A/N Alright guys! So I know I've been gone for super long and I was actually in pretty rough shape for a while! Basically I got really sick and had to be hospitilized. Long story short, I was basically on the virge of liver failure and going septic aaaand I lost an organ. Not a great time. So I'm recovering now, but I'm about 16K in debt due to medical bills, so that has really made writing hard. Anyways, here's a very short chappie while I get myself in order. Much love! 3 3 A/N

Whump!

My side hit the matt with a resounding thump, and I glared at the therapy ball I had been trying -and failing- to balance on. Sweat dripped into my eye and I hurredly got to my feet before my PT could catch me then make me take a break.

Thankfully I had the whole walking, bending and lifting motions down pat, so I was under considerably less supervision. Unfortunately my balance and endurance were still pretty horrendous. Dr. Archbold said I basically needed to retrain all of my core, due to atrophy while I was...well... dead.

I just wanted to get to the punching and kicking part of my therapy so I could take out my pent up rage on some unsuspecting pillows. But anytime I raised one foot off the floor, or moved too fast, I ended up on my ass. Which was, btw, not as cushy as it once was.

I let out a grunt and kinda rolled/flailed onto my feet again. Of course my graceful meneuver halted when I heard a chuckle from the door.

"What do you want" I grumbled as Agent Barton continued to smirk at me.

"Not much, maybe pick on a cripple or two."

"Of course. Did you also kick some puppies on your way here?"

"You betcha." A slight smile broke through his sarcastic dead pan. "You hungry, or do you wanna keep flopping around like a magicarp?"

"Aren't you a little old for Pokemon, Legolas?"

"I've got to stay occupied in my down time somehow." I laughed at the thought of Clint playing DS in the middle of a war zone, but somehow it wasn't entirely unbelievable. "Anyways, want me to cook you lunch or something?"

"It's four o' clock."

"Fine. Dinner then. I just got some steaks at the commissary and it's depressing to eat them alone."

"Steak?" I parroted, perking up. I hadn't had steak since...ever. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Heaven forbid you actually enjoy my company."

"Whatever, Mr. Chef." I grabbed a towel off the wall. "Lemme just check out with the boss man."

"Already taken care of."

I shrugged and we left. Out of habit I started to head to my quarters, but Clint steered me in the correct direction. Not without teasing me a million times, of course.

It didn't take long to get to his apartment; the hall leading to his room was practically identical to the one I was familiar with.

"It's kinda weird how cookie cutter this whole super spy HQ is."

"HQ?" Barton shot me a look. "HQ got destroyed. This is just a rehab facility for those hurt in the line of duty or agents slated for counseling or debriefing."

"...oh."

"Most of us have our own apartments, outside of SHIELD.I know I can't wait to get back to mine. But," he slid his card through the reader and the door swung open. "I make do."

He gestured for me to step in, so I sauntered into his bachelor pad. It was pretty similar to mine, except for the dartboard, pinball machine and pool table... and the cool standing lamps in each corner... and the king sized bed...

Okay, so it was the Hilton compared to my Days Inn, but I wasn't really that jealous. Barton deserved nice things.

"Thirsty?"

I nodded and the agent set about finding me a cup. "You said you don't like beer, right?"

"Not really"

"I got pepsi, beer, expired milk, more beer annnd... oh, orange juice. Can that expire? Is that a thing?"

"I'll have water."

"Boring."

"With ice." I corrected blithely, flopping onto his couch.

He muttered something snarky, but still went about getting my drink before puttering around in the kitchen.

I sipped at my water, letting myself sink into the cushions. I didn't have to be on edge here. This was a safe place. Clint was safe.

My eyes darted over to the fit agent as he prepared some absurdly thick cuts of meat. Sometimes, when I looked at him I would flashback to his tensing jaw, the eyes desperately trying to communicate with me, his locked muscles and I felt less alone. He was raped by a god just like me -where else on earth was I going to find that kind of camaraderie?

I let that line of thought kinda drift away, and just enjoyed the sound of Clint trying to be normal. The steaks were finished pretty quickly for the mini-grill he had, and we ate in mutual silence; just kinda enjoying the presence of the other.

It wasn't until afterward, when we were both full and content that Barton suggested a game of darts. At that I laughed, but accepted his challenge anyway. As it turned out, I wasn't bad at darts.

I was terrible.

Like mind blowingly, almost impossibly terrible at darts.

"You didn't even hit the circle that time!" My only friend snorted, yanking four darts out of the pillows on his bead. "I didn't even know that was possible."

"Shut up." I muttered obstinately. "Let's blame it on my rehabilitation and leave it at that."

"Oh yes, because of all the things Loki did to you, I'm sure throwing off your darts game was truly the most dastardly."

I choked on my own spit then started laughing. "Yup, that's it. Sure he raped, tortured and killed me, but the worse thing that bastard did was ruin my aim. Such tragedy."

"I'm glad you found that funny," Barton shot back, nudging me out of the way as he took his turn. "That was a really thin line I impaled there." He smirked at his choice in words and I cuffed him in his bicep.

"It's nice to make a joke about it. Like I'll be able to get over it someday."

He nodded, and the mood shifted a little. "Hey, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Mmmhmm?" I murmured, watching as he hit the center of the board yet again.

"You said something to me, when we were prisoners. And I uh-" his next dart was a hair outside of the bulls-eye. Interesting. "I was just wondering what you meant."

"Oh, what'd I say?"

He let out a nervous laugh, and I felt confusion try to creep in my mind. What was he acting so cagey for? "It was the first time you and I...uh... met. You whispered to me that you'd never had it not hurt before."

"Yeah?" Where was he going with this?

Another dart, this one slightly farther off his target. "Well you meant that you'd never had it not hurt with him before, right? I mean, a girl like you's gotta have some great memories -maybe in the back of a pick up truck, or at prom? A cute customer your restaurant?"

"No, not really."

"...what do you mean not really...?" He posed to throw his last dart, but his arm just made the motion several times without his hand releasing the barb.

"I meant not really. Loki was the only man I'd been with up to that point."

Suddenly there was a dart buring it's tip into the wall. Clint was rigid, and I felt a weird sort of uneasiness in my gut. "Loki was your first." He ground out. "You were a virgin." I stayed silent as he tensed. "So you're telling me, the only sexual experiences you've ever had, have been rape?" His voice shot up in volume. "That I'm one of the two people you've ever slept with and it was against your will?"

Oh shit. I knew this tone. I used it on myself plenty of times. This was the self loathing, destruct mode. "It's not your fault! Loki made us do what we did. You can't blame yourself anymore than I can blame me. Come on-"

He slammed his fists down on his pool table and I heard wood crack. "I am a grown man and Agent of SHIELD. I should have found a way! I could have done something to stop myself from being your goddamn rapist! Any-"

His tirade suddenly cut short. Probably because there was something over his mouth. Oh yeah... my lips.

I felt his musculature jolt under my hands and they wrapped around his waist. I didn't know why I was kissing Clint, but I just knew that I needed him to shut up.

I pulled away from him after a moment, suddenly terrified of what I had done and the terrible silence weighing thickly in the air. Then his eyes locked with mine and he returned my kiss with twice the heat.

For several moments my entire world was fire, pressure, and desperately clutching at each other like we the last lifeline in a very open sea. It was panic, and solace; terror and relief. His lips moved against mine and his callused hands massaged the bare skin of my back. This was a stupid decision. A terrible decision. And I didn't care.

"Hey Clint,"

"What?" He grumbled into my lips.

"Wanna help me change that ratio?"