Romanoff and Clint were walking briskly through the high-ceilinged lobby of SHIELD headquarters. Busy, suit-clad agents milled around them as they headed towards the hallways, sunlight glowing through the glass wall.

Romanoff was walking on Clint's right and a little behind him, so close that she could feel his body heat, so close that she could hear him breathing. She kept glancing up at his profile, noticing how he constantly swivelled his head around as he walked, always on the alert. Noticing how he smiled and nodded politely to every agent who passed them.

Noticing how their arms brushed together as they walked.

Clint had a long, quick stride, and Romanoff had to hurry to keep up with him. They were walking down the hall now, and the elevators were in sight ahead of them.

Abruptly Clint turned, heading down a wide hallway to their left.

"Wh—?" Romanoff hesitated for a split second then hurried her steps, hanging close behind his elbow. She looked quizzically up at him.

"That's not the way to the report office."

Clint smiled, eyes straight ahead. "I know."

Romanoff grinned back, searching what little she could see of his face. "So where are we going?"

Clint didn't break his stride as they turned a corner. "Cafeteria."

"You really expect there to be any food left at eleven?" Romanoff asked. And then, "Wait. Is that why you're walking so fast?"

Clint's grin widened.

Romanoff shoved him with her shoulder. "Screw you. And here I thought you were trying to be on time for once.

"I'm just afraid all of it will be gone," Clint said.

"All of what?"

Clint raised his eyebrows and peered at her out of the corner of his eye. "The coffee."

Romanoff rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and shook her head, smiling. "Barton. You just had coffee."

"You can't have too much coffee, Widow."

Romanoff started laughing. Clint finally turned his head and grinned down at her, his eyes sparkling with delight. She saw his gaze flick down to the healing cut on her mouth, then he quickly looked forward again.

"So does Coulson need these reports right away?" Romanoff asked, as they neared the cafeteria.

"By this afternoon," Clint replied. "Like I said, CIA wants a copy. Rapp and Kennedy probably have to do them, too."

A pain lanced through Romanoff's chest at the mention of Kennedy. Her mind flashed to the last time she'd seen her—in Medical, just before she and Rapp had left SHIELD. She herself had been talking to Rapp, but she'd been watching Kennedy and Clint in her peripheral vision. And before they'd hugged, she was sure she'd seen Kennedy whisper something in Clint's ear. And, afterwards, she had winked at him.

Romanoff bit her lip, guilt clenching her chest. She knew she should be happy for Clint. And she was trying to, but it was nearly impossible. Still, even if she couldn't feel happy for him, she should at least be outwardly supportive, as Rapp had suggested. She resolved to try to be more encouraging towards him.

They had reached the cafeteria. It was fairly crowded, and Clint and Romanoff moved through the room towards the drink dispensers.

"You know, it's really too bad that Rapp and Kennedy had to leave," Romanoff said cautiously.

Clint nodded. "Yeah."

Romanoff paused. "It must have been hard for you to see them go. Kennedy especially."

Clint laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "I mean, I guess we kind of, you know. Bonded."

"Yeah…" That's one way of putting it.

They had reached the drink dispensers. Another agent was pouring himself some coffee, so Clint and Romanoff stood back a moment.

Romanoff turned abruptly to Clint. "You know, I never did congratulate you about that," she said. She feigned a smile.

Clint was looking at the cut on her mouth again. "Oh yeah… thanks," he said vaguely.

Romanoff nodded, and they both looked forward again.

The other agent left, and Clint stepped forward and filled a mug with the steaming beverage.

He was just raising the cup to his lips when he stopped and turned to her, a strange look on his face. "Wait. Congratulate me for what?"

A little uncomfortable, Romanoff turned and leaned her back against the counter, gazing purposefully at the wall opposite. "You know. About you and Kennedy."

"What about me and Kennedy?"

Romanoff smiled wryly and turned to him. He was watching her with his forehead creased, looking utterly bewildered.

"You don't have to play dumb, Barton. I already know about it."

Clint frowned again. "Know about what?" he asked. He took a sip of coffee.

Romanoff forced another half-smile. "I overheard your conversation with Pepper, remember?"

Clint came dangerously close to spitting out his coffee. He turned and ducked his head, setting his mug carefully on the counter. Then he stepped quite close to her and dropped his voice, rather pink in the face.

"Yes, Nat, I do remember that," he said. His voice was hard to distinguish unver the hum of conversation in the room. "I don't see what that has to do with this conversation though."

"Because," Romanoff said, starting to flush a little herself. "We were just talking about you and Kennedy."

"Me and—" Clint froze. He raised his head to the ceiling, and a most curious expression crossed his face. He half-laughed, ran a hand through his hair, then lowered his head again, his eyes locking with hers. "Nat, uh… you do know that phone call wasn't about Kennedy. Right?"

Romanoff frowned. "Yes it was."

"No it wasn't." Clint's blush had spread to the roots of his hair.

Romanoff's frown deepened. "But you said… you were going to talk to her right away. And then I saw you sitting with Kennedy."

"Yeah, because she was upset, so I stopped to talk to her."

Romanoff's heartbeat was quickening. "But you said—"

"Nat," he interrupted. "Kennedy's married."

Romanoff froze.

"Do you really think I'd—?"

"Of course not," Romanoff cut in. "I just, I…" She dropped her head. "I didn't know that."

"Yep," Clint said. Romanoff could feel him studying her, but she didn't look up.

"Wait, so… all this time, whenever I started to talk about my—about my feelings… you thought I was talking about Kennedy?"

Romanoff nodded.

Clint let out an embarrassed laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Wow, this is awkward."

Romanoff didn't answer. Her heart was beating fast and blood was rushing to her head, making her feel dizzy.

Clint stepped close to her again and lowered his voice, a shy half-smile crossing his face. "Nat, I was talking about you."

She stared at the floor, uncomprehending. He was talking about her. About her, Natasha Romanoff. And he had been since the beginning.

I'm in love with her, he'd said.

I don't know how to explain it—she's driving me distracted.

I can't help how I feel, Nat. I've never felt this way before. About anyone.

And suddenly she couldn't breathe. Blood pounded in her ears, her head was hot, and it felt like the loud, oppressive crowd in the room was growing, crushing her. She wanted to leave, to think this through, but Clint's gaze was fastened on her, locking her in place. She could only stare at the floor, her whole body flushing warm.

"Nat?" She barely caught his whisper over the noise in the room.

"Hey, Barton, Romanoff!" George Mayer suddenly traipsed up beside them. He grabbed a mug and started filling it with coffee. "Some job Thursday night, huh?"

"Some job," Clint said, without taking his eyes off her.

"You hear we have to do double reports on that op?" Mayer went on obliviously.

Clint turned to face him, and Romanoff immediately headed for the door. Her head was spinning; she needed to get away.

She had barely reached the exit when Clint caught her wrist. "Nat, wait."

She tugged her arm away and quickened her steps down the hall. Agents were still tramping down the hallway, talking loudly. Her ears were ringing. She had to escape all the noise.

Clint's hand found her elbow, and he fell into step beside her. "Nat, please just listen to me for a second," he began, but she ignored his anxious, pleading tone and jerked away, jogging down the hall a ways. She heard him say her name again, but she couldn't talk to him yet, not until her heart had stopped racing, her insides had stopped twisting, adrenaline had stopped shooting through her. Not until she was sure of herself and knew what she was doing.

An open door presented itself to her, and she stumbled into the empty office. She caught the table and leaned onto her palms, gasping, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm herself.

"Nat!" Clint had come in behind her, and she heard the door close. He sounded distressed and agitated. "Nat, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know you didn't want to hear that, and I know you wish I'd leave you alone. I'm sorry I feel this way, I'm such an idiot, and I'd stop it if I could, but I can't. I love you, Nat. I love you so damn much, it hurts. And I know you probably hate me for saying that, but I had to say it. I'm so sorry about this whole mess, I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. And I know this is awkward cause you don't feel the same way, but I just… I just hope this doesn't ruin our friendship."

Something warm was glowing inside Romanoff's chest. She was finally starting to wrap her mind around what he was saying. He was in love with her, just like she was in love with him. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to contain the happiness that was rising inside her.

She heard Clint sigh. "I'm sorry, Natasha," he said quietly. "I'll leave you alone now." She heard his footsteps move toward the door.

"Wait."

He halted.

Once she had composed herself somewhat, she turned slowly to face him. He was standing several feet away, watching her, his face an even blend of despair and hope.

"Clint," she said softly. She wanted to say something more, but she didn't know what. Euphoria was welling up inside her, and she heard herself laugh. A light broke across Clint's face; he peered hopefully at her.

Natasha laughed again, then rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck. She felt him sigh as his strong arms pulled her close, lifting her off the floor a little. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her nose in his shoulder, breathing him in.

It had been a long journey to get to this moment, but they were finally here.

At last, Romanoff loosened her hold on him, and he settled her onto the floor again.

He grinned down at her. "Okay, cool, um… that's, good. You kinda had me scared there for a minute; I mean, I told you how I felt and you just kinda looked away and didn't really say anything for a while; I thought you totally hated me or something—"

Romanoff tilted her head.

Clint stopped rambling. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm waiting for you to stop talking so I can kiss you."

"Oh." Clint's eyes flicked downward, and it struck her for the first time that he hadn't been looking at her cut. "Did you want to do that?"

"Was planning on it."

"Oh, yeah, I just meant because, um, I mean it looks a lot better, but I know you did get your mouth walloped the other day, so I wasn't sure if—"

"Clint," Natasha said, smiling. "Just shut up and kiss me already."

"If you insist," Clint said, eagerly fitting his mouth over hers.


Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for one final bonus chapter.