AN: This was originally supposed to be part of a word prompt challenge on a forum I go to, but it got a little long for the word limit, so now it's a oneshot on FF. The word I was going to use from the challenge was 'Home' I think this fic gets that across pretty well.
Clint Barton sighed softly and rubbed at his eyes with the back of a calloused hand. He was exhausted. He sat back on his seat in the back of the quinjet, trying to calm his nerves. He hated not flying the jet, but he was too tired to really argue with the SHIELD pilot that had been ordered to fly him out of the hell hole that was Saudi Arabia. The mission had, of course, been a success, but he was beyond worn out. There was one thing on his mind, and he knew he still had several hours until he would get it.
The quinjet touched down in La Guardia Airport not that much longer later, but still, he wasn't done. The moment he was off the jet, he was in a SHIELD SUV being taken, he knew, to Stark Tower, where he would have to tell over every last fucking detail of the mission before he would be released. His bow sat beside him in its case, though he wondered vaguely where his quiver had gotten to, but really that was the least of his worries at the moment. He just wanted to get the debriefing over with so he could avoid getting slammed by the traffic trying to get out of the city.
As time went on, Clint found that he found Fury's debriefings more and more annoying. It wasn't like he wasn't connected to at least one person at SHIELD at every single goddamn moment of the day, but when he came back, he still had to give a full report as though Fury had been completely oblivious the entire time. When, finally, at long last, he was cleared to have the next two weeks off without another mission, he was ready to leave faster than they could manage to locate a car for him. He had his own rides, sure, but he wasn't going to leave any of his toys laying around New York City while he was gone on missions for indefinite amounts of time.
He was grateful that the amount of time that Fury had held him had meant that it was way past rush hour and getting out of the insane city would be no problem. He had a flat in the Bronx, but he felt like he needed more quiet than the Bronx could provide, so he decided that a few days in his upstate haunt was exactly what he needed. A quick trip over the George Washington Bridge had him heading into Rockland County. The area was definitely several notches quieter than the City, and just what he needed at the moment. Though, as he drove, his eyebrows knit slightly as he noticed that it was starting to snow.
"Jesus, what's the date?" Clint asked himself. He remembered vaguely that before he left it was the beginning of December, and he'd been gone for about two and a half weeks... "Well, fuck," He mumbled under his breath. "Wouldn't be able to know Christmas is next week over in Saudi Arabia..."
The thought sent a pang of loneliness through his chest. Christmas was coming. That thought made him wonder just exactly where Natasha was. He knew that she had gotten called in for a mission after he'd gotten sent on his, but it wasn't one that was supposed to take as long as his. He made a mental note to call her once he reached his house. He took an exit off the highway and soon found himself in the small village of Chestnut Ridge. The town was small and quiet, and just what he needed after the assassination mission he'd just come off of. He drove the familiar route to a gated house. One click of a small remote and the gate swung open and the SHIELD car glided through easily.
"Home sweet home," Clint said, feeling a smile come to his face as he looked at the two-story house in front of him. It was a simple house, but it was concealed pretty well from the road and entitled him to peace, quiet, and privacy. As he stepped out of the car and into the freezing air, however, he couldn't wait to get a fire going and get some American coffee into his system. Something, however, caught his eye as he walked up the steps to the house. A lone black Ducati motorcycle stood right on the side of the house. His eyes narrowed slightly. A glance alone told him that it wasn't one of his bikes, but his mind instantly ran trough the specs of this particular bike. It was built for speed. The type of bike you used to get the fuck out of a bad situation.
"No way in hell," Clint mumbled under his breath as he went up the remaining steps two at a time. He slid his key into the lock and felt a rush of warm air as he walked in. The heater was on. He distinctly knew that he hadn't left anything on the last time he'd been in this house, lest his gas and or electric bill skyrocket. The hairs on the back of his neck rose slightly as he heard a thump on the floor above him. He reached instinctively for the gun he carried when he was off SHIELD duty. He hated guns, preferring the feel of his bow, but the gun would have to suffice for the time being, if he needed it.
He headed for the stairs, his finger firmly on the trigger of the gun. He climbed the stairs almost silently. He was light on his feet after years of SHIELD training, but the stairs were old and they creaked ever so slightly under him. Silently, he cursed the damn stairs to hell. He made it to the second floor and looked around. All the doors were open except for one, the last door on the floor, his bedroom.
"Naturally," Clint breathed, rolling his eyes. He walked as quietly as possible as another soft thud reached his ears, undeniably coming from the room. He couldn't take the tension of his nerves much longer. He threw the door open, his gun ready to fire as he caught sight of a wave of blond hair, whirling around, blue eyes widening in shock.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Clint!" Natasha gasped, her hands flying up as she was very much unarmed, as well as being very much naked. "It's me! It's Natasha."
Clint blinked as he took in the sight of the now blond Black Widow, and he couldn't help giving her body the once over for good measure as well. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that that was her body, "Tasha, what the hell?" He demanded, walking over to his closet and tossing her a robe. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been waiting for you to come back," Natasha answered as she secured the robe around her waist. "I got back from my mission two nights ago and thought that maybe you and I could spend Christmas together since we're actually off for once."
Clint froze as he heard what Natasha said to him, "Did you know I was coming here?"
Natasha shook her head once, "But I know you. I know that you were in the Middle East and usually after being in places like that, if you're sent back to New York, the Bronx usually doesn't cut it for you right off the bat so you usually spend a few days hiding out here."
"How did you get in?"
Natasha grinned sheepishly at him before she shrugged, "Lock Picking 101?" She suggested. Clint rolled his eyes at her. He guessed he should have been thankful that she didn't break a window or something to try and get in.
"I liked you better when you were a redhead," He commented as he walked closer to her. His initial frustration with finding Natasha in his house had worn off an he walked over to her, sliding his hands along her hips, "At least the redhead knew to not sneak around my house or else risk getting shot. So you're here for Christmas?" He asked in a low voice.
"Unless you'd rather spend it alone," Natasha said with a shrug. "And excuse me for not having the patience to sit under a shower and scrub the blond dye out of my hair. SHIELD's dye is a pain in the fucking ass to get rid of."
"I say next time you should go brunette," Clint said, his eyes glimmering ever so slightly as he moved his fingers through her hair. He thought for a moment how if going on a mission to Saudi Arabia meant that he could come home to the sight of a naked Natasha, he could get used to that. "You with long, dark, hair..." His voice trailed off as he looked down at her, his stormy eyes meeting her bright blues, "I missed you, Tasha."
Natasha smirked as she slid her hands up under Clint's shirt, feeling the rippled and tense muscles of his back shudder slightly as she did so, "Mmm, why so tense, Agent Barton?" She purred softly. She stood on her toes and her lips found his neck, biting down with just the right amount of pressure to elicit a moan from his lips as he tilted his head for her.
"Goddamn it, Tasha," He growled softly. "You knew I was here, didn't you? You made the noise knowing that I would come upstairs and find you naked."
Natasha laughed softly, "The gate isn't exactly silent, Barton," She said as she pulled away from him and headed for the bed. She smirked over her shoulder at him before she let the robe fall down to the floor. The next moment, Clint had her pinned against the bed as she laughed, "Welcome home, Clint."