You all remember those lingerie photos from Iron Man 2, right?

Clint held up the outfit… if it could be called that. He grinned. "I can't believe that you kept the stuff."

Natasha shrugged, continuing to rifle through her closet. "They gave it to me; it was free. Who was I to turn down a million dollars in lingerie?"

"Still…" Clint said, discarding the lace teddy he'd been holding in favor or examining a skimpy black negligee. "How come I never get to go on missions like that?"

"Yeah; you'd look ravishing in a bra." Nat snorted, still searching through the haphazard piles of clothing.

"You know what I mean."

With a muffled cry of triumph, Natasha emerged from the closet, brandishing the panties and bra. "Found them!"

Clint dropped what he was holding. "You seriously still have it?"

She shrugged. "It was from you." Duh, she didn't need to add.

Clint felt a rush of pride that she'd kept his ridiculous little Christmas present from forever ago. He'd been stepping over a very thin line in buying her the lingerie, and he knew that it was from jealousy and possessiveness and the fact that she was going on her first mission without him, but he'd played it off as a 'good luck' present.

"So, Agent Barton…" Natasha said, her voice dropping an octave. "Want to see how it looks on me?"

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

"That's it, Nadya! Beautiful, darling! Just like that!"

The words of the photographer were routine; a recitation that was to be repeated to every girl that took up space in front of his camera lens. The redhead pretending to be Nadya Rasputin – a poor farm girl pulled out of obscurity to become a model in Tokyo – pouted and smiled appropriately.

Nobody noticed the fit young man helping to work the computers in the back of the room. Perhaps the person standing next to him thought it strange that his eyes seemed to change color, from gray to green to dark almost-black; and maybe one of the other models saw him and hoped he was there to do a couple's shoot later on. But once that moment's observation had been made, he glided back out of their thoughts, like a puff of smoke or a dream.

Or an accomplished spy, doing his damndest to stay unnoticed.

Just as nobody noticed the man, nobody noticed that the supposedly naïve Siberian peasant-turned-model was carefully scrutinizing the various men in the room. One of them was involved in something much darker than recruiting models. One of them was helping to sell something more than just a picture. One of them was forcing these girls to sell more than clothing.

SHIELD Agent Romanoff was going to find which one of them it was. And she was going to do some nasty things to them.

It was because she was keeping an eye on the bigwigs, the men in charge, that she did not notice the very familiar man in the back. He never went near her, never drew her attention, and so she spent the entire day in the same room as her best friend and never knew it.

Clint considered telling her beforehand, but decided against it. He was going against protocol, against the orders of the handler that he trusted and genuinely liked, and even going against what Nat herself would want. But he just couldn't let her go alone. He trusted Nat, but he didn't trust what she was up against. And he had to admit, at least to himself, that he cared too much about her to let her risk her life without a safety net.

He watched her work her magic. He watched her get in, get her man, and get out. He watched her work the way he had the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. Once again, he was disobeying orders; only this time, he knew that she wasn't a threat. She was more than an enigma, a woman whose soul matched his. She was his partner, his best friend. She was indispensable to his happiness.

He had to leave a day early in order to get back to D.C. before she did, but he was there to greet her when she landed. When he caught sight of her, he slipped off the glasses and smiled, tight-lipped. She grinned and sauntered towards him, her arms laden down with bags.

"How'd your trip go… baby?" He added, in case anyone was watching them.

Nat set the bags on the ground, unzipped them, and pulled out the various designer-label bags. "I went lingerie shopping." She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

As she sauntered away, he couldn't resist calling after her, "If you charged that to my card, you have to model it for me."

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

"I think I should keep secrets from you more often." Clint said huskily, drawing his fingers up her spine.

"Mmm." Natasha hummed. "Makeup sex and lingerie show aside, if you ever follow me on a solo mission and neglect to mention it for a year and a half, I will gouge your eyes out with your own arrows."

"That's it?" He joked.

"Well," Nat shrugged, settling deeper into his embrace, "There are plenty of other things I could do, but I'm too fond of sex with you to actually follow through with them."

"I love you too, Nat." He whispered.