I love these two so much, and so I had another idea for a oneshot...

Disclaimer: I very unfortunately do not own the characters, only the mistakes and the plot.

For a long time, it's only Clint Barton that Natasha Romanov trusted. And even then, that took months and months to happen—he didn't even know that it had happened until a bunch of soldiers who were in the gym burst out in Russian. They were clearly originally from Russia, because their accents were authentic and they were talking loudly and laughing and clearly it had shook Natasha. For the rest of the day she had stuck so close to Clint's side that he was almost tripping over her, their arms and hands bumping together.

Nick Fury and Phil Coulsen seemed a little nervous at first, about the reliance Natasha had on him. Coulsen mentioned it to Clint, who just said that Natasha had probably never trusted anyone before in her life, and the fact she had decided to believe in Clint was astounding. To be completely fair, Fury and Coulsen had sent her in to kill her originally, that had been his mission. So maybe it wasn't so far-fetched that Natasha didn't trust them?

Coulsen hadn't mentioned it again after that, and despite a couple of grumblings from Fury, he didn't mention it either.

Time went by and Natasha turned into Nat, and it wasn't all professional between them. On their days or weekends off, Natasha didn't just lock herself in her bedroom or the gym. At first it was just watching TV with him in one of the common rooms at the base. Then she let him take her out for lunch or dinner. And finally she let him show her his apartment, which was located in the middle of the city, about half an hour away from the SHIELD base. Nat had really liked that, and Clint had decided to bring her there more often.

Nat still didn't have her own place—shit, Clint wasn't even sure if she even had a bank account. She had only been on a couple of missions, all easy and low key to the point where she was getting restless, but Coulsen had assured him that she was getting paid.

But she seemed to love being in his place, and being out of all the metal and blinding lights. He didn't really have much in the apartment; some furniture that Maria Hill had picked out of a catalogue, his plasma screen TV, a scatter of DVD's and magazines and then his sound system. Her favourite part of the apartment seemed to be the same as his. It was the window seat in his bedroom that looked down over the thirty storey view of the city. He would let her do her own thing as he cooked them dinner or watched a sports game on TV. Whenever he went looking for her, the window seat is where he would find her, her legs pulled tightly to her chest and just sitting motionless as she stared out the thick glass.

It was around a year and a half that Bruce Banner and Tony Stark crashed into SHIELD. Tony was the first one that made Natasha laugh, and that made Clint incredibly jealous. It wasn't a massive one, from the pit of her stomach, more like a quirk of her lips and a snort, but that was more than Clint had heard before.

And that jealousy had hung around for almost a week before they were forced to go to some black tie fundraiser event by Fury, and Natasha had mumbled that she pitied Pepper Potts because Tony was such a child.

Clint could have kissed her.

He didn't of course, but he allowed himself to properly look at her for the first time that evening. She looked heart-stoppingly gorgeous in the black flowing dress that hugged at her breasts and hips, and contrasted starkly with her deep red hair.

He honestly wasn't sure if he was imagining—hoping—but he was pretty sure that she was giving him some appreciative look back.

He made a mental note to take Maria for the expensive, tailored suit later on.

Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson were the next two that she met, and that was when the Avengers Initiative became a real thing.

That was actually kind of a mess.

Loki Odinson had tapped into his head and over-ridden his free will. He had killed a couple of SHIELD agents, and he had almost hurt Nat. No, scratch that, he had hurt her. He had punched and kicked her—shit, he had ready to pull an arrow on her before he was knocked unconscious. When he came to, he had been restrained in the med bay, and Nat was sitting opposite him, her pretty eyes fixed on his face.

She kept her emotions at bay for a while, other than her initial words of concern. It was after the battle of NY and Thor had disappeared with Loki in tow. Fury had told them to scatter and take some time off. As Clint and Nat had slid into his car and he had asked her where she wanted to go, she had said home. He had started heading back toward the base, but then she had muttered that she meant his apartment. The rest of the drive had been in silence and Clint's whole body was coiled so tightly it felt as though he was on the verge of snapping at any second.

They had been cleaned up and fed at a temporary medical area but they still hadn't slept. When they got back to his apartment, Nat silently headed toward the bathroom while Clint stayed in the kitchen. He was trying to act natural but his body and movements were stiff. He felt completely ill in his own skin right now, and the only thing stopping him from trying to scratch his way out of his body was Nat.

He threw back a couple shots of whiskey and then braced his arms against the bench, letting out harsh breaths through his nose. He wasn't sure how long he stood like that, but then his body tingled as though he was being watched and he looked up.

Nat was standing there.

Completely naked.

Her wet hair was almost black as it clung to her face and neck, droplets trailing down her back and the valley between her swallowed hard as she reached out a hand to him. His feet moved on auto-pilot as he crossed the kitchen and took her hand, letting her lead him toward the bathroom, where the shower was still running. Her body was covered in dark and angry bruises and deep scratches and grazes, but she was still without a doubt the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

He numbly let her strip him down and coax him into the shower, her hands caressing his skin. There should be no way in hell that he should feel dirty while sharing a shower with his beautiful, caring, loyal, undeservingly forgiving partner.

"Careful there, Clinton," Nat said quietly, a tiniest hint of a smile on her face as Clint looked up at her with a quizzical expression. "I'll get a big head if you carry on like that." Clint blinked and felt his cheeks heat as he realized that he had spoken out loud. They didn't talk as she finished wiping him down, careful of his wounds, and then she watched as he sunk to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face. She sat down with him, sliding one arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

They sat there for hours, even after the water had run cold, and Nat never left his side.

It took a while for him to properly come back; he just didn't trust himself. He kept waiting for something in his head to twinge and for him to turn on everything he loved and stood for again. Even around Nat he was careful. She knew that he was, and he knew that it annoyed her, and he couldn't wait for the day when he wasn't like that anymore. He spent more time at his apartment than at his room at the base. They hadn't been on any missions lately, Fury wanted them to relax properly, and so they were technically on 'holiday', and Clint would never admit it out loud, but he was glad. It had helped to put his head back into a good place.

Clint walked out of his room, scratching at his bare shoulder and rubbing his hand over his face. He let out a yawn as he turned to walk into the kitchen and then stopped short when he saw Nat sitting at his breakfast bar, a spoonful of cereal in her mouth as she looked over at him. He frowned at her.

"How long have you been here?" He asked as he came into the kitchen and flicked on the coffee machine. She shrugged as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Only about half an hour," she replied.

"Ever heard of knocking?" He jibbed her and she rolled her eyes.

"But that would have woken you up, and you're a real asshole when you get woken up," she smirked. Clint rolled his eyes and turned back to grab a mug from the cupboard, waiting as the coffee machine flicked off and poured himself a cup. "You're taking me out," she announced. Clint turned back to face her, leaning back against the bench.

"What?"

"You're taking me out," she repeated. "I don't care where, I don't care what we do, but other than the night just after the fight, you haven't let yourself be alone with me."

"Nat, I don't think—"

"No. Don't think," Nat cut him off. "Just get changed. Because I'm not going to be able to focus if you're going around flashing those abs all day," she gave him a half smirk that made him clench his fingers tighter around the handle of his cup. He gave a short nod before disappearing back down the hallway.

They had a normal day out.

A surprisingly normal day out.

They started with more coffee, and boysenberry croissants. Then they saw a movie. And then they took a walk along the harbour. Nat was holding most of the conversation, which he would never have believed if someone had told him this when the two of them had first met. They got ice cream from a tiny vendor, Clint settling with plain vanilla while Nat went with hokey-pokey. She took long licks, and Clint was going crazy, watching her pink tongue flick out over and over again.

"Are you ever going to kiss me, Clinton?" Nat suddenly asked him. He blinked at her and Nat tilted her head to the side, looking at him quizzically, not seeming to realize that the weight of her statement.

"I, uh—I, what?" Clint stammered.

"I said," she lifted her eyebrows, that gorgeous mouth of hers twisted slightly in that cheeky smile that he had fallen in love with over the past few years. "Are you ever going to kiss me, Clinton?" He looked at her, searching her face for the catch, but despite the smile she was giving him, she wasn't hiding anything.

So he took a chance, and leaned forward, catching her mouth.

It was brief and close mouthed, but when they pulled apart, they were smiling.

"That's better," Nat said as she turned back to her ice cream. He stared at her and she gave him a sideways look. "You looked cuter when you smile."

Time went by.

Hawkeye and Black Widow. They were a team.

They were inseparable and they were unbeatable.

The Avengers wondered sometimes, if there was more between them than just friendship. They knew each other too well. And then there was the small thing about the stolen glances they seemed to think that no one else noticed. But no one asked, they respected their privacy, and they were a little bit scared of Natasha and her deathly glares.

Steve knew the truth, though.

One morning, when he had gotten back from his run with Sam Wilson, he had seen the two of them just outside the base. It looked as though they had just got back from a run themselves, given Natasha was just in a sports bra and leggings and Clint was in sweatpants and a hoodie. Steve had stayed quiet, because he didn't want to interrupt their moment and to slip past them. Curiosity got the better of him, though, because he stood in the shadows from the tall fences of the building, and watched them together.

They were in a blind spot from the security cameras, and Clint reached out for Natasha. He cupped her jaw and Nat looked up at him with soft eyes. Steve's hearing was definitely better than the average humans, but they were speaking so quietly and so far away that he couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he could easily tell. Clint's lips moulded into the three words that seemed to make Natasha's face set alight.

"I love you," he murmured to her.

Steve's eyes were as wide as saucers as Natasha repeated the sentiment back to him.

He knew the value of privacy, and he would keep their secret.

After he told Sam.

Let me know what you think!

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