A/N: This one is entirely in Nat's perspective. This is actually a lead up to another mission drabble, so it is a bit shorter, but the next part will be up soon. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not even a little bit. Bummer.

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Natasha smoothed her dress and waited for the elevator, eyes scanning the hotel lobby for exits, threats. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she subtly activated her comm.

"Status?" she said in a low tone, turning to step into the thankfully empty elevator.

"Proceed to top floor. The roof access door is down the west hall. Your contact will be waiting for you." She took a deep breath as she heard Clint's voice filter back to her. She hit the appropriate button as the doors slid close. She watched the floors tick by, mentally getting into character.

"Where are you? I might need eyes if this doesn't play out well. I feel like I am flying blind." She was had only been called in by Clint an hour ago. Dark mission. No briefing. Just two agents. She didn't even have time to plan possible escape routes. Not how she liked to operate.

"I'm in position. I'll have eyes on you the minute you step out. Are you up to speed on the plan?" Clint's voice and presence calmed some of her nerves. The elevator slid smoothly to a stop, and she stepped off cautiously and turned down the hall, eyes dancing around for any potential threats. At the end, she saw her exit and she strode quickly, not wanted to remain so exposed.

"Approaching access door. All clear?" She played her hand over the knife hidden at her waist, ready for all contingencies.

"Clear. Contact is at the northwest corner of the roof," Clint replied. "I have your back."

She stepped cautiously out onto what appeared to be a small courtyard, complete with potted plants, a small table and chairs, a cake, and….Clint. What the hell?

"What the hell?" The door slammed behind her as she gave him questioning look. He was standing by the table, dressed in a blazer and a white button down. He gave her a guilty smile and pulled out a chair.

"Happy Birthday!" Natasha shook her head at Clint's words and looked around, waiting for the catch.

"It isn't my birthday." She was still frozen at the door, unable to process this strange turn of events. Her whole focus had been in mission-mode, and she was having difficulty finding her mental balance.

"I know! But you refused to tell me, and I couldn't even find it in your file, so I picked a day." He abandoned his attempt to get her to sit and started fiddling around the table, uncovering a dish and lighting a candle on the cake.

His actions finally shook her from her shock, and she walked forward hesitantly. "You did all this?"

"Of course. It isn't much, just some cake and ice cream. Can't have a birthday without that. I figured we could eat the cake first, then dinner at that diner you like so much. Dessert should always be first." He smiled at her as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"So…no mission."

"No mission. Had to get you up here somehow. Surprise. I was going to invite a bunch of people, have music and stuff, but Coulson smacked my upside the head and I agreed." Her lips twitched at that, having witnessed Coulson's correction methods more than a few times.

She finally sat down, deciding that she would have to humor him after he went to all this trouble. Clint served her an enormous slice of cake and topped it off with ice cream and chocolate syrup. He told her about his time with the carnival, the crazy people in and out of the tents, and he even showed her how to make a balloon animal, a skill he had not yet lost. Natasha was surprised to find herself enjoying the evening. She had never celebrated her birthday, at least not since before her parents' death.

As he began to clean up the table, she stilled his hand, her eyes asking him the question that had been on her lips since she walked into the courtyard.

"Because everyone deserves to be celebrated." She didn't respond to his answer, but she smiled. Really smiled. Once he had finished cleaning he walked towards the door, throwing a question over his shoulder.

"So, my darling Natasha, now that I have told you a little about myself, do I get to ask some questions about you?" He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Natasha inclined her head, despite the knowledge that she would likely pay for her agreement.

As she stood up and Clint opened the door before her, she suddenly stopped, remembering something he had said before. He tilted his head questioningly at her hesitation.

"So, you read my file?" Her tone was very casual, a sure sign that he was in big trouble.

"Shit. Shitshitshit." And with that, Clint disappeared through the door like a tiger was on his tail.

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A/N: This drabble is a bit shorter, but I wanted to show a sweet side to their friendship. I also wanted to step up the next drabble, in which Clint finally gets to ask Natasha some questions. And Clint will definitely find an interesting way to ask his questions. I hope you readers don't find them too OOC. My impression of their relationship is that he makes her lighter, and that she gives him someone to connect with, over the comms or in the real world. I have already started the next drabble, but I do hope you will let me know what you think of this one! Peez?