Hey, so just to clarify, this IS a multi-chapter story, although the plot won't be that much of a focus, more just Nat dealing. I've decided to go with the once upon a time thing, so now I feel clever. Enjoy!

Nat is watching in amusement as her adorably (Nat loved to tease him) 5'10 partner is getting ready to spar with a 6'6 wall of transfer agent. The agent had taken upon himself to get in Clint's way the entire time he had been on the helicarrier, and had challenged the unbeatable, terrifying Hawkeye. The reason? Probably to show off male bravado to try and fit in or something or other (it's amazing the effect public high school has on those who have been in it- they never leave). This was stupid for two reasons. 1) he wasn't 'unbeatable' she had bettered him on one or two occasions, thank you very much, and 2) there's no way the guy had a chance. Clint was fast, agile, deadly, and his strength was deceptive. If Clint could hold his own against 50 drug cartel thugs without even breaking a sweat, this guy was no problem.

I'm imagining your frame
every angle
and every plane
I'm imagining your smell
The one that mingled with mine
once upon a time

Sure enough, as soon as the fight started, the condescending gaze that the agent used to size Clint up before the match disappeared; replaced first by confusion, and then anger. Nat leaned lazily as she realized Clint was going to draw this out; he loved showing off. She admired his stances, his well built but lean and athletic muscles propelling him around the much larger man. To anyone looking at her Natasha looked disinterested as usual. But she was admiring the way Clint held himself, the way he moved. This was bad- she shouldn't be watching, else these images would distract her when she was trying to work. It made it harder too, she thought bitterly, when she was trying her very best to get over him. She decided to turn away and study her nails, but his mental image stayed. Natasha remembered her time undercover with Stark- that had been torture. Not only assigned to babysit Stark of all people, but the menial office tasks did not occupy her mind at all, so she was constantly consumed with images of Clint; how he looked, how he spoke, how he smelled. Made even worse, it was their first assignment apart for a long time, and the ache of him not being there was only intensified.

thoughts of you
are picketing my brain
they refuse
to work such long hours without rest
in unstable conditions at best
they're out there every day
holding up there signs
and thoughts of no other man but you
could possibly get through
the picket lines
to enter into my mind

One particular day, she was sorting something out- she didn't care. It was a shit ton of paperwork, and it took her all day. Not only did she have to do that, she had to write up her report for Fury as well, so her day was long and drawn out. It tired her too- it was work she didn't like. She'd rather have taken on the mob. Clint consumed her as she worked, laughing, fighting, reading, you name it. She felt ridiculous and to top it all off, some asshole tried to flirt with her when she was halfway through her fifth overtime hour. She's really surprised she didn't kill him.

I'm imagining your laugh again
the one you save for your family
and your very
close
friends

Natasha was jolted out of her reverie as round one finished; Clint met her eye as he pulled a towel over his neck, even though he didn't need it. He stepped out of the ring and gave her an imperceptible smirk- her heart fluttered. They acted differently when they were alone and when they were around people- they liked to give off the impression of super secret deadly assassins, they enjoyed playing up the rumours surrounding them. That smirk that only she could see was her favourite- it was a constant image in her brain when she was trying NOT to be distracted.

I'm imagining the way you say my name
I don't know when
I'm going to hear it again
my friends can't tell
my laughter from my cries
someone tell this photograph of you
to let go of my eyes

He called her, that night, when she felt like the world hated her. His voice over the phone as he gave her the classified details he shouldn't, the slight chuckle when she exasperatedly said Stark's name and expletives in the same sentence. He would tell her to calm down, in Russian, and that Stark wasn't worth getting worked up over. He'd then tell her he misses her and her heart would shatter all over again. She was good at hiding though, so the next day when Pepper remarks she's looking well, Nat flashes a million dollar grin, when internally, she's replaying his voice speaking to her in her native tongue over and over. She had 1 picture of them together- it was at one of those stupid carnival things, but it was safe, since film can't be hacked. He'd dragged her to it of course, and he was grinning. It hurt to look at it, but Nat was nothing if not a little masochistic.

I'm imagining your frame
I'm imagining your smell
I'm imagining your laugh again
and the way you say my name

She sat the entire day at her desk, doing nothing, and let her self go to one her favourite memories; him calling her into the hotel living room to watch their favourite movie after he had managed to con HQ into a later extraction. They leaned together and it was perfect; she felt him, she smelt him and heard him as he opened up to her like he did with no one else.

Nat looked up as Clint won the sparring match, looking like he just walked around the park, rather than engage in a sparring match with a wall. Nat rolled her eyes at him as he glanced up at her, and wished she wasn't so far gone.

Ooohhh I might have a stomach ache now from that. It just came out. And yes, the spelling is Canadian, and No, I'm not sorry.

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