a/n: longer chapter this time around, so please enjoy. sensual content is referred to, but is definitely not explicit.

Smashed Through the Heart

Chapter 4

Daylight filtered in a thin strip from the shade on the window. It was just enough to have her rolling slightly in bed as the sun worked its magic as a natural alarm clock. She stretched her arms over her head, the cotton sheet caressing against her naked body.

Naked?

Morrissey shot up in bed and looked around. A hand that had been draped across her waist fell instead into her lap. She lifted the garment, traced the hand, and ended at the face of a man it took her no time to recognize. Bruce Banner. She buried her face in her palm.

"Oh thank God." She whispered. She lay back against the pillows, readjusting his arm across her waist. For a moment she was worried that somehow she'd woken up in some other bed. After all, she hadn't much experience at this sort of thing. It took a little longer to retrace their steps until this point she'd awoken to.

Bruce suggested going with her to the check in. She didn't want to inconvenience him, but he felt like being inconvenienced. She was happy for the ride along. Her C. O. gave her Hell. She'd expected it. For the second foul up in as many weeks she'd been put on suspension. Apparently the man had to rethink her value with the organization. All Bruce and she heard was vacation time. Suddenly she was much less disappointed about the time off. They had dinner. Then they danced. They found a new club and they danced some more. Bruce invited her back to the Stark mansion. She might have refused. Any rational person would have. After all she was playing with fire with the hopes of getting Bruce's blood pressure pumping. No one would blame her if she walked away and pretended nothing ever happened. But she didn't. In another fit of passion they locked bodies in the elevator and still hadn't let go.

Her eyes closed in the band of sunlight over her face. She relived the press of Bruce's lips against hers. The feel of his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, right before she tore it off. It took time to make it out of the elevator. Her legs were wrapped around his middle and his lips were placing tracks down her neck. When they got out it was a stumbling journey to the bedroom. They were intoxicated in each other by then and stopping was never in the vocabulary of all their lovely whispers. She wondered when she would be escaping the wrath of the Incredible Hulk but surprisingly the opportunity never came. Bruce remained in his own skin throughout the night.

Morrissey traced her fingers through his hair, producing a satisfied moan from him. She smiled to herself, leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Going for coffee. Don't wander off." She whispered to him.

She eased out of bed, cushioning his arm with a pillow and leaving him with the sheet. She pulled on the robe she found tucked beside the bathroom door and walked out into the hall in search of the kitchen.

The agent had somehow noticed the kitchen on their way to Bruce's room last night. Bruce had mentioned his five-ish roommates over their midnight cocktails but as of yet no one was awake. She could manage, though. Foreign kitchens were not that big of an obstacle. The coffee pot was on the counter. A new single-shot Keurig which made life a little easier. A slow inspection of the upper shelves revealed the cups. With one she filled the water reservoir then turned around in search of the coffee selection.

"Morrissey!"

The agent nearly launched out of her skin. She barely saved her coffee cup from hitting the floor. Her head snapped around until she could see the man who did not sound like Bruce and yet called her out. Her heart dropped to her feet.

"Agent Barton!" Morrissey exclaimed.

Barton was dressed in little more than a set of sleep pants. He was half awake. He rushed around the kitchen island and grabbed her by the elbow fiercely.

"What are you doing here?!" Clint demanded. "How did you even get here?! What is this?!" he gestured to the robe, the cups, and her blatant attempt at coffee.

Morrissey was so shocked at seeing an agent she wasn't sure what to do. They'd only met for the first time on a short mission not long before, her first big SHIELD screw up. Now seeing him in this place was a shock she couldn't quickly recover from. "I'm, Bruce and I—"

Clint let her go as if she'd burned him.

"Bruce? You and Bruce? You're the girl he—You know what, I'm calling the Director and I think I might just kill him over this. What does he think he's doing putting an agent on Bruce like that? What were you thinking?!"

The female agent sat back and listened to his rant for a moment. The second he even insinuated that the only reason Morrissey was here was to entrap Bruce Banner in some horrible way she could stand no more. With all her gusto behind it she shot out and socked him, hard, right across the jaw.

Clint's back was turned and he couldn't hear it coming, making her cheap shot connect considerably more than he would typically allow. Clint caught her fist before she could try it again and the two wrestled by the kitchen island. Morrissey grabbed a knife from the sink. Clint held a hunk of her hair. The knife went for his belt line and her head was yanked back and down. Trapped like that, they could do little but stare right at each other.

"I am NOT ensnaring Bruce. Call my C.O. I'm on administrative leave for screwing up on my second op. You were on the first one I bombed. I met Bruce yesterday."

"You expect me to believe that?" Clint growled.

"I expect you to figure out what you're planning to do with me because I'll give you five seconds before I start cutting." Morrissey replied, tapping her knife against him.

Clint twisted her arm, yanked her head back and in two moves Morrissey was on her knees in front of him and the knife was to her throat. She blinked up at him, adrenalin surging through her veins. There was no telling what he was about to do to her, especially after that empty threat she'd thrown at him.

"I'm sorry." She said as if it would matter. "But I'm telling the truth."

Clint kept her there for a moment as he debated inwardly. What could Fury possibly gain from this? What could SHIELD? They already had Natasha and Clint on the inside. Was it possibly she had just randomly run into Bruce while he was out for the first time in months? Slowly he let her go.

With a perfect throw he tossed the knife back into the butcher block. "My house. First time someone ever tried to pull a knife on me in my own house." Clint growled under his breath. He rubbed his eyes to try and wake up.

She picked herself off the tile floor and leaned on the island. "I'm sorry. Honest. But what did you expect me to do? I'm not here to spy on him or to hurt him."

Clint turned on her with a ferocious look in his eyes. She backed away from him.

"Look, I don't know what you're up to. If you are really here for Bruce, great. But if you're just here to break his heart or tear him up then you better walk out now before I find out about it."

"I'm not." She said. "Bruce's still in there sleeping. I came out to make him a coffee. And frankly, I could have just changed and walked out that door but I didn't."

Clint shrugged. "You want a prize for that?"

"Oh, please." She grabbed her mug back off the island and set it next to the coffee maker. She opened a few cupboards in search of the Kerig cartridges. The little tiff with Clint made her forget which ones she'd already checked.

Clint watched her move around the kitchen. He knew what she was looking for. He also knew where they were. At the same time he preferred to watch her struggle for a bit and have a longer time to observe her. He still was not completely convinced she was clean. What were the odds? Astronomical, he surmised.

She turned her attention from the upper cabinets to the lower ones, then to the center island. When it was obvious she was running out of options, Clint finally approached. He reached above the refrigerator and pulled down the box. He dropped it in front of the coffee maker and retreated back to his corner wordlessly.

"Thanks." She told him.

The archer didn't reply. He stood there watching her make coffee one cup at a time. The sugar was already out and she took a carton of creamer out of the fridge. She hesitated after adding an unfamiliar mixture to one cup. Clint assumed that belonged to her. She didn't know what to put in Bruce's.

"One sugar, lot of cream." Clint said.

"Thanks again." She stirred in the mixture, replaced the cream and sugar, and grabbed the two cups. "Seen enough?" she posed.

Clint turned away from her and headed up the hallway. She could only assume he was returning to his room. She followed behind, breaking off at Bruce's door. It was still open, allowing her to slip inside before letting the gears push it closed again.

At the smell of coffee entering the room, Bruce stirred in the bed. He arched his back, stretching his arms over his head in the increasing beams of sunlight penetrating the window screen. It was the first time Morrissey noticed that there were no curtains on the window at all. Instead a tinted mechanical layer was being progressively opened like the shade of a transition lens. She crossed to the bed, perching at the bottom wrapped in his robe with her knees tucked up to her chin.

He smiled at her. "Hey, thought I was supposed to make the breakfast in bed."

She passed him a cup, holding hers between long laced fingers. The heat of it was pleasant against her palms. "I'm an early riser."

"I am too. Guess I was tuckered out."

"Can't imagine why that might be."

"I think you may have had something to do with it." He eased back against the headboard and stirred the coffee with his spoon. He took a careful sip to judge the heat. "Not bad. Did you telepathically figure out how I like my coffee?"

She sipped her own cup. She'd be a liar too if she didn't say it was one of the best she'd ever tasted. "I cheated. Agent Barton told me."

Bruce snorted. He lost some of his coffee down the stubble of his chin. "Clint? He's up?"

"And raring to go. We had a pleasant conversation about my positive attributes and what my intentions towards you were."

A toothy smile now. "Your intentions toward me? That's a new one. And what did you say?"

"I said that I was not here to investigate you and if I'd wanted to leave I'd be gone by now."

"But you're not."

She raised her mug in a toast. "Well, fancy that."

He leaned forward and they chinked their glasses. He took another sip and set it to the side table before readjusting on the bed until he was sitting beside her. She grabbed his hand in hers and gently caressed his wrist.

"Clint's protective. He's a great friend. Don't take it personal, he's just looking out for me."

"Oh I didn't." She replied. "I did hold a knife to him and I don't really think he appreciated that."

Bruce chuckled. He looked at her disbelievingly. "Yeah I can't imagine he would. Were his hearing aids in?"

Morrissey gave him a surprised look.

"Clint is 80% deaf. When he's here, he doesn't feel the need to wear his hearing aids in bed. When he wakes up in the morning he might walk around without them for a while. I think he likes the quiet."

"I don't know… I didn't even think about it. I mean I never knew about that. Sure does explain some things."

"He probably didn't hear you. Then you surprised him is all. Was he satisfied when you didn't slit his throat? Or is he out there bleeding into the tiles right now?"

"Come on, he's a level six agent. I hardly touched him." She leaned forward and placed her cup on the nightstand by Bruce's. "That was good coffee."

"I think Tony gets it from civet cats or something." Bruce said. "No, no, don't look like that. I'm kidding. I swear. I think he literally flies to Columbia for it. He has this thing against Foldgers. I don't know what it is." As he rambled his hand moved from hers and circled her back instead. She liked looking into his face when he spoke. His eyes would dance with color and life. His mouth was smooth and expressive. The more he rambled the more she watched and the more she liked it. Before he could finish her lips found his.

:(:):(:):

"Your choice. Eggs or eggs. Then there is the option for cereal but as this morning's chef it would make me feel just slightly inadequate to make you a bowl of cereal."

Morrissey rested on the edge of a stool at the kitchen island watching Bruce twirl around in the kitchen. His fridge inspection came up with less hopeful options then he'd anticipated and now he was reeling to make that short coming up. She graced him with asking for eggs and allowed his manly personality to come out by professing the best omelet she'd ever tasted was coming up. She traced her finger around the rim of her reheated coffee mug. They'd forgotten the drinks long enough to let them go cold. Summer love in all its assets was a distracting thing indeed.

Bruce had only managed to start the omelet on the stove top. He offered her a glass of juice, went around the island to give it to her, but never made it back to the omelet from there. Morrissey had him in her arms.

"Seriously?" Clint exclaimed turning the corner into the kitchen. Bruce had Morrissey attached to his neck.

Bruce straightened, resetting his glasses on his nose. He was somewhat embarrassed to be caught, again, but losing himself in an emotion other than rage was such a pleasant release there was only so much regret he could have about it.

Morrissey patted his leg. "Eggs are burning."

Bruce rushed away to tend the stove.

Clint watched them, inspecting every single action in the same way that made him famous. If there was something hiding behind those intentions it would not take him long to ferret it out. It was hard for him to imagine that nothing was there at all except good intentions.

"Bruce cooking? That's a dangerous prospect." Clint said.

"Hey, I'm not a bad cook!" Bruce replied, managing the smoldering remains of breakfast. He grimaced at the pan and turned his face to Clint. With his free hand he tapped a hand his ear twice.

"No, they aren't in. You're not a good cook either." Clint replied. He moved around the counter and took the pan from Bruce. Without diverting to the waste bin he ran the ruined eggs directly under the sink. He left the pan there and extracted a new one to start over. He pushed Bruce away to restart cooking himself.

"You two—whatever you are—sit there and let me finish this. If I wait around for you to cook all morning I'm going to end up hungry too. What's today?" Clint said, grabbing the carton of eggs.

"Wednesday."

Clint turned to face Bruce. The doctor repeated himself.

Bruce leaned over to Morrissey. "Speak only when he's looking at you so he can read your lips."

She nodded.

"Eggs then." Clint grabbed a carton of milk out of the fridge and whipped a few eggs in a bowl, adding the milk. He searched around for spare ingredients, ending up with a bag of shredded cheese and container of salsa. He held up both to his audience for approval. Bruce was staring at Morrissey. Morrissey was staring at Bruce. In precisely four second they'd be on each other again. Clint was determined to slow this railroading relationship down. He took his spatula and banged on the counter in front of them. The distraction caused both to jump.

"I am making breakfast." Clint said. "Eggs with cheese and salsa. You don't like it speak now before you throw her up against a wall or something."

Bruce sighed. "Clint, I am not going to throw her up against a wall."

"We already did that." Morrissey replied, smiling then remembered about letting Clint read her lips. She decided not to repeat herself.

"Exactly." Bruce said.

Clint dropped the spatula. He didn't know what they were privately giggling about, but he didn't need to. How could anyone stand to be around a couple of people so engrossed in each other like that? It was sick. "Oh my God, you two are impossible. How did this happen? Bruce I saw you leave for a DAY, what did all this?"

Bruce emerged from his dreamlike emersion in Morrissey's eyes to drift back to Clint. "Hmm?" he said.

Clint dropped his head into his hands.

"I ran into him." Morrissey said. "It was an accident."

"She spilled coffee on me." Bruce said.

"I was supposed to report to my post in Stark Industries."

"But I kinda screwed up her cover before that."

"So instead he invited me out to breakfast."

"Then we went to Central Park."

"We danced."

"We danced."

By the end of their explanation Clint was staring at the two of them in shock. He was still speechless. There they sat. The two of them looking so happy with each other. Honestly it was like watching a Nicholas Sparks movie. Bruce was ethereal. Morrissey was giddy. It had been less than twenty four hours since they had met.

"I'm making breakfast. So you two do me a favor and keep your hands off each other for like, six minutes? That way I don't just vomit on the plate instead." Clint returned to the eggs. It was probably the best idea not to turn and look at them anymore, but without his hearing aids that was impossible. So long as Agent Morrissey was in Bruce's company, Clint was not going to make the mistake of having to read their lips anymore. It definitely appeared to be a genuine fondness between them. Time would tell.

"Stark Industries? So Director Fury was trying to get someone on the inside?" Clint said as he cooked.

"My group was concerned about security on the inside. I was meant to survey the lower offices to assess the possible information leak from Level 3."

"What would make Director Fury send in an independent team and not inform Natasha and me? What kind of breach does he think this is?" Clint split the eggs between two plates and passed them across the island to Bruce and Morrissey.

Morrissey grabbed her fork and dug in. The long night had given her more of an appetite than she realized. "Thanks. And I don't know. No one gave me a lot of details about the mission besides reporting to my post and bringing coffee along." Clint stood across from them with his own food and ate as they spoke.

"So you're telling me Fury calls you up and says to go start tomorrow at Stark Industries? Just like that?"

She shook her head. "No, I never spoke to the Director. I had all my orders come through Agent Diamond. Bruce knows he was with me yesterday."

Clint almost lost his breakfast. "What?"

"It's no big deal." Bruce said. "Didn't take long. And I think he was determined not to make me mad so Helen got off a little easier."

Clint's eyebrows raised. "Helen?"

"What do you expect him to call me? Agent? Don't answer that. For leaving my SHIELD portfolio within view and allowing Bruce the opportunity to guess my secret identity I was suspended for one week. Next Thursday I'm due in for a board review. If they don't amend my record then I'm either being sent back to my Iraq outfit or Agent Diamond says SHIELD will scrub me out. It's the first time he's threatened me with that."

"Hell." Clint said, pushing his food around. He'd worked so closely with Natasha the last few years he'd forgotten what it was like to be a new agent. Besides that, Coulson was always in his corner. Clint wasn't the best at following orders but at least he had Coulson smoothing the rough edges. Sitting across from a screw up agent reminded him of the time he'd spent in Iraq. A lot of agents went there and never came back.

"Diamond's a hard head. He's been crawling over me since the moment I was transferred."

"What's the likelihood of them trying to scrub you verses Iraq?" Clint asked.

"You mean which would I prefer? I just spent three years there. I think I put in my time. Given that my other option is a bullet to the head, I think my decision is close, but Iraq wins."

Bruce was slowly eating his food as he watched Clint and Helen talk. It was always interesting to have this look into the life of SHIELD agents. Listening to his typical roommates, Natasha and Barton, was an endeavor. Most of the terms they used he didn't understand, and then they would feel the need to exercise their language skills to boot. With a mixture of German, Russian, Farsi, and more flying around keeping up with any train of thought was impossible. He'd also had firsthand experience with what they called "scrubbing out". When an agent discovered Clint had gone deaf and had become a liability, he'd tried to kill Clint in a back alley just outside of the Tower.

"Who were you going to work for down on Level 3?"

"Chadlowski."

"Anyone see you on the way up?"

To that, she looked at Bruce. A silent exchange passed between them.

"I don't think so. The only one around by that point was security and that was Happy." Bruce replied. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"If you're stuck here anyway, then I'll have a talk with Chad. I'll tell him you're some intern or something. I'll figure it out. I don't like SHIELD going behind the team to get a man on the inside around here but if there's a legitimate issue I want to know about it."

Morrissey leaped up in her chair. "Really? You're going to get me in?"

Clint shrugged like it was nothing.

She squeezed Bruce's arm happily then recoiled in shock. "I don't have any clothes! I think I threw my blazer out too."

"You did." Bruce confirmed. "And I think I ripped a few of your blouse's buttons off. Do you still have my watch?"

She looked at her wrist and unsnapped it. "You have this thing about giving to me when you aren't thinking."

"I don't know why I do that. We should find you clothes."

"I'll drive back to my place. Coming?"

"You don't have a car. I'll drive." Bruce got up and the two of them bounded down the hall together like a pair of twitter pated gazelles. Clint watched them, shaking his head left to right. What was he thinking? For that matter, what was Bruce thinking? Clint could have sworn that this little romantic aside was impossible for Bruce unless he wanted to level half of Stark Tower and go tearing off through the city in his green birthday suit. The archer could sit all morning turning the situation over in his mind and get nowhere close to a solution.

While he set about cleaning the abandoned dishes, Rodgers entered the breakfast area.

"Morning." Steve said.

Clint didn't respond.

The captain knew better than to sneak up on him. Instead he went about the kitchen like he normally would, expecting Clint's impeccable peripheral eyesight to identify him better than a tap to the shoulder could. As expected, it worked. Clint nodded a hello.

"Stark already up?"

Clint shut off the water and topped his sponge off with a layer of soap. "Him? Not that I know of. Could have snuck down to the lab and skipped eating. That was Bruce and his new girl you just missed seeing." As he turned to grab the left over eating utensils he had a chance to see the confused look on the captain's face.

"You heard me right." Clint said.

"Like a girl? In the flesh girl?"

"Well if she was inflatable, I'd be a little surprised at how well she could speak." He dropped the dishes with the rest and continued to scrub.

"So he did go out last night then." Steve replied. He grabbed the two cups and brought them over for Clint. Taking the idea he grabbed his mug and worked on getting his own coffee together.

Clint affirmed it. As he worked with getting through the morning dishes he recounted the conversation for Steve's benefit. He enjoyed the range of expressions crossing Steve's fate. It all started with the shock, then the wonderment, then the denial, and lastly understanding. The final emotion was a long time coming, but was prevailed upon by Bruce's appearance. He was dressing hurriedly with a woman Steve could only imagine was Agent Morrissey trailing after him. She was pulling on her stockings and stuffing a set of keys in her pocket.

"Morning, Steve. Be back in a bit. We need to run off and pick Helen up some spare clothes." Bruce said passingly as they raced toward the elevator.

"See you when you get back." Clint said. "And Morrissey?"

She appeared back in the hallway to look at him.

Clint's tone was dead serious. "If there is a security breach in this building you report it to Rogers. Or Stark, or me. You're still on leave. That means you are under us."

Understanding the meaning, she agreed.

Steve watched the pair race off again while his interest in the little development expanded. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation honestly. After all, Bruce had only been in the area for about a day by himself. He doubted Bruce did something like this very often, but regardless it was difficult to know what to do with the information.

Clint didn't say anything for a while as he let Steve digest it all. He'd finished with the sink and dried the dishes with a towel before putting them away. Steve watched Clint displaying this simple sign of domesticity. After fighting alongside the archer, it was bizarre to see him now in the position of a normal man.

"So, what's your take on all this, Steve?" Clint asked after a time.

"I guess that all depends on what you mean." Steve said. "About Bruce having a whirlwind romance with a dame he just met or with the fact that she's a SHIELD spy."

"I'm a SHIELD spy."

"No, you're a friend." Steve corrected. "Didn't you work with this girl once not that long ago? What do you know about here?"

Clint shrugged, leaning back against the sink with the towel turning in his hands. "I met Agent Morrissey two weeks ago on my mission in Baltimore right after I went deaf. My initial assessment was she may have had a few assignments in the field, but not much. Her wardrobe was functional, basic, and SHIELD from the lack of jewelry to the tennis shoes. She likes rock hard cover stories. Means she doesn't have much confidence she can think quick on her feet when a mission goes belly up."

"And yours did as I remember." Steve said.

Clint shrugged. "Yeah, it did. And she can really slap a guy if she needs too. Almost got herself raped. Killed the mark too. It really shook her up."

"I can't imagine." Steve said. He sighed, sipping his coffee. "Tell me honestly, Clint. Is this girl going to be a liability?"

The archer shook his head. "These kinds of girls are always a liability. Its whether or not she is also an asset I don't know."

:(:):(:):

Banner was normally ready to play they're little in-out game in the lobby of Stark Tower sharply at seven in the morning. This was the first day in months that Banner was not there to meet him. He knew that Bruce had spent the night in the company of a lustrous lady who Tony took the time to do a background check on. The only information he could find was tied to a Ms. Helen Relark, a CPA from Lysa, Arkansas who had put in an application for one of Stark's lower office suites one week ago. Tony could imagine all night long how the introduction went, but what took Bruce and Ms. Relark from casually acquaintances to one-night-stand status he absolutely needed to know.

He'd almost given up on waiting for Bruce's appearance when suddenly a flurry of bodies appeared off the private elevator. Banner came barreling over to him with Ms. Relark herself in tow. Bruce was holding her high heels, she had a set of Tony's car keys around one finger. Both were wearing yesterday's clothes along with massive grins.

Tony extended his arms to the side. "Fun night?" he asked.

"Yup, talk later, gotta run!" Bruce pronounced as they flew by him.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark!" the woman said.

Tony pivoted as they launched through the Tower doors and spilled out into the New York streets together. Tony wasn't sure what to do with himself. He looked back at the receptionists who were equally jaw-dropped. It was obvious the office pool was over. Bruce was out. And boy was he ever out. As Tony cruised by the desk he looked at the women and Happy.

"So who won the pool?" he asked casually.

One woman reached behind the desk and passed him a sealed envelope. She smiled and said, "Would you bring this up to Agent Barton?"

Tony freed the seal and peered in at the sizable cash amount. "Clint won? Are you kidding me?"

"Guessed it to the hour." The woman replied. "They do say he has impeccable aim."

oooooohhhhh Clint. :)

Please review and tell me what you think!