watching Hulk tear through an experiment. She interrupts only once to complain about Crouch's death, not because of how it was done but because he was, as she says, "the best spy in the whole series and he died as soon as he appeared!"

"I'm almost done here," he says, not unkindly. "If you've got something to say, you can join Steve and me for book club."

She turns her head away, a gesture that's more about her opinion of talking morality with Captain America than it is about Clint.

By the time he finishes Natasha's breathing has evened out. He eases out of bed and begins stripping it down to the fitted sheet. He pulls up the blankets on his side before going to the other, where Natasha proves she's really awake only by rolling out of his way. The blankets go to the floor. The pillows are next, leaving nothing but Natasha, nearly naked in the middle of the bed. One of her arms is lifted, her wrist resting on her forehead and shadowing her eyes so they seem to shine out at him. One elegant eyebrow slowly rises. When it reaches its peak he lets out a ragged huff and grabs her ankle.

She could break his hold easily but instead she lets him pull her to the foot of the mattress. Once she's close enough he sweeps her up in his arms and deposits her across the room, in the circle of blankets and pillows. She immediately latches onto her pillow, not at all fooled by the fact that he hid it beneath all the rest.

Clint returns to the bed and climbs atop it. He braces his feet against the headboard, grabs hold of the cables attached to it, and pulls. Nat doesn't even blink when the thick wood finally cracks down the middle. Clint lets go and bounds up once, twice, the third time he hits the ceiling and pushes up against it as he falls. The extra force is enough to snap one of the legs of the bed and Clint rolls easily off. Natasha's smile quirks at the performer's tumble. A moment later she gets a more appealing show as Clint swiftly undresses.

He joins her on the floor. She pushes back against the pillows to make room for him. He falls into he curve of her body without hesitation and she lets him rest his head on her pillow. One of her arms cradles his neck. His hand finds hers while his other hooks around the back of her knee. With her free hand she gently cards his hair through her fingers.

Eventually they will have to get up. Clint has to discuss Goblet of Fire with Steve. Natasha has to order a new bed and make Tony think they just had adequate sex. (No matter how much they pretend to do, she likes setting the bar higher.) But none of that has to happen right now.

She kisses Clint's neck, the curve of his shoulder, his back, the scarred and unscarred places alike and after a time he rolls over to return the favor. Their legs curl around each other, their arms slide over one another with practiced ease. They hold each other close. Their foreheads touch and their breath mingles and for a while, even though they've both got one ear listening for trouble, they can pretend there's nothing but them.

Original prompt: Everyone knows they're together, and they like to give the impression that they have wild kinky sex that would shock even Tony. The truth is, their relationship is more romantic than sexual. Sure, there is sex. Slow, gentle, worshipful sex, but it doesn't happen all that often. Mostly they hold each other, trade soft kisses for hours, and treat each other as if they are the most precious and delicate people in the world.