I DO NOT own the Avengers or Marvel!

They silently sat at the table in the schwarma joint. Both of Clint's legs were resting in his partner's lap and he looked off into space. None of them –minus Banner and Stark –had bothered to change. They were all covered in sweat, blood and dust. Natasha stared at Clint, terrified that at any given second the cold blue would seep into Clint's eyes and the stranger would return. Every one of them stuffed their faces with the foreign food –especially Thor.

Clint's eyes collided with Natasha's gaze and he shot her a questioning look. She shook her head at him and turned slightly in her chair to grab her sandwich. Clint winced and Natasha looked him over. Silently, she stood and walked to the counter with a slight limp in her step.

"Do you, by any chance, have an ice pack?" She asked sweetly. The innocence in her voice startled the rest of her team –aside from Clint who continued to devour the food in front of him. A girl who had just destroyed an army couldn't possibly be that innocent, could she?

"Of c-course," the man behind the counter stuttered stumbling over his feet. Smiling, Natasha turned so the edge of the counter was pressing into her back. She noticed her team's incredulous looks boring into her.

"What?" She asked. "You got an advantage, use it."

"Thank you," she smiled taking the baggy filled with ice from the blushing man.

She limped back to her seat and sat down Rolling his eyes, Clint put his sandwich down and draped his right leg over her lap. Gingerly, Natasha pulled his pant leg out of his boot and pushed it up over his swollen knee.

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

Natasha counted quietly and Clint's hand latched onto the edge of the table. Everyone else flinched when they heard a crack and Clint's stifled groan. They all knew very well that she had just popped his knee back into place and were left in awe. Wiping her hands on her legs, Natasha returned to her original position and rearranged Clint's leg. Using her free hand, she held the bag of ice on his knee. Both assassins returned to their sandwiches.

"So," Stark started. "Anybody know what the plan is for Coulson?"

Natasha shook her head frantically pleading for Stark to drop the subject. He didn't appear to catch on.

"What do you mean?" Clint asked confused.

"Well, we have to do something for his funeral, don't we," Stark continued.

"Why do we need to have a funeral for him?" Clint asked his eyebrows furrowing together.

"Because he di-." Stark started, but was cut off by a threatening Black Widow.

"Shut the hell up, Tony," Natasha shouted interrupting him.

"You didn't tell him?" Tony asked.

"Not yet," Natasha said. "We were a little busy."

"You need to tell him."

"Tell me what?" Clint demanded shifting suddenly. Natasha winced as the sudden movement rattled her ribs.

"Coulson… he…um…well… he died this morning," Natasha whispered sheepishly. "Loki killed him."

"And you didn't think I should know?" Clint asked his voice raising.

"We'll do this later," Natasha whispered into his ear quietly.

"What just happened?" Tony asked.

"Something none of us will ever understand," Steve said sipping on the soda in front of him.

"It's like they have one brain," Tony said to Thor as the partners bit into their food at the same time.

"You know we can hear you," Clint said not even lifting his head.

Natasha dragged her feet on the carpet of the motel room. She tossed her weapons on the bed and paid no attention to the man who flopped down on the bed looking pale. The door closed loudly behind her as if it was finally putting a safe distance between the two. Natasha peeled the leather uniform away from her body and tossed it carelessly to the floor. On her way to the shower, she caught a glimpse of the bruise that had taken claim of her entire right side and grimaced.

Natasha switched the water on in the shower and stepped into the hot water. Her tense muscles relaxed on impact and she sighed in pleasure loudly. The warm water trailed down her skin slowly washing the grimy layer away from her skin.

It was a good hour later when she stepped out of the shower. The soft threads of the rug outside the shower squished through her damp toes. Natasha pulled the towel off the bar on the shower door and wrapped it around her body. Slowly, she pulled the door open and walked into the room with her skin still dripping.

Clint sat on the bed with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Natasha could make out the sound of a shrill voice panicking on the other end. Scoffing, Natasha rolled her eyes as she pulled the suitcase SHIELD had delivered for her onto the bed. When Clint noticed her, she was sure she could hear his breath hitch in her throat. Sure it was a figment of her imagination; Natasha proceeded to dig around looking for something comfortable. She pulled out a pair of underwear, a black bra, a peach tank-top with three buttons at the top and a pair of white pajama pants with thin black stripes. Clint watched her as she dropped the towel and pulled on the under garments.

"Babe, I'm fine," Clint said. "It's just part of the job description."

Natasha shook her head chuckling lightly as the woman on the other end continued to scream. She turned slightly to reach for the tank top and Clint turned to look at her again. He frowned slightly when he saw, not only the bruise, but the light scar running up her side illuminated by the dim lamp light. However, his attention was quickly brought back to the conversation he was taking part in.

"Look, I'll meet you somewhere tomorrow, okay?" Clint said irritation evident on his face.

Eventually, he tossed his phone on the nightstand between the two beds and looked at Natasha who was now fully dressed. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face and put his head in his hands.

"So, I'm guessing that was Bobbi," Natasha said running a hair brush through her curls.

"How'd you know about her?" Clint asked lifting his head.

"Come on; give me more credit than that. I'm a spy, I have my ways," Natasha smirked.

Clint shot her a look and she sighed sitting on the bed next to Clint. "Fine, Coulson told me."

"Will you stand up for a minute," Clint asked.

"What?" She asked looking at him like he was crazy.

"Just let me look at something."

Natasha muttered something in Russian under her breath, but stood all the same. She didn't even protest when he lifted her shirt over her head, instead she sighed exasperated lifting her arms. Involuntarily, she shivered when he ran his calloused fingers over the pink line.

"What happened?"

"Just a little scrape," she lied.

"What really happened, Nat?" He asked.

"I was on a solo mission two years ago and I wasn't paying attention to anything other than my mark. Someone –I assume from Red Room –slit my side open. The doctor said it would've taken hours for me to die. Coulson said he figured whoever did it didn't want me dead, just wanted to make sure I suffered," Natasha said. She sat down next to him on the bed balling the shirt up in her hand.

"Coulson knew about this?"

"Yeah, I got taken to the Helicarrier and was in a coma for two weeks."

"Why didn't I hear about this?"

Natasha didn't reply, instead stood up and walked toward the desk. Sighing, Clint did the same and started toward the bathroom. As he crossed the room, he pulled his shirt over his head and failed to notice the nineteen year old watching him carefully.

"Stop," she said.

He heard the sound of a bed creak and assumed she was approaching him. Her nimble fingers ran down his back and he was too startled to try to stifle his pain.

"Damnit, Clint, it's already infected," she shouted.

"I didn't think it was that bad, it just hurt like hell," he defended.

"There is glass in your back and you didn't think it was that bad. God, Clint, how stupid are you?!"

"Nat, I don't want to fight with you," he said turning to face her.

Scowling, she pointed toward the bed and he walked to the bed muttering under his breath. Clint lied down on his stomach huffing. He could hear Natasha digging through her bag muttering curses in Russian. When she found the first aid kit, she walked over to Clint and climbed it. Coming to a last resort, Natasha figured the best way to do this would be to climb on top of him and sit on his butt. Once she was situated, Natasha opened the first aid kit and pulled out the medical needle, sinew and tweezers. She placed the trashcan next to her on the bed before analyzing what exactly she was dealing with.

"This might hurt… a little," she said. "Oh, who am I kidding? This is going to hurt like hell."

"Great," Clint muttered. Natasha may have been good at treating injuries, but she wasn't always gentle about it. At least, not with him.

Natasha began removing the small flecks of glass in his skin. After she was done playing nurse and there were stitches in his back, she curled up next to him. Clint pulled his uniform off the rest of the way and returned to his spot in only his boxers. Instinctively, he draped his arm over her body as if to ward off any nightmare to come. Unfortunately for both of the assassins, new nightmares haunted them. Natasha was terrified to close her eyes, but eventually exhaustion got the better of her and sent her into a terrifying sleep.

What did you think? Please review!

Love,

Kaylie

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