"Hang on, replay that last bit again."

Natasha stops the video that she and Clint are watching and drags the cursor back a few inches. Then she plays it again in slow motion, squinting her eyes appraisingly as she studies the clip.

It's a video of herself, flirting with a target in order to get close enough to plant a bug on him. It had been taken about a week before, when she and Clint had gone to Los Angeles in order to gather intel about the target: Bill Roberts, who S.H.I.E.L.D. saw as a threat to national security.

The operation had gone well; she had been successful in planting the bug, but later, they had discovered that Roberts had been on to them the whole time, and had used the bug to his own advantage by feeding S.H.I.E.L.D. false information through it.

Roberts was now in their custody, and now she and Clint were re-watching the security video of the moment, scrutinizing it in an attempt to see if they could spot any of the warning signs.

The target leans forward towards Natasha, and rests his hand on the chair next to her leg. A heartbeat passes, and Clint says, "There."

"What?" Natasha asks, pausing the movie.

"His hand twitches toward your thigh right there, like he wants to check if you have a concealed thigh holster under your dress. Which, as we both know, you did."

"Hm." Natasha frowns and zooms in on the man's hand. Then she shrugs. "Maybe. To me it looks like he just wanted to touch my thigh."

Clint gives her a look.

"What? It happens, Clint."

"I know," he mutters thoughtfully.

After a moment, he says, "You know what I think is funny about this clip, is that Roberts, despite the fact that he knows you're just playing him, seems to be legitimately enjoying it. Like, all your targets are so stupid. All you have to do is bat your eyelashes and they go nuts. It's crazy."

Natasha frowns. "No, actually, a lot of the men I have to seduce are geniuses whose brilliant minds and inventions are a threat. Maybe they just fall for it because I do my job well."

Clint shakes his head. "Nah. To actually believe that you would fall for someone like them? They're idiotic."

Natasha suddenly turns towards Clint. "I'm not sure what you're suggesting, Clint," she says tightly. "Do you mean that I'm so unconvincing when I flirt with them that it makes no sense why they would think I mean it? Or maybe you're saying I'm so repulsive that it doesn't matter how well I do my job, it would take idiot would fall for me anyway?" she adds sarcastically.

"Huh? Oh no, no that's not what I meant," Clint says hastily. "I just meant, all of them must be really arrogant to think that any girl would fall for them so quickly. Like, they must be utter imbeciles, to actually believe your acting, and think you're in love with – I'm just making this worse, aren't I?"

"You kind of are," Natasha says dryly.

"Whatever. Just take it as a compliment," Clint says. "My point is basically that all the men you seduce are idiots because all you do is flirt with them a little and they fall down at your feet."

Natasha narrows her eyes at him, apparently still not satisfied with his response.

Blushing uncomfortably, Clint leans toward the screen again. "So, um, I think on this next part, you can kind of see an indication when he—" He stops short when he feels Natasha's warm breath on his ear.

"So you think that an intelligent man like yourself would never fall prey to my charms, is that right?" she purrs.

Clint freezes. She's just flirting with you, Clint, stand your ground. He turns to face her, and his heart does a little tap dance when he finds her face less than two inches away from his.

"Right," he manages to say. "Because I, being an intelligent man, would know that you would never… never fall for… fall… um, ahem – hm." His voice trails off as she fiddles distractingly with the hem of his T-shirt.

"Is that so," Natasha murmurs, her hands gliding up his front. "And I suppose… you are… absolutely sure?" Her gaze settles momentarily on his lips before flicking up to his eyes again.

"Of course I'm sure," Clint says. His voice sounds unnaturally high to his ears. "I mean, I know you, so I know you would know I was just me, I mean, I just, I mean uh, wait, what?"

"Interesting," Natasha says softly, as if he'd just said something very clever. Her hands meet behind his neck then move up to his hair; and she runs her fingers through it, her nails lightly scraping his scalp. "Well… what can I say? I like a challenge."

Suddenly, her fingers coil around his roots, and she drags his face down to meet hers. His lips crash into hers, and her breath comes in short, rapid gasps as she kisses his intensely. Clint is amazed at how good it feels, how right, and he finds himself grabbing her by the waist as pulling her closer, lining their hips up.

Suddenly, Natasha pushes him away and steps back, slightly out of breath and grinning impishly.

"Wow, it took roughly two seconds for you to kiss me back, Mr. 'I'm-Immune-To-Your-Flirting'. Looks like I win that round, Barton."

"Wait what?" Clint says dizzily as she turns back to the computer. "No! I so did not kiss you back, Nat!"

"Pretty sure you did," she says smugly.

"I did not! You were the one who was kissing me!"

"Yeah, I was. But as practically the world's expert on kissing, I can confirm that you were kissing me, too."

"No, I wasn't kissing you! This is me kissing you!" Clint abruptly grabs her and spins her back into his embrace, pressing his mouth firmly to hers. She makes a strangled noise of shock in her throat, then she rests her hands on his shoulders and kisses him back.

Now it's Clint's turn to pull away, grinning triumphantly.

"A-ha. You kissed me back that time. Looks like I win that round, Romanoff."

"What? I did not kiss you back!" Natasha insists, as Clint smirks.

"Yeah, you did."

"Okay maybe, but you definitely kissed me first!"

Clint tilts his head. "Strictly speaking, Romanoff, you were the one who started all this kissing in the first place."

"Because I was trying to prove a point! You said I couldn't win you over, so I was just showing you that I can!"

"Ha, so you admit that you started this."

Natasha huffs in annoyance and puts her hands on her hips. "Look, Clint, when a woman kisses a man-"

"Who's kissing who?" a familiar voice drawls.

Natasha and Clint both whirl around, only to find everyone's favorite genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist lounging against the door frame, smirking brazenly at them.

"How – how long have you been standing there?" Natasha demands.

Tony Stark shrugs his shoulders. "Not too long. Long enough to hear the word 'kissing' a few times." He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What's going on in here, anyway? Pretty sure Fury assigned you two to a surveillance feed check, not a make out session."

A heartbeat passes, then Clint and Natasha fall over each other trying to explain.

"We weren't, we were just watching this video, and-"

"Natasha brought up kissing, is all-"

"See, Clint was saying that Roberts looks like he's a bad kisser-"

Tony just grins as he listens to the din for a moment, then he casually strolls away from the doorway, disappearing down the hallway.

Natasha and Clint are both silent for a minute, staring at the spot where he was.

"Natasha?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Okay."

They both turn back to the computer, looking at the paused screen for a minute. Then Natasha snickers, and both of them burst out laughing.

They stand in the quiet room for a minute, both doubled over and clutching at their stomachs with mirth. Finally Natasha straightens up, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"I swear, Barton," she says, wiping away tears of laughter. "If you ever mention this day to me again-"

"I won't," Clint says gleefully.

Natasha sighs, and her smile gradually starts to vanish. "Okay," she says resignedly. "Let's keep analyzing this darn movie."

She starts the clip again, and they both watch for a minute without speaking.

Then Clint says abruptly, "Just for the record – I totally won the contest."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but as she turns her attention back to the tape, Clint catches her small smile.