'Now you sound like you.'

'But you don't. You're a spy, not a soldier, but now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?'

'He didn't, he...'

'Natasha?'

'I've been compromised. I've got red on my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out.'

Natasha, in that moment, looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her. He was sure he looked the same. The hell they'd been through in the last few days was nothing compared to anything they had ever known, either together or apart, and soon it would escalate beyond even what they could imagine. He wanted to reach out and touch her, offer her some form of physical comfort, but he knew better than to make any sudden moves around her when she was still in her compromised emotional state. She was a highly trained assassin who didn't take kindly to uninvited invasions into her personal space.

She stood suddenly and checked the lock on the door to his recovery suite. He cocked an eyebrow at her as she sat back down- it was unlike her to be so paranoid. 'I just want to make sure we're not interrupted for a few more minutes,' she said by way of explanation.

'Well, sooner or later we'll have to go back into action. It's only a matter of time before they find the cube.'

Natasha leaned her elbows on her knees and rubbed her temples vigorously. 'I know', she murmured, then turned sideways to face him again. He was surprised, but not altogether shocked, to see the sparkle of tears in the corners of her eyes. To hell with it, he thought, and raised his hand to her cheek. He expected her to recoil, to lash out to the sudden touch, but to his surprise and relief she relaxed her face into his calloused fingers. He knew he wouldn't get a better invitation than that. He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers.

It was slow and tentative, more like a question than a kiss, but she didn't draw away so he lifted up his other arm and put his hand behind her head. Natasha's breath caught in her throat, and Clint felt dampness on his cheek. Instead of pausing to catch her breath or to speak, as he expected, she pushed into him, her fingertips digging into the back of his neck, her mouth fervently moving against his. Still without speaking, she pulled away from him and began fumbling with the zipper on his jacket.

'Tasha- what-' he managed to get out, before she silenced his mouth with hers again. She finally managed to free him of his jacket and began working on untucking his wifebeater from his pants. Clint decided it was best to just follow her lead- it wasn't like he hadn't been having the same thoughts ever since he had finally found himself alone in a room with her after having his brain yanked about by Loki. This wasn't the first time they had done this, but over their years of working together the provocative game-playing had given way to something more- a desperate, deep emotional attachment that grew from the kind of trust you can only earn from saving each other's lives time and again. I wouldn't call it love, he thought, as he unzipped her catsuit to reveal her sports bra and delicate, pale shoulders, because he knew she thought love was for children and stability was something neither of them could ever know with their jobs. But their relationship certainly went beyond friendship, beyond the co-operation that was necessary between partners on a covert mission.

His torso finally bare, Natasha ran her hands over his muscular chest and lowered her mouth to gently bite his left nipple. Clint grunted in pleasure and pain, feeling his tight pants pressing uncomfortably against the bulge they contained. She pushed him back against the bed and straddled him so that his hands rested on her hips, nestled in the folds of the upper half of her outfit. With as much grace as could be granted to her utilitarian bra, she managed to pull it off so her breasts were exposed. Clint raised his hands to cup her breasts as she kicked her way out of the bottom half of her suit, pulling her boots off in the process so the only clothing that remained were her black underpants. He began making small circles with his thumbs over her nipples, and she sighed.

Her hands were on his belt buckle when she finally spoke. 'I thought I'd lost you', she whispered, her head bent over as she unzipped his fly so he couldn't see her face. With one hand, he pulled her head back to his so he could look in her eyes while with the other placed at her back he pulled her tightly against him. She yanked her hands away from his waist and submitted to the pause in action so they could lay with their torsos pressed together. She felt ashamed to voice her feelings out loud, because so often the best communication between them was unspoken.

'I know,' he muttered, and kissed her tear-tracked cheek quickly. 'I thought I had lost myself. But you brought me back, Tasha. You saved me, again.'

With one hand, he pressed her back to him, while with the other he flipped them over so she was beneath him. He quickly pulled his pants and boxers down in one move and kicked them across the room so he was balanced on his hands and hovering, poised, above her. In another life he'd take the time to ravish her, to bring her to the edge of a cliff and leave her dangling for as long as possible. For him, his own physical pleasure usually came second to the fulfillment of seeing and feeling hers. But today there was only now, there was only this one stolen chance to be as close to her as possible before they went back into battle, and he knew that if- when- they made it through, he'd take all the time in the world with her.

Natasha reached down and hooked her thumbs around her underpants to pull them off. There really wasn't much finesse between them, but she didn't care- she longed for him, needed him to remind her what was real and what was not real in this freakshow of a war. She gazed directly into his silvery-grey eyes and nodded.

Clint pushed into her and she gasped and bit her lip. He lowered his mouth back to hers and began to slide back out, but she grabbed his lower back and pulled him back in forcefully. They moved together with practised precision, the gentle background hum of the Helicarrier's engines only punctuated with gasps, small whimpers, and heavy panting. For the first time in days, Clint's mind was acutely focused, aware of every detail of Natasha's breathing, her lips, the sweat that was transferring from his skin to hers, the tear-tracks leaving sparkling salt crystals on his whiskered cheek. He felt the sting of her nails digging into his skin but pain was nothing to him now- knowing she was safe, that they were together for just a little longer amidst this chaos was the only sensation that he was capable of analysing.

The muffled noises that escaped them grew to a crescendo. 'Don't... leave me... again' spat out Natasha with some difficulty.

'I won't. We're- Ah-' Clint managed to get out before every muscle tensed in his body. She held him to her, as close as she could, as he shuddered and cried out and finally lay still in her arms.

'What?' she asked, as he rolled off of her on to his side.

'A team.'

A rare smile crossed her face, and she kissed him again. 'Well, partner,' she said, running her hand up and down his arm, 'we had better get ready to go back out there. They're going to come looking for us soon.'

Clint slid as smoothly as he could off the side of the bed and gathered up her clothes. He tossed them to her as she sat up, then pulled his into the attached bathroom with him.

Natasha was just finished pulling her zipper up when there was a knock at the door. 'Come in,' she said, secretly thanking whoever was up there listening that the knock hadn't come just thirty seconds earlier.

Steve- Captain America- slid the door open. 'Quick. Time to go.'

'Where?' asked Black Widow as she strapped on her boots.

'I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?'

Hawkeye emerged from the bathroom, looking as smooth and calm as she had ever seen him, but she knew inside he was vibrating with repressed energy and rage. 'I can,' he said.

Cap looked to Black Widow quickly, questioningly. She nodded.

'Do you have a suit?' he asked Hawkeye, looking him over one more time.

'Yes,' replied Hawkeye.

'Then suit up.'

Author's Note:

This is the first time I've ever attempted this sort of thing. I saw the movie three times in theatres and was thoroughly intrigued by the characters of Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton- it is implied that they have a very interesting backstory and a long history of working together. They also have excellent chemistry- kudos to Jeremy Renner and Scarlett Johanssen. I decided it was time to flex my creative writing muscles for the first time in years and fill in that ambiguous scene after Barton recovers. I tried to stay as true to the story arc and characters as possible in writing this, and I included actual dialogue from the movie in italics to tie in the story to the movie.

The reason why I switched at the end to calling the characters by their hero names is because they have all made the transition from their very human moments to their super-human personas after this tryst is over. When the characters are sitting around a table playing cards, they would refer to each other by their actual names, but now that they have to go back to focusing on their role in the war, they refer to each other by their hero personas.

Finally, I have to say this was personally very hard to write. I had to draw on a lot of my own experiences to make the scene seem true on both an emotional and physical level, and I wanted to avoid clichés like 'throbbing manhood' and 'quivering loins' (ick). In doing so, however, I had to bring to the forefront of my mind memories of things I have done with someone I no longer want to think about. I'm not saying these memories are of things I want to forget, because at the time they were formed the moments were incredibly precious to me. But the memories were obviously made with someone else, and that someone else is someone I try to avoid thinking about at all costs. So- tread carefully, is what I'm saying.

Oh, and one final thing: I imagine the soundtrack for this scene to be You Found Me by The Fray, and Fix You by Coldplay. Maybe throw in Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own by U2 to represent the words that go unsaid.

Hope you all enjoy!