A/N: Been mulling this one over for a while and finally found the time to sit down and write it out. It takes place after the first Avengers movie, but def won't follow any of the others. This is my first shot at writing something in the Avengers in for-freaking-ever so, I'd appreciate y'all letting me know what you think!

When Fury called Natasha into his office, she knew it was something about a mission. With her partner out of commission, she had been on a few solos, but was largely inactive "Sir?"

"I'm sending you and Barton on a mission."

This shocked the Russian spy. "But, Sir, Barton still has another two weeks of therapy before he's cleared." Following the attack on New York, Barton had been unstable. He was constantly thinking about the agents killed while he was brainwashed and wouldn't stop blaming himself for their deaths. If not for the SHIELD-mandated therapy, Natasha was sure that he would have agonized it a lot longer than he had. After almost four months of twice-a-week counseling, Barton was finally on the mend. Natasha worried what a premature introduction to work would do to him.

"And I am well aware of that, Agent, but this isn't going to cause unnecessary stress. Something small to help get his feet wet. Get used to being in the field again."

That sounded reasonable at least. And that was something coming from the guy who told the Council to essentially eff off. "Alright, Sir. And what is this mission?"

"Nothing you guys haven't done a million and one times before. If not easier. Someone is pushing drugs in Melbourne, Florida. We don't know who, but we had intel come in that it was coming from some supermarket there. Your job is to get in, stop the shipments, find whoever is heading this operation and arrest them. No death, no destruction. This is barely a level one mission. Something we usually leave to the Feds, but they've had no luck and Barton's therapist cleared him for something small. This seemed like the perfect op."

"I couldn't agree more, Sir. What are our covers?"

"You'll find more in the briefing packets in your rooms, but, simply put, you'll be a cashier and Barton will be a produce clerk. Everything's been set up, and you'll start on Monday. Any other questions?"

"No, Sir."

Fury nodded. "Good. You're dismissed."

Natasha returned the gesture and exited the office, making her way across the helicarrier until she was outside Barton's therapist's office, after a quick pitstop at the apartment she shared with her partner. He had been in session while the meeting went down and Natasha would admit to looking forward to working with her partner again after going solo for so long. After about fifteen minutes of Natasha playing some word game on her phone- a guilty pleasure she'd taken up during the last several months- Barton exited the office with a relaxed smile on his face that turned even happier when he saw who was waiting. "Tasha! What're you doing out here? I thought Hill said something about a mission debrief. Thought you'd be long gone by now."

She gave a small smile in return. "I was at a mission debrief, but it wasn't just for me. You're going too."

His happy grin sunk slowly into a frown, stormy eyes darkening, and she knew exactly what he was thinking, but let him find the words to say. "Nat… I don't know if I'm ready. Not for our kind of stuff."

"Then it's a good thing this isn't our kind of stuff. Low level. Wouldn't usually be left to some three-letter organization, but Fury caught it and thought it would be good to reintegrate you. Dr. Maddox cleared you and everything." She handed him the briefing packet she'd picked up as she said this and watched as he leafed through it.

"He did? Well, damn." The grin suddenly returned, ten times brighter. "I guess it's time for Strike Team Delta to get moving."

Warmth bloomed in Natasha's chest at his enthusiasm. "Good to hear. Wheels up in thirty. I'll see you there, partner."

Having grabbed her go-bag while at the apartment, Natasha stopped by the canteen to get them some coffee and lunch to have on the quinjet to Florida. She knew her partner well enough to know that he would be hungry but also too excited to think to pack something. Twenty-five minutes later, she was on the quinjet and it wasn't a moment after her own arrival that Barton showed up, smiling gratefully at the paper bag she was holding. "Is that what I think it is?"

"As long as you think it's two burgers and some fries."

Before she even finished the sentence, he was grabbing for the food. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Best. Partner. Ever."

"Damn straight." Her easy smile quickly and suddenly turned to a glare, though, as she took the fry he was holding. "But if you eat my fries this time, I might be the only person on this mission."

He nodded quickly, grabbing two more fried and shoving them into his mouth. "Right. Won't happen again."

It happened again. Like always. And like always, she pretended she didn't notice and Clint pretended not to know that she noticed. It was as routine for them as it was for them to be suiting up together or cleaning their weapons. They went over their covers on the flight. Natasha was Natalie Bishop and was being hired at Waldi store number 0886 as a cashier. Her background was simple. Worked as a secretary at the Orlando Stark Industries office until she was let go due to over hiring. Lived in a small apartment with long time best friend Carter Dunham who had just been hired in the produce department. Carter worked small jobs here and there with no real future in mind, having never gone further than a general Associate degree in education. Upon reading this, Clint groaned loudly. "Why am I always the bum? You get to be the pretty little secretary, worked a real job, got a real education, but I never did anything important. I have to be the freeloader."

Natasha fought back a grin at that. "At least your fake credit score is better than mine. And you have a better retirement plan than I do."

That seemed to ease his bruised ego. "That's true I guess. But you have more money in your account."

"Yeah, because I have no retirement to speak of. Why are we even going over this? This isn't even real life."

The archer chuckled. "Not until Monday, when it becomes very real."

"You know what I mean, asshat. We're both better in real life."

Her partner's mood soured. "I don't know if I would say that about myself."

Natasha sat up a little straighter, taking his hand. "Hey. You're not doing this. Not now, not ever. What happened wasn't your fault. That was all that Asgardian asshole."

"You don't get it, Tash. Don't know what it was like to have watched all that shit go down and not been able to do anything about it." His free hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone. "I hurt you."

Almost without her permission, Natasha's hand covered his on her face, holding his palm there as her eyes focused on his, enjoying the feeling. "That wasn't you. I know that, Clint." Her voice was barely a whisper and she thought she saw pain in his eyes as he remembered everything, but it passed quickly, and he took a deep breath. "I want to say 'I know', but we both know I can't. Not yet. I'm not ready."

She nodded. "And that's okay as long as you think that at some point you will be ready. I hate seeing you hurt like this."

He nodded back and their hands fell apart and the moment ended. Still, Natasha felt that they'd made some sort of progress towards a more definite recovery and that felt good. More than, if she was being honest. And the quinjet made its descent.