Author Notes:

What happened after Hawkeye ran out of arrows and crashed through the window?

Maybe he met a tiny, angry, civil engineer with a thing about air ducts…

I messed a bit with the timeline, the battle lasts longer after Hawkeye goes off the roof, but otherwise this pretty much fits into and just after the movie (ignores events in later movies)

This all came to me in a crazy dream. If you like it, cool, please feel free to squee at me in the comments. If you want to criticise my grammar, spelling etc (bearing in mind that I am not American and some words ARE spelled differently where I come from) go ahead, concrit is useful. If you don't like the story, don't read it. And please don't bother pointing out discrepancies with the MARVEL universe. (I don't care).

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Jen and the Svendson family.

Rated M for foul language AND explicit sexual content. Ye have been warned.

Chapter One - Crash

This is going to hurt. This is going to really hurt. Fuck, I hope that glass isn't bulletproof, if it is I'm gonna bounce…

CRASH

"Owwwww…." Fuck, I'm winded. I can't breathe. Oh, fuck, I think I broke some ribs…

"Are you all right, mate?"

Under the circumstances, that small voice was not at all what Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, aka the World's Greatest Marksman, expected to hear. Unable at that moment to catch his breath or speak, he turned his head in the direction the voice had spoken from and tried to take in the room.

It looked like a boardroom of some sort, probably not unexpected as it was on the top floor of the tower he had spent the last ten minutes shooting aliens and directing the battle off. What was unexpected was the girl under the boardroom table he was lying beside. At the moment all he could see was a pair of slender, attractive legs, with bare feet, stretched out to the side, emerging from the hem of a pale grey skirt suit which had probably started the day looking very smart and expensive but was now not in such hot state. Rather like himself.

"I think you're winded, mate," and the girl emerged in a fast crawl from under the table, shoved him over onto his side and pulled his knees up towards his chest. "Try and breathe."

Clint blinked at her, astonished. She wasn't very big, he thought, although the platinum grey suit was showing some rather nice upper body curvature in addition to those pretty legs. She had dark golden blonde hair escaping from a French pleat and electric blue eyes – for an instant he had a flashback and tried to scream.

"It's OK, I don't think they're coming after you right now," the girl said. He couldn't place her accent. Or her age. Or anything about her. She seemed awfully comfortable with the fact that he had just crashed through the window in the middle of an alien battle.

"Who – you?" Clint managed to croak out.

"Jen," she wasn't training those blue eyes on him, but instead peering over his body and out through the smashed window. "Can you move? I think we'd better go. They'll figure out you crashed that window soon enough." She looked down at him and he realised she wasn't as unaffected as he'd thought. There were tear tracks on her face. "Come on, archer, we need to go," slim, small hands tugged at his arm. "Stay low. Can you crawl?"

I'll fucking crawl out of here. Somehow he made it to hands and knees and followed the girl – Jen. She crawled out through the door, and Clint realised he wasn't that dead when he caught himself admiring her ass. As he made it through the door beside her he got a breath, and made to stand up

"No!" Jen caught at his arm and pointed. They were in a corridor, the ends glassed, and there were flying aliens everywhere outside. If he'd stood they might have spotted him.

"Follow me." She gave him a considering look, taking in the empty quiver on his back. "Are you out of ammo?"

"For the bow." He'd discarded it back in the boardroom. But there were still two pistols strapped to his calves, and he had six magazines in various pockets. He might as well ditch the quiver now, actually, and he unclipped it and laid it by the wall, detaching the heads selector and stowing that in a cargo pocket. There were still some useful goodies in that even without arrows. Clint slipped one of his pistols and racked the slide. Jen held out a hand expectantly.

"No fucking way!"

"Bollocks to that," she tried to grab the gun and he pushed her away gently.

"No. If you shoot at them they will come for you. You need to hide and let me handle this."

An eyebrow arched. And then she said eloquently, "Fuck off."

Clint couldn't help it, he let out a laugh. "So what's your plan?"

"I am so glad you decided to consult me on that, Robin Hood. FYI, there is one of those alien things searching the building. Right now it's a few floors down from here working its way up. I was thinking the two of us might ambush him. But you can totes do it on your own if you want. I'll hide in the air ducts and wait."

"What?" Clint blinked, totally bemused. The only person who ever teased him about air ducts was Natasha. This girl didn't even know him. "Are you a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?"

"Whatever the fuck that is, mate, no."

"Then who…?"

She sighed exaggeratedly. "Me, civil engineer, know this building and its air ducts. Big brother, soldier. Me know guns. Gimme."

"No. But – show me the air ducts."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." She glanced warily at the windows, and then crawled across the corridor and pushed open a door marked FIRE STAIRS. Just inside was an air duct cover. Clint smiled.

A/N Music soundtrack for this chapter:

Pandemonium: Killing Joke

Bring Me To Life: Evanescence feat. Amy Lee

You Could Be Mine: Guns 'n' Roses

We Dance To A Different Disco: Short Stack

And do me a favour – don't hate on my music taste. I like nearly everything from death metal to country to electro-pop and I don't care about your opinion of it. If you haven't heard of the band, they're probably Australian and brilliant so give it a try. Who knows – you might like 'em. This is just the music that seemed to me to fit the chapter. Listen or don't, your choice.