AN I don't own Marvel or any of the characters. Tony's grand entrance has finally come! Warnings for (consensual) choking/asphyxiation later on. Enjoy!

Natasha was with Clint when Coulson appeared again, bearing that knowing look. She allowed him into the room with a flick of her hand but didn't stop massaging Clint on her bed, letting her touch linger in the most affectionate of ways because she saw nothing wrong with Coulson seeing this. Coulson had been the one to assign her Clint in the first place, after all. But the senior agent stepped into the room, took one look at Clint, and almost bolted. Figured. She whispered a reassurance to Clint and then pushed Coulson out into the hall.

"What the hell was that?!" Her voice was harsher than she meant but Coulson was still sputtering.

"I- I could say the same to you! He's practically naked!" She rolled her eyes.

"Please! He's an archer he pulled a muscle in his shoulder, relax." But Coulson did not relax.

"Natasha, I don't think you realize the gravity of this situation even I haven't seen him without a shirt on and I practically raised him!" She heard the indignance and shock in his voice but she just shrugged. She knew about the scars but she'd never asked or told anyone else about them. Their relationship was more.. confidential.

"Did you want something or just come to gawk?"

"I got another one. He's gonna be hard to crack." She just shrugged. They all were hard to crack, that's what made Coulson bring them to her.

Coulson showed her to an interrogation room. For a second, she honestly thought he was going to interrogate her but she knew better by now. If Coulson wanted answers from her, he would just ask her straight up. But Coulson just gestured to the observation window. Inside was a man, sitting in the metal chair with his feet up on the table, reclining in a very expensive suit with sunglasses on. Indoors. Arrogant, she could sense it through the glass, and sure of himself but all that attitude had to be covering something. She stepped into the room. Immediately his eyes flicked up and she saw him process her: body, sex, female.

"Hey sweet cheeks could you grab me a double shot latte with cream no sugar?" She rolled her eyes, though, dramatically and pushed his feet off the table. They hit the floor with an unceremonious thud.

"Call me that ever again and I'll make you regret it." He stiffened at the threat, unconsciously, so she dialed it back a bit. "If you want coffee get it yourself." He sat up and looked at her, taking off his sunglasses. His eyes were a deep brown and actually kind of intriguing to look at but she dismissed that detail to her file in her mind for later. Now, she faced him. Him and that fucking arrogant smirk.

"Well aren't we the fiesty one, little red?" She glared but it was so fast it was basically an instinct more than a reaction. Yes, this one would definitely be getting on her nerves.

"It's ma'am to you, Brat." The man did a double take. She could tell just from watching him that he was used to getting what he wanted, and he was used to being listened too-obeyed. That was about to change, of course, but his shock as he felt the dynamic shift was still amusing to her. He looked at her like she couldn't believe she had the nerve to speak to him that way. Like he was surprised sweet cheeks didn't just bow her head and comply. His eyes narrowed into slits at her.

"What did you just say to me?" But, in an instant, she was inches from him. The firmness in his voice felt too much like him trying to take back control and she was not having that-not from him. She swung herself up onto the table sat on it, putting a foot on either side of him on the chair and leaning forward so she could look down into his eyes. His breath caught, obviously aroused, but she didn't let him get any closer.

"Address me as ma'am, my little brat, or I'll have to make sure the lesson can't be so easily forgotten." Now beneath her, the man's pupils widened in either fear or desire. Or both. Honestly, she wouldn't have been surprised if her taking control was a turn on for someone like him because it was usually the dominant, powerful men who were drawn to that but her goal wasn't to seduce him. He exuded control and confidence. She was going to break that.

"My bad, ma'am." He spat it out like an insult but it was the word she was looking for so she rewarded him with a sweet little smile. It was too sweet, too much of a warning, and anyone who knew her would have recognized that immediately but not this man. He was too focused on himself. But he fixed his posture into a slightly more submissive stance-correcting himself into what he thought she wanted-and she let it go for the time being.

"Better. I'd hate to have to punish you on our first day, Anthony." With that, she walked out. She was prepared to spend hours with this one, just like she had with Bruce, but she could see now that Stark was a long-term project. He wouldn't crack in a matter of days, or even weeks, and what he needed was much more complicated than calculus homework or cuddles. So she didn't push him hard or far on their first day, she left it at that, and merely mulled him over in her mind as she retreated to her room and waited for her other patients to arrive.

She spent the night with Steve curled around her, shaking and shivering even though she was sweating. She never minded, though. When she woke up, he'd already left for training so she just headed for the minimum security cell she'd been directed to. No time like the present, right? Tony was inside, still asleep on the cot.

"Rise and shine, baby, time for today's lesson." Tony stirred but groaned out some sort of refusal that sounded vaguely like five more minutes Friday. She ripped the blanket out from under him and flung him right onto the floor.

"Hey what the fuck!?" She stopped him with a single finger to his lips.

"Watch your mouth, pretty boy, or I'll have to watch it for you. When I see you, you will greet me with good morning ma'am." He sneered at her but just as quickly she slapped him across the face. Hard enough to sting, but nothing more. He hissed, glaring at her.

"Never make that face at me again. If I ask you a question you will respond with yes ma'am or no ma'am, understood?"

"Yes." She stroked a nail along his cheek in a slight threat. He was clearly no longer amused by her antics and debating breaking out, showing control, just to slip back into what he knew. But she couldn't have that.

"Yes what?" His eyes narrowed but from where he was-on his knees on the floor-he didn't have much power in their current situation.

"Yes ma'am." She smiled and smoothed her fingers gently over the red skin of his cheek.

"Good, now don't make me remind you again." Thus began the long discussion of limits and safewords and expectations. She was willing to give or compromise on almost anything except the fact that she was in control and he showed her respect. She told him it was because she was a higher rank in Shield-which she was-but it was because she was determined that this would help him. It would take time, but this was the best course of action.

Tony was a process, a project. He had a lot of arrogance and willpower but she was determined. He needed that trust, the sweetness of giving up control, but he wasn't going to just give it to anyone who asked, let alone her. With him, she was in it for the long haul. But, while long in duration, her work with him didn't take up all of her day every day so, in between sessions, she kept up on her other charges.

Peter and her got dinner twice a week at a burger place just outside the city limits where he worked. She quizzed him for his anthropology midterm and his Spanish test. When he went to the bathroom, she slid twenty dollars in ones into his jacket pockets. He was doing well, and she was glad to see it. He was still a kid, so it didn't have the same sense of freedom that Bruce did, but she was more than happy to see him coping and managing his life without falling apart. It was a lot, but he was learning well. She ended every dinner with a hug and a reassurance that she was proud of him.

As for Steve and Clint, she kept very good track of their schedules. If Coulson hadn't already been their handler, she would have gotten that title because she knew where they were at any given moment and she knew what happened the second it happened. If Steve so much as got a papercut, she knew about it. Clint was harder, because he did black ops still and was often overseas or classified, but she knew what she could and it was enough. For instance, she knew what time his plane got back from Tangier.

It was around one in the morning, dark and silent in the way New York nights are outside the city, and she met him on the tarmac. He was a mess. She didn't have to ask what happened because she didn't want him to break down trying to explain and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the details. She would push, if he needed her too, but otherwise it was easier not to know.

In the back of the Shield SUV, he was stiff and rough around the edges and they didn't speak until they were safely in her room. There, he just shattered. He hit the floor, not even making it to her bed, and just fell apart no matter how tightly she held him-and it scared her. She'd never seen him this bad, but she was determined to take care of him. So, he cried silently but she just hugged him and rubbed his back and smoothed his hair.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered but she shook her head. He stayed for cuddles that night, which was unusual when he was fresh off the plane, but she didn't mind. Usually, he preferred to spend the first night or two alone in his room and just regroup and shower and return back to whatever kind of normal he set his sights on. But that night, he needed the extra affection. And, just when she was sure he was going to leave, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and clung to her.

"Please can I stay?"

"Of course, always."

After three weeks, Tony had lost a bit of the bite behind his words when he spoke to her. Every ma'am was a little less sarcastic than the one before it and he kneeled without her having to ask. He still sassed her enough to get a swat to the ass or for her to pull his hair but she realized, slowly, that he wasn't testing her as much as he was reassuring himself that those limits were still there. That she was still in control. He obeyed more quickly even with simple things like standing or sitting. He opened up to her more, too, when she ordered. Progress.

Tony was complicated. There was a lot of distrust and suspicion there, which she understood, and she could tell he'd been hurt by someone before in a more subtle way than she was used to, but he never hinted at any of it. Never mentioned his family, or his childhood. Never talked about his life before coming to Shield, or any of his businesses or employees. She didn't push him on any of it unless it was completely necessary, but she was curious.

Their relationship wasn't sexual. Often times, there was a lot of sexual tension both from the dynamic and because Tony just seemed to like it that way, but she never acted on it. She noticed, of course, when particular displays of control made him hard. She noted every action that made his breathing hitch in his throat. But she didn't act on it.

Tony, however, was more than willing to try and seduce her every chance he got-half joking and half serious. She allowed it, but never encouraged him. He thought it was hilarious, though, and by far the best game he'd ever come up with so it became common place for him to flirt with her rather than blatantly disobey. Therefore, her corrections and punishments became more subtle and indirect as well. Rather than raise her voice, she teased his throat with her lips. Instead of slapping him across the face, she raked her fingernails down his back until he groaned. She teased, rather than punished, and while it worked extremely well it left a lot of pent up energy between them after every session.

"May I make a request, ma'am?" She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, intrigued because he rarely ever asked for anything, but nodded. "If I do well, will you give me a reward?" This.. was surprising. She was used to their dynamic now and, usually, his reward for good behavior was just a lack of punishment or, if he was lucky, some kind of relief for the teasing. Never before had he dared make a request, and certainly not for a reward. Of course, her mind immediately went to a sexual kind of reward which she refused to do while he was still obviously so broken, but those soft brown eyes just pleaded with her to understand. She caved.

"That sounds reasonable. What kind of reward did you have in mind?" She knew he struggled with words. It was one thing for him to submit to her like this, to follow the routine and the structure, but it was quite another to say it. He wouldn't ask out loud, she already knew that, because she could tell this was something more than just a little annoying one-liner and he was nervous, shifting from knee to knee. But she'd said yes, and was waiting.

He reached halfway for her hands, pausing to wait for her nod of approval, and took them in his own. She thought he might guide them down to his crotch or even his ass but no. He stared into her eyes, refusing to look away. It wasn't a challenge for dominance as much as it was him showing her how genuine and vulnerable he was being with this, asking her to take it seriously. She did, merely waiting for whatever he wanted.

She was not prepared for him to lift her hands to his throat. For a moment, she just looked at him, not quite understanding, and he guided her fingers to squeeze a bit at the arteries on either side of his windpipe. She watched him, even as he did it to himself through her hands, and watched him relax. It was gradual, at first, but it was there. His head started to lull back and his grip loosened but she stopped it right then and there, moving instead behind him to whisper next to his ear.

"You want me to choke you if you're good?" She didn't mean to rub it in or emphasize it like that, she just wanted to be sure that was what he wanted, but he moaned and tried to lean back into her at that sentence. Internally, she chuckled. This was actually what he wanted, needed. And he was trusting her enough to ask for it, even if he was embarrassed by it and even if he was afraid.

"I'm so proud of you, Tony, for asking for what you want." She deliberately brushed her fingers over his throat and he shivered, but didn't move. "I think that deserves a reward, don't you?" But she didn't give him time to agree or disagree before she gripped his throat and squeezed exactly the way he'd done before, just slightly harder. He just melted. His muscles spasmed and then went lax and, as he collapsed inward, he let his head drop back against her stomach. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, he looked beautiful. The perfect image of surrender and trust as he didn't squirm, didn't fight, didn't even make a sound-he just took it. And loved it.

When she let go, he whined at the loss. But before he could wallow in his own sadness, she was distracting him with this command and that command and keeping him on his feet so that he couldn't think too much about what had just happened. She didn't want him second guessing himself when he was still emotionally fragile. When they ended the session, he kneeled in front of her chair like always but she couldn't stop herself this time from reaching out. Usually, if she touched him it was a pat on the shoulder or a hand through his hair. This time, though, she reached for his throat.

She didn't squeeze, didn't apply any pressure, she just lightly held her hand there and blanketed his throat until his breath came in short little gasps and he squirmed on the floor for more. She laughed, light and airy, and thumbed his pulse point. Honestly, she loved seeing him like this. Watching him whimper and silently beg her from his knees was the kind of wholehearted submission she'd been looking for since day one and she loved it. She couldn't help herself from pressing a kiss to the side of his neck as she walked out. Completely platonic, though. Right?

She was sitting and eating lunch in the mess hall with Bruce. She knew, realistically, that her patients would have to meet-aside from Clint and Steve, obviously-because there were too many and they were too similar for it not to happen. She just hadn't expected it over agency regulated portions of casserole.

She was just sitting with Bruce as he went on about his latest theory. She was listening, even if she didn't follow, because she liked that light in his eyes and how excited he seemed, when he suddenly went quiet across from her. His eyes stopped just over her shoulder. Then she felt why. Two hands, rough and calloused, touched either shoulder and instantly she knew. Clint. He was the only one who was ever publicly physical or affectionate with her.

"Clint, this is Dr. Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is agent Clint Barton." It could have been a lot worse. She felt the tension from each of them but it would have been much worse had it been Tony she was eating with. He seemed like the jealous, possessive type even if she wasn't his. She couldn't blame him. though, he was just afraid of losing what she meant to him. But she reached back and took Clint's hands in hers, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him down next to her.

"Bruce, tell Clint what you were saying about the radium reaction levels." Bruce hesitated but started again and, the more he spoke, the more she felt Clint relax beside her. He didn't feel as threatened. She made no attempt to hide any physical contact or affection between them either, which seemed to help. By the time the meal ended Clint managed a few pleasantries even.

She was proud of her boys.

Thanks for reading! Please please review! Bucky comes next!