The release of the Endgame trailer has me hype, so I thought I'd revisit this lovely little thing. I've made the transition to AO3, find me there as LT_Aldo_Raine, if ya fancy. I may move this story over to that platform and resume updates there.

Hope you enjoy! xx

July 14th, 2016

As soon as Georgia opened the door to her apartment, she knew Clint had returned. She could feel it. "Clint?"

"In the bedroom."

She dropped her keys and the day's mail by the door, bolting down the hallway. "Babe, I'm so glad you're home. I've missed..." Her words trailed off as she reached the door of their bedroom and saw Clint lying shirtless across the bed, his hands cuffed to the bedposts. She couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up her throat at the (semi-) surprising scenario before her. "Well, hello, Hawkeye..."

Georgia straddled her husband, still fully clothed, and dipped her mouth to greet his. Leaning up to meet her, Clint kissed his wife so thoroughly that she shivered from it. It was a kiss of longing, fierce and demanding. It was the first kiss they'd shared in two months.

He nipped her lips with his teeth as he pulled away, breathless. "Hey, baby."

Georgia cupped his face in her hands, leaning back to survey his seemingly bruise-free chest. "Any injuries?"

"No ma'am."

"The rest of the team is safe?"

"Yes ma'am."

Georgia grinned, pecking his lips once more. "Good." She sat back on his thighs, her finger playing across the hard panes of his abdomen and stomach. "I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I have to say... This is one of your best homecomings yet."

Half an hour later, her clothes, like his, had vanished, and one of Clint's hands had been freed from the cuffs.

"You know, we're going to be exhausted come morning if we don't slow down," the spy muttered, his lips gently teasing his wife's collarbone, hips rocking solidly against her while her fingers fisted in his hair.

"Don't you dare slow down."

"You're gonna be sore, G," his murmured, sweetly.

She gave a breathless pant. "I don't mind."

"In that case..."

He kissed her fiercely, and with one, strong masterful stroke, Clint drove himself deep inside her.

He threw his head back and growled at the warm, sleek heat of her body. The feel of it shook him so profoundly that, for a mere second, his eyes stung from the pleasure. God, how he'd missed her those last nine weeks. Damn if she'd didn't feel better than he remembered. His breathing ragged, he looked down at her—rounded cheeks flushed red, too-wide blue eyes dazed with lust, lips puffy and stuck in a pout. She blinked languidly, teeth catching her bottom lip as her fingers found his hips and dung into the flesh of his sides.

She sighed his name.

Clint felt her body so warm and tight around him. He ran his hand down her arm to capture her hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

"God, I missed you," she whispered, her eyes warm and sincere as she brought their hands to her mouth. She gently kissed his fingers, swirling her tongue around his thumb and nipping the digit playfully with her teeth. "I'm so glad you're home, baby."

As he fucked her with long, powerful strokes, Georgia wrapped her legs around him, her free hand coiling around his bicep. She loved the way his muscles flexed and moved against her skin. She brought her lips to his chest, trailing a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses to the base of his throat. She ran her tongue along the column of his throat and delighted as Clint responded with a series of shivers and low moans.

He groaned her name, burying his face in her breasts, and pulled his hips back ever so slowly, torturing her, before driving himself back into her so deep that she gasped and bucked against him. She would never get tired of this, of the incredible sensation of him filling her so completely, of the lithe, agile power of his body against hers. Reveling in the powerful feel of him, she ran her hand from his bicep over his shoulder down to his hip where she urged him on. "Clint."

Clint hissed as she dug her nails into his side, the sharp pinch sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. "Look at me, G," he said, thrusting deep inside her again. "Look at me, baby. I wanna...need to see you."

Georgia's eyes flew open, searching for his. Clint's gaze was half-shuttered, and every time he rocked into her, Georgia savored the look of ecstasy that flashed across his face. Lifting her hips, she met his frenzied pace stroke for stroke. Before Clint, she had never imagined that sex could feel this consistently good. The majority of her previous lovers had been young and inexperienced, or simply selfish lovers, more concerned with their own pleasure than hers. That was never the case with Clint.

Sliding further down between her legs, Clint dropped his head to kiss her deeply. He took her top lip between his teeth and drew his hips back, pulling out of her. Then, he bit down on her lip just as he drove himself in to the hilt. Georgia screamed, quivering, and Clint smirked devilishly. "Liked that, did you?" he growled as he rotated his hips and gave her one luscious caress deep inside her.

It took every ounce of self-control she had not to quake at the look her gave her. "It was...it was okay."

"Okay?" he said with a laugh. "Guess I'll have to try harder, then."

He shifted, rolling them slowly until she was on top of him. She balanced herself, laying both palms flat on his chest, and began to work herself on him. Clint's pleasure was obvious, his eyes following her bouncing breasts, his hands gripping her hips with an almost bruising intensity. Grinning wickedly, Georgia lifted her hips, then plunged down on him even deeper as she scraped her nails over his hardened nipples. Clint tensed beneath her, his muscles quaking, and Georgia laughed. "Liked that, did you?"

"It was okay," he huffed, but his ragged tone betrayed his nonchalance. Georgia loved to see Clint come undone beneath her, but she wanted more. She wanted to see the pleasure on his face as he rode out his orgasm, wanted to know that no one—no one—could make him feel as good as she could. Meeting him halfway, Georgia kissed her husband senseless as he began thrusting faster and harder until they were both coming undone. After, as their breathing evened out and the sweat began to cool, Clint tucked Georgia into his side and pressed a sweet kiss to her temple. She reciprocated, brushing her lips over his heart, murmuring dreamily, "Love you."

"Love you more."

September 21st, 2017

They were six rounds of drinks into their evening when Allie Downes spotted Clint's camcorder and was struck with a marvelous idea. Twenty minutes later, Georgia's little sister stood behind the Nikon as acting director. The lens was focused on Natasha and Georgia, both giggly and wobbly, carrying couch cushions across the living room, bobbing the cushions and pretending to rock as if atop a sea of waves.

"Aaaaand, action!" shouted Allie, bringing her hand down forcefully, giving Clint his cue.

Suddenly, the archer barrel-rolled into the sequence. Remaining in his crouched position, Clint stuck his arms out and pointedly began to chop at the couch cushions, declaring loudly, "Nom...nom...!"

Georgia faked a shriek, dramatically clutching the cushion her husband was currently devouring with his arms, and behind the camera, Allie nodded to Natasha. It was time to deliver the fated line. The redheaded assassin looked straight into the lens, pinning the Nikon with a deadly look, and spat, "You're gonna need a bigger ship."

"Damnit, Nat!" Clint growled, flopping to the floor theatrically while his wife dropped the cushion in protest. She spun on her sister-in-law and snapped, "BOAT! Its 'you're gonna need a bigger BOAT'!"

Natasha merely shrugged and reached for her margarita on the fireplace mantel. She took a nonchalant sip before snickering, "Here's to looking at you, kid."

"Oh, god," Clint moaned. "That's not even the right film!"

On the couch—sans cushions—, Steve Rogers watched the scene unfold with a painful sobriety, a casual downside of the serum. "You know, I saw that film in theatres..." The man out of time smiled softly at the lovely redhead who'd thwarted the reenactment. "You did great," he told her, earning him a playful wink.

Behind the Nikon, Allie sighed and clapped the camera shut. "Well, so much for my directorial debut. Thanks, Nat."

The woman in question took another sip of margarita. Flashed another smirk. "I look forward to receiving my Oscar nomination."

Steve smiled wider; the others merely groaned.

November 19th, 2012

From his perch above the fray, Clint's voice crackled through the team's COMM link. "Heads up. There's something going on in the fourth quadrant. Eaglestone's men are running scared."

"Obviously, they heard us knocking," Tony quipped. Boosters already turning the suit in the offending direction, he muttered, "I'll do a fly-by and check it out."

Shifting, the archer re-positioned himself for a better look. There was a frantic manner to the mercenaries' scatter pattern. They weren't fighting at all—they were fleeing. The cowardly behavior was not aligned to what the Avengers knew about Eaglestone and his henchmen, who, though guns-for-hire, had stayed and fought to the last man at both of their previous encounters with earth's mightiest heroes. This wasn't right. Clint knew, something was up.

That's when the hawk spotted it. "Shit, guys, we've got a bomb."

"Make and model?" Nat's voice crackled over the line.

"Hard to tell, but from this angle, looks like an I.E.D."

"How nice. I love a homemade gift."

"Stark," the captain chided, sternly. Steve asked Clint, "How's it looking?"

The archer notched an arrow in his bow, eyes never leaving the explosive device as he drew the string and let the arrow fly. He knew without seeing that he'd made his target. "Like if that thing goes off it might hurt for a second."

"The village of Banamba is moments away from being party confetti and the Hawk's got jokes. How come I don't see you shaking a finger at him, huh Rogers?"

Deep in the jungle surrounding Eaglestone's compound, Steve landed a punch solidly across the jaw of one of the arms dealer's mercenaries. "My fingers are a little busy, Stark. Now, can you disarm this thing, or what?"

"Is this a Code Green?" Bruce was stuck in the Quinjet in a clearing on the other side of the jungle, pacing and praying this raid didn't go sideways. He really didn't want to see the Other Guy today. Nonetheless, these people were his team, his friends, and so, despite the slight hesitation in his chest, Bruce offered meekly, "Tony, do you need the Hulk to swallow it?"

"Thanks, Banner, but I think I can manage."

His breathing ragged, Steve ordered, "Banner, keep on standby, just in case. Nat, Thor—on me."

While Steve continued the charge for the compound with the redhead assassin and the God of Thunder on his flank, Tony began tinkering with the bomb, the mask on his Iron Man suit flipped open for a better visual, and Clint carried on sniping from his perch in a fat baobab tree. As he released countless shots, his legs dangling freely, he thought aloud, "Ya know, I'm starting to get why Rafiki liked his tree house so much."

"Having fun up there, Hawk?" teased Bruce, the worry only slightly evident in his tone.

Clint smirked, "A little bit."

There came a sudden grunt, followed by a hollow thud. Another mercenary fallen, defeated by the Star Spangled Man. Seconds later, Steve asked, "What's a Rafiki?"

"Oh come on, Cap, you've never seen The Lion King?" asked Natasha coyly as she tased two armed guards at once.

"Can't say I have."

"Nor have I," declared Thor, his thunderous voice booming through the COMM link. "Where does this king of lions live?"

Snickering, Clint clarified. "Its a film, buddy. A kids' movie."

"Shit—!" Tony abruptly cut through the banter. Steve responded immediately, all levity now absent from his speech. "Stark, what's the situation?"

"Not—uh, good."

"Not good?" echoed Bruce. "Should I—?"

Natasha ducked from oncoming rifle fire, hiding behind the trunk of a felled tree. "How much time do we have left?"

"Ten."

Steve frowned. "Ten what?" He rounded on a Jeep parked at the compound entrance, dropping to his knees just in time to miss a mortar round to the face. Steve lifted his shield as he rose back to his feet, knocking down two mercenaries in the process. He pressed his palm flat over his ear, the communications device nestled snugly between his hand and his inner ear. "Ten what, Stark?

Static filled the COMM. Then—, "Nine….eight…"

"Tony, get out of there! Now!" Steve ordered. The captain then called for the entire team to fall back to the jet. Clint took one final shot—one movement, two arrows, both targets hit—, then secured his bow across his shoulders before he began to make his descent down the vine-covered baobab. In the distance, he could see the Iron Man suit still hovering over the I.E.D. "Stark, you heard the Cap. Get out of there, now."

"Tony, why are you still there?" Bruce shouted through the line, a touch of panic in his words.

"...four...three..."

"Move, Metal Man!" Thor demanded as he swung his hammer and shot up like a rocket into the clear skies above.

"Tony-" Steve shouted. "Do you copy? Clear out, Stark!"

There was silence on the COMMs and tense beat lapsed as the Avengers waited for the bomb to detonate. Only, the explosion never came. Instead, the billionaire's voice rang out, "Just kidding, guys. The bomb's fine. I disarmed it five minutes ago. I'm just trying to figure out where they sourced this-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Clint sighed, then promptly began hauling himself back up into his perch. "Christ, Stark. Not funny."

"I agree," Steve declared, his tone like steel, causing both Natasha and Clint to snicker. No doubt Tony would be read the riot act over this for the next week, at least.

"Uh, sorry, not sorry." Tony flipped his facemask shut and kicked off the ground, spiraling toward the Eaglestone compound. "I did just save you guys from a bomb, ya know."

There came a sigh. "Yes, but you-"

"Guys, can we stop arguing? C'mon," Bruce mumbled. "Its gotta be bad for team morale, especially in the middle of a fire fight."

"Uh oh. Bruce is getting angry."

"No, I just think that we should focus here, okay, Tony?"

"Bruce is right," Natasha chimed in just as a brilliant strike of lightning lit up the sky courtesy of their friend from Asgard. Five mercenaries were taken out by the blast, and Thor stood proudly before the circle of unconscious henchmen. Thrusting his hammer skyward, he conjured another round of deadly lightning, declaring, "Our friends are right. We should focus on the task at hand. Though they are puny, they are many..."

"Of course, Point Break. We'll stop, pal. Because we wouldn't want to make Bruce angry."

In his tree, Clint let another arrow fly and rolled his eyes at Tony's ill-timed sense of humor.

"Stark, don't," Steve barked. Yet despite the warning, Tony carried on jovially, "We won't like him when he's angry…"

Bruce sighed, dropping into a seat on the Quinjet to scrub his hands over his face. "I need to find a new job."

Clint chuckled and notched yet another arrow. "You and me, both, buddy."

June 30th, 2017

Clint met Georgia on the steps of Stark Tower one night after his wife got off work.

"Perfect timing. I'm starving." Georgia kissed her husband's cheek, pressing into his side as Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Where should we go?"

"I'm feeling Tex-Mex."

"We could check out that burrito place by the new apartment?"

Clint tried to stop her as Georgia began hailing a taxi. "We don't need one. There's a car on the way."

"A car? What, did you finally break down and let Tony hire a driver for you?"

"No," Clint said simply. "I ordered an Uber."

"You did not. You fucking hipster! Steve is going to be so disappointed. This is New York City, a city known for its taxis! What's wrong with taking a taxi, huh? They have a union, you know."

"There's nothing wrong with taxis other than the fact that they're twice as slow and four times the price."

A quiet moment passed.

"That's fair," Georgia conceded just as a yellow checkered cab saddled up to the curb. Leaning down, she waved at the driver. "Nevermind. We got an Uber. Have a good night."

And just as the cabbie pulled away, the Bartons heard the driver vehemently mutter, "Fucking Uber."

April 3rd, 2018

Someone was after them.

Someone was after the Avengers and it was bad. The situation was bad enough that at 3am, Georgia was hauled out of bed by an alarmingly calm Maria Hill and lead to some super secret underground bunker at Stark Tower. It wasn't terribly large because of the subway—the subterranean transportation system didn't leave much room for Stark to build as elaborate a bunker as the billionaire would have liked—, but there was a secured room with food, running water, and electricity. There was also an extensive system of escape tunnels.

Pepper, of course, was there alongside Georgia and Agent Hill. So was Jane, Thor's human lover, and her quirky assistant Darcy. Once the bunker was secure, Georgia and Pepper expected Hill to leave, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent merely made herself comfortable, monitoring the tri-screen security video display. She was staying, it appeared, to guard them, to protect them. And that was when Georgia realized it was worse than bad—because if Hill was willing to sit out of the action, then she must have seen the absolute necessity of her being there to guard them.

She must have believed that someone was coming, someone determined enough to find them.

And they did come. Androgynous figures donned in black Kevlar from head-to-toe carrying all manner of assault rifles. They came in droves by the dozen, descending in a swarm like bees in a hive. Agent Hill tried her damnest to defend the lovers of the Avengers, and her damnest was enough to buy them a few minutes time. A few precious minutes that were long enough for Darcy, Jane, and Pepper to slip into one of the secret tunnel escapes and disappear into the complex subway system below. But not long enough for Georgia to follow them.

The brunette heard the thunderous footsteps only seconds behind them and knew that they were going to be captured. As Darcy stumbled through the portal before her, Georgia saw a window of opportunity—and she took it. "Keep running," she shouted. "Don't stop. Get out of the city. Use only Stark tech that's been encrypted or else they'll track you. Try to stay off security and traffic cams." Georgia recited the instructions that Natasha and Clint had drilled into her—their Doomsday contingency plan. "Be safe and stick together."

"What're you-?" Darcy began, but she was interrupted by Pepper's desperate yell, "Georgia, no!"

On the threshold of the portal, Georgia gripped the maintenance door's spiral handle. She looked passed Darcy and Jane to meet her dear friend's frightened gazed. "Sorry, Peppermint." Summoning every ounce of strength she had, Georgia hauled the door shut and spun the spiral handle, locking it in place. For the space of a single breath, she was alone in the underground tunnel.

Then—she was surrounded.

No less than half-a-dozen guns were leveled on her person. Georgia fought the panic that seized her as she stared down the barrel of the rifle nearest her face and blinked in the harsh glare of the tactical lights mounted to their weapons. One of the hooded figures spoke, presumably into a COMM device. "We got a live one... Understood."

The dark figure nodded to another, and suddenly, there came a swift movement and a pinch in Georgia's neck. "Fuck," she snapped, hand flying instinctively to cradle the side of throat. The assailants did not lower their weapons as Georgia stood, frozen and blinking. "Who are you? What do you want? Where's...?"

Where's Agent Hill? Where's Maria? What have you done to her?

But Georgia couldn't ask any more questions. The edges of her vision began to blur, her tongue seeming to swell in her mouth, her throat growing dry. Her eyelids felt heavy, too heavy; she couldn't... She would close them only for a moment.

Georgia's world went black.

A short while later in Moscow:

The phone rang twice before Clint answered. "Sit-rep, Hill?"

The archer felt rather than heard his co-worker's sigh. When she spoke, the quake in her voice was noticeable and it made Clint's chest clench. "We have a level five crisis situation."

"Fuck-!" Clint swore, earning the attention of his teammates. Tony was at his side immediately, "What's the news, Barton? How's Pepper? Are the girls alright?"

Clint put the phone on speaker and told Hill to debrief the team.

"They found us. I'm sorry... I tried to—" Agent Hill swallowed back her tears of guilt and frustration. She shut down on her unsteady emotions and forced herself to be the agent she was. "Pepper, Jane, and Darcy made it out through the tunnels. I'll start tracking them immediately. But Georgia—"

The room tensed. Natasha was suddenly at Clint's side, her hand hovering on his shoulder. The archer's eyes closed of their own accord as a he was steamrolled by dozens of visions of his wife's death, each more gorey and horrific than the last.

"I'm sorry, Clint. Georgia was taken."

I have plans for at least two other chapters of this story (the final chapter has been planned for a while). They'll be posted eventually. Thank you to anyone still reading this, despite my flaky posting!