So the next 2 chapters in the original story I wrote were super cringe worthy and way too touchy/feely on Natasha's behalf. So I had to completely scrap the plot for both of them and try to come up with something that would still fit the rest of what I have in mind. That being said, this chapter still feels cringy, so bear with me. We'll be back to our normal banter and smart ass-ery soon. Thanks for the views and reviews so far :)

Heat stroke. Natasha was positive she was having a heat stroke. That was the only possible explanation as to why she was standing waist deep in the water and kissing Clint back. She knew it was wrong- every fiber of her brain was screaming at her to pull away from him, to stop the madness before the damage could be done, but she knew it was already too late. His hands were already on her waist, her fingers running through the hair on his nape. His closeness should feel wrong, but it felt so right, so warm. She liked the way his lips felt on hers, the way his stubble tickled her cheek. She felt human, she felt whole. She closed her eyes, the memory forever burning itself into her mind; she'd never be able to forget this, there was no taking it back. And then it was over as fast as it had begun.

"Natasha." Clint took a step back and she turned her back to him as she bit her lip. "Natasha, I-"

"Don't." Her voice was fragile, her thoughts clouded. "Say anything you want, but don't tell me you are sorry."

"I wasn't going to." She felt the water ripple as he closed the distance between them and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Then what were you going to say?"

"I don't know actually. Are you ok?"

"Am I ok?" Her laugh was harsh. "No, I am not ok, Clint."

"I'm such an idiot." Clint groaned. He could practically see her throwing her walls back up, walls that he had worked for months to break down. They had become partners, a team, two parts of a whole. And he was positive he had just destroyed that.

"Yeah, you are." She said softly. She thought about all the times they had fought, the times she had hit him, the times she had patched him back up and kept him from dying. His stupid jokes, his irritating habits, the way he grinned at her every time she was mad. How had she been stupid? How had she let him become that close to her? How had she come to care for him that much?

"I didn't meant to hurt you. I should've…I don't know." He said miserably. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I am sorry. Not that it happened, just the way it happened. I didn't plan it, I didn't even know I wanted it to happen. But it did and…" his voice trailed off as he realized he was rambling, unsure of what to even say.

Natasha said nothing, her mind racing a million miles a minute as she overanalyzed every possible thing she could. The last person she had trusted was her mother and father. Ever since her mother's death, her life had been full of lies, pain, and betrayal. She had quickly learned that it was better if no one got close to her, if she kept everyone at an arms length so that they couldn't hurt her. She had spent her entire life living by that code and then Clint had come along and messed things up. He seemed to be the exception to her every rule, her every belief about the horrors of life. He had never tried to hurt her or force her to do anything she wasn't willing to do. He hadn't betrayed her, had never pressed her when she clammed up or tried to pry information out of her. When they got mad he never handled her harshly or hurt her. He'd never made a promise he couldn't keep and was always there for her when she needed someone, even if she didn't realize she did in fact need someone. The silence stretched long and she felt Cint take a step back, his hand falling away from her shoulder.

"You trusted me…and now I am losing my best friend. I'm so stupid." He swore at himself and turned towards the shore. What in the hell had he been thinking?

"Unfortunately you are right." She turned to face his back. "I did trust you…and I still do." Clint paused and turned back around, his brow furrowed.

"I really am sorry Nat. I don't want to fuck things up. We can pretend like this never happened, we-"

"You know that wouldn't work." She shook her head.

"I know." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"I just…need time to think, ok? I need some space."

"You aren't the only one." He shook his head. "I..I dunno." He shrugged helplessly. Natasha didn't have anything else to say and they stared at each other for a long moment until Clint suddenly spun around, cocking his head. Natasha heard it too- a low hum, a chopper. She began wading towards the shore, desperate to put as much space between herself and Clint as she could. She wasn't sure what he had just started, what was going to happen, but she was certain of one thing: it was an absolute mess.

. . .

One week later

Natasha was avoiding him, that much Clint was sure of. It had been nearly a week since their extract from the desert and he had hardly saw her at all around the base. She hadn't shown up to spar with him at all, she wasn't eating in the chow hall, and she had conveniently been sick on the day Coulson wanted to meet with the two of them. Clint knew she wanted space and needed time to think, but he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for her to be ready to talk. Or if she'd ever be ready for that matter. His heart dropped a bit at the prospect of her going ghost on him. That thought made him realize just how boring his life would be without his companion and partner.

Clint stared at the ceiling of his apartment and tried to sort through his thoughts, but he couldn't seem to get a handle on them. His lack of sleep was effecting his ability to function and just going through the motions of a somewhat normal week had left him drained both physically and mentally. His normally cozy apartment began to feel cramped and he could feel the panic of being confined setting it. He realized that he need to get outside, he needed to be somewhere open and quiet where he could think. And he knew just the place.

Clint rolled off the couch and grabbed his shoes before heading towards his door. He didn't bother to lock it as he shut it behind him and set off down the empty halls, careful to avoid anyone. It was already late and he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone who might still be up. Several minutes later he paused outside of Natasha's room, but then shook his head and kept walking. It was pointless to even try. Besides, what would he say? He couldn't even figure out what he wanted to think, so what in the world would he say to her?

He reached a locked door and punched in the code that Coulson had give him so many years ago. The door clicked and he stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. It was dark, but he knew the way. He crossed the room, avoiding the multiple water heaters that stood in a row, until his hands closed around the metal rungs of a later. He began climbing, the seconds ticking away with the click of his shoes on the metal rungs. He finally reached an escape hatch and threw it open, the warm night air rushing in to meet him. He climbed out onto the roof and took a deep breath, the night sky welcoming him like an old friend. He crossed the roof to a low rise and swung himself up over the ledge and then froze, surprised to see that someone was already in his favorite spot.

Natasha was sitting at the buildings ledge and had her legs dangling over the side. She was leaning back resting on her arms, her head craned upwards to the night sky. Clint paused before crossing the roof to sit down beside her, dropping his legs over the air. The warm breeze tugged at his clothes and he sighed softly as he looked at the stars, a familiar calm settling over him. Neither of them spoke or acknowledged one another for the longest time until Natasha finally broke the silence.

"Hey." She said softly.

"Hey." He kept his eyes trained forward, unsure of what else to say.

"You know, I never stopped to look at the stars before I met you. I can't believe I managed to miss all of that." She nodded towards the night sky.

"You just think you are looking at the stars. Next time you are in the country side, when there are no lights to pollute the sky, look up. There is a whole other world out there." Clint shook his head. "Makes us seem awfully small in comparison."

"I'll keep that in mind." She sighed. "You know why I think I like the stars so much? And the moon?"

"No, why?" Clint asked, partially out of curiosity, but mostly just to keep her talking. This was the most they had spoken since their return from the desert and he hadn't realized just how bad he had wanted to talk to her until that moment.

"Because they are predictable. No matter how nasty the weather, how big of a fight, no matter what goes wrong- they are always there like they are supposed to be. Predictable, reliable."

"Unlike people."

"Unlike people." She agreed.

"Unlike me."

"I didn't say that." He watched her smile slightly.

"Nah, but it was implied." He chuckled. "How'd you manage to find my secret spot?"

"Coulson told me about it." She shook her head. "I've been coming up here the past couple of nights…I figured I'd run into you eventually."

"Would've been a lot easier to just come knock. Or show up to spar in the mornings. I'm starting to feel like I've got love handles."

"Please." Natasha rolled her eyes. "Not even. And I know, but I just needed time to think."

"Any luck with that?"

"A bit." She sighed. "I've decided that no matter what I do, I am screwed."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Because my instincts tell me to push you away, to throw up the walls that I had built before and to not let you any closer. I should leave right now and not look back. Maybe I avoid you and go on about my life, lock you away in some drawer that I never open. Or maybe I leave this place and go…I don't know where I'd go, but I would leave. But if I do that, there will always be a part of me that wonders 'what if?'. Or, I can let you in. I can let you get closer than anyone has been before, to see all of my insecurities and defects. I already trust you and I can set myself up even further for betrayal. I can set myself up to be hurt in a way that only my father had hurt me before. But, I wouldn't have to wonder what could have been. So I am conflicted, confused. Unsure of what to think. So I've been hiding, avoiding you, hoping that if I ran long enough or chased the thoughts around in my head long enough that an answer would magically appear."

"And has it?"

"Of course not." Natasha laughed bitterly.

"I'm sorry for making a mess of things." Clint sighed.

"Guess I should be used to that by now."

"If it makes you feel better, my thoughts have been on a similar path to yours. I can't find any answers either. I don't have any solutions."

"I don't know that there is a right or wrong answer. Some problems just don't have a solution."

"So what do you want me to do then, Nat?" He asked miserably. "I don't want things to be like this."

"I want you.." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. She could be like the stars, she could be predictable and stick to everything she knew, everything she had relied on in the past, or she could take a chance, just like she had taken a chance when she first met Clint. "I want you to kiss me, I think." She dead panned, her face void of any emotion. Clint turned towards her, his brows rose in surprise.

"Say what?"

"You know I am not a fan of repeating myself." She frowned slightly.

"You are so confusing." Clint shook his head.

"You act like that is something new." She finally smiled. "I guess…just be patient with me, ok? This is so…new. So confusing. And so against anything I've ever taught myself."

"I understand." Clint climbed to his feet and offered her his hand. "Come here." He pulled her to her feet and into a hug. Natasha wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, ignoring the urge to pull away. Just like she had trained herself to throw up walls, she was going to have to train herself to let them down around Clint. She had no idea what would come from the mess they were in, whether she would get hurt and end up alone, and she couldn't bring herself to think about what would happen if the opposite came to by. No matter how she looked at it, either possibility scared her. But, she was tired of running. She was tired of trying to hide.

"Thanks, Clint." She stepped away after a moment. "I'm sorry for bailing on you all week."

"Ah, it is fine. Gave me a chance to beat up on the rookies." He chuckled and shook his head. "You coming in the morning?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. I am exhausted…I'm going to head back down."

"I think I am going to sit up here for a while. Not like I can sleep anyway." He sighed. "Good night, Nat." He tucked her wind blown hair behind her ear. "Do me a favor?"

"Hmm?" She turned away from him, thrown off by the familiar gesture.

"Don't be afraid to talk to me, ok? I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know Clint." She sighed. "I'll see you in the morning, ok?" She headed for the ladder, ready to be back in her room and in the cover of complete darkness. She should have told him to leave her alone, she should have left this place a week ago, but she couldn't make herself do it. The curiosity of the unknown, of the what could be, kept her there. No matter what happened at the end of the day, she was already going to hell so she was determined to do a thorough job of it.