hey guys! here's a cute lil chapter just as a bonus bc i think they deserve some happiness now (it's a little bit steamy but not graphic at all) THANK YOU for all of your wonderful reviews, too :) i appreciate you all so much!

hope you enjoy! x

Washington, 2007

April

"So you picked a fight with a guy off his face on PCP because?"

Natasha huffed, stretching her hands above her head to inspect her nails. "He is being annoying on train."

Clint laughed. "And you just hit him?"

"I tell him to stop, he hit me first," Natasha explained. "Then I hit him. He is strong."

"PCP does that to people," Clint sighed. He moved his hand from beside Natasha to rest it on her stomach instead, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. "Anyone help?"

"Nyet," Natasha said. "Is very early, so no one is in carriage. I nearly kill him. Was fun."

"Right," Clint drawled. "He busted your lip pretty good."

"I tell everyone I am robbed. They believe me because Nadia is just translator."

Clint hummed in response, trailing his fingers over Natasha's smooth skin and feeling her muscles tense slightly as he passed over one of her ticklish spots. They had jumped from state to state over the last week, shaking tails and trying to create as much confusion as possible, and now they were in Natasha's safe house in the quaint town of La Conner while they waited for all of the commotion to die down.

Natasha had told him everything; how Chase had managed to find where Clint was being held, and had created an alias so airtight that Nadia technically existed as a real person in the world. It had only taken them a few days to get Natasha into S.H.I.E.L.D as a translator, but it had taken a couple of weeks before they felt confident enough to break Clint out. Nadia had photocopied and ordered coffee and translated a few basic documents, all while Natasha took note of the security system and worked out an escape plan.

Clint was impressed, not that he would ever doubt Natasha's skills as a spy. The fact that she had infiltrated a top-secret agency was incredible, and he still couldn't quite believe they had made it all the way to Washington without being stopped. For two teens, a puppy and a self-taught hacker, they had done pretty well.

"Well, I ate a whole bunch of pizza," Clint said seriously. "Agent Coulson taught me how to play spit."

"Spit?" Natasha said.

"It's a card game," Clint told her. "Some people call it speed but Coulson calls it spit. I'll teach you."

Natasha lowered her arms and instead started playing with Clint's fingers where they rested on her belly. "He does not sound like bad person."

"He's not," Clint said honestly. "He talked to me about a bunch of stuff. Plus there was pizza. And burgers. The food was pretty good."

"I can tell," Natasha said lightly, twisting her head from where it rested on Clint's hip to see his reaction.

The smile on her face made his heart burst. "Hey! I didn't eat that many pizzas, okay? I'm still buff."

"Yesli ty tak govorish'" Natasha teased.

"Cut it out," Clint laughed, moving his hand to brush back over Natasha's ticklish spot.

She squealed, the sound surprising even her, and then she was laughing the way she did as a little girl; full-bellied and gruff, squirming away from his hands as he moved them over her stomach. It was childish and fun and everything they needed, just a moment where nothing mattered except for them.

Her hair was still damp from her shower, and she hadn't bothered getting dressed afterwards except for her underwear, and Clint could feel the coolness of her skin even though it wasn't that cold in their room. The door was open, though Chase was already asleep in his own room down the hall, and Lucky was still making heads and tails of the new house. It was domestic in a way that Clint didn't really know, but it felt nice and warm.

Natasha rolled on top of him, finally freeing herself from his attack. Her smile was wide, her eyes bright in a way that they hadn't been for a long time. Clint brushed some of her hair behind her ear as she gazed at him, the last of her laughter ghosting over his face.

It was suddenly quiet and still. Clint could feel Natasha's heartbeat on his chest. Her toes pressed into his thighs and her smile was shy now, her gaze soft beneath her long lashes.

"Hey Tasha," Clint whispered, not wanting to disrupt the silence but knowing they were standing on the edge of something new.

"Hi," she whispered back.

She wiggled up his body until they were chin to chin, her lips brushing over his as he tangled his hand in her hair. They kissed slowly, knowing they had the time now and unafraid of what could happen in the future. Clint didn't think about anything except Natasha, warm against him, her heart a steady rhythm that he swore he could hear.

They moved together, sitting up so Natasha could pull his shirt over his head. When he flipped them over it was just as awkward as the first time, except the urgency was gone now and when she looked at him her eyes were clear.

"The door," she mumbled, smile lazy as he continued to kiss from her ear down her neck.

"Hmmm," Clint hummed against her skin. There were new freckles across her collarbone, a smattering of gold that dipped below her bra. He opened his mouth to ask but she bet him to it, hands reaching behind her back to unclasp the garment.

"Door," she said, a little firmer now, and Clint barely managed to drag himself away from her.

He stumbled to the door, shutting it before Lucky could poke his head in and see what was going on. He shut the curtains too, dodging the mess they had inexplicably already made and narrowly avoiding stubbing his toe against the wall. Natasha laughed again, and when he turned to her she held her arms out to him, fingers searching the space between them.

Clint was at the edge of the bed when Natasha spoke, face flushed as she tried to think of what she wanted to say. "Snyat'."

He stepped out of his pants and then she was kissing him again, drawing him against her and cupping his cheeks with her hands. He had kissed Natasha many times, but it had never felt quite like this before. The world could have ended and he wouldn't have minded. He probably wouldn't have even noticed.

"I love you," Natasha breathed against his lips.

Clint paused, pulling apart just slightly as the realisation of what she had said fully hit him. She had told him once in Russian, and he was sure she had even signed it before, but it was the first time he had heard the words in English and the force of it left him winded.

"What?" she asked. She wasn't uncertain, because when it came to Clint she was never uncertain, but there was a shimmer of curiosity in her eyes.

"I love you too," he said softly, not caring that it was cheesy and lame and not at all how their relationship usually worked. Natasha didn't need to say things; Clint could always tell from her body language exactly what she was thinking, what she wanted.

Clint knew Natasha's body as she knew his, all the soft parts and the scars, the way it bent and moved and lived. He knew the sensitive spot below her breast and the way her muscles coiled when he pressed kisses there and when she carded her fingers through his hair he knew that she knew, that she had memorised him too despite everything that she had been through.

Her hand was firm against his shoulder, grounding him to her. He kissed his way down to her navel, across the taught skin of her abs, finding tiny silvery scars as he went. There was one at the waistband of her underwear, slightly raised and a little longer than the others. His nose brushed over it and he felt her shiver.

"Wait," he said suddenly, raising his head from the soft skin of her thigh. "I don't have anything –"

It hadn't been something he was thinking about when fleeing S.H.I.E.L.D, or when they had done their first grocery run upon arrival in La Conner. Natasha seemed confused for a minute, and then she shook her head sharply, as though trying to dislodge a thought.

"Is fine," she insisted, pulling him back up her body.

"No, wait," Clint said. He blew out a breath, trying to slow his racing heart. "God, Tash, I don't wanna stop but…"

"Then don't," Natasha said simply. She kissed his collarbone, his cheek, the side of his mouth, and he momentarily lost his train of thought as he was drawn back to her.

She shifted beneath him and he paused again, forcing himself to just breathe. "Okay. We gotta stop."

Natasha huffed. "Is no problem. I am fine."

"Oh, no," Clint said, trying to backpedal. "I'm not… I'm not saying that. I'm thinking more like we can't exactly afford to, ya know… have a baby."

"Oh," Natasha said, head cocked to the side as she thought about what he had said. Then she shrugged, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "Is fine. I can't have baby."

"Oh," Clint repeated, frowning. "I didn't know."

"Graduation ceremony," Natasha stated. "Is bad news to have assassin who can get pregnant."

Clint sighed, bringing his forehead down to press against Natasha's. She smiled at him softly, her thumb still moving over the stubble he hadn't shaved yet. With her free hand she took one of his, bringing it down between their bodies to run over the raised scar he had found below her belly button.

"Is hard to see," she murmured. "No one likes ugly scars."

"I'm sorry," Clint said to her.

Natasha seemed confused. "I do not want baby, Clint."

"I know," he said gently. "But you should have had the choice."

Natasha pulled her swollen bottom lip between her teeth, and then nodded shakily. Clint knew that she probably hadn't thought about it like that before, since being able to make her own decisions was still something she struggled with. His heart ached for all of the things she had had taken from her, though he didn't say anything else.

He kissed her again, getting so easily lost in her lips and eyes. He wanted to map every inch of her, and when she moved her hands over his body as though she were doing just that he let her. Natasha pressed butterfly kisses across his collarbone and moaned into him, and Clint let himself feel completely all of his love for her, wanting to convey it in his actions too.

Despite how well they knew each other this was still new, and they were learning together the arch and pull of their bodies, different even to when they fought together. Her skin against his, her breath over him, more and please and yes, Clint.

And they were okay. They were more than okay.

Chase was already awake when Clint made his way out to the kitchen the next day.

"Morning," Clint called, heading straight to the fridge for the juice Natasha had bought for herself.

Chase eyed him from the kitchen counter. "You're up early."

"It's not that early," Clint shrugged. He poured a glass of juice for Natasha, then switched the coffee maker on. "You're up."

"I'm waiting for Quinn to call me," Chase said. "It usually takes the world ending for you to wake up on time. I've never seen you up before 7am. Ever."

"It's gonna be a nice day," Clint said, even though the sun hadn't fully risen yet. "You gotta enjoy as much as you can."

Chase's eyes widened and he suddenly stood, clutching his phone in his hand. "You two had sex."

"What?" Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. "I dunno –"

"Nope, I don't wanna know," Chase said, waving his arms. "Don't need to know. Forget I said anything."

Chase's reaction made Clint want to laugh. Even though he was only six years older than them, Chase often referred to them as kids, and Clint supposed he felt a little protective of them. It was especially true for Natasha, because even though she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, Chase had been keeping a closer eye on her ever since her breakdown.

Clint thought that the older man might even consider Natasha like a younger sister, despite all of their differences and the way she had accidentally overturned his whole life.

"It's just a good day," Clint said as the coffee pot finished.

"Whatever," Chase groaned. His phone started to ring and the relief on his face was palpable. "No assassin babies, okay?"

"Course not," Clint agreed seriously, covering his mouth so Chase couldn't see his grin.

Chase went to his own room, and Clint took the juice and coffee back into the bedroom to see if Natasha was awake. She was sitting against the headboard, running her fingers through her hair to untangle it. She had opened the curtains and was wearing his shirt, and the rising sun was making her glow.

She smiled at him and shook her head no to the juice, waiting until he was beside her to pull them under the covers. They peeked at each other over the top of the blanket, and then Natasha was laughing; giggling really, the girlish sound like music to his ears. Clint laughed too because he was happy, so happy to be with her cocooned and safe.

"Was it a little awkward?" he asked around the bursts of laughter that erupted from his chest.

Natasha nodded, her cheeks flushed. "But is us. Just us. So is perfect too."

"It was my first time," Clint told her, though he thought that she would probably already know.

Despite Natasha keeping a few mission-related secrets from him, they generally told each other everything, and Coulson hadn't been lying when he said that Clint was an open book. It was difficult for Natasha to share her thoughts and feelings, and it was something they would undoubtedly be working on for years to come. Things like this, though, were sacred, and Natasha was right: it was perfect because it was the two of them, together.

"They teach us seducing," she said gruffly, playing with his fingers. "But I don't… Is not like this. So is my first time, too. First time that count."

Clint could see in her eyes that she was slipping away from him, her fingers now twisting his enough that it hurt a little. He gently pulled his hand away so that they weren't touching, worried that contact might send her spiralling.

"Hey, Tasha," he said softly. "Come back to me, milaya."

After a moment Natasha blinked and then offered him a half smile, eyes clear again. Clint slowly brushed his thumb over the small scab on her lip. She had zoned out once or twice last night and he had done the same thing then, stopping until she could tell him to keep going and making sure they were on the same page.

"Is perfect," she whispered, then brought her hands up to sign. They can't ruin everything. I'm so happy and I… It's ours. Am I making sense?

I'm happy too, Clint signed. And I think you make all the sense in the world.

We can stay this way for a while, right? She asked. We don't have anything to do. Maybe we can go to the museum later.

The museum sounds great, Clint replied. I think we deserve a lie-in.

Natasha leant forward and kissed him gently, then rolled into his arms with a laugh that sent a jolt straight to Clint's heart. He held her, breathed her in, felt all of his missing pieces from the last month slot back into place. The coffee was going cold but he just didn't care, not when he could stay like this.

They had a lot to discuss. Clint knew the conversations might be difficult, but they needed to have them to be able to move forward. He didn't think about any of it, though. For now, it was the two of them, together; the rising sun warming their faces, bodies wound together and all the time in the world.

Yesli ty tak govorish = if you say so