Tony cameo in here! How I love writing for that guy... he's so damn annoying but so funny.

"Starbucks is not coffee. It's coffee flavored milkshakes." Clint argued.

Bruce took a guilty sip of his vanilla soy latte (no cream, two sugars). Thor thumped the table.

"Here, here!"

Both the demigod, who had first tried coffee in a New Mexico diner, and Steve, who had grown up in an era long before Starbucks was founded, were on Clint's side of the argument.

Tony, however, wasn't backing down. He liked his caramel macchiato (one cream, one sugar), damn it, and no 21st Century Legolas was going to guilt him into drinking the black sludge that the others – Bruce excepted – seemed to enjoy.

Clint, however, was still extremely frustrated. There was no coffee to be had other than the stupid cappuccinos Tony had bought. He needed his fucking caffeine rush, okay?

He spun on his heel to stalk out and was met by two dark eyes and two pale, lithe hands, holding a proffered cup of decidedly black coffee. He said nothing, but the harsh lines of his face softened as he took the cup from her. As he did so, their fingers met, intertwining for a moment before he brought the cup up to his lips to take a sip.

Natasha was the only person who could make his coffee just the way that he liked it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He woke up, dazed, blinking slowly. The world was full of blurry colors, like splotches of a chalk painting that had gotten rained on. It reminded him of a film, something he'd seen as a child, but the details faded even as he grasped at them. He didn't like to remember his childhood.

"Barton."

They hadn't gotten to a first-name basis yet – even though, in the deep dark corners of his heart where he locked up annoying things like emotion, he did want them to be.

Slowly, he turned his head. Her face slid into focus, and as it did so, the other pieces fell into place. A bomb. A knife fight. Several fights. Lasting long enough to reach the filthy, anonymous motel room, before collapsing into her arms the minute she opened the door.

Turning his head hurt his neck, and he winced. Now that they were able to focus, his eyes darted around the room, taking in everything. It was a sniper's habit. He realized that he was propped up on a bed in a hospital room, with Romanoff sitting in a chair next to him. In her hands she held a cup of what smelled suspiciously like coffee.

"Barton?" She said, her voice tinged with a softness he'd rarely heard from her.

He looked at her again, and she seemed relieved that he recognized her. She held out the cup. "I thought you might like some." She said, her voice low. A kind of embarrassment had crept in there; the great, terrible Black Widow, getting her fellow agent coffee while he lounged in the hospital.

Wait – how had he gotten there?

"You brought me here?" His voice was hoarse and croaky, but at least it worked. "Why not… SHIELD…"

"Not enough time." She said curtly. Again, she held out the cup to him. He shook his head slightly, gritting his teeth at the pain. One of the bastards he'd had to fight with had twisted his neck when he'd put him in a headlock.

"I don't like hospital coffee." He said apologetically. He understood the gesture, and didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"It's not." She responded. "I brewed it myself. Just the way that you like it."

He openly stared at her. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, sought-after assassin extraordinaire, had taken precious time out of her day to brew her babysitter (there was no denying that Fury had assigned them together for him to keep an eye on her, as he was apparently the only one who could get her to show any form of restraint) his coffee, the way that he enjoyed?

He was unnaturally touched.

He accepted the cup, but found that he couldn't bring it to his mouth. Her hands covered his, helping him bring the cup to his lips and sip at the rich, dark, slightly bitter liquid. The feel of it sliding down his throat was almost as warm and pleasurable as the feeling blooming in his chest.

Maybe Fury had thought that assigning him to Romanoff would be punishment for failing to kill her and insisting on bringing her on to SHIELD, but he didn't see it that way. Not before, and certainly not now. It looked like his act of mercy, and the ones that followed, were beginning to pay off.

Hey, at least she hadn't set fire to the hospital this time.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Thank you." He said, when they were finally alone and away from the likes of spoiled, self-absorbed chatterboxes whose names started with "T" and ended with "Y".

Natasha was perched on the kitchen counter, her lips in an innocent pout. "I really don't see what the big deal is about me knowing how to make coffee for you." She said, mildly irritated and slightly curious.

Clint walked over to her, standing in between her legs. She took advantage of the situation – of course – wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Clint put a hand on either side of her waist.

He shrugged. "That was when I knew." He explained.

"Knew what?"

The soft skin of her neck looked so inviting, almost begging him to pay attention to it, so he began to nuzzle the spot. Natasha pulled him a little closer, those perfect plush lips of hers falling open.

"I knew then that I was right; there was humanity still in you. You could regain what you had lost." He said.

It was as plain as that to him. Natasha could never be "fixed" or "redeemed", and neither could he. Such ideas were for the simple-minded. But she could become someone new. She could become the person that she wanted to be, rather than what others manipulated her into.

"I'm not sure that I understand." She gasped, thrusting her body against his as he bit gently into the skin at her collarbone.

"Simply put," He murmured, licking the wound, "The day you first made me coffee is the day you stopped being Black Widow. It's the day you started to become Nat."

"But only for you." She whispered, threading her fingers through his hair and wrapping her legs tight around him. "Only ever for you."

How are you guys liking this? I want to hear your thoughts! Oh, and any ideas are welcome! What do you guys things brought Nat and Clint closer? Any missions you want to read about (yes, I will do the infamous Budapest)? Let me know!