Natasha's knee started to heal. Despite her deficiencies, she and Clint pushed on together. He insisted that it would be great for his reputation when he was in his nineties and she still looked twenty-five. Actually, his exact words were, "Imagine when I'm ancient and I've still got a young, hot wife..." He trailed off and blushed, mortified.
They met eyes and made a choice.
The choice was obvious, clean and pure and simple. Planning and execution were another thing entirely. Their names hadn't been released to the public after the fight in Manhattan, but their faces were still well-known, and any news about them would spread like wildfire. Witnesses were tedious but necessary, and so over the next weeks they decided who would be necessary to avoid conflict.
Stark, of course, would regrettably have to be involved. It was his tower and could be plied into silence with alcohol and a creative enough threat. Clint and Natasha roughed out a plan to sit menacingly around his lab in total silence and stillness every few nights for the time before their plan came to fruition, claim that no such thing had happened if he asked, finally alluding to it when they made him vow his silence. Sketchy, but workable.
Then with Stark came Pepper, naturally. Stark would need someone to tie his shoelaces for him, after all. And Pepper was the one who made sure they stayed happy and fed in the tower. Really, it was more her tower than anyone else's. Besides that, she had been a good friend to Natasha despite having previously asked her never to darken the doorstep again.
Sharon wasn't even a question. And Jamie would be invited come with her, of that Natasha was adamant.
The rest of the team seemed to be a reasonable enough decision, though they didn't know if there was a way to reach Thor. That probably wouldn't be too much of a problem, since he was one of the most unlikely people to be able to keep his mouth shut longer than five minutes at a time only because he was so damn happy for them.
"The way I see it, is that we're a team, right?" Clint said in bed a few weeks after coming up with the plan. "We work together, live together, eat together. We gotta trust one another with everything or risk being compromised, y'know? If we know each other's weaknesses, we can better cover one another's backs."
Natasha rolled over and stuck her cold feet between his thighs, grinning when he squirmed and yelled even though her mind was rolling over what he'd said. "You're right." Of course he was right. Clint never really said anything particularly pragmatic, unless he'd taken the time and thought it through. And nearly every night since Sharon and Jamie visited she had woken up screaming Rose. "They should be involved. And if they don't want to be, they can leave," she decided.
Still being cautious with her knee, Clint rolled so he was on top of her and started pulling off her pajamas. She laughed and let it happen.
The next morning Clint was the one to approach Tony with the second stage of the plan. They'd done well on spooking him at night and feigning oblivion during the day, so when Clint asked if he could throw a small party in his apartment - more comfortable than hers and with a 360 degree view of the city - Tony agreed almost immediately, casting them both wary looks.
After that it was only a matter of inviting the rest of the list, declining Pepper's offer to help plan, and buy everything they needed. It had to be done carefully so that it looked like Clint's party, since no one actually knew they were together. Coulson was the only living soul who had known. Even both of them sleeping in Natasha's apartment went unnoticed for the most part.
"Natasha, why is Clint inviting me to his party?" Sharon asked with narrowed eyes. It was time to remove her cast and her last check on Natasha's knee before she would be left to her own devices - and a detailed packet of physical therapy exercises - to get back on her feet. Jamie was off playing with Steve somewhere.
Natasha shrugged. "Because he knows you're one of the only people I enjoy talking to, probably," she replied. "And parties are ridiculous, but I promised I would indulge him for one night."
"That's...oddly considerate of you, Nat."
She rolled her eyes. "I am capable of doing nice things, you know," she pointed out, and kicked Sharon to show how much the strength in her leg had improved.
Outside the apartment door, Sharon said, "He's been asking about you, you know. Barnes."
"Not interested."
"I know you aren't, I was just saying," she sighed. "Steve's been spending a lot of time up there, trying to get through to him. I don't know if it's helping but he's resilient, that one." Her expression grew pensive and distant as she thought over the captain. "He's a good man. A little naive, a little goofy, but he means well. And Jamie loves him. You know he came to my house for dinner a few weeks ago? Well, actually a few times. To see grandma again - it's weird to think they're actually the same age, isn't it? - and meet my mom and stuff, and yeah, Jamie's just crazy about him. Tells all the neighbor kids that he's friends with the real-life Captain America and, well, of course they don't believe him. So what does Steve do? He takes Jamie outside to play catch after dinner so everyone can see! Such a goof-ass, I tell you...what? Why are you looking at me like that? Shut up! I hate you!"
Sharon got Steve involved on Clint's behalf only four days before the party. He called to confirm his attendance. The reality of their decision occurred to them, but never for a moment did they panic. They had committed themselves to this, to being all the other had and all the other needed, a long time ago.
When the day finally arrived they dressed with care in their separate apartments. Natasha put a splash of cherry blossom perfume on her collar and wrists and pinned her hair behind her ears so it wouldn't hang in her face. She stared at herself in the mirror and waited. Waited for Clint's signal that everyone started arriving. Waited for her heart to settle back down from where it thudded in her throat. She wasn't afraid or nervous or having second thoughts, only waiting.
Fifteen minutes later Clint sent the signal. Natasha's knee was still tender enough to need the elevator and not to bother with heeled shoes, but she no longer needed the brace. She didn't bother with shoes at all, actually, just a pair of socks she stole from Clint ages ago. Casual and comfortable. As little makeup as possible, but enough not to raise questions. No jewelry for the time being. Her armor was immaculate.
The city below them was alight and the sky cloudless. Everyone but Steve and Sharon had arrived and were talking over drinks and music. Natasha met Clint's eye across the room and nodded a greeting. He grinned and raised a red solo cup - using actual crystalware would be a little suspicious - with a shout of, "You're late, Red Scare!"
"I arrived precisely as planned," she replied with a roll of her eyes. She approached him long enough to get a drink. Nothing with real alcohol, they both agreed to keep a clear head for the night.
Clint was wearing a faded army t-shirt and black jeans. His face was bright and clear with joy, though, so she couldn't even criticize him for the more casual choice. There was a brief moment in which she considered it, but he plucked teasingly at her cardigan and glanced down at her stockinged feet. She shot him a derisive look and they parted ways.
"Natasha, you look nice," Bruce said to her as Sharon and Steve were arriving. Sitwell, Nelson, and Torres - friends of Clint's - cheered them on from the bar. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear a dress off-mission."
She looked down at herself, at her purple cardigan, white sundress, and bare legs - one slightly thinner than the other after being off it for so long - before looking up. "Thanks, Doctor Banner," she replied, tightening the grip on her clutch purse. "It's easier to throw on a dress than shimmy into jeans with my leg."
And that, of course, got them into a discussion about how she was healing up and the exercises Sharon had her doing. Bruce was very politely and earnestly interested, his glasses glinting in the sparse overhead light as he leaned forward to be heard over a particularly loud strain of music. She found herself watching his hands as he spoke. He gestured a lot with whatever was at hand, whether it be his drink or his glasses or a baby carrot from the vegetable tray. The way he moved, large knuckles and rough dry skin weaving through the air between them to match the flow of his voice, made it very easy to imagine him as a professor.
At the allotted time she met Clint's eye. They nodded again and she slipped to the bathroom so he could make the announcement. "Hey! Guys! Okay, I promise, this is the only scheduled event for the evening and then you can drink and have fun all night, kay? But get your asses upstairs within five minutes, come on, chop-chop!" he called after turning off the music. Natasha listened with her ear pressed to the bathroom door as everyone went up the stairs (because Clint told them his private elevator was broken) with confusion in their voices. She smiled to herself.
As soon as the room was clear Natasha snuck out and hit the button for the elevator. Clint was grinning at her from the foot of the stairs, but he quickly darted up ahead of her to get everyone sitting. Because his apartment was at the top of the tower he had two smaller floors instead of one large one; the downstairs housed the kitchen/living room, bedroom, and bathroom, and the upstairs was usually a small training room but had been cleared out for the night.
In the elevator a bundle of purple hydrangeas, hibiscus, and carnations were waiting for her on the floor, tied together with a blue ribbon. She feverishly straightened her hair and fiddled with the arrangement of a few flower heads before pressing the button to go up.
Soft music was playing when the doors slid open, and their friends turned to face her in shocked silence. Either Clint had briefly explained or they had pieced together what was going on by then. "This is the part where you stand up," she intended to say, but when she opened her mouth only a soft laughing sound came out.
"No fucking way!" Tony yelped. "I didn't even get to throw a bachelor party!"
Clint was beaming at her from the head of the room, eyes shining brightly, and she stepped toward him.
Agent Torres had four sisters and two brothers, all married, and for the last he became an ordained priest on the internet to perform the ceremony in a last-minute jam. He nudged Clint with his shoulder and grinned. It was very likely that they owed him about a million favors from there until the end of time. But that was alright.
The ceremony was short. Torres waxed poetic over how much trust it took for two spies to love one another, let alone keep the relationship a secret for five years before letting anyone else in. Five years of sharing secrets, of first fights, of frustrations and compromises without telling another soul in the world. Natasha and Clint listened quietly, with their heads sometimes bowed and sometimes looking directly into each other's eyes, knowing that any number of agents in SHIELD could be in the same boat as them.
"You're my best friend, Clint," she said, staring at her flowers - in Clint's favorite color - as she spoke. "You're the reason I'm alive today, and I-I-I love you. There are a lot of things I've done in my life that I regret, but this won't be one of them. This won't ever be one of them."
Smiling tremulously, Clint shrugged crookedly. "I love you, Tasha. That's really all I can say. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you and, uh...yeah. I love you a lot."
They probably should have written their vows ahead of time.
There were no mentions of God, no promises of a long and happy life together, just the truth laid bare. Natasha pulled the rings from the pocket of her cardigan, and they slid them onto one another's fingers. For the first time in front of anybody, they kissed. Their friends clapped and beamed and Natasha was a wife again. The scent of roses didn't choke her because all she could smell when she wrapped her arms around Clint were purple carnations.
After, Clint turned to the room of their seven wedding guests. "Okay, so, now you know." There was a smattering of laughter. "But this...it can't leave the tower, okay? We have tonight to drink and dance and party, but come sun-up outside of here, this never happened," he said, and there was a heavy somberness over the room as everyone murmured their agreement.
They had tonight. This was their one night to be any other couple in the world. To laugh. To kiss each other without checking over their shoulders first. To dance up close and wrap their arms around one another. So Natasha determined to make the most of it. She laced her hand through Clint's. She laughed. She kissed him whenever she wanted. She danced up close with her arms wrapped around him, his breath hot against her ear and his hands tight on her waist.
"Okay, I am trying really, really hard to be a cool friend and be happy for you, but what the hell, Natasha?! You didn't tell me?! Me, of all people?! Come on!" Sharon pushed between her and Clint to yell.
Natasha laughed. She laughed and she hugged her friend and Sharon was shocked into silence.
"As penance for deceiving me, you're going to have to play goofy wedding games. I refuse to leave you alone until you do," demanded Sharon when she regained her composure. "So, you need something o-okay, guys, we need something old for the happy couple!"
Tony's hand shot up into the air. "Steve's old!" he yelled.
"Hey!"
"I calls it like I sees it, Grandpa Steve."
Fighting a laugh, Sharon grabbed Steve by the collar and pulled him over. "Steve, give her a kiss. And now we need something new!" she yelled.
"Here! Here, I have something!" Pepper pulled an unopened packet of gum from her purse and waved it in the air, laughing. There were bright pink spots high on her cheeks.
Steve was dithering, so Natasha pulled him down for a peck of lips before snatching the gum pack from Pepper. "Thank you," she snapped with a grin.
Practically jumping with unrestrained excitement, Sharon ran both hands through her hair. "Okay, okay, so...something old, something new, someth- we need something-! Okay, I have, yeah, okay." She reached up and pulled the charm necklace from around her neck, kicking at Natasha's ankles until she turned around and fastening it on her. "Borrowed. Don't you dare lose this, Jamie picked it out for me and I will kick your cute ass all the way to Timbuktu. And now something blue. Anyone?"
Clint held up her bouquet, bound together with a blue ribbon. She tied it into her hair and everyone cheered.
After the party-turned-wedding-turned-wedding-reception, Natasha and Clint went into his bathroom and hung their rings beside one another on the wall. They couldn't wear them on jobs or even where the public could see, but as long as their rings were hanging in the bathroom next to their toothbrushes and towels then everything was fine.
They made love like a married couple, like they had all the time in the world, then lie beside one another for a long time before fucking like they usually did. They laughed into damp skin and murmured nonsense at each other.
"Did you see Pepper's face? I thought she was gonna lose her shit and drag Tony up to the altar instead."
She laughed until the bed shook. "I didn't see. I had tunnel vision," she mumbled with a shake of her head.
Clint's hand cupped her hair, his bristle chafing but comfortable. "Shit, we got married today, Tash. I love you."
"You're such an idiot."
They fell asleep pillowed against one another. For the first time in months Natasha didn't wake up screaming.
She did, however, wake up irritated. Her phone was buzzing on the nightstand. "What?" she rasped.
"Trust me, Nat, I wouldn't be calling if this weren't urgent," Sharon said. She sounded hungover. "It's about Barnes. He's awake."
"Fantastic, he didn't die in his sleep. Good for him. Can I go back to bed now?"
Sharon sighed tightly. "No, I mean the Winter Soldier is inactive. It's just Barnes. He's disoriented and distressed and he's asking for you," she said.
Propping herself up on one elbow, Natasha looked over her shoulder at Clint. He was sleeping like the dead, flat on his back and snoring. "You do realize I'm technically on my honeymoon, right? That's occurred to you."
"You didn't file vacation time with your handler."
"Clint did, and I'm still on medical leave for a week."
"Natasha, please," Sharon pleaded. "He hasn't even asked for Steve yet."
Sighing to show her immense displeasure, Natasha chewed it over as she watched Clint's face. "Fine. Have someone pick me up in the usual place," she said and hung up before Sharon could argue. Natasha leaned down and kissed along the line of Clint's jaw until he woke up.
"Mmm, Tasha," he murmured, reaching for her, but she stalled his hand.
"I have to go for a while," she said softly, wrapping her arm briefly around him to bite his ear. "I'll be back in a few hours."
Clint grumbled wordlessly, already falling back asleep. She crawled out of bed and pulled on her clothes from the night before. If Barnes wanted to see her so badly he could see her as-is.
So, anyone see that one episode of Parks and Rec? Well, I had already planned for Natasha and Clint to get married somehow or another in this fic, but then I saw that one episode of Parks and Rec and knew it had to be done this way. Seems oddly fitting for then to sneak it up on all their friends, after all.