Clint was discharged, and they spent a few days lazing around the mansion before he declared one morning that he felt fine, and Darcy needed to pack her bags because they were leaving that afternoon. The spontaneity was exciting, and she raced upstairs giggling to pack the bags that had been delivered from Norway while they were in the hospital.

He followed her at a more sedate pace, and showed her their fake IDs for the trip. He was to be an air marshal, so that he would be cleared to travel with his weapons. It was one he'd used several times before, so airport security around the world would recognize him.

Her new name was Daisy Lewis, and when she complained to him that it was too close to her own name, he told her that she would be less likely to be confused if they kept it simple. Unable to argue with that, she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed and pushed her towards the bathroom to pack her toiletries.

She was packed well before the afternoon, and piled her bags by the door while she went to go say goodbye to everyone. Everyone got a huge hug from her, and everyone wished her happy travels, even Jane who was mourning the loss – again – of Thor. Finally, when she could kill no more time she bounced downstairs giddily.

Clint was waiting for her downstairs, leaning against the foyer wall having a quiet conversation with Natasha. When he saw her, he pushed off the wall with an easy smile. He looked magnificent in a leather jacket and dark jeans that fit just right, making Darcy's mouth go dry. Ignoring Natasha leaning against the opposite wall, she pulled him down into a hungry kiss that she hoped conveyed how happy she was to see him. He looked a little dazed when they broke apart, so she turned to Natasha, who rolled her eyes. Darcy was practically vibrating with excitement, so the eye rolling was ignored.

"Here." Natasha said flatly, passing Darcy a gift bag. When she opened it, it had a cute hat, big sunglasses, and a pair of clear glasses in a different shape from Darcy's primary pair.

"Thanks!" Darcy squealed, throwing her arms around Natasha again. Natasha stiffened for a minute before relenting and patting Darcy on the back.

"The sunglasses are in your prescription." Natasha said stiffly.

"Ooooh, cool, I've never had prescription sunglasses!" Darcy exclaimed. Clint was laughing quietly behind her, and Natasha threw him a look that only made him laugh harder.

"Come on, I'm going to do your make-up for the airport, and then you may leave." Natasha said, turning smartly on her heel. Darcy followed her into a bathroom on the first floor and hopped onto the counter. Natasha ignored her excited babbling, but only told her to be quiet when she was working on her lips. When she stepped back and Darcy turned to look at herself, Darcy did a double take. Natasha had somehow made her eyes look narrower than usual, and her lips were fuller looking, and a dramatic deep red she'd never worn before. She looked her age, for once, and not like she was still a freshman. She definitely didn't look like the Darcy Lewis that the world had seen in photos and in that disastrous press conference. Natasha endured another hug before Darcy bounded out to the foyer to show Clint. He popped the hat onto her head, and they got into the cab that was waiting.

Darcy complained bitterly about having a stopover before they got on the plane that would take them to their first destination, but she shut up once she saw Paris on her second ticket. When they arrived, it was eight in the evening, so they dropped their bags off in the hotel room, shared a steamy shower, and went out to explore the nightlife. Darcy was entranced by a jazz bar they passed, so Clint paid cover and got her a drink. Later, they strolled by the Seine hand in hand. Darcy couldn't remember ever being so happy.

When they finally got back to the room Darcy surprised Clint by pushing him against the door and kissing him soundly in the hallway. He fumbled with the card key, tugging her in without breaking contact with her mouth and kicking the door closed behind him.

Darcy was unbuttoning her sweater and pulling at his clothes at the same time, making needy noises in the back of her throat that Clint answered with rough groans of his own. Finally, she got his shirt undone and shoved it off his shoulders before breaking the last button on her sweater when she yanked it off.

Clint broke contact finally, looking down at her with darkened eyes before he ripped his undershirt off. He was gentler with her top, always so careful not to hurt her and it was so sweet she could hardly bear it. She ran her hands over his chest, up around his neck, pulling him to her again. His hands were warm when they circled her waist and pulled her close.

"Up." He muttered against her lips, and she hopped straight up with his help, locking her legs around his waist. He walked them through their suite, never breaking contact with her mouth as he disposed of her bra before laying her back on the bed. The look he gave her when he pulled back made her flush. He was looking at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.

He leaned down and kissed her once, quickly, before moving down to her neck. She whimpered as he ran his tongue along her pulse point, arching with a gasp when he put his teeth to her skin.

"Harder. Harder!" She begged, and he obliged her and he brought his hand up to massage her breast. He slid lower, mouthing over the skin he found as he reached down to the snap on her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him slide them down her legs along with her underwear, and then she was naked. Clint knelt before her, kissing his way down her stomach, making her giggle, before he put his mouth to her center. The giggles stopped and the need built, making her twist and cry out. He pinned her hips to the bed with his forearm, using his other hand to enhance what his tongue was doing to her, and she saw stars before the world came undone around her.

When she could see again, Clint had taken off his jeans and was smirking at her in a very self-satisfied way. Reaching out for his hand, she pulled him onto the bed next to her. When he braced himself to lean over her, she rolled him right over her and came out on top of him, giving him a smirk of her own. She pulled the condom out of his hand and put it on him herself, loving the way his muscles twitched as he held himself still. Unable to wait any longer, she straddled him and took him inside herself, whimpering as long unused muscles were stretched around his girth.

He had his eyes closed tightly as she pulled herself off him again before dropping down and rolling her hips against him.

"Look at me." She whispered, biting her lip and shuddering. He opened his eyes, and there was a heat in them that thrilled her. She repeated the motion once more before he reared up, catching her with one arm around her behind. He flipped their position, pointing their heads towards the footboard. Darcy wrapped her legs around his waist trying to pull him into her even as he was pulling back and he crashed their mouths together, plunging his tongue past her lips at the same time that he surged forward.

Darcy wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to find the leverage to push back against him before she surrendered, and let him push them both past bliss.

They finally fell asleep hours later, tangled together in a heap of sweat and satisfaction.

They woke the next afternoon, and Clint had Darcy take a bath for her residual soreness while he hunted down a Parisian brunch. Darcy didn't end up leaving the room until that evening, when she dragged him to an honest to goodness speakeasy, which he tolerated with good humor. When she asked where they were going next, later that night when they were sated for the moment, Clint brushed her damp hair back from her sweaty face.

"Anywhere you want. We can stay here the whole two months, or we can move on whenever you want." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she leaned up to get a proper kiss.

"Well, you said you'd feed me 'all the food', so lets do some Paris sightseeing tomorrow and move on tomorrow evening." She decided.

They went to London, and Darcy loved the Chicken Tikka Masala and laughed at Clint's red face when he ate the Phall. They went to Ireland, and she learned a reel and ate shepherd's pie. They went back through France on a train, and ate sausage in Germany before heading down to Italy for minestrone soup. Morocco was a never-ending culinary delight so they stayed there the longest, and they finished their trip, of all places, in Mongolia. Clint said that he'd had a mission there – Darcy knew better than to ask for details – and thought she'd enjoy the nomadic lifestyle of the people he'd met there. The local hot pot was a benefit she hadn't anticipated, and the last night they were traveling she cuddled up to him in a yurt under a yak skin blanket on something that was more a pallet than a bed, glowing with the warmth coming from her stomach.

"Ready to head back to real life?" He asked, running his hand up and down her bare back.

"Mmmmmm. This has been fabulous." She looked up and gave him a lazy grin. "We're going to do this again, right?"

"Right." He swore to her.

"Then yes. As long as I know we'll do this again. I'm ready to get back to New York."

Fin