Ch. 10

Swimming wasn't one of Clint's natural abilities. Sure he could do it, but with his quiver and bow on his back it wasn't exactly a graceful process. Even so, he made it to the abandoned ship in record time, still picturing the horror he was about to find. As he pulled himself over the rail and onto the deck, his training took over and left his mind blissfully blank. Scanning for potential threats, Clint drew his bow and slowly made his way along the edge of the ship. There were cargo boxes and equipment here and there, but nothing stood out as the cause of the electromagnetic field.

Once Clint finished sweeping the top deck, he approached the stairs that would lead him below. It wasn't a particularly large vessel, but it seemed to take ages to move from room to room. Still, the spy found no trace of alien technology or his partner, and his worries began to resurface. Only the cargo bay was left. If there was a trap, that would be the place for it; minimal escape options, dim lighting, and lots of open space. Knowing Nat, she busted through the door without pause, trying to retake the element of surprise. Since the thick metal door stood ajar, Clint decided that stealth was still his best bet. He slid through the opening, trying to take in as much as he could with his eyes before taking a single step into the room. But just like the deck above, there were piles of crates scattered around, thick cargo nets draped over them, making it a challenge to see anything further ahead.

Clint silently crept around the first mountain of crates, but it seemed useless to try and hide. Anyone waiting would be able to see without being seen- the tactical advantage he so desperately wanted. Taking a leaf out of Nat's strategy book, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the light, ready to release an arrow at a moment's notice.

"Clint?"

Natasha was incredibly surprised to see him. She had been studying the strange device in the cargo bay for nearly an hour and was about ready to blow the damn thing up and call it a day when her partner stepped out from behind some cargo.

"About time! It took me about 15 minutes to realize that I hadn't heard Stark make a joke and my com was disconnected. It has something to do with this machine, though I can't for the life of me figure out how to shut it off. I could use a hand."

When Clint continued to stand there, looking completely clueless, she began to get agitated.

"What? Listen, I wasn't going to swim back to shore just to report that I found something, then swim back here to stare at it some more. Since you're here, though, why don't you take a look for yourself?"

She's alive. Clint felt as though he couldn't catch his breath; Nat was standing right there. Talking. Moving around, looking pissed off. Not dead, not lost forever. She had never looked so beautiful.

He dropped his bow to the ground and reached her in seconds, his hand sliding though her hair as his lips met hers. Pushing his body forward he backed her up until she was pressed against the rough wood and fabric of the cargo piles. His kisses weren't gentle or soft, but they were incredible. Natasha reacted immediately, pushing back to deepen the kiss and vie for control, running her hands behind his neck as if she could somehow get physically closer to him. After a minute the intensity of his kisses lessened and he pulled back just far enough that he could see her eyes.

"I thought you were dead."

Natasha didn't need any other explanation. She knew too well the pain and desperation that came from thinking Clint was gone forever. It was barely a week ago that she heard Agent Coulson's voice telling her that her partner, her Clint, was compromised. Now here he was, breathing still a little ragged, his eyes bright and a little mischievous, looking for some sort of reply. But for once in her life, she was having trouble formulating a sentence.

"Well, I'm not."

Clint chuckled, "I can see that."

Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss to her forehead. Now that this barrier between them was gone, he wanted to take full advantage of it. Sliding his hands down her arms, he wove his fingers between hers and lifted her hands above her head, pinning them to the crate. Other than a slight growl, Natasha didn't protest. Considering she could have broken his wrists had she wanted, he took this as a good sign. That, and she had a look in her eye that told him he was playing with fire. Grinning like a fool, he brought his lips back to hers, barely brushing over them before moving to her neck.

"God, Clint, why didn't we do this years ago?" Natasha said, the growl still in her voice. Clint kept his lips close to her skin, just beneath her jaw line, when he answered.

"Nat, I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to do this. But I honestly thought you'd kill me."

That made her laugh; it was probably true. A few months ago she still didn't trust him. If he had rushed across a room at her she would have prepared to defend herself. Now the vulnerability of being pushed against a wall was exciting and erotic. She could only imagine how much better being pinned to the floor would be.

It seemed like Clint was thinking along the same lines, as his lips wandered lower to the zipper of her suit and he released one of her hands. He was just about to slide the zipper lower when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Well this is awkward."

Ok, ok, I know it's really short. I wrote more, but decided this was the best place to end the chapter. Soooooo... did you like it for their first kiss? Who do you think found them in this compromising position? Who wants more kissing (I do! I do!)?

Have a happy 4th of July, for the Americans among us. Go shoot some fireworks into your neighbor's yard and eat lots of grilled food!