Killing Time

He was shocked.

He was flabbergasted.

He just could not believe it.

"Stop making those faces, Barton!" she finally snapped at him as he sat across from her at the table. They were the only two in the room, the rest of Fury's agents still as late as ever. In all fairness though, it could hardly be called late, as the meeting was still for another two hours. He just grew tired of waiting and picked the lock, much to her annoyance. However, her disapproval did not stop him from running around the wide room as he had once had the compulsion to do, and neither did it stop her from waiting in the room with him when he finally chose a seat. But then their closeness had led to a conversation, which led to…

"I can't get over it, Nat," he said, putting his head into both hands as he leaned both elbows on the table. "All these years…and you've never ever…?"

"How in the world can you find it unbelievable?" she demanded.

"It just seems like something you would have done," he returned with a shrug of his shoulders. "Everyone has done it. Everyone. Don't you ever want to—?"

"For what?" she interrupted. "What is so great about it that I should do it, Barton?"

He grinned slowly at her and she frowned in response. She slowly leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table to hold her head as she returned his stare.

"…Clint, if you don't stop giving me those looks, you'll regret it."

"How much, though?" he asked, but he looked away as he asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked around the room. It was rather plain and boring, as were most rooms in SHIELD. The dominate colours were grey, blue, white. Nothing to write home about, he thought inwardly. Considering how much room the desk and chairs took up, it was almost a waste that the gigantic space was even for meetings.

It should have mats on the floor for gymnastics, he decided. He glanced over at her, to find she had gone back to sitting straight in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she waited, and her gaze currently on the clock over the door. Her eyes left the clock to meet his, and he grinned at her.

"I wasn't giving you a look," he said in response to her scowl. "But I still can't believe it."

"Oh for the love of…" She sent a line of words directed at him in Russian that were hardly flattering. Then she stood, and started to walk around the table towards him.

He tensed, not entirely sure what her plan was, but when she came to a halt before him and folded her arms, gaze more calculating than deadly, he knew.

"No one had better walk in on us," she said, giving him a look that told him quite clearly what would happen if that scenario played out. "Or hear us."

"I locked the door behind us," he answered, giving her a cheeky grin. "And all these rooms are soundproofed. Didn't I tell you there was enough room in here if you ever wanted to—"

"I know, Barton, I know," she sighed. "Well, where do we even start?"

"Here."

He turned his back to her, opening his arms slighter, bending his knees a little. For a long time, there was nothing, and he started to turn around, but then she tentatively climbed onto his back, arms looping around his neck. He straightened up, holding onto her legs.

"Ready?" he asked. Before she could even reply, he took off.

"Watch it, Barton! If you make us crash I'll—!"

"Huh? What did you say? Faster?"

It was hard to deny the strange amusement that came from a secret piggyback ride, and eventually giggling and laughter was filling the room when he insisted on running at full speed at the wall before veering off, almost throwing himself off balance in the process.

"WHoa—!"

"Barton I swear if you drop me—!" She clung to him for dear life, loving every second of it. "Look out!"

"Faster, faster!" he chanted, as if she was the one egging him on. It felt good to her her laugh freely for once, and it made him chuckle in response. He almost tipped sideways, sending both of them crashing to the floor for a second time. They were both giggling uncontrollably-

KNOCK KNOCK

Abruptly they fell silent. He came to a halt, letting her down quietly. They stood silently next to one another, neither going to the door to unlock it. There was another knock, and they both looked at one another, still not moving.

"Soundproofed," he whispered. "They couldn't have heard anything. Maybe they're lost?"

"Shh."

Go away, she thought mentally. The last thing she wanted was their secret to be revealed. Because of course, eyebrows would be raised when it was revealed the two of them were in a locked room, their faces flushed...

The stranger knocked again.

"We can invite them to join," he said quietly.

"No."

"Could be fun. It could be Coulson. Heh! Could be Fury." He started to giggle despite himself, already picturing it in his head. Fury running around with Nat hanging on for dear life. Coulson carrying him around, all of them freezing when they heard a knock on the door… He laughed aloud at that, earning an elbow in the ribs.

"No more knocking," she said, going back to the table to sit down. He bent his knees, looking at her over his shoulder, wiggling his arms to show he was at the ready.

"What? No more ride?"

"No."

"They couldn't have heard anything," he said, but when she shook her head he went back to sit opposite of her. He spun around in his chair once, stopping his momentum by grasping onto the table. He grinned at her. "But now, if anyone asks, you can say you've done it."

She snorted. "Who do you think will ever ask about that?"

"You never know. Could come up in conversation…"

"You're the only one who would ask something like that. 'Have you ever had a piggyback ride'…ridiculous! Who would ever think of such a thing?" She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to speak more on the subject, considering the entire event already closed and behind them now that it had been interrupted. Apparently, he did not share the same sentiments.

"Admit it, Nat," he said cheerfully, rocking back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. "It's just the two of us; you can say it aloud. It was fun. Just like I said it would be."

"I'll admit nothing."

"I dare you. Next person who comes in, you ask for a piggyback ride."

"Ha! No."

"What's the matter, Black Widow?" he asked teasingly. "Afraid they'll…refuse?"

She looked at him shrewdly, her face curiously blank. Then, before he had time to take back his words, she shoved the table towards him, knocking him off balance when it hit his midsection.

"Oof!"

He toppled backwards out of sight. There was a horrendous crack and a grunt of pain.

"Clint!"

She was by his side before he even realized he had fallen. He was shaking his head, pushing himself up onto his elbow, completely unharmed. She took in a breath of relief, looking over at the broken chair he had been sitting in moments ago. He turned his head to look at it, sighing when he saw the damage.

"Oh crap. Fury's not going to like that…"

"Sir…" Hill did not look as though she knew what to make of what she was seeing on the security feed. "Aren't you going to tell them one of these days that there are cameras in that room?"

"Do you want to be the one to tell Hawkeye and the Black Widow we can see everything they do in there?" asked the Director, leaning back in his chair as he looked at the camera feed only he and his second in command could view from the security of his office. "Besides. They already know. They just don't give a damn."

"They do, sir?" Hill sounded doubtful, and then decided it was best if she feigned ignorance of the whole affair. "Well...if you say so, sir."

The Director frowned as Barton and Natasha tried to piece back together the broken chair before shoving it as far under the table as they could, resuming their seats as if nothing had happened, Barton whistling nonchalantly as he spun around in his new chair, seeing how fast he could go. Within moments, he had Natasha doing the same. Barton toppled off his chair, resulting in laughter in Natasha.

On second thought, the Director mused, maybe they don't.

But I won't be the one to tell them.