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Okay, so this chapter... may be impressively boring. But hey, I've gotta space out the good chapters between bad ones, amirite? xD

Try to enjoy... :D

Clint realized after the infamous sparring match that he'd never exactly followed through on Step 10: Say their name when you're talking to them. He had remembered it, like, once – beyond that, he'd been a little, well, distracted.

But instead of staying on Step 10 and redoing it, he decided he might as well go ahead and move onto Step 11 (had he really been doing this for eleven days? Sheesh). Maybe he'd throw her first name in once or twice today too, just so he could feel like he'd completed all the steps.

So the next morning, he pulled up the article and looked at Step 11:

11.) Compliment them.

Oh.

Well…

This was good. This was fine. Complimenting her would be easy – there was so much about her to compliment. Super easy.

Right…?

Well, okay, so maybe he did have a track record for bungling things up, stumbling over his words, tripping on his own feet, breaking and/or spilling things, and being generally awkward. (Which, by the way, why did he have to be like that, dangit? He wished he was a really smooth, cool guy. Then Natasha would totally like him.)

It didn't even have to be an earth-shattering comment – if he could just deliver one compliment, without stammering, blushing, tripping over his words, sounding really forced or awkward, or having it come out wrong, then he would consider himself lucky. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

Right…?

…

Clint arrived at HQ and made his customary stop at the café. Again, he didn't have actual proof that Natasha would be here at SHIELD today, but it was a good guess. As he prepared his coffee, he took a quick scan of the room – well, she wasn't in this area, anyway.

There were a few guys he knew chatting at the coffee machine, so he asked if any of them had seen his partner.

"Romanoff?" Miller said. "Yeah, she was here. She went off somewhere, I think Hill wanted to talk to her."

"You might try the second floor. Office Twelve," Mayer put in.

Clint thanked them and headed back into the hall.

He turned the corner and saw Hill standing in the hallway, talking to just the person he was looking for.

Oh. That was easy.

Natasha was clutching a stack of folders, talking heatedly to the commander. Clint could tell by her expression and posture that she wasn't happy. Hill was standing with her arms crossed, exuding that attitude of 'you-may-be-a-lethal-assassin-with-thousands-of-confirmed-kills-but-so-help-me-I-am-your-superior-so-you'd-better-watch-your-tone'. It was a look Clint was all too familiar with.

Hill was just walking away from Natasha when Clint approached them. "I'm not asking for a diagnostic rundown on our filing system, Romanoff," the commander was saying over her shoulder. "Just get the job done." She continued on down the hall. Natasha scowled after her.

Clint came to a stop beside the redhead. "Hey, Natasha."

She glanced up at him, unsmiling. "Hey." She started down the hall, and Clint fell into step beside her.

"What's going on?" he asked tentatively, looking down at her.

She took a slow breath. "Apparently they're changing the way we organize files from alphabetized to this arrangement based on importance and target profiles. Hill has me working in the office all day, relocating all these damn files." She glared accusingly at the folders in her hands.

Clint frowned. "Wait – isn't that like a Level Two job?"

She sighed heavily. "Yep. She called in a favor."

Clint grimaced. "That sucks."

"Tell me about it. No one should have to be subjected to this."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "You don't think they should change the system?"

(In reality, he couldn't care less whether SHIELD arranged their files based on alphabetization, importance, or which file could make the best paper airplane. He was only asking because it gave him something to talk to Natasha about. And she looked like she could use someone to talk to.)

"I don't think they should change the system, no," Natasha answered. "I think they should get rid of the system."

"Get rid of it? How?"

She wrinkled her nose and picked at the corner of a folder. "The whole paper-and-cabinet scheme is kind of outdated. I think we should nix it altogether, stick with the digital approach."

"What, like keep all our files on a computer? Don't we already do that?"

"Well, yeah, but we have both forms." Natasha mimicked Hill's voice: "'Nothing beats a hard copy, Romanoff.' Bullcrap. Paper is easier to steal, and I can set up firewalls so the computers can't be hacked." She shrugged. "She wasn't buying it."

Clint nodded. He knew that if Natasha didn't want a computer to be hacked, it wouldn't be. Besides being one of the world's most skilled assassins, she was a technological genius. He'd always thought that was pretty cool – you might not expect someone who was known for beating people up to be a computer whiz.

Hey… speaking of which…

Would that make a good compliment?

Clint cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. "You know, I've always thought it was really cool that you can do that kinda… computer-y stuff," he said. "You know. Being the kind of person that you are."

Natasha stopped walking.

"'Being the kind of person that I am'?" she repeated, her brows furrowing. She whirled to face him. "Why – what – what is that supposed to mean?"

Clint froze. "Oh – no—"

"Do you mean that I'm mentally incompetent?" she demanded, her frown deepening to a glower. "You can't believe I could possibly know my way around computers?"

"What? No!" Clint exclaimed, heat rushing to his face. This was not going well. "I just meant, like, it's impressive how you understand stuff that has to do with, like, words and—"

"Oh, because I'm Russian?" Natasha snapped.

Clint quailed a little. It wasn't normal for her to get mad so quickly over his stupid remarks – clearly this wasn't a good time. She had already been in a bad mood before – he really should have been more careful with what he said.

"No, just, like…" He tried to explain himself. "You usually do stuff that has to do with your body—"

"What, you mean like seducing people?" she interrupted.

Clint felt himself grow even redder. "No, no, no, of course not! Just like—" He broke off, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was thinking.

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Combat," Clint said weakly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and began stalking towards the elevators.

"Combat!" he called after her. Oh, man.

He stood frozen in the hallway, watching helplessly as she boarded the elevator.

He had to fix this.

Well, knowing him, he would probably end up making it worse, but he had to at least try to apologize.

What had Mayer said? Oh, right – second floor, Office Twelve. Clint ran to the stairwell.

He was panting when he emerged on the second floor. He ran down the hallway till he found the correct office, and he burst in.

Natasha was standing by the desk, frowning with concentration as she studied the file that was open in front of her. She glanced up at him as he staggered in, but didn't speak.

"Look, Nat, I'm really sorry," he gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. "What I said – that was so idiotic. Just pretend I didn't say it, okay? I didn't mean it how it sounded." He leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath

Natasha shook her head. "Forget it. I probably overreacted, I've just got a lot going on right now."

Clint exhaled, relieved with how cool she was being about it.

Maybe he should leave before he upset her again.

"Anyway… yeah. I should go," he said breathlessly.

"Okay."

Clint started to open turn towards the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow, Stark's party?" Natasha called after him.

Clint turned to face her. "Uh…" Oh, right – Stark had mentioned something about a shindig Thursday night. "Yeah. I'll be there."

"Okay. See you." Natasha almost smiled.

Encouraged, Clint made a spur-of-the-moment decision: he would try to compliment her again. It hadn't gone well the first time, and he was sure he could do better. At least, pretty sure…

"Anyways… I should probably get back to work," Natasha said.

Clint nodded. "Yeah, yeah." He hesitated, trying to think of a good compliment.

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Natasha added.

"You did a stellar job kicking my ass yesterday," Clint blurted out.

Wait, what did I just say!?

Natasha stared at him for a minute.

Then she burst out laughing.

Clint started grinning. He hadn't meant to be funny, but he couldn't help it – he loved her laugh – he was pretty sure it had been the first thing about her that he'd fallen in love with. And he loved the fact that he'd made her laugh when she was having a bad day.

"Okay… um…" Her laughter finally started subsiding. "Well, thank you." She grinned at him

"Yeah, no problem," Clint said cheerfully. "Anyways… guess I'll see you round." Before I have a chance to mess things up again.

"Bye, Barton."

Clint stumbled out into the hall.

If you've read any of my other fics, you may have caught a reference to one of them here:

'Office Twelve, Second Floor' is the same room where Clint and Natasha were interrupted when they were about to make out in my oneshot, Deprived. xD

Deprived doesn't necessarily exist in the same 'verse as this, but if it did, I suppose it could be seen as like a sequel-ish to this story. :)