For the next several days, Clint didn't have it all too pleasant when it came to his collar situation-

In the Rec room lounge…

Natasha nudges Clint with her elbow. "Barton, I'm done with this page."

Steve and Thor glance up and start chuckling.

"Nat, I'm sure you can turn your own page." Clint grumbles, squirming when he hears Cap and Thor's obvious amusement.

Natasha puts down her Russian novel and sends a withering glare Clint's way.

"I'll be the judge of what I can or cannot do. Now I'll repeat it again, I'm done with this page, Barton."

Clint nervously eyes the necklace dangling between Natasha's bosom. Finally he obeys, sighing as he turns the page.


On the training room floor…

"I thought you called me up here to spar, why are you taking out your guns?"

"Because I wanna practice my shots, and I want you to be the target."

Clint looks at Natasha in horror.

"You've got to be kidding me."

She only laughs, "How sadistic do you think I am? Don't answer that. Relax Barton, these are loaded with plastic pellets. I just want a live target for once, so you game?"

Though Clint didn't look so pale anymore, he still looked disgruntled. " No I am not game! Seriously, pellets? I don't care if isn't fatal. Those things hurt being shot under pressure and high speed, and especially at this range! I'm not gonna be your little guinea pig as you find a million places to shoot me at."

"Oh it won't be a million places. I'll mostly go for lethal shots like the heart and head… maybe the legs to slow the target."

Clint gives her an incredulous look, "While you're at it, why not just aim it up my as...aahhhhgh!"

Natasha had pressed her necklace, cutting off whatever retort Clint was about to complete. "How about you just man up and start running?" Natasha cocks the gun and aims it toward Clint.


On the Tower's roof near the landing pad…

"Damn, I forgot. Barton, run back down to the Study floor and get me another Russian title in the library."

He just stares at her.

"For the flight…" She says, as if that explained it all.

Clint sighs. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. "Nat, we're waiting for the SHIELD jet. If I go now and it comes, I'll make us both late for debriefing."

Nat just shrugs. "That's why you better run."

Clint takes off in a sprint, mumbling under his breath. "I hope Stark fixed his screwy elevators."


In Clint's suit around 1 AM...

Clint was conked out on his bed, resting from a long evening. He had been eager to get away from Natasha tonight. She had made him rearrange furniture up in her personal quarters, much to his disgust.

"Why can't you get Thor and Steve to help you do this?" He had asked.

"Because I don't want Thor or Steve, I want you." She had replied, fingers dancing over her Widow necklace.

And of course he had complied like a good little errand boy.

At least while sleeping peacefully, he probably thought he was safe from his assassin partner for now, but boy was he wrong.

He awoke with a jolt- a literal jolt - as the collar emitted its signature sharp current through his once sleeping frame.

"WHAT THE HELL!" He cried out into the dark.

JARVIS' voice called from the gloom. "Miss Romanoff asked me to tell you that her feet hurt from jogging this morning and she would like you to massage them for her."

Clint moans and runs his hands through his hair.

"She also said that if you are not in her suite in the next ten minutes, she'll keep pressing the button until she sees you or gets confirmation of your arrival."

Clint almost trips trying to get the covers from around himself, "Tell her to cease fire! I'm on my way."

"I just did, Mr. Barton."

"Good. And JARVIS?"

"Yes sir?"

"Tell her I'll never make an ass out of myself involving her as long as I live."

It almost sounded like JARVIS snickered before he answered, "She thought you might say that."