TWO YEARS LATER

'This is Agent Hannah Foster.' Coulson said coolly as he entered the training room with someone in his wake. Natasha stopped hitting the punch bag and eyed the stranger warily. The girl was young, very young, but, as Natasha had been recruited as a child, she knew youth was no measure of ability. Slim and petite, Foster wore her blonde hair tied up in a pony tail, a few wisps fell forwards across worried blue eyes. The girl stepped forwards and held out her hand.

'You're the Black Widow. I have heard so much about you.' Foster stammered.

Ignoring the outstretched hand Natasha glanced at Coulson questioningly.

From above Hawkeye slid head first down the rope he had been climbing, his boots screeching at the speed of descent. He stopped with his nose inches from the ground. The girl jumped back nervously.

'And the show off is Agent Barton.' Coulson said rolling his eyes.

'Hawkeye...' Foster said in awe.

'Forgive my partner's rudeness.' Clint said as he back flipped from the rope. 'She's Russian.'

'Проказник!' Natasha chided with an indulgent half smile aimed only at the archer.

He grinned in response, the two now apparently oblivious to their visitors.

Hannah's mouth formed a perfect O as she struggled to think of something to say.

'Agent Foster has been transferred from records. It seems the powers that be now believe her ready to start work in the field. Our next mission is relatively simple so they think it will be a chance for her to gain some valuable experience.' Coulson said far too brightly.

Foster continued to stare at Clint as he unstrapped his gloves, his attention still on his partner. The awkward silence soon became unbearable to the senior handler.

'Yes well!' Coulson said briskly. 'Now that we've all gotten to know one another, we'd best move on. Agent Foster?'

Hannah Foster was mooning like a lost puppy. 'Ahem!' Coulson coughed snapping the girl to her senses. 'Very nice to meet you both.' She gushed, but her comment was aimed solely at Clint Barton.

'You're jealous!' Hawkeye said, although his voice was somewhat muffled given the Black Widow currently had him pinned down with his face in the training mat.

'Don't be ridiculous!' She snapped.

This morning's briefing had not gone to The Black Widow's liking; in fact the last few days had been something of a trial. The trainee handler, Agent Foster, seemed to make it her business to sit as close to Hawkeye as possible. At everything he said she simpered and sighed and, Natasha thought crossly, she wouldn't have said he was that fascinating or that funny. Every opportunity Foster would touch his arm or lean across to fill up her water glass, brushing against the archer in the process. Her partner appeared to be lapping up the blonde's attention which grated even further. On more than one occasion Coulson had needed to draw Barton's mind back to the briefing, Natasha had even been forced to kick him herself.

It had been very satisfying.

With a twist Clint Barton managed to release his arm and swept away the one holding Natasha Romanoff's weight. Knocked off balance, he used his legs to continue the momentum until the roles were reversed. She lay spread eagled on her back as he straddled her.

'Then why have such a bug up your arse about it?'

The Russian assassin met his questioning gaze with a deadpan one of her own. Arching her back she threw her assailant to the right until she was once more in control. 'If I was even the smallest bit jealous...' she said coolly, 'which I am not... then she would be dead.'

Clint shrugged as if to concede the point. He wriggled to the side, but Black Widow was too quick for him. 'So what exactly is your problem with Foster?' He grunted.

'I think she's unprofessional.' She replied.

'Unprofessional?' He said arching an eyebrow before throwing more weight into his movement, The Widow attempted to roll away but he gripped her arm and forced her forward with sheer brute strength. This time Natasha found herself facing the mat. 'Because a pretty girl is nice to me... that is unprofessional?'

Natasha turned sharply until they lay nose to nose, his weight still pinning her to the ground. 'So you do think she's pretty?' She asked.

'Yes, I think she's pretty, don't you?'

'She is not Notre dame ugly.' The spy agreed reluctantly..

'How very gracious of you.' Clint grunted as she fought against him.

'Do you intend to have intercourse with her?'

Hawkeye almost choked at the unexpected question. It was all the advantage the Black Widow needed. As he pulled back, she curled her legs under him and wrapped them around the soldier's neck forcing him down on to the mat in a strangle hold until he tapped her thigh in submission.

'What sort of question was that?' He muttered bad temperedly once she had finally released her grip. They sat side by side on the edge of the mat. Clint kicked at the gym floor in irritation.

'Is that not the kind of question friends ask each other?' She asked innocently.

'It's not a question we ask each other.' He said rubbing his neck.

'Aren't we friends?'

Clint blinked. The vulnerably act wasn't ever going to work, yet she still tried it from time to time.

'We're a kind of friends.' He said warily. Still they did not make eye contact.

'So?'

'So what?'

Under her breath, Natasha growled but it was enough for the hawk to pick up.

'Natasha.' he said gently. 'She's just a bit star struck. Remember she's been stuck in a basement somewhere collating data, now she gets to come up here and play with the big boys and girls. She wants to learn, do well in the field, she sees being nice to me as a way to achieve that. You should be impressed with her tactics.'

'But does she have to be so...' She said the words dripping disgust.

Clint bumped her shoulder with his own, an amused smile on his lips. 'Just because you don't like physical contact with people, doesn't mean everyone else is the same.'

Natasha turned to face him. 'I touch people.' She said indignantly.

'Kicking their arse does not count as touching.' He teased.

'It's contact.' She defended.

'It's not exactly... affectionate.'

'Affectionate?'

'You know, affection, that thing normal people do when they like each other.'

'Affection is a weakness.' She said automatically.

'She's got to learn the ropes somehow.' Clint said diverting the Russian's thoughts from her training with the Red Room where any emotion was forbidden. 'Better she does it with Agents who know what they're doing. She'll be gone soon enough.'

'Coulson doesn't like it.' Natasha countered.

'Well unfortunately we are in something of a difficult situation,' He sighed, 'as you keep threatening to torture and kill all your handlers. The only one who doesn't actively run from looking after you is Coulson. If you are going to stop terrifying them all and become more nurturing then you can have Hannah in Budapest...?'

Natasha looked at him blankly.

'Agent Foster?'

When there was no recognition, Clint continued.

'The subject of this conversation?' He waved a hand dismissively. 'Anyway, on this job I don't mind babysitting the rookie. Think of it as I'm taking one for the team.' Clint got to his feet and flexed his neck as the vertebrae clicked back into place.

'But it helps that she's pretty?' Natasha asked.

Barton considered it for a moment before shrugging, with a wry smile he added. 'It doesn't hurt.'