DISCLAIMER: yo, all rights the the proper owner


"Romanoff, Barton," Fury tossed them each a small circular USB drive, they didn't even flinch at the abrupt fling of the metal objects.

"Two USB's….that means-" Natasha said feeling the smooth surface of the drive.

"Two missions, that's right." Fury completed her thought, which she found highly aggravating.

"We don't do solo missions." Clint said between clenched teeth. "You know that Fury."

"You don't have a damn choice!" He growled, "This isn't a punishment, you two need some time away from each other. It's been three years since either of you've had a single solo op, I've decided that this is good for you." He said as he simmered down, "I'm sure Coulson will agree."

Clint didn't give a damn, he didn't want a solo mission. Yeah, so what? He was being a selfish little child, but it was Natasha. He only wanted to work alongside her, even if that mean a months suspension-sappy I know-. Before her Phil couldn't even hypothetically convince him to request for a partner, the thought of working with someone was ridiculous. Alone was safer, it was cleaner, and it was definitely unattached.

That's just how he was.

"Fine," Natasha said unsympathetically.

And apparently how Natasha still is.

"What's the mission?" She said holding up the round USB.

"Nat!" Clint hissed and stared at her with distressed eyes.

She brushed off his behavior, he wasn't thinking straight, "Barton don't be stupid, take the mission. We don't have a choice, plus it's better than all the damn nothing we've been getting."

Clint exhaled deeply, she chose now to be obedient? What the hell happened to the reckless unruly Natasha?

"Agent Romanoff, you're dealing with a Russian arms dealer. The files explain the rest, you'll get it, it should be child's play. Do whatever seems fit." Fury said in his business-like tone.

"I'm starting to think you do this on purpose Fury, I have to seduce another damn Russian man?" She sighed, brushing her messy curls out of her face.

Fury shrugged lightly, "If that's what you need to do." Natasha rolled her eyes, that's what she always had to do, damn it.

"Isn't there some rookie you can give this to?" She sighed, spinning the small object between her fingers.

"You may find this one a bit more, entertaining." Fury smirked suggestively. Natasha shot her green eyes up at him in curiosity, entertaining did have a compelling ring to it.

"I thought you said 'child's play'…" Natasha muttered under her breath.

He turned to Clint, "And Barton, you're back in on the Tesseract."

"The Tesseract? We're still looking into that thing?" Clint asked with Furrowed brows.

"It would appear so," He replied, "You're the man for the job, get on it."

"What exactly are we doing with the Tesseract?" He asked, slouching over his legs.

"That can't be said here." Fury replied in his usual open-ended statements.

"What the hell is a Tesseract?" Natasha questioned, leaning to the edge of her chair.

Fury looked at her with his 'that's classified' face, and she dropped back. Now he was just being boring on purpose.

"Wait," Clint stopped him, "Will it take as long as the last time I was assigned to it? I'm not spending another two years in hell."

"No, two weeks tops." Fury assured him and watch the strain from the archer's face diminish.

"The information in the drives contains more specific instructions. You'll start tomorrow, in the mean time though, get the hell out of my office you inconsiderate bitches." Fury nodded to the door and turned away from the two agents.

"Thank you, sir." Clint painfully drew the words out, he watched as Fury remained unfazed.

"Damn right." He snorted back.

"It won't be like last time," Clint promised and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as they stood in front of her quarters. Natasha stiffened, that 'last time' was years ago, thinking about it made her wince. It reminded her of her weakness, "Of course it won't be. I was a mess back then Barton," She sighed and jammed her key card into it's slot above the handle.

"It will never be like three years ago." She shook her head.

"I don't know if I should be happy or sad about that," Clint said, walking to his quarters.

"Why the hell would you be sad about me not being like I was three years ago? I was a damn wreck." Natasha crinkled her eyebrows together, her tone unchanging.

"Because three years ago you said you loved me." He said softly, his blue eyes saddening.

"Don't be dramatic Barton," She replied and slammed her heavy door shut.

Dramatic. So that's what he was, but if he was dramatic then she was cold. The speck of warmth within her was about as impossible to reach as it was to survive a bullet to the head at point blank. He didn't care, he couldn't say he was much different from her. They were just made differently. Burning hot or cold didn't make a difference when in the end you were both information-seeking killers who wore masks for money. Masks that sometimes blurred your perception of who is really what. There were so many sides to Natasha, he constantly questioned which was real. Probably the side that annoyed the shit out of him, but then again, that was all sides. Yet he still fell for her. Hard, in the most painful way possible, like straight off a cliff, flat on the face.

But hell, the pain was worth it.

Clint pulled up a chair in front of his issued laptop, plopping down in his seat as he gulped down smooth coffee. He kicked his shoes off under his table -which was an annoyingly bad habit- and crammed his USB into the slot. Instantly files shot up to the screen, overlapping each other. Pictures and documents packed onto the screen, each fighting for attention. Clint adjusted them, and found himself focusing on one picture in particular, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He clicked on it and a diagram of the Tesseract glowed from the screen, data filling the further space. Clint skimmed through it, picking up the information that he read.

His eyes widened as he parted his lips, "What the hell have you gotten into Fury?"

Next door Natasha was lounging in her pajama's with a mug of orange juice and ramen noodles; a meal you would likely see of a broke college student. She sorted through the files and sighed. It was a typical mission, her target was an narcissistic jack-ass who thought he had it all in his palm, thinking that he was controlling the little game of his. Then she could come in, he wouldn't notice her as a threat, she was only a woman to them. All the arrogant men she went after always underestimated her, thinking that she was just a pretty, weak, face without a mind. They were always mistaken. The only thing that was left to do after that was interrogate them then shoot. She shrugged, better than nothing.

Then she thought about Clint, was he her better than nothing? She sipped some of her soup, no, he wasn't. He wasn't a second choice, he was her only choice. Second choice would require more than one interest. He was the company she didn't mind having, even if they were both thrown into each other out of solitude.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was lunging itself into things Stephen Hawking couldn't decode. As far as Clint knew, they were sending themselves on a suicide mission with this one. He didn't know how he knew, he just had a gut wrenching feeling that the Tesseract was something bigger than they thought. It came from Thor's side of the universe for crying out loud, that should've been their first hint that it was powerful. Clint rubbed his hands into his face, he wouldn't be able to talk Fury out of this one. He had money and more importantly, people invested in this project, probably ten Stephen Hawkings. Going to his office now would be pointless, Fury would call the operation off on a hunch.

Clint furrowed his eyebrows…A hunch.

He found himself at his handler, Phil Coulson's office. Phil looked up from his pen and paper, his kind face steady at Clint's presence. Clint, though, was still hoping that his hunch wasn't just a false trail. "So you figured it out," Phil said placing his elbows on his work, "Can I ask how?"

"Your office," Clint started straining to piece together how he did end at that conclusion, "Every time you mentioned those goddamn pamphlets you said that they'd be in your office. It seemed too coincidental to me."

Phil grinned, "That's why you're one of our top agents."

"What the hell do you want Coulson?" He stepped closer to his handler.

"It's about you and Agent Romanoff, your relationship." Phil stressed his last word, "It's been five years and no rumors, no incidents getting out of our little circle."

"And?" Clint barked, rolling his blue eyes.

"Since it obviously hasn't affected the success of your missions, I thought Fury should be in the loop on this." Phil suggested in his calm tone.

Clint didn't even have to blink, "No," He shook his head.

"He'd tear us away from each other and you know it." He sneered.

"You don't know that," Phil shrugged.

"No, I do know that. Natasha and I don't exactly make him a happy fucking camper!" Clint yelled, pacing in his office.

"There will come a time when he finds out." Phil replied firmly, watching Clint's anger cloud around him, seeping out of his pores.

"Okay then, oh wise one, then let's hope it won't be any damn time soon." Clint narrowed his cutting eyes at the relaxed agent and bolted out, slamming the bulky door behind him.

"Hm, I was expecting worse," Phil said mildly and grasped his pen.

"That went quite well."


"Nat."

Natasha opened the door, knowing the identity of the voice on the opposite side, "What's wrong," She said eyeing her shaking partner, "Barton, what do you want?" She added, allowing him in. Clint rested on the edge of her messy bed and unzipped his jacket, tearing it off. Natasha watched as he failed to release her from his lusting gaze. Damn it, she knew exactly what that look was.

"So that's what you want." She said bolting the door behind her.

Clint nearly lunged at her, tangling his fingers in her hair as he pressed his lips to hers forcefully. He breathed her in, her body smelling of generic shampoo and salts. Natasha relaxed in his hold, kissing him as she yanked at his shirt, pulling him to the bed.

.

"I don't get it." Clint said between gasps for air, wiping sweat from his face and forehead.

"It's called sex Barton." Natasha stated flatly.

"I fucking know that," Clint groaned at her peeving bitterness.

Natasha sighed, "Then what is it?" She ran her fingers through her tangles of hair.

"Why me?" Clint questioned. His blue eyes hardened as he felt Natasha tense beside him.

"Why you what?" She scoffed with bitterness in her voice.

"You know what I mean." Clint pried.

"Barton, I actually don't know what the hell you're getting at." She lied and looked at him with tempered green eyes, reaching for her underwear. It was 4AM, and they both had jets to be on. Natasha didn't care about his feelings, she didn't even care about how inhuman she was being.

"Damn it Nat. You chose me for some calculated reason, you chose to let me into your fucked up life. I just want to know why." He said desperately.

Natasha was out of bed, dressing into her thick gear, "It wasn't really a choice, so I don't have a reason." She said without a drop of sentiment in her voice. She violently shoved her guns and knives into various places on her body, "I have a mission though, Barton." Her hand was inching towards a knife, threatening to show just how apathetic she was.

"For god's sake Nat!" Clint groaned, "you're a damn idiot if you think I can't do the exact same thing."

Natasha's hand recoiled, "I know well enough, remember how we first met?"

Clint tightened his jaw, then relaxed, sitting upright in the bunched up sheets. He rolled his eyes, waiting for her to admit that avoiding this conversation was getting tiresome. Their love-hate relationship was just getting plain sappy, hell, it was nearly something out of a romance movie. Only, they're assassins. Assassins with limited emotions. It was a likely side effect of a life career of killing. And even if you didn't participate in the life long killing spree, then chances are you were garbage picked up off the streets by S.H.I.E.L.D., brought into the crap life of an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Feelings were't an order so they weren't priority either. The little emotions Clint and Natasha felt keep them feeling alive.

So the trick was, don't die.

"Go on your damn mission, blow off some steam." Clint sighed, shooing her away. "Come back when you don't want to kill your own partner."

"That would be never."

Clint rolled his eyes.

"See you back at S.H.I.E.L.D. or I'll be impatiently waiting in hell," Natasha raised her brows at him. It was a variation of something they always said to each other on their missions, before they parted for the night. Because, please, if they died, and a God did exist, then they'd be idiots to ever think that they were getting into heaven. As incentive to not die, they'd think of it as hell or S.H.I.E.L.D., and one did sound more pleasant than the other.

"Yeah, if you die remember to bring sunglasses and an AC Nat." Clint retorted, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

"If it really is a fiery hole down there I'll need more than an AC." Natasha broke her serious vibe.

"If it is, at least it'll match your hair."

"Shut the hell up Barton," She smiled and lurked out the door.

"Still with the last name." Clint shook his head, now alone in her quarters.

Clint couldn't tell her what Phil had said. He knew that if he told her then she would kick their relationship to the curb without a single thought. Like he said, she was cold. If he told her then she would discard their partnership before Fury could, the unnerving part was, he would do the same. Given the situation, their job is their life, take them out of S.H.I.E.L.D. and society would repel them. They would be unable to adapt to civilian life, S.H.I.E.L.D. gave them security. To think they were wagering that kind of guarantee for a trivial relationship that couldn't even be defined.


A/N: hey guys...cringing on the inside for this chapter, because damnnnnnnn, I'm so disappointed... But I was thinking, I better get another chapter up soon... I promise the next chapter will be more exciting! Feedback would be much appreciated.