A/N: I ship Clint/Laura so hard! As such, this focuses on Laura, and mainly her relationship with Clint, through the years. Hopefully this adds some dynamics to her character and isn't too OOC for everyone else. :) Enjoy!

"I am never going to be tied down," she swore.

Beside her, Lila laughed. "Suuure, you're not. Here's to the independent woman!" she raised her glass.

"I'm serious," Laura reciprocated. "I don't need a man in my life. I've gotten this far without one. I got into University of freaking New York with no one's help but mine."

Lila rolled her eyes. "And that's so far in life."

She smacked her friend in the arm. "It is. I've been doing just great."

"Says the virgin drinking a virgin," Lila slipped, eyeing Laura's drink.

"Better than a slut drinking another slut," Laura muttered. "Although not as hot."

Lila spewed her martini across the table. She hacked and gasped for a few seconds more before finally choking out "I swear, you say the weirdest things sometimes!"

Laura shrugged, pretending not to care, but inwardly pleased at her friend's reaction. Yes, there were occasions were her brain-to-mouth filter malfunctioned.

They cleaned up the mess at the table, and eventually made their way back on campus. She had classes the next morning, and was determined to stay awake for them, even if it meant chugging coffee in the morning and going straight to sleep the night before. She scattered her notebooks and paintings around the room, deleted a message from her mother before listening to it (that ungrateful hag) and dug up some Ramen noodles.

Such was life.

Seriously, though. She didn't need anybody. The people you were supposed to start out with love didn't love her back, and she realized very quickly that 'love and compassion' was just a sick joke. One of the most satisfying moments in her life was finally leaving home and flipping the bird to it as she walked away.

Besides, she didn't even have time for love. Lila would be the first to tell anyone how independent Laura was. She was determined to go places. She loved staying busy, whether it was with homework, a part-time job, painting, physical work, or taking care of friends (why did all her friends like to drink when she didn't?) Laura was going to be a college professor in the future, and no man was going to stop her.

And it was true- no man stopped her.

But one man did encourage her.

He was actually pretty shy.

She had no idea what he was doing at the block party, but then again she didn't know what she was doing, either. Lila had dragged her along to an event, yet again, and she was already bored of raucous scene.

Yet he looked almost- out of place. He stayed in a corner sipping his water almost the whole time, and nothing moved but his eyes. A slightly pained expression was on his face, though she couldn't tell if that was from the music or his casted arm.

To this day, she doesn't really know what compelled her to walk over and talk with the stranger.

She leaned against the wall next to him with her own water. "You look like you're about to start climbing the walls."

He startled and turned to her. "I'd already be up in the ceiling if I wanted to," he answered.

She smirked, thinking he was making a joke. "How'd you hurt your arm?"

He blinked at her question. "I fell out of a different ceiling."

Now she crooked an eyebrow at him. "Not much for floors, huh?"

He startled them both with a sudden laugh. He cut if off quickly, as if surprised that he had slipped up.

"I'm Laura," she said. "What's your name?"

"I… Clint." He blinked again, still looking surprised at himself.

"Well, Clint," she stated. "I think there's a dartboard in the back room- want to square off a few rounds?"

He eyed her shrewdly, as if trying to assess if this was some kind of pickup line. She rolled her eyes. "I'm a very literal person."

Clint relaxed a tiny bit, and found himself agreeing. "Lead the way."

Sure enough, there was a dartboard in the back room. It wasn't much, but it was something to do. Laura had sharp eyes and pretty good hand-eye coordination (you had to, to be an artist) but she found herself challenged by Clint's. He could toss two, three, four at a time and still have them all hit the bulls-eye. The game turned into a friendly competition between them, and they eventually stopped aiming for the bulls-eye and instead made pictures with the darts, taking turns adding to the image. They made a smiley face, a triangle, a car (which turned out more like a soggy box) and a tree.

They actually had a good time.

As the party wound down, and Lila came searching for her, Laura shyly asked if she could sign Clint's cast.

When she did, she left her phone number next to her name.

"Laura's got a booooyfriend-"

"I do not!"

"Laura's got a boooyfriend-"

"Quit it!"

"She's finally caught a maaaan-!"

Laura smacked her. Lila just laughed.

"He's a great friend. He's really nice, and sweet, and stoic in his own way. But we aren't dating!"

"Yet," Lila wiggled her eyebrows.

Laura groaned.

"So, c'mon, seriously! What makes him so different? Is he hot? I can't wait to meet him. He's meeting you here, right?"

Laura rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee, discreetly using the motion to glance around the café. Her sharp eyes caught the door opening in a reflection, and Clint walked in. She smoothed down her countenance. "Here he comes."

"Hey, Laura. So, you must be Lila?"

Lila replied by dropping her jaw open. Clint shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Laura.

"Don't mind her," she waved off. "She's a weirdo."

Clint nodded, taking her word for it. "I'm, ah, going to grab a quick coffee from the counter," he managed, seeing their drinks. Laura smiled and waved him on.

"Oh my God," Lila breathed as Clint headed for the register. "He's so freaking adorkable!"

"No, he's not, I think you're just wigging him out," she rebutted.

"And he's sexy!" Lila gasped, completely unheeding her words. "Oh my gosh, do you see his arms? And face? And-"

"Lila, shut up," she hissed.

"You two are so cute together!"

Laura fell out of her seat. At the register, Clint turned around, but seemed to know that it was part of friendship goofiness, and so didn't run to help.

She was really beginning to like him.

When Clint was home, he was over a lot. She'd finally given him the key to her off-campus apartment, though sometimes felt that he didn't need it. She wasn't really sure where he lived, though. What was weird was that there were long stretches when he was gone, and when he came back he often had several bruises and/or a cast.

"I'm with the military," he explained once as she drew elaborate designs on another cast. "Not a soldier, but I get deployed around a lot more often for shorter periods of time. Make sense?"

She nodded absently and concentrated on her drawing.

He always listened to her. Laura knew she would excited about pretty much anything, but the first time she ever noticed he was a bit uncomfortable was when she was prattling on about teaching.

"I'm so excited! I'm this close to getting my masters, I can feel it! And then I can start a teaching internship anywhere I want! A year ago I dead-set focused on college, but I'm thinking now I should start with some younger kids, since I'm still pretty young myself. I don't want middle school, but maybe elementary or high school? Ugh, I hated middle school. I really don't want to go through that again, you know what I mean?"

He looked up and his eyes clouded. She picked up instantly on the guard. "What's wrong?"

He shrugged, trying to pass it off as nothing. But Laura was a sharp gal. She found her voice as she realized the truth. "You didn't really go to school, did you?" she broke softly.

Clint shrugged again. "Not much school could do for someone like me, anyway, you know?"

Laura crossed her arms and a mischievous grin spread over her face. "I'll bet you've got a near-genius IQ," she said.

Clint shook his head. "Nah, you're the college student-"

"I bet 50 bucks you have a near-genius IQ."

A grin finally broke on his own face. "Deal."

They took a test, and both scored in the upper 130's.

When Laura got the news, she didn't know what to think of it.

At first she just stared at the paper in shock. Then she clenched it in anger. She was torn between ripping it in two and throwing it against the wall.

She ignored the phone the entire day.

It was already well into the evening when Laura picked up the bottle of wine Lila had given her two years ago as a gag gift.

Clint entered the apartment right as she hurled it against the wall.

He didn't say anything, but watched her as she stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, trembling.

"He's dead," she said curtly. "That stupid son-of-a-bitch is dead and I don't-" she broke off and swallowed. "I don't care."

Clint's eyes flicked to the obituary in the paper. He looked back at her, unassuming, understanding.

She sucked in an unsteady breath and continued to flex her fists. "They call it 'natural causes'. Cirrhosis, 'perfectly natural'. Nobody can just say that he did in his blood and liver with all that-" she scrubbed her eyes harshly. "Fucking drinking."

Clint stayed silent.

"And to think that it's all over!" she snapped. She was shaking violently now. "That everything he's responsible for, everything he, he…" her voice cracked.

She turned and ran onto the balcony, gulping in the night air. Clint reappeared beside her, going so far as to sit on the concrete ledge with her, legs dangling over the side. The city bustled below, despite the darkness. A few stars shone through, despite the light pollution.

"Sometimes," Clint said softly, staring out over the rooftops. "Life's shit just sucks."

His words carried a weight with them, one that she knew only came from experience. They looked at each other, finding that unspoken link, and finding that someone else knew what it was like.

It didn't turn into a make-out session. Instead they gripped each other and cried together. They sat on the balcony and wept silently for the world, for fathers, and watched as the stars blended with the city lights.

Their trust and assurance in each other grew. Laura could even say she was happy. She graduated with her masters in Childhood Education and Foreign Language. Clint was deployed for the ceremony, and he expressed before leaving how deeply he wanted to be there for her.

She didn't hold it against him. Laura had never wanted somebody holding her back in her career, and she wasn't going to play the clingy girlfriend and hold Clint back in his.

When he returned, however, he seemed anxious.

Laura could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen Clint nervous- the man was as calm as a steel trap. But when he came back he paced around her apartment, clearly in a twist about something.

"Clint, you've got to tell me what's going on," she said directly, cutting around the bull.

He glanced up at her sharply. "You trust me?"

She blinked. "Of course I do. You know that."

He paced harder. His shoulders fell. "You always listen, Laura. You always listen and trust me."

"Well, you listen to me, so I think it's only fair," she replied steadily. He was starting to get her worried.

Clint seemed to reach a decision and guided her to the sofa, sitting down beside her. "I… I don't trust easily," he admitted. "It's not just from my past; it comes with the job."

"The military?" she mentioned. Laura was very perceptive, and knew she hit the nail on the head when he winced.

"I'm… this is very classified, Laura," he said seriously, his whole tone changing. She sat up straighter.

"I'm not exactly with the military. I'm with a government agency known as SHIELD- you've probably never heard of it. It deals with the top secret, end-of-the-world, science and magic type of stuff."

"So you're a spy," she deduced.

"I'm an assassin."

The words were spoken softly, and Clint seemed- afraid?- of her reaction.

"Well, I'm not exactly a damsel in distress," she said, sliding her arms around him. "But it's good to know if there ever is trouble that I've got a world-class assassin on my side."

He seemed startled by her response, but also relieved.

That time did turn into a make-out session.

The first time she met Natasha Romanoff it was so ordinary it was unbelievable.

Laura had heard of the lady a few times from Clint, and knew that the man held her in high regard. She'd never been sure what to make of their relationship, though, at least until Clint introduced her.

She'd just gotten back from the high school, and was cleaning the apartment in anticipation for visitors. When Clint's knock sounded the door she smoothed down her hair and her countenance and let them in.

Her first thought was oh, she's a redhead.

Natasha was in normal jeans, shirt, and jacket. She had the look of a supermodel played down to a rough, worn tomboy. It was stylish in an almost careless way. Clint didn't seem to notice any of it, though, as he greeted Laura with a kiss.

"Laura, this is Natasha, whom I've told you about. Nat, this is Laura."

"Hey," Laura greeted, extending a hand. Natasha shook it, and her grip was unusually strong.

Clint shifted. "If you ladies want to get comfortable, I'll go grab everyone some sodas." He retreated to the kitchen.

Laura invited Natasha further inside, unsure what else to do, exactly. "So, you work with Clint?" she began, drifting towards the sofa.

"I do," Natasha replied. She had a very smooth voice, and a cool serenity about her. "We've gone on a lot of missions together."

Laura nodded. "I won't press you for details."

She could tell that Natasha purposefully didn't react. It suddenly struck her that the woman in front of her had no idea what to do any more than she did.

Clint returned with the sodas, apparently knowing everyone's favorite. "Feel free to sit down, gals, and I'll grab some snacks. Nuts okay?"

They agree and sat down on the couch as he returned to the kitchen. Natasha looked at her, halfway amused. "Isn't this your apartment?"

Laura smiled, her eyes flicking over to Clint. "Yes, but he's helped me with the rent before, and it's basically his second home." She popped open her can of Sprite and sipped, contentedly watching Clint.

Natasha watched her, and a soft ghost-smile touched her lips. Laura noticed it. "What?"

"I've known Agent Barton for a long time," she said smoothly, and Laura didn't miss the use of his last name. "It's a very high-risk, stressful job, and we've been through a number of ups, downs, and life-threatening situations." Natasha looked smoothly over her shoulder even though it was disguised has her casually flipping her hair. She leaned forward towards Laura.

"And I have never seen him this relaxed. Ever."

Laura blinked and looked at Clint, who seemed so normal as he poured a variety of nuts into a bowl. My boyfriend assassin is making trail-mix in my kitchen.

Natasha's gaze softened. "He really likes you," she said. "And though I don't know you personally, I know you're good for him." She sipped some of her own soda. "That's all I care about."

"Thanks," Laura replied. They shared a look over their cans before Laura's brows furrowed. "Personally? So you do know me."

Natasha shrugged and continued to look unashamedly sneaky. Laura decided it wasn't too bad that Clint's partner had done a background check on her, and that Natasha was also looking out for him; just in a different way.

They were going to be great friends.

"Seriously?" Laura dug through her purse. "That was the third one!"

Clint shifted sheepishly. "I said I was sorry."

She just rolled her eyes, playing off like she was annoyed. Really, she was quite amused. Most girlfriends struggled with their boyfriends losing things they gave them.

But eating her own pictures?

"Okay, here's one. It's from last year, so it's a little dated…" she made a face at her hairstyle in the photo. God, why did she ever think that looked good?

Clint accepted the picture and delicately folded it into his breast pocket. "This one will last longer, I promise."

"Mm-hm," she said. "Have you ever considered just leaving the pictures behind on missions? That way you don't have to eat them when you're caught?"

Clint looked sheepish and horrified at the same time. "Yes ma'am, but it's, I mean, it's, it's you and I just-"

She stopped him with a kiss. "I know," she told him, smiling.

It was strangely romantic that her boyfriend would eat photos of her just so that a bad guy would never learn of her and come after them.

Laura fumbled with her covers as she tried to reach the ringing phone. It rang on and on, and "Blast it- damn- h'llo?" she groused. Her other hand reached up and scrubbed her face. It was too early in the morning for this. No, it was the middle of the night. She found her alarm clock and saw that it read 2:30 A.M.

"La-" there was a jumble of voices from the other end. Finally, one surfaced above the rest, apparently having gotten hold of the phone. "Laura, it's Natasha," came the tight voice.

"Nat?" she said, confused. "What's wrong?" Her heart started pounding as her thoughts immediately went to Clint. He'd been on a mission for the past three weeks. Had something happened?

"It's Clint," she said curtly. "He's back, but he's in bad shape. We've got him in the hospital ward, but he's not- he keeps asking for you. Already tried to break out twice to go get you."

"Oh my God," she whispered.

"Coulson and I will be at your place in five minutes." The line clicked off.

Laura stayed frozen on the bed for a moment. Then her brain kicked into action and launched out of the sheets. She was dressed just in time for the knock on her door.

She'd never met Phil Coulson before, but Clint talked about him a few times. She was aware that he was his handler. He seemed nice, but grave, and she was glad Natasha was there. Nobody spoke more than a few words, and they were in a dark car flying through New York.

Literally flying.

Laura didn't really care about any of it, only having thoughts for Clint. She was pretty sure that was also why Coulson and Natasha didn't put a bag over her head. The 'New York office' as they called it looked surprisingly normal, but she knew it was just so SHIELD could maintain its cover.

Inside was a completely different story.

They passed workers, agents, and suits, all bustling about despite the time of night. The trio stayed mostly silent as they made their way to the hospital ward.

A doctor greeted them outside a door. "He seemed to settle down some after your promise, Phil," he began without preamble. "Is this Laura?"

"I am," she answered for herself.

"Good. I'm Dr. Langston. Agent Barton returned from a desert assignment roughly five hours ago, after being declared MIA for five days. We're still working on his injuries and malnutrition, and his stubbornness hasn't been helping."

"I'll calm him down," she said firmly.

"I'm sure of that. Just, be prepared for what you see. It's not a very pretty sight. Also, we've got him on heavy painkillers and other 'happy' drugs, so he may not be very lucid right now."

She nodded sharply. "Understood."

Okay, so she wasn't prepared to see Clint stretched out on a hospital bed with tubes and wires sticking out of him. He looked pale and thin, and the bruises on his exposed skin stood out sharply against the white color scheme.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "Clint?"

His head turned. "Heeeeeeey, Laura," he greeted, a grin catching his mouth. He swung out his arm towards her though it hung limply off the edge. "You're more beautifuller than any… today. Llllookin' fine…"

Laura blushed and hoped that that sound she made came off as a laugh instead of a sob. "You're pretty doped up right now," she said, moving closer.

"Mmm," he hummed. He continued he unabashed staring.

"How are you doing?" she said carefully.

It was a long moment before he answered. "'m good. Goodner than I was- Doc McStuffins wouldn't let me out-" he waved towards the general vicinity of Dr. Langston.

This time she did laugh some. "Well, are you behaving for the doctors, Clint?" she said.

Clint didn't answer and just continued to stare at her. "I want to marry you," he said suddenly. "Do you want to marry me?" The second part was a bit more timid.

Laura gaped and flushed. "I, I'm not, are you asking me to marry you?"

Clint took a while to work through her question. "Yes?"

She blinked and grappled again. "I- I'd have to be sure it's not just the drugs talking, you're pretty out of it and I don't want this to just be a-" but Clint had dropped off to dreamland in the next moment.

Laura stayed by his side over the next several days, only breaking when Nat or Coulson took her to the cafeteria or told her to get some sleep. Clint slept most of the time as he healed, slowly regaining his strength. When he did awake, and stayed conscious and lucid, Natasha was on rotation.

"Laura?" he croaked.

Natasha looked at him bemusedly. "Has been ordered by Phil to get some rest. She's hardly left your side."

He nodded, accepting her statement and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes caught Nat's lingering smug look. He groaned. "Oh, God, what'd I say?"

"Oh, nothing too bad," she returned her attention to her magazine. "You just proposed to Laura."

Clint flailed wildly in shock. "I did? Shit! I need to go buy a ring!" He flustered frantically, trying to get up.

Natasha's deep chuckles carried out of the room.

Clint did propose later, on the balcony in Laura's apartment, with a ring and everything. However, they continue to maintain different stories on the matter. Clint insists that his proposal on the balcony was 'the real one', as it were, while Laura always considered his hospital stay as the official time that he popped the question.

Either way, the end result was the same.

More to come! Stay tuned! Reviews are loved! Thanks, guys! :)