It took a lot longer to get this one out than I anticipated, but classes started back last week and I've practically spent the last five days doing nothing but running errands around campus. So apologies there. A major, huge, you're-awesome-and-I-love-you to: Wolfshadows32, guest(s), Dasiygirl95, snowangl05, MissyKates .xx, miller330, Kay1104, and Not. So. Typical. Girl. Seriously, thank you guys so much for the support! I'm so glad you like this story! And so is Clint. He made you guys some sweet treats as promised…but, um, well, I sort of ate them. Sorry about that, too.

The humor has returned! This chapter is infinitely happier/smuttier (I love that smuttier is a word) than the previous one. However, it's good to know you guys like the serious side, too. Be sure to see the author's note at the end of this chapter. There is a little scene between Steve and Tony that I'm sure you'll have questions about and I'll try to answer them below.

Enjoy, my fellow Hawkeye lovers.

August 12th, 2016

It was the third time in a month that Georgia had woken with a camcorder an inch from her face. Only this time it wasn't Clint behind the lens. Natasha was perched on the edge of their bed peering at her curiously. "Did you know you sing in your sleep?"

Groaning sleepily, Georgia furrowed her brow and muttered, "Sometimes…Tasha, how did you get in here?"

"I have a key."

Georgia blinked. "Oh, right…um, not that I mind but what are you doing here?"

The Russian spy shrugged. "I was bored and I know Clint's in Pakistan so I assumed you'd be bored, too."

"So bored. Cause I turn into a lonely spinster with seven cats when he's gone. What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty."

"Eight in the morning?" groaned Georgia. A habit from his days in training, Clint's body rarely allowed him to sleep later than seven and when he was home Georgia followed the same schedule. She only got to sleep in when he was away on missions. The thought of being awake before noon when Clint was out of town was truly outrageous. She glared up at Natasha. "I'm going back to sleep."

"But I'm bored," said Tasha matter-of-factly.

"Go play the Wii or something…read a book…watch a movie, I don't care. Just let me sleep."

"Fine. You have one more hour."

"Three."

"There is no reason for you to sleep until eleven o'clock. One hour and thirty minutes."

"Two and a half."

"Two."

Georgia's glare hardened momentarily, then her brow smoothed. She sighed, snuggling deeper into her pillow. "Fine, two hours, but you can't stay in here and watch me sleep. That's creepy. And don't rearrange my kitchen again. It took me three months to find the measuring cup that last time."

Natasha gave a wry grin from behind the camera as she languidly slid off the bed. "I make no promises."

"Tasha, please."

"Sleep tight."

June 9th, 2013

"Stark, can I talk to you for a second?"

Tony glanced up as Steve stepped into his office. "Sure thing, Captain."

Steve cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. "I um-"

"Time's up."

The Captain coughed, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You said you wanted to talk for a second. Time's up."

"Well, I meant-"

"Do you want to talk for more than a second?"

Steve's face crumbled into an expression of intense annoyance. "Yes."

"For how long exactly? I've very busy man, Captain."

"Just a few minutes," gritted Steve through clenched teeth.

"How many minutes we talkin'?"

"Three minutes, at most!"

Tony eyed the extreme patriot. He was silent for a moment before sitting up and nodding, "Proceed."

Nostrils flaring in anger, Steve shook his head, "You know, what? Never mind." And with that, Steve Rogers turned and retreated out of the office the way he came.

Tony blinked. "Well, wait up, now, Cap," he called. Where was Steve going? He couldn't walk away now; Tony's curiosity had been peeked. "Captain!"

February 17th, 2016

The shower was running when he returned home from headquarters, having just spent four days in Seattle. He glanced at the clock on the stove. It was after midnight.

Slinking down the corridor that led to their bedroom, he pushed open their bathroom door and leaned against the frame. There she was. He watched through the steam on the glass shower door as Georgia rinsed her hair, shampoo foam sliding down her arms and back. He brazenly gazed on as beads of water trickled down his wife's naked body. Her eyes were closed; she was completely unaware of his presence.

Clint stared at her until his mouth ran dry. Licking his lips, he called over the roar of the shower, "I'm surprised you're up."

Georgia's eyes flew open, a terrified shriek ripping from her lips as she clenched her chest. "God, shit, Clint! You scared the hell out of me!"

He gave a dry chuckle, pushing off the door frame. "Sorry."

Georgia nudged open the shower door with one soapy hand, leaning out to kiss his cheek. "How was Seattle?"

"Wet."

She waved a hand at the showerhead. "Join the club."

Clint gave a tired yet devilish grin. "Is that an invitation?"

The corners of her mouth twitched upward. "Always."

Clint stepped back, kicking off one shoe, then the other, while simultaneously pulling his shirt over his head. Georgia leaned against the tiled shower wall, water cascading over her as she boldly watched him unfasten his belt buckle. Once all of his clothes were disregarded on the floor, he slid into the shower beside her. The water was scalding, as all her showers were. His skin hissed, his eyes rapidly blinking out the water.

"I'm surprised you're up," he told her once more. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the water running down her tanned body, little streams flowing between the valley of her breasts and over the smooth, soft planes of her stomach. She peered up at him with her slightly too large doe-eyes, reaching around him for the men's body wash. Pouring a handful onto her palm, she started with his shoulders, murmuring, "Well, I just got home. Do you remember Genna the Ginger from marketing? Her baby shower was today at two and it lasted 'til damn seven o'clock. Five hours of women talking about formula and diapers and breast feeding-"

"Breast feeding," he repeated with a smirk. "Now that doesn't sound too bad."

"It was awful," she grumbled, hands lathering soap onto his chest, his stomach, his waist. Soap bubbled up between her fingers and Clint's eyes drifted shut as his wife massaged the body wash into his skin. God, that felt good.

"If the party ended at seven, why are you getting home at midnight?"

"A few of the girls and I shared a taxi home and someone suggested we go out for drinks. Next thing I know we're at Knickerbocker surrounded by a bunch of half-drunk co-eds from NYU who are grinding on each other while that Justin Beiber and Lil' Wayne song played in the background."

He cracked open one eye. "Justin Beiber?"

"And Lil' Wayne. Like I said, awful."

"That's what you get for going to Knickerbocker."

"Martinis were half priced tonight," she pouted subtly. "Turn around."

He did as she instructed, giving her his back. He crossed his arms on the tiled shower wall in front of him, resting his forehead on his hands, Georgia's slender fingers playing across his shoulders and upper back. She softly commented on the tension in his back muscles, before falling silent. He felt her hands slip from his skin. He waited a moment, then glanced over his shoulder. "G…?"

"Huh? Sorry." She blinked, cheeks flushing pink.

Clint smirked at her, "You were staring at my ass."

"I was," she admitted. "I was, I'm sorry. I was staring at your ass, but it's just so cute."

"My ass is not cute," he snorted. Georgia wrapped her arms around his torso, breasts pressing into his bare back as she placed a tender kiss on his shoulder, "I beg to differ."

After a few heated kisses and some not-so-subtle ass grabbing, Georgia finished washing her husband's body only to then wash his hair as well. By the time they stepped out of the shower, their fingers and toes were pruned to hell and the water had turned cold. Clint wrapped a towel around Georgia's shoulders, hugging her like a child. He pressed a kiss to her wet hair, "It feels good to be home."

"Yeah, you should try it more often," she joked, elbowing his ribs. "Dry off. You're dripping water everywhere."

Smirking, he leaned his head toward her and shook his hair out like a dog.

"Clint! Ah! Stop it!" she whined, swatting him away and ducking for cover under her towel. But he persisted. He tugged the towel from her body, the ends of his wet hair slinging water droplets all over her. She tried to sound menacing through her fit of giggles, but failed miserably, "Why do you do shit like this?"

Shooting him a very false glare, she looped her towel around his neck and tugged his face down to hers. "That was not very nice."

Clint smirked, yanking her forward, their naked bodies flushing together. "I'm not a nice guy."

She leaned forward on her tips toes to whisper against his lips, "I'm gonna call bullshit on that."

"Call away."

He kissed her soundly, lifting her off the bathroom floor, her long legs folding around his hips. The towel fell limply to the floor and Georgia sighed against his mouth; she didn't think she'd ever get tired of the sensation of his skin on hers. Clint carried her to their bed, laying her gently among the piles of pillows and sheets. And then he paused. She watched him with curious eyes, waiting. "Clint?"

"Hang on," he murmured softly.

Her gaze trailed after him as he retreated from the bed. She shamelessly stared at his ass once again. He really did have a cute butt. "Babe, what are y-oh, you've got to be shitting me."

Clint turned on the camcorder and said softly, "I want to remember you…exactly like this."

"Baby, no! This is like the beginning of a bad porno."

"Bad? I think we'd make a great porno," he muttered distractedly as he allowed the camera to roam over her naked, wet body. He caught her droll stare on film, her full lips dipping into a pout as she grumbled, "We are not making a porno and I swear if you don't put that thing away…"

She moved to pull a blanket over her and Clint pleaded, "Baby, please…? This one'll be for my eyes only."

"They all better be for your eyes only," she warned. But slowly, very slowly, she loosened her grip on their down comforter and left her body on display. There was a subtle tension in her shoulders, her body frigid as she lay there exposed to the camera. Clint drew closer with the camcorder. He spoke quietly as he directed the lens to focus on her legs, "You have the sexiest legs in the world…they're so long and beautiful…strong calves, thin ankles…"

The focus moved languidly, further up his wife's body. "Hmm…that perfect little waist…" Clint gave a half-smile and Georgia's eye roll told him she knew he wasn't talking about her waist at all but rather the part of her body he enjoyed the most. The camera moved passed her stomach to her breasts. "And then there are those…"

Georgia might not have been Pamela Anderson, in fact she was nowhere even close, but she was small-chested by no means. Swallowing thickly, Clint lifted the camera to rest on her face. "…finally, the best part."

She had tentatively relaxed and was now smiling at his antics. "You're like a little kid with a new toy."

Clicking off the camcorder, Clint muttered, "Damn good toy." He placed the Nikon on the nightstand and lowered his body to hers, his back stretching like a cat as he flexed over her. He nipped at her breasts, lips and tongue trailing across her skin. Kissing his way up her collar and neck, he nibbled just behind her ear and felt his chest constrict with pride at her soft whimpers.

"Clint, do you think it's normal?" she whispered, her hands grazing his shoulders.

He pulled back to look at her. "Is what normal?"

"The fact that we have sex so much. We have more sex than any couple I know. With our combined sexual appetites, we should have forty-three kids by now."

A few witty retorts popped into his mind, but Clint could see that beneath her joking demeanor, Georgia was truly concerned. "Baby," he murmured. Propping against the pillows, he pulled her into his lap and cupped her face, brushing his thumbs tenderly across her cheeks. "There is nothing wrong with how much we have sex. We're apart for weeks, sometimes months, at a time and we have to make up for that lost time. If it were up to me, we'd have sex every hour. We would never leave the apartment."

She gave a soft chuckle and poked his chest. "I won't lie, your stamina is pretty impressive but I don't think you could handle once an hour."

Clint pinned her with a very serious stare. "I'd be willing to test that theory."

"I'm sure you would."

"No, seriously. Let's do it. We'll make a day of it. Lock the door, turn off our phones…maybe film it-"

"Clint."

"Okay, we don't have to film it."

Georgia glared at the Nikon, her lips curling slightly. "I kind of hate that thing."

"Really?" His fingers ghosted down her spine. "Cause it loves you."

Sighing, Georgia rolled herself on top of Clint, muttering, "Whatever." Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends still dripping wet as they tickled Clint's face. She studied him for a moment; he was kind of beautiful, her husband. And powerful. There were no limits to the damage he could do with all the lean muscle. No wonder they had sex so much. Georgia slid down his body, sensually kissing her way down his chest. Suddenly, she paused and held up her finger, shooting him a crooked grin. "I'll be right back."

She returned a moment later with a half-empty bottle of chocolate syrup and the bed shook from Clint's obnoxious laughter. Georgia wasted no time smearing the syrup across Clint's stomach and abs. Snickering, she lowered her mouth to his taunt, chocolate-smothered skin.

She was halfway through licking up the syrup when Clint's phone rang. Groaning, she rolled off of him and Clint pointed at her mouth. "You've got a little something…"

"Shut up and answer your phone. And hurry up. I've got to get the rest of that chocolate off of you before you get it all over the sheets."

He snatched his phone off of the dresser. "Barton."

Georgia picked up the bottle of syrup and squirted a glob of chocolate onto her finger. She fucking loved chocolate. There were some days when she almost loved chocolate as much as she loved Clint. Almost.

"Yes, sir. Yes. And will…? Okay. Got it. See you then." Clint snapped the phone shut, tossing it carelessly onto the dresser. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Georgia knew that look. Knew this standard phone call. His wife drew her knees to her chest, her back resting against the headboard of their bed. "When do you leave?"

"Oh-eight hundred."

"In the morning? You just got home." Her stomach churned unpleasantly.

"We got a lead on Henderson. I'm lucky they're letting me stay the night and not putting me on a plane in an hour."

All was quiet for a moment. Then, Georgia sighed. "Okay." She returned the syrup to the kitchen and came back with a wet paper towel in hand. Clint's brow furrowed, "What's that for?"

She motioned for him to come to her. He did so and she began wiping away the remaining chocolate on his stomach. He caught her wrist when he realized what she was doing. "I prefer the former method."

"Yeah, well you have to be on a plane in about five hours. You need to sleep."

"I'll sleep on the plane," he told her, ducking swiftly to kiss her.

"No, you won't. You'll be briefed on the plane," she rolled her eyes. In spite of his protests, she finished cleaning his stomach with the paper towel and fetched him a pair of boxers before slipping on a tee shirt and underwear herself. Groaning, Clint followed her to bed, "You know that ridiculous sexual appetite you mentioned earlier…its feeling very unsatisfied right now."

Georgia curled into his side. "Take it up with the director."

"I don't think Fury will be too keen to help sate that appetite. Besides, you know what they say…once you go black…"

Georgia couldn't help but snicker as they settled in between the sheets, "Oh my God, you're awful." A warm silence fell over them and Georgia felt a sort of peace consume her as she lay in her husband's arms. He always made her feel so safe. She nuzzled his chest, "Where are you going?"

"Don't know."

"Well, be careful…"

He pressed a tender kiss into her hair, his arms tightening around her. "Always am, G. Always am."

Wolfshadows32 made a comment in their review that they couldn't wait to find out where Clint had been for five months and I just wanted to let you guys know that eventually you will find out where he was and what exactly happened there. It'll just be later on down the line that we get to hear Clint's explanation.

Also, you will eventually find out what Steve wanted to talk to Tony about (it's pretty hilarious, I have to say) just…you know, not right now.

Next chapter, we see how Clint and Georgia met!