This chapter is dedicated to GirlWithAWritersSoul, as the last scene was her idea! She reviewed the last chapter with a prompt/request to see how a birthday is passed in the Barton home. I hope you like how it turned out!

If anyone has similar (or not so similar) scenes that they wish to see, or some idea they'd like me to play with, feel free to request it in a review!

Sometime in 2014

"What are you watching?" Clint asked in disbelief as he passed through the living room on his way to the fridge. For the past half an hour, he'd been listening to his wife's cackling as it echoed through the apartment. She was cooped up on the couch, swathed in warm blankets, with a mug of hot chocolate in her hand, marshmellows overflowing the cup. There were mirthful tears in her eyes and her face was split in a smile.

"It's a rerun of 'America's Funniest Home Videos'," she replied. "This shit is hilarious. I swear, I could watch it all day."

Clint's brow furrowed as he stared blankly at the television screen. "It's pathetic. What kind of person follows his friends and family around all day with a video camera filming all this mundane, every day crap?"

Georgia smirked. "I don't know, but whoever these people are, I thank them. I haven't laughed this hard since those pigeons in Central Park shit on Allie."

April 13th, 2013

"G," Clint murmured dreamily when he answered her call. Georgia was so stunned that he'd actually picked up that she didn't immediately reply causing Clint to ask, "G, everything alright?"

"Um, yeah. Yes. Everything's fine. I just can't believe you answered." She'd had his number for weeks. He'd given it to her the night they decided they were going to really try the whole girlfriend-boyfriend concept but she had never called, knowing that his job didn't exactly leave a lot of room to chit-chat on his lunch break.

"You call, I answer. That's usually how phones work."

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice and rolled her eyes at his cocky bravado. "I have a proposition for you," she declared.

"Interested."

"It doesn't directly involve sex."

The super spy-assassin-whatever instantly corrected himself. "Less interested."

"I said it doesn't directly involve sex, not that sex was entirely ruled out."

There came a small pause and Clint finally spoke, "You have my attention."

"My cousin is getting married next month and I've got a plus one. It'll be boring and there will be ridiculous amounts of crying - we're one of those families. But there's an open bar and I've been told the cake is to die for so…you should come. Because I don't want to go alone and it'll be great to show up to the wedding with a guy who's more attractive than the groom. But mostly you should go so we can have wedding sex. I'm thinking in the limo during the ceremony, yeah?"

"So it does involve sex," replied Clint triumphantly.

On the other line, Georgia couldn't help but grin. "Does that mean you'll go?"

Clint briefly entertained the idea before a slow smile crept onto his face. "How could I say 'no'?"

March 20, 2016

The food was hot and ready, the bar was fully stocked, the banners and streamers hung, the guests hiding behind furniture and in corners. Tony and Pepper's apartment was party prepared.

"This is your final warning," Natasha muttered to Georgia. "This is a bad idea. Clint hates surprises."

"That's not true," Georgia countered earnestly. "He loves surprises. At least, he loves my surprises. Unless he's just acting…no. No way. He loves 'em. Hell, just last month I surprised him with, um…"

"No, please. Keep going," encouraged Tony Stark, suddenly appearing at her side. Eyebrows raised, he gazed at her expectantly. Georgia smirked and shrugged a single shoulder, "I'm just saying, he loves my surprises is all. Tasha's just freaking out for no reason."

All eyes turned to the Black Widow who appeared disturbingly calm.

It was the Captain who spoke first. "If this is her freaking out, I'd hate to see her hysterical."

"You know, Steve, for someone who's still relatively new to the twenty-first century, you've developed a knack for sarcasm surprisingly quick," commented Bruce from the corner where he sat on a settee, happily munching on some, well, he wasn't really sure what is was. Some kind of spinach quiche, perhaps?

"Not to be a, uh, stickler for details but how's this supposed to work exactly, Maid Marian?" asked Tony.

"It's a surprise party, Tony," replied Georgia. "We're going to surprise him. Wherein lies your confusion?"

"Hang on. Let me get this straight. Robin Hood walks in and we simply surprise him by…shouting 'surprise'? Yeah?"

"I see why they call you a genius, Mr. Stark," muttered Steve from the behind the bar. Bruce gave a wide grin, "There he goes again. I love it."

"Yeah, like watching a toddler cuss," grumbled Tony. "It's adorable."

Georgia watched the exchange with amusement before turning to Natasha. "Nat, you've got the Nikon ready, right?"

"Affirmative." The former Russian operative lifted the camcorder and briefly checked the battery life. Then, she glanced at the elegant, white gold wristwatch strapped to her arm. "Five minutes, G."

Whirling on her guests, Georgia's gaze flickered across the sea of scattered faces. Her parents where there – and were stunned that Georgia and Clint were friends with so many affluent persons, especially Tony Stark and Captain America – along with her sister Allie and Allie's boyfriend of the moment, Dave or Daniel or something. Agent Coulson was there, though it was unofficial. Technically speaking, he was still dead. Agent Hill was there, too, and though Director Fury couldn't make it, a handful of other, less important S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and staff came with her. Dr. Selvig and Jane accompanied Thor, who managed to sneak away from Asgard for a little while to wish his human friend well on the anniversary of his birth.

And, of course, the other Avengers – Steve, Bruce, Tony, Tasha – had been at the apartment since eleven that morning. While Georgia and Pepper were the ones who organized the shindig, the Avengers were the ones who executed it.

Georgia smiled at the crowd of faces. "Thank you, everyone, for coming. And a thank you to the wonderful Mr. Tony Stark and Miss Pepper Potts for graciously allowing us to spend the evening in their home! I hope you all have a fabulous night. Feel free to drown yourselves at the bar and stuff your faces at the buffet and stay as long as you like! Clint should be here any minute now. Does everyone have a hiding spot?"

There came a few nods, a few 'yeah's, and Georgia looked at Natasha with a mischievous grin. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Mrs. Barton?"

"Can you get the lights, please?"

"Absolutely." The apartment went dark.

Natasha and Georgia stood at the foot of the bar, just a few feet inside the elevator doors, the Nikon poised in Nat's hand. Excited, nervous tingles shot up and down Georgia's spine. She'd only thrown two other surprise parties in her life. The first had been for her father's fiftieth, the other for her mother's. And, while both were ultimately successful, her parents weren't exactly, oh, you know, covert government spies. Fooling Alan and Catherine Downes was a cakewalk to fooling Clint Barton. As far as she knew, Clint had no suspicions whatsoever. Georgia attributed this to Natasha. During the planning period, Natasha had done a splendid job at distracting Clint and diverting his attention while Georgia and Pepper did their business.

Still, Clint was the most observant person on the planet. Georgia guessed she'd know in a matter of minutes if she'd managed to dupe him after all.

"He's in the elevator, Mrs. Barton, four floors below. Three, now," announced Jarvis. Georgia grinned and cast her eyes to the ceiling from where she assumed Tony's Big Brother-esque, super genius computer system Jarvis was watching them. "I have got to get me one of those," she muttered to herself. Tasha smirked, "Good luck with that."

A ding! rang throughout the apartment and the elevator doors slide open. Clint stepped out, withdrawing the sunglasses from his face, and narrowed his eyes at his wife and best friend. "G…? Nat…?"

"Hi, honey," Georgia said the magic words with a smile.

Suddenly, everyone in the apartment jumped up and shouted, "Surprise!" Those who had them, blew the birthday whistles, the tails ballooning out as they squealed. A few of the other party-goers had party poppers, the little cans stuffed with confetti, and as the cheers and shouts echoed throughout the massive, penthouse apartment, the confetti flew and fell around them. "Happy birthday!"

Clint blinked, apparently stunned, and suddenly Tony appeared behind him. There was a party hat in his hand, one with feathers and glitter. He reached around Clint's head, trying to secure the hat's string beneath Clint's chin, screaming, "Happy birthday, budd-omph!"

Clint, startled by a pair of hands darting out from behind him, instantly launched into defensive mode. He elbowed Tony in the stomach, spinning on his heels to sucker punch the not-so-Iron-man in the jaw. The birthday hat falling from his hands, Tony collapsed to the floor.

"Oh, God, Tony!" shrieked Pepper, skirting out from behind the sofa to her beloved's side.

"Um," Clint murmured, awkwardly tucking his hands into his jeans' pockets. "Sorry."

"It's fine," murmured Pepper, who was now kneeling next to Tony, her hands caressing his soon-to-be-swollen face. "He's fine. Just…a little unconscious."

Georgia frowned. "That wasn't what I meant by surprise him, Tony," she muttered to the billionaire, despite his inability to hear her. Sighing, she faced her husband, "Happy birthday?"

"Please tell me you got that on camera," Bruce shouted to Natasha. The Black Widow smirked, "Oh, I got it."

"Send me a copy of that, will you, G?" asked Steve. Tasha glanced over her shoulder, the Nikon still firmly aimed at Clint, "I thought you were above extortion, Captain."

"While I wouldn't doubt having a little leverage over Tony Stark would be a bad thing any day, this is more for private entertainment purposes."

Agent Coulson spoke up, "I'd like a copy, too, if you don't mind, Mrs. Barton."

"Absolutely, Phil, Steve," replied Georgia as she stepped forward into her husband's arms. She kissed his cheek. "Maybe Tasha was right…this wasn't such a hot idea."

Clint shook his head, smiling at his friends and coworkers over his wife's head. "No, it's great. Really. Tony just…surprised me, is all."

Everyone sort of laughed and the mood shifted, guests coming forward to wish Clint a happy birthday. Hugs were exchanged with the in-laws and Jarvis turned on the music, a playlist Tony had put together for the occasion, Pepper Approved, of course. The guests dived into the bar and two hours into the party Tony had to call Happy Hogan, his friend/assistant/body guard, to resupply the alcohol because they'd run out already. Right about that time, Bruce approached Natasha, who was still dutifully filming the party festivities. "Hey, Nat, mind if I…?" he gestured the camcorder.

"By all means. Just…be careful. Clint's very…attached to it."

"Handle with care. Got it. Thanks." Bruce accepted the camera and, with Steve, shadowing him, crept over to Tony's comatose form. In spite of Pepper's mewling, they'd left Tony slumped against the wall where Clint had struck him down and someone had put the party hat on Tony's head. Bruce zoomed the Nikon in on his fallen comrade's face. "You have the Sharpie?"

"Come again?" asked the Captain.

"Oh, uh, sorry. The marker."

Steve raised the black, ultra-thick Sharpie marker. "Doctor, would you like to do the honors?"

"Oh, no, please, Steve, be my guest."

Captain America uncapped the marker and stared at his canvas. He eyed Tony's broad forehead, his flat cheeks, and rounded, goateed chin. "The only question now, Doc, is where to begin?"

March 21, 2016

Clint's watch showed 12:01. It was officially his birthday. He looked around at his guests, the party still in full swing – and he did quite literally mean swing. Jodie, one of the younger, newer S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits had been swinging from the chandelier in Tony's den for the better part of an hour now. While some of the party-goers had retired early, namely Georgia's family and the upper level S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and Thor's crew, there were at least three dozen bodies still twirling and strutting about Tony's digs. Clint shook his head in bewilderment. And this was all for him.

"Hey, Barton," a feminine voice purred moments before a pair of slender arms snaked his waist. Chin resting on his shoulder, Georgia pressed a kiss into the side of her husband's neck, "Thanks for not elbowing me…"

Clint shrugged, "I know that voice, and I know these hands." He placed his hands over hers and squeezed. "I'm still having trouble processing how you pulled this over on me. You should be proud."

"Happy birthday, baby," Georgia whispered. She laced her fingers through his and kissed just below his ear. Her lips brushed his skin as she asked, "You ready to get out of here?"

His raised a single eyebrow. "Do you have other plans?"

"There's one gift you haven't opened but, um…you can't exactly open it here."

A wolfish grin spread across Clint's All American Boy features. The edges of his eyes crinkled, the dimples in his cheeks exposing themselves. Honestly, he didn't get why guys were so afraid of marriage. He fucking loved being married.

Exactly forty-one minutes later, Georgia and Clint arrived home at their apartment. Clint unlocked the door, temporarily disarming the alarm, before locking up for the night. They'd brought some cake home and, as Georgia set the tupperware containers on the counter, she slid off her coat and hung it next to the door. She faced her husband and reclined against the bar. Her eyes trailed up and down her husband's body. Crooking her finger his way, she motioned him forward.

She reached for the hem of his tee shirt and teasingly jerked him forward. Running her hands up his chest, she reveled in the solid feeling of him, all the rippled muscles beneath her fingers. When her hands reached his shoulders, Georgia pushed back his leather jacket until it slipped from his shoulders and to the floor. "Do you know…" she mused as her fingertips danced down Clint's arms. "…that I love your arms?"

Her fingers reached his wrists and she deftly set about removing Clint's watch. "I know how much you love my legs. You like that they're long and smooth…you like it when they're tan, which is why every Thanksgiving you casually suggest a trip to the beach so they don't lose their summer glow in the winter. And just like you love my legs, I love your arms."

Once again, Georgia took hold of Clint's shirt but this time she lifted, pulling the cotton tee over his head and discarding it on the floor with his jacket. And what a sight she was greeted with. There were times when Georgia honestly felt that Clint's body was the definition of male perfect. The taunt, tanned planes of his stomach constricted with each breath and the muscles in his arms rippled as he locked his hands on the counter on either side of her. Georgia ran her hands over his biceps in gentle, caressing strokes. "They're so powerful…naturally. As an archer, it makes perfect sense for them to be so…defined but damn, Clint, they're so fucking sexy."

Clint swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to ignore the uncomfortable constraints of his jeans that had suddenly gotten tighter. "Is that so?"

Georgia bit her lip and gave a coy nod. "Mhmm…I love being in your arms. I love when they're around me. They make me feel safe and protected and loved, all that strength and power in them. I love when they…pick me up," she hinted.

Smirking, Clint followed his orders. He cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing across the tops, before he moved down to her hips and then around to her ass. With a sudden jerk, he lifted her up, her dress ridding up her thighs as her legs wrapped around his hips. Georgia grinned, kissing him quickly, her arms curling behind his neck. She drew back, their noses still touching. She hummed happily and murmured, "But you know what?"

"What's that?" Clint asked. He pressed her back against the kitchen wall, his lower stomach pressed against the center of her body. He could practically feel her growing desire. Feel the waves of lust rolling off of her in droves.

Georgia's fingers played in his hair, tenderly massaging the nape of his neck. "I love your eyes even more. They aren't as hard to read as you think, Agent Barton."

He gave a soft smile. "Maybe you have an advantage that others don't."

She felt her husband's glorious body against hers. Using the wall for a brace, she grinded her hips against him and winked, "Definitely."

He kissed her, then, hungrily. He devoured her mouth, his hands clawing at her dress, desperate to get it off of her. And when he finally managed to do just that, he tore his mouth from hers and moved his lips over every inch of available skin. He kissed her shoulder and neck and chest and the tops of her breasts not covered by her lacey black bra and her stomach and-

Georgia's breath hitched, her thighs beginning to quiver. They clenched together, squeezing Clint's waist, and she clutched the counter for support, swallowing heavily. "Wait…wait…"

Clint stopped, lurching his head up, confused. "Why?"

Yeah, why? His wife blinked, her mind pudding. She couldn't think with him so close and so almost naked. "Um…" She set her hands on his chest, intending to push him back so she could think, but the second she touched him, she trembled with desire and instantly drew her hands back. Bad idea. "Because, um, it's your birthday and you still have that present to open."

Clint scoffed. "I think it can wait."

He dipped to resume his assault on her body once again but Georgia was resilient. "Nope! Come on. It's in the bedroom. That's where this is headed anyway."

"Not necessarily," the super secret soldier assassin badass smirked. "Who knows? We might've gone for the couch, or the floor, or stayed right here on the counter. The possibilities are practically endless, G."

"The sooner you open your gift the quicker we can get back t-"

"Say no more."

He carried her to their bedroom where the gift bag lay on the end of their bed. The bag was pink and stripped and Clint couldn't help but look at the woman in his arms in disbelief. Was that from Victoria's Secret? "Uh, babe."

She gave a half-smile. "Just open it."

Clint gingerly placed her on the edge of the bed and grabbed the bag. He fished through the pink tissue paper and withdrew… "What the fuck, G? Is this-"

"A sexy Robin Hood outfit? Why, yes, yes it is."

Clint paled. This was so not where he thought this was going. Georgia knew the destination of Clint's train of thought and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Relax, babe. It's not for you…it's for me."

Georgia snagged the flimsy green garment from his hand and sauntered over to their bathroom, her bra and panties leaving a messy wake behind her. Clint's stomach tightened deliciously, his mouth suddenly dry. He licked his lips as a single thought flittered through his mind.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

Review, please, and let me know what you think! You know you wanna!