Holy cow, guys, this one is so long! It's double the length of the other chapters! Aghhh!

Also, just a quick note, many of you guys have caught on to the budding Natasha/Steve relationship! Bravo, because they've been very subtle hints. I think I am eventually going to develop that, simply because in Captain America 2 Natasha is one of the main characters. She helps Steve fight…well, the villain, I guess. Plus, Scarlett Johanson and Chris Evans have dated in two other movies (The Perfect Score and The Nanny Diaries)! I just cannot ignore these facts. Clearly, the universe wants Steve and Tasha to be together.

And who am I to piss off the universe?

Thank you sooooooo much, everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I love you all! There will be shout-outs and special thanks in the next chapter. I'm simply too sleepy and blurry-eyed to list everyone right now.

Please, enjoy. And then review!

Oh, yeah, Happy Halloween!

October 31st, 2014

"Trick or treat!"

The elevator doors swung open revealing yet another gaggle of rugrats. Tony cringed, not inwardly, but outwardly for the world to see. His nose wrinkled in distaste and, if Clint didn't know better he'd say, fear. Tony clapped his hands as Georgia dropped generous handfuls of candy into the children's open bags. "Alright, hoodlums, get your goods and get goin', okay? Tony's got something pretty special planned and I can't have you squirts getting caught in the middle on account of midgets aren't covered on my insurance policy."

"Tony," Pepper chided from the bar, a "pumpkin" martini in hand. She plastered on a warm smile as Georgia ushered the kids back into the elevator. "Have a Happy Halloween, everyone."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Just don't have it here...tell your friends! Assuming you little monsters have friends."

"Tony-!" Miss Potts began once more but the billionaire simply tossed an innocent face her way, "What? I was talking about the costumes, Pepper, honestly."

"So what's this 'special plan' of yours, Stark?" drawled Clint lazily from the sofa. Georgia replaced the candy on the shelf by the elevator and drew to her husband's side. His arm instinctively curled around her shoulders as she snuggled against him on Tony's couch, her feet crossing at the ankles as she propped them on the footrest. She smirked, "Yeah, Tony, hot plans with Rhodey tonight? Or maybe you and Bruce are going to go to the Green Room downtown?"

"Oooh, double whammy," Clint snickered. The Green Room was a gay lounge in lower Manhattan. The double pun was heavily intended.

Tony rolled his eyes. "First off, Barton, don't say 'oooh'. This isn't the seventh grade. Secondly, I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you."

Clint snorted. "Good luck with that."

Stark continued on, ignoring Clint's remark. "That being said, consider yourselves lucky because I might be stingy with my toys, but never with the holiday spirit. I can't tell you what I have planned, but stick around long enough and you'll be able to see for yourselves. We can watch and bask in the hilarity together."

Clint and Georgia groaned together. "Not another prank. Seriously, Tony?"

"Serious as a heart attack," grinned the Iron Man. "Which is exactly what I hope to give our dear Steve."

Georgia's brow furrowed. "Can he have a heart attack? I thought his super-whatever genetically counteracted things like that."

Tony shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."

"Stark, what are you going to do?" demanded Clint. Tony corrected Hawkeye with a smirk, "It's not what will I do, it's what have I done."

"So you're evil plan is already in motion?" asked Georgia, shooting a secretively glance Pepper's way. The petite woman merely smiled coyly from the bar.

"Uh," Tony nodded. "Yeah."

"Then what's the harm in telling us what you've done, if it's already in motion?" inquired Clint, genuinely curious. He didn't personally have an aptitude for pranks. He just wasn't that creative, honestly. Unless it came to torture. Then, well, he was practically Picasso.

Tony slipped behind the bar, hunting for something or another, and began mixing himself a drink. "You make a good point, Barton. By the way, I love the costume."

Clint subtly glanced down at his simple, black tee shirt and jeans. "I'm not...wearing a costume..." He said slowly.

"No? I could'a sworn you were going for a Robin Hood thing."

Clint's face dropped. Those damn Robin Hood jokes. Grinding his teeth, he glared dully at Stark and murmured, "Keep it up, Tony. You're gonna wake up one morning with an arrow in your crotch."

The billionaire paused, preparing a retort, but Pepper set out to defuse the boys' fight before it ever really began. She reached behind the bar to stroke Tony's wrist as he poured himself a glass of Scotch. "Oh, come on, Tony, just tell them. What's the harm? They can't stop it..."

Tony glanced at his woman - the Jackie O to his JFK. Or, more fittingly, the June Carter to his Johnny Cash. Capping the bottle, Tony took a sip of his drink and dropped down onto the stool beside Pepper. He explained, "See...I wanted to prank Steve. My only question was how? He's Captain America. The man's fearless. So, I figured, if I couldn't scare him, I could surprise him. And then The Hangover came on TV the other day, I'm sure you've seen it, and, well, let's just say I was inspired. Jarvis...if you'll please..."

"Certainly, sir."

The brilliant super computer lowered the screen beside the fireplace and broadcasted the live-feed of Steve's apartment. Clint and Georgia were automatically startled. Georgia glanced at Tony apprehensively. "Do you have cameras in all of the apartments? That is so bizarrely creepy! Tony, haven't you ever heard the phrase 'invasion of privacy'? What the hell?"

Iron Man rolled his eyes. "Please, Georgia, of course I have surveillance. I don't know if you've heard but tech is kinda my thing. Besides, it's not me peeping. It's Jarvis. Anyway, you're missing the point. Jay, go with camera three."

Georgia's grip on her husband's arm tightened. "Oh, my God, Clint. There are multiple cameras...this is ridiculous."

"Now, you see why I always wanted to stay at your place," he whispered back, snickering when Tony muttered, "I heard that."

Jarvis switched the live-feed to camera three and Georgia gasped with shock, Clint barking, "What the fuck, Stark?" On the screen, they watched as a four hundred pound Siberian Tiger made a predatory loop of Steve's bedroom, it's jaw opening and closing to reveal razor-sharp canines, the longest of which were over two inches long, as it snarled and growled.

Georgia's grip on Clint nearly drew blood, his arm turning red beneath her fingers. "What...the...holy...hell is that? ...where the fuck did you get a tiger?!"

"That movie, remember?"

Clint scoffed in disbelief. "You got the actual tiger from The Hangover."

"He's a stunt tiger. I heard he was the model they used for Life of Pi. Now that's a movie. The animation, my God, it's stunning."

"Tony," the Bartons snapped. Georgia shook her head, her new, dark bangs bouncing above her eyes. "I can't believe you. You said you wanted to surprise him, not feed him to a giant feline!"

"G, weren't you listening? He's a stunt tiger. Stunt. He works with people all the time and so far as I know he's never attacked anyone."

"So far as you know?" echoed Clint. "Stunt tiger? Tell that to Seigfried and Roy!"

"Have you seen those guys? They're all spray tans and bleached blonde hair and bedazzled, leather jumpsuits. Can't really say I blame the tiger."

"Tony, this is serious. He could hurt Steve!"

Tony motioned the screen. "See, in the corner, I have him on a chain. He's fine. Steve will walk in his front door, see the tiger, the tiger maybe swipes at him but is ultimately chained up five feet away, and it's all good, clean fun. No harm done."

"And if the chain, oh, I don't know, breaks?" Georgia snapped. "What then?"

"Then-" But before Tony could respond, the screen went black. Jarvis informed Tony that camera three was experiencing issues - it was malfunctioning. Tony griped and groaned, then whipped out his phone and started tapping away. His head buried in his phone, he missed the identical smirks his loving girlfriend and friends were tossing each other's way. It took him a minute, but eventually, Tony was able to clear the problem. "Jarvis, bring her back up."

There came a brief pause. "Jarvis?"

"I'm trying, sir, but there still seems to be some difficultly remaining. Perhaps, if-oh, dear."

"What it is, Jay?"

"I'm afraid, sir, that the tiger has come loose."

Silence vibrated through the room. Tony licked his lips and blinked, hard. "Come again?"

"He seems to have ripped the chains from the wall, sir."

"Jarvis, get me in that room, now." Tony, of course, meant through the live-feed. How in the hell could that tiger have broken those bonds? He had made that chain himself out of the same nitinol he used to help make his suits. There was no way tha-

"Sir, Mr. Rogers is in the elevator."

"Tony, you have to stop him. You can't let him go in there with that tiger loose!" demanded Georgia, jumping up from the couch. Tony agreed, "Stall him, Jay."

"Sir, he's already out of the elevator."

"What?" spat Stark. He glared viciously up at the ceiling. "You just gonna sit on your ass all night, Jay, or are you going to actually contribute to the plan here?"

"Tony," Pepper shrieked, smacking at his arm as Georgia and Clint bolted towards the elevator. "You have to do something."

Tony clenched his eyes shut. Damn it. He was going to have to ruin his own damn prank. All because Jay was being a lazy punk tonight. Gotta think shit through, Jay! "Stop him Jarvis," Tony all but cried as he and Pepper followed the Bartons to the elevator. "Tell him. Tell him about th-"

"Sir, I did. I already warned him but he thought I was joking. Mr. Rogers ha-"

A great, agonizing scream ripped through Stark Tower. Steve!

The four friends made like mad to the Steve's apartment two floors below, Jarvis calling for an ambulance, Clint calling in a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter in case the local responders took too long. When they made it to the apartment, the door was left ajar, the living room destroyed. The couch was overturned, the rugs and cushions ripped to shreds. The glass table was shattered, broken shards littering the hardwood flooring. Pepper whimpered. Tony pushed her back into the hall, "Stay here."

"You, too, G," Clint demanded, withdrawing the pistol from his boot. "Stark," he called. Tony glanced his way and Clint, arm erect with the guy in hand, motioned the floor by the kitchen. "Blood."

The pair followed the trail of blood to the bathroom, the droplets growing larger with every step they took and, eventually, they were standing in pools of blood. "Oh, Steve," grunted Tony, his throat thickening, bile rising at the sight. Steve was dead. He had to be. There was no way he could have lost so much blood and survived. The Captain was dead. And Tony had killed him. He had gotten one of his very best friends mauled by a fucking tiger for a sick holiday prank!

The blood led to the master bath and when they reached the door, all they could see were Steve's feet. Tony lurched to a stop, the back of his hand flying to his mouth. His eyes moist, he jerked, as if about to vomit, and said, his voice a strangle whine, "I can't, Clint. I can't."

"Tony, I can't get him by myself. I'm going to need your help in there, okay? Pull it together. We'll save him. We can save him."

The billionaire took a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling, and Tony was suddenly reminded of the post-New York panic attacks he used to experience. He knew those awful sensations were going to be a breeze compared to the post-Steve attacks his guilt would manifest tomorrow. Fuck, he'd killed Steve!

Steeling himself, Tony braced for the gunshot of Barton shooting the tiger when they flung open the bathroom door. And there was a bang. But it was a bang of confetti and there was no tiger. Only Steve sitting on the floor, propped against the tub, holding a confetti gun. And then the girls were jumping out from behind them, having followed Tony and Clint to the bathroom, and everyone was laughing and pointing and Tony had no idea what the fuck was going on.

He was gasping, pain lacerating his chest, and it was Steve's voice that cut through the madness. "Geez, Stark, are you okay? Guys...he doesn't look so hot."

"No, I don't! And neither should you! Where's the tiger?! How are you alive?!" Tony whipped his head around the bathroom, eyeing the spacious jet-tub. "Where's the tiger?!"

"Relax, Tony, relax," chuckled Barton, slipping his gun back into his boot.

Pepper stepped up to Tony's side, her arm looping through his. "It was a joke, Tony. A prank. I told Georgia what you had planned for Steve and we decided to prank you instead. We took the tiger back this morning. The video footage we watched was from earlier today. Jarvis helped us change the time stamp on the video and we trashed the apartment ourselves. Steve is fine, everything is fine. It was just a prank."

Tony's chest felt like it was going to cave in. His vision was starting to spot and he felt himself swaying. Christ, he hoped he wasn't about to faint. Talk about embarrassing. He glanced toward the ceiling. "You were in on this, too, huh, Jay?"

"Afraid so, sir."

"I need...I need to sit down..." Tony scrambled toward the tub and dropped down onto the fat rim. His head was swimming, his pulse racing. But holy hell was he glad Steve was alive. Pepper, Georgia, Clint, and Steve smiled at him tenderly, their eyes alive with mischief. Steve knelt beside the tub and clapped Tony on the knee. "Sorry, buddy, didn't mean to scare ya...just wanted to surprise you."

Everyone laughed and Tony just sort of pouted. He was glad Steve was alive but he still needed to vomit and he hated that he let them see him get so emotional. Especially over the Captain.

"Well, it's official..."

They looked at Tony in confusion.

"You four have ruined Halloween for me."

June 4th, 2013

Georgia chewed the tip of her pen, her foot tapping lightly against the carpeted floor. The L.A. staff was waiting for her answer. The gaggle of young college interns who were watching from the corner were anxious and on the edge of their seats as they, like her employees, listened intently to hear her decision. Georgia inhaled deeply through her nose and dropped the pen onto the table. Her face settled with a fine confidence. She nodded. "Go with the red."

"Yes," Todd hissed, his fist balling in victory. He shot Damien a cocky smirk. "She's going with the red."

"Yeah," Damien rolled his eyes, yanking down the green team's poster board, the one blueprinting his proposal. "I heard."

"Now, now, boys," Georgia called playfully. "Let's keep the sibling rivalry for family holidays, shall we?"

A few of the other staff members snickered as the brothers fired off insults at one another. Slowly, the reps began to file out of the room when Jeanine, Georgia's secretary, came bursting into the room. Her almond eyes were wide, her pale lips quivering. "I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him but he-"

"Clint?" Georgia gaped as the familiar All-American blur of blonde hair and blue eyes darted into the board room. "What-" She surveyed the room, full of her employees and coworkers. Her words came out as an embarrassed growl, her cheeks flaming red. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Clint snapped. He shoved passed the Asian secretary to glare vehemently at Georgia. "What in the hell are doing here?"

"What am I doing here? You're in my office!"

"No. Your office is in New York. This-" Clint snarled, gaze raking over the room in disgust. "-is not your office."

Georgia glared at him so fiercely that Clint nearly stepped back. Thankfully, he was so blinded by his own anger that he failed to weigh the significance of her malicious stare. Georgia's lips parted to fire off a retort when she paused to pin her employees with an equally harsh look. "Everyone out. Now."

The Stark Industries PR reps fled the room with a swiftness. Georgia slammed the door after them and closed the blinds to her office. She whirled on Clint, slapping his chest and shoving him back. "What in the hell is your problem?! Have you lost your fucking mind?! How dare you! How da-"

"You ran away!" Clint shouted in his defense. "You ran away like a child. You're stronger than this, G. Or, at least, I thought you were."

"I ran away? Me? That is such horseshit coming from you!"

Clint scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you are an asshole and a hypocrite. I'm not the one running away here. You are. You got scared and you bolted and that's fine, whatever. I dealt with it. But now you're going to burst in here like a mad man and-"

"Because running away to Los Angeles is really dealing with it."

Georgia wanted to slap Clint smack dab in his smug face. Who the hell did he think he was? Anger cascading off of her in waves, Georgia stalked forward until she was an inch from Clint's chest and growled, "I didn't run away, you fucking asshole. My former boss is out on pregnancy leave. I'm just here temporarily until they find her a replacement. I'll be back in New York before the end of the month."

Each word sliced into Clint like a paper cut between the fingers. Her words were so perfectly articulated, meant to stab at his ego, her t's and k's clicking against her teeth like knives against a target. Then, that strange sensation happened again – someone pressed the 'mute' button on Clint's life. Everything around him drowned out and Clint was left feeling…empty. And like an asshole.

Georgia crossed her arms over her chest and curled her lips in repugnance. "Yes, please, go ahead and feel like the self-righteous son of a bitch you are…" Squaring her jaw, Georgia gazed out her office window, moister gathering in her gaze. When the spoke again, there was an underlying tremor in her voice, the words soft against her tongue. "Are you trying to make this harder, Clint? What? It's not enough that you broke up with me, you have to pull bullshit stunts like this, too?"

Before he could answer, Georgia stepped around him and collapsed into the rolley chair behind her desk. She refused to look at him, Natasha's words burning against her skull. God, she hoped this worked. "Please, leave," she begged, her voice a whisper.

"G, I'm…I'm sorry." Clint stepped back. He stuffed his hands numbly into the pockets of his dark wash jeans. All of his anger had vanished. She hadn't run away at all. He had. He was such an idiot. Clint's tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he fought to find the right words. He took a moment to just look at her. For weeks, he'd been closing his eyes and picturing her face – the gentle roundness of her chin and cheeks, her too-wide blue eyes, her slender nose. Then, his daydreams would move lower to her perfect breasts and waist and then even lower to her fantastic legs. Gazing at her now, Clint felt his throat dry up. Damn, she looked good. Drained and sad, but good. Clint sighed. He had done this to her; he had drained her. "Georgia, I, uh…I didn't-"

"No, I get it. You thought that after you dumped me I'd just completely fall apart and run away like a, what did you say, like a child?"

His cheeks tinted pink and Clint shuffled awkwardly. "And now I'm the one acting childish."

Georgia smirked cruelly. "Bingo."

The quarreling duo fell silent for a moment, Clint teetering on his heels, Georgia staring pensively out the window. He felt like an asshole. She felt nauseous. Eventually, she turned to face him with a heartbreaking glance. "Why did you come out here, Clint?"

The super secret badass stammered in a way that would have been adorable in any other situation. "W-well, you, um, I thought you'd…you know, left so I…"

"Followed me to the other side of the country?"

"Yeah," Clint shrugged, as if it all made perfect sense. But it didn't. Georgia frowned at the floor. Why would he come out here, why would he be so angry, if he broke up with her? Unless he still cared for her, as Georgia and Natasha hoped. Perhaps he had never stopped liking her. He simply valued her safety over her happiness, and his own. Biting her lip, Georgia cleared her throat and asked, "I'm guessing you hadn't really thought passed storming in my office?"

"Not really," Clint admitted bashfully, having the decency to blush a little. He scratched the back of his neck and wondered if there was a hole somewhere he could just crawl into and die.

Georgia sighed and rose to her feet. She pocketed her cellphone before withdrawing her clutch purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and tucking it under her arm. "Then I'm assuming that you are free for the evening? I, um, I want to show you something. Just as friends."

For less than a second, Clint debated whether or not to decline her offer. Then again, Clint always had been a curious man. He held open the door for her. "Where to?"

They drove through twenty minutes worth of palm tree lined avenues and eventually arrived at a neat row of beachfront homes, each with their white picket fences separating sand from surf, and their perfectly groomed flowers, hanging in pots from the porches and under windows. Clint's brow drew into a crease as Georgia directed him to a blue house with white shutters. "This is the house where I grew up," she stated as he eased the car to a stop near the curb.

Clint couldn't have been more surprised if she'd taken her top off as they rode down Sunset Boulevard. Georgia smiled tightly at him, her hand on the door handle, "Come on, Clint. It's time to meet the parents. But no worries. Since we're not dating anymore, no pressure, right?"

He couldn't believe this was happening. He was having dinner with Georgia's parents…and he absolutely loved it. There was a nice breeze drifting off the ocean that wafted over the Downes' back deck were they sat at a cozy picnic table. Taking a sip of his Corona, Clint let the refreshing beer mix with the buttery taste of lobster on his tongue. Then, Georgia's mother made some comment or another and Clint felt his shoulders shake with laughter. He glanced over at Georgia. She flashed him a smile that mirrored his own and Clint tried not to feel so proud about the way her father kept shooting him approving glances across the table. Christ, this felt good. It was the first time he'd been truly relaxed in weeks. What was it with the people in her family?

They were perfect. And, apparently, came preprogrammed with the superpower of making people feel at home no matter what.

When they'd first pulled up to the curb of Georgia's childhood home, Clint had felt apprehensive. Meeting the parents – what every man dreads. Meeting the father – what every man fears. And Clint had been afraid. Almost terrified. He could face aliens and terrorists; he was fully equipped to battle those types. But his arsenal of intelligence and weapons were useless against Alan Downes. Even though he and Georgia were no longer…well, whatever they had been, Clint still felt the need to impress her father and, what's worse, felt the need to be accepted by her father.

Only, his fears were completely unwarranted. Mr. Downes had been nothing but charming, and Clint could see exactly where Georgia got it from. When Georgia introduced them, Mr. Downes had smiled, shook Clint's hand, and asked, "You like beer, son? If you say yes, you better say Corona. Nothing else comes through that front door. Got a six pack in the fridge if you're interested."

Georgia looked exactly like her father. They had the same button nose, same chin, same too-wide blue eyes. Clint was amazed that two people could look so alike while one was an incredibly beautiful woman, the other an insanely masculine grown man. She, however, looked nothing like her mother. Catherine Downes was a very lovely woman. She was short and stout, unlike her tall daughter and husband. She had small, dark eyes, and thin lips. The only thing Georgia and her mother had in common was their beautiful, dark hair. Mrs. Downes had a radiant personality. There was something in the way she carried herself and in the feel of her home. Two steps in the door, Clint had felt comfortable, at ease.

Allie, Georgia's sister whom he'd met a few times, was the same way. They were a charming, easy going bunch. They were good people, hard-working people, and it baffled Clint that Georgia had known such love and warmth her entire life. It was the kind of childhood that people like him could only dream of. Honest to God, they were the perfect family.

Sitting there, at the edge of the ocean, dining on fresh lobster and shrimp, chatting easily with the couple who had raised the most wonderful person he'd ever met, Clint realized with a stabbing pain that this was exactly what he wanted. Maybe not the ocean, maybe not the house, but he wanted this. He wanted a family. He wanted people he could love and depend on and relax with. Not just a team, not just friends, not just more soldiers and killers and heroes. He wanted people to laugh with and play board games. People to have a beer with and watch a football game. He wanted the normal, boring slice of America that you see on TV.

But he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

Clint wanted to be normal, but he simply wasn't. He was a fighter. He couldn't just walk away and get a desk job, working the nine to five. He needed to work with his hands and his brain and his body. He needed the adrenaline, the rush, the danger, and the satisfaction afterwards of knowing he'd saved someone, that he'd helped the world.

He wanted both.

At one point, Georgia had been willing to give him that. Or, at least, try. Unfortunately, he'd screwed it all up. Now, as he sat on her parents' back patio, he couldn't help but feel a little Corona buzz and think about how beautiful she looked under the moonlight.

God, it'd been so long since they'd had sex.

Then, abruptly, dinner was over and the Downes were clearing the table. His body moved on autopilot, helping carry dishes into the kitchen and working to clear the table. But Mrs. Downes would have nothing of that. She shoo'ed him away, and Georgia, and suddenly they were walking down the beach, little waves lazily licking their feet as they strolled across the sand.

"They're wonderful," Clint told Georgia.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. It was a soft smile, a gentle one. "Aren't they, though? …growing up, almost every friend I had came from a family of divorce. Everyone I knew had a step-mom or –dad. My grandparents on my mom's side were divorced before I was even born; my grandpa is actually my mom's step-father. The couples I knew who managed to stick with their marriage, they were always miserable. You know, fighting or cheating or just unhappy."

Georgia kicked at the sand with her toes. She paused and Clint stopped at her side. "Singin' in the Rain was mine and Allie's favorite movie when we were little. We used to watch it over and over again. We could watch that movie six times in one day and never get tired of it. We used to wonder, 'Why isn't love like that in real life?' We'd try all day and never come up with a single couple whose love rivaled Don and Kathy. Then, one day, it just sort of hit me…our parents were that great couple. To this day, I've never met a couple more in love. And it's not even that their love is always passionate like a burning romance…it's that they stick it out together – marriage, life. They struggle along together. They always have one another's backs, even when one of them is wrong, even when things get tough. That's what a great love is."

Clint shuffled his feet in the sand. He glanced out at the ocean. It seemed to be never-ending, that vast, dark body of currents and waves. The moon light shimmered off the surface and Clint's gaze narrowed. Was that a dolphin way out? "I don't know if I can be Don, G."

He saw her bit her lip out the corner of his eye and felt her fingertips graze his arm. "I'm only asking that you try."

Clint's stomach did a few flips and he sighed when she snaked her hand down his arm to lace their fingers together. Had it always been so hard to resist her?

"Clint?"

Don't do it, Barton. Don't look at her. Don't-

Fuck, he looked.

"G," he sighed, his head drooping in shame. He was sorry he'd left. Even if he was doing it to try and protect her, he'd run away, like a coward, and he knew it. He'd left her. Then, he'd storm into her office like a lunatic and, man, could he just bury his head in the sand? He'd missed her. He'd been miserable without her. He missed her touch and her laugh and the way she made him feel. He missed their talks and, God, did he miss the sex.

"I know," Georgia murmured, her free hand cupping his cheek. She smoothed her thumb over the light growth of stubble on his face. "I know…"

She stood before him, terribly close, and he allowed his forehead to fall to hers. Her breath tickled his lips and suddenly Clint felt duped. "Why do I feel like this was your plan all along?"

Their lips barely brushed as he spoke and, when she smiled, his heart melted. She sort of blushed and squeezed his hand. "Well, technically, it wasn't my plan."

Clint asked, "Um, what?"

Two to Three Weeks Earlier

Clint was broody. More so than usual, and he was getting on everyone's nerves. When Natasha had caught wind that her former partner had finally broken up with the brunette from PR, she'd thought that Clint had come to his senses.

Apparently, she was wrong.

"Don't mistake my tolerance for you as forgiveness, Nat. I'm working with you because I have to. Tony needs the team to have his back right now but as soon as this thing blows over I'll happily go back to pretending you're dead," Clint had informed her before their first mission after getting back together as a team. He'd cornered her on the landing pad of the Helicarrier. His words had been shouted over the roar of a few fighter jets and, after he'd said his piece, he abruptly spun on his heels and stalked away.

Natasha pursed her lips as she watching him disappear up the back ramp of the Quinjet. Well, someone's holding a grudge.

Though Nat knew Clint was being ridiculous, she also realized that her teammates suspected she might be responsible for the agent's moody behavior. More importantly, they looked to her to fix whatever problem Clint seemed to be having. Fine, Natasha could accept that. She was Clint's friend, after all. One day, he would get over this shit and things would be back to normal between them. She wasn't going to give up on him now. Only, Natasha had no fucking clue what the problem was. So, naturally, the Black Widow did the reasonable thing and decided to treat Clint like a job.

She observed him often – which was a lot trickier than it sounds. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to shadow a guy with Clint's skills? It's practically impossible. Practically. She had him tracked using the GPS on his agency phone and monitored as many of his actions as she could. Then, when she had down time from work, she would fly to New York and observe another, the woman, Georgia Downes.

The brunette woman appeared to be just as downtrodden as Clint was and, after following her for several days, Natasha finally recognized the issue, the taste of bile tickling her tongue.

Clint and Georgia had fallen in love, but he'd broken it off.

He'd finally done what she'd asked, finally made the smart move, only it was too late; he was already lost to her. "God, you're an idiot, Clint," Natasha murmured, perched on a rooftop, eyes attached to a scope as she peered inside Georgia's home, her earpiece relaying all noise inside the small flat. She'd installed three bugs and a hidden camera inside the apartment earlier that week. Now, she listened to and watched the PR rep's every move.

The assassin hated to admit it, but three days into shadowing Georgia and she'd realized how ludicrous the idea of the woman being a spy was. Georgia had the coordination of a goldfish and the defensive skills of a squirrel. She could run away. That's pretty much all she had working for her. Plus – and here Nat really had to grind her teeth because she hates being wrong but – the snarky brunette actually seemed pretty decent. She was witty, quick on her feet, and had a sharp tongue that had made Tasha literally laugh out loud a few times when she'd been eavesdropping. The Widow also regretfully acknowledged that she shared a similar sense of fashion with Clint's ex, as well as approved of her taste in movies and music. Well, expect for Georgia's guilty pleasure film Mean Girls.

After a nine days of observations, Natasha knew what she had to do.

Georgia nearly fainted when she'd opened her apartment door to the Black Widow. She swayed on the spot, eyes wide, hand gripping the door for support. "If you're here to kidnap me again, don't waste your time. Clint dumped me."

"I know," muttered Natasha. She breezed past Georgia into the apartment, heading immediately for the bedroom. She withdrew Georgia's suitcase from the closet and set about the room, packing Georgia's bag.

"What are you doing? And why did you know where that was? Why…why do you know where all of my stuff is? Hey!"

Natasha stopped. The Widow motioned for Georgia to take a seat on the bed. When the brunette hesitated, Nat tossed her the signature 'Really?' and Georgia regretfully slipped over and popped down on the mattress. "What's happening?"

"Tori Tate is pregnant. She'll be taking maternity leave in-"

"How do you know Tori?" Georgia gasped. Geez, did this lady know everything? Georgia knew she was a spy but wasn't keeping tabs on Georgia's former boss going a bit extreme?

Natasha quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Do you love Clint?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Do. You. Love. Clint?" The Widow repeated herself. "It's not a difficult question. Answer yes, or no. Either way, I need to know. If you love him, I will help you get him back. I have a plan. It will work. If not, I will walk out that door right now and you'll never see either of us again. Personally, I couldn't give two shits less, but I think that Clint loves you and as his best friend it's my job to make sure that he's happy. Given that this is partly my fault anyway, it's only fair that I make this right. Now, do you love Clint or not?"

June 4th, 2013

"Natasha planned it all. She was the one who arranged for me to come back to LA. She knew you'd notice eventually and that, when you did, you'd come storming back over here. She also knew meeting my family could break you…she thinks…" Georgia's stomach twisted in nervous knots. "…she thinks we should try and make this work."

She thinks we love each other.

Clint blinked. He'd been played. Georgia and Natasha had played him. Together. What the fuck?

"I don't…" he began. His brow furrowed and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. He took a deep breath. "Huh."

Georgia bit her lip. "Yep…I'm sorry we manipulated you but it was the only way we could make you see how much of a little bitch you're being."

He couldn't stop the laugh of surprise that came stumbling out of his mouth. He grinned, really grinned, and he finally felt the crushing weight lift off his chest. Two months without her, and now he could finally breathe again. He was so tired of being strong, of forcing himself to stay away from her and stop thinking about her and…and not admitting to himself that he had fallen in love with her. Clint studied the freckles that spanned over the bridge of her tanned nose. She was so beautiful and kind and had the heart of a lion. She had made him love her. She had been relentless and daring and…fucking perfect. Just like that, there were no more questions, no more hesitations of guilt or worry. He wouldn't worry because he would protect her. He wouldn't feel guilty because he would never allow anyone to hurt her. Ever. Because she was his woman, damn it.

Clint gazed at their intertwined hands. He teased his thumb over her knuckles, casting a glance back at her parent's house. "Is this your way of asking me to go steady?"

Georgia smiled bravely but her vulnerability shone in her eyes. "This is my way of asking you not to bail again when things get hard."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the tops of her fingers. "I won't," he promised. Then, he pulled her down in the sand, drawing her into his lap. She straddled him on the beach, the ocean tickling their toes, as he captured her mouth with his for the most glorious kiss of his entire life. With one kiss, she brought back to life everything in him that had been lying dormant for weeks. Everything about who he was that Clint liked, she brought it out in him. She made him a better lover, a better friend, a better agent. She made him a better man.

"Clint," Georgia pleaded against his mouth, her fingers fisting in his shirt, holding him close. She surrendered herself to him completely. That sheer trust that he wouldn't break her heart again shattered Clint. It was hopeless. He was lost to her now, forever.

He buried his fingers in her thick, dark locks and kissed her until her lips were full and pink. When he drew away, gasping for air, he rested his forehead on hers and peppered kisses over her cheeks and placed one very tender kiss on the tip of her nose. Her arms snaked around his waist, over his shirt, but beneath his jacket. They cuddled together, sharing the warmth of their bodies so closely joined together. "I missed you, G," he confessed. He'd never said those words to another person before in his life. The only people he'd ever missed were those who were dead. When Georgia flashed him a breathtaking smile, Clint wondered if she somehow understood the gravity of his words. Bringing her fingertips to his face, Georgia traced the curve of his lips and shivered when he kissed the pad of her thumb, "I missed you, too…very much. It was pretty annoying actually."

Once more, Clint laughed at the wonderful woman in his arms and he wrapped her in a crushing hug. He would never let her go again.

"Oh, and um," Georgia pulled back just a tad. "You know you're not completely off the hook, right? I had to go to Lanie's wedding alone because of you."

Clint's eyes grew into saucers. He'd completely forgotten that he agreed to be her escort to her cousin's wedding. "I am such an asshole."

Georgia snickered. "You said it, pal."

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Because Natasha says so! (And you don't want to get kidnapped by Natasha, do you?)