Hey, guys! It's Lil' Things here with a brand new story! Undercover Assistant Returns. Formerly the series Natalie Rushman 2.0 by I Took The One Less Traveled.

WARNING!

Minor spoilers for the Avengers. If you don't want me to spoil the movie, then watch it first.

Coulson is alive! Yes, Coulson somehow survived getting shot in the heart.

There may be minor OOC, but, hey, I'm not perfect. I'm doing my best.

I may add another Avenger. FYI. I just think there's too much testosterone in the Avengers.

THIS IS NOT A TONY/NATASHA ROMANCE! I'm sorry, but I can't separate Tony and Pepper or Natasha and Clint.

DISCLAIMER! I don't own Avengers. Now, onto chapter 1…

Will You Be My Undercover PA (again)?

"Stark," Clint groaned, shoving Tony's head out of his path to the TV.

"Why would you watch football? Do assassins even have time to be football fans?"

"Tony, we are human beings." Natasha snapped unrelentingly, without looking up from the Russian book in her lap. She was curled on the corner of the couch against Clint's shoulder, Clint seated in the middle of the couch. Tony was standing in the middle of the room, neatly blocking Clint's view of the TV. Clint looked about ready to put an arrow through Tony's eye, but Tony was oblivious to how close he was to death.

Sighing, Tony moved over and took the seat on the other side of Clint. "Natasha, do you ever get bored?"

"Why would I get bored, Stark?" Natasha asked without looking up from the book.

"I don't know... Bruce has Science! And Thor's always going to and from Asgard, and he has Jane for when he's here. Steve's... you know, being all mopey and travelly—"

"Steve is on a roadtrip, Tony. He wants to see how the world has changed on his own terms. It makes perfect sense."

"Sure," Tony answered. "Clint gets sent on missions and shit all the time, but they don't send you as much... why?"

"Because I work better in deep cover covert ops than in the field. I am a spy, not a soldier. I gather information and maybe kill threats once I get the information. New York was an exception. And they haven't sent me into deep cover because those kinds of missions usually involve months of being gone, and Coulson blackmailed Fury and Hill from his hospital bed (something about blood on his Captain America trading cards) to leave me be and let me recover for awhile," Natasha answered, still not looking back up. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I still need a personal assistant," Tony answered. "And Natalie Rushman was really very good at it. I mean, she was no Pepper, but it's understandable, since Pepper was my personal assistant for eight years."

Clunk. Clint had dropped the remote in shock, and was staring from Natasha (who had barely looked up from her book) to Tony (who was sitting next to her) and back again.

"You still haven't found a competent assistant, Stark?" Natasha asked airily. "That's rather pathetic."

"Well, SHIELD sent a couple of agents, but they were all lame."

Natasha finally looked up. "I miss Natalie, but she wasn't me, Stark."

"Well, can't you be both? Can't you just be, like, super, deadly assassin, Natalie? Or Nat, I have a thing for nicknames, I'll just call you Nat."

Clint was still looking from one to another, mostly staring at Natasha—it was totally out of character that she hadn't taken the remote from his hand and used it to gut Tony for even suggesting it. But then, he remembered when she had come back from being Natalie Rushman—very professional and yet, sexy at the same time, long hair so different from how she usually wore it, competent, and organized, and already used to and reluctantly amused by Stark's antics. It had been the first job in a very long time that hadn't involved the blood, sweat and tears from her non-existent pores. Natasha had enjoyed being Natalie Rushman, and a part of her had enjoyed riding herd on Tony Stark the way that only Pepper Potts had ever been allowed to do. The kind of trust that Tony had always bestowed on Pepper, and in turn gave to Natalie Rushman on almost nothing but instinct alone, had softened a part of Natasha that had been very hardened for a very long time.

And now, knowing who and what she was, that he was willing to offer her that same kind of trust again—it spoke volumes of his respect for her. Natasha hadn't been shown respect for a very long time, either.

"Come on—if I tell people that Natalie's come back, no one is going to make the connection, it's not like the cameras got many shots of you. They were too busy with the aliens, and me and Steve. You and Clint sort of... blend into the background, and the cameras chase after Iron Man, Captain America, Hulk and Thor instead. And even if someone did make the connection, what would it matter? Your cover was for my benefit, so that you could get close to me. The cover doesn't really matter anymore."

"On the contrary, Stark, it matters a whole lot," Natasha shot back. "If it got out that Black Widow, infamous assassin, thief and mercenary was playing personal assistant to a playboy billionaire because she was bored, my entire reputation would be ruined. And I do actually use that reputation."

"You didn't say no," Tony said, smirking.

"No, you're right," Natasha muttered. "I didn't say no."

"Are you saying yes?"

Clint could see Natasha worrying her lower lip, which was worrying in itself—Natasha didn't have tells like that. But Natalie might've—he hadn't met Natalie, just seen Natasha with what was left of the Natalie guise being stripped away. Helping her strip it away. But that meant that she was slipping into the roll, already preparing to become Natalie Rushman, Tony Stark's personal assistant, randomly promoted from Legal when he had decided to hand his current one the keys to the kingdom instead. Well, not randomly, actually, Clint was pretty sure that it had had very much to do with the way that Natalie's ass looked in those prim little business casual suits and skirts.

Tony turned and arched his eyebrow at Natasha, who arched back.

"You totally get to confiscate my drinks at parties, buy yourself designer shoes whenever you want to on the company's dime, and you'll have something to do until Fury pulls his head out of his ass and realizes that you need to get out of the house."

"Yes," Natasha answered.

Clint knocked the coffee table over with his shocked kick, and Tony pulled a folder from the side table. "Excellent. Here's the paperwork—it's made out to Natasha Romanov, SI doesn't go below board by doing things like supporting fake identities, but you can be Natalie Rushman on anything else. Just sign here, here, initial here, here and here, and we're good to go."

And clearly, Stark and Natasha had built up something more of a trusting relationship than Clint had thought, in the time that they were working together, since Natasha barely scanned the paperwork before signing on the dotted line. Or maybe it was the same employment contract that it had been last time she had signed it, and she had only looked long enough to confirm that nothing had changed.

"Thank you," Stark said gleefully, taking back the folder. Natasha snorted and unfurled from the couch like some kind of cat.

"I'm going to turn in. I will see you tomorrow at work, Mr. Stark."

"And you as well, Ms. Rushman," Tony said back, and they exited the room in opposite directions, leaving Clint unsure which way to gape.

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