A/N A big thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, following and favouriting my little story, I'm loving writing it. Here our hero remembers another one of their missions.

Enjoy. x

'You're pissed at me?' Barton asked as he strapped himself into his seatbelt in the hold of the C-5 Galaxy. Natasha hadn't said a word through the pre mission checks. The silence was starting to unnerve him. He'd even tried singing which normally drove her mad, but this time nothing.

She fixed him with a cool stare and deliberately left a seat gap between them.

'You're pissed.' He muttered in confirmation as he secured the final clip.

As the aircraft left the ground Barton tried to think of something to say.

'She kissed me!' He shouted eventually in exasperation over the noise of the engines. 'Do you honestly think I spent the night with her?'

Natasha turned and glared at him before turning away making it clear there was going to be no further discussion on the subject.

It was a ridiculous situation. 'I have no self control all of a sudden?' He though to himself. 'There are times Romanoff when you've no idea how much temptation I've resisted.' His mind wandered to a mission in the South China Sea. 'I deserved the medal of honour for that one.' He snorted.

Off the coast of Southern China, Natasha had gained intelligence reporting a cargo ship, the Ānquán tōngdào sailing out of Hong Kong. Nothing unusual in that, however, she had discovered that this vessel was actually under the control of a Triad breakaway group. Following the disappearance of well known Chinese chemist Lo hu Phat, they now knew that the scientist was being held hostage in order to produce a chemical weapon which the faction could sell to the highest bidder.

Parachuting covertly onto the deck at dawn, Hawkeye had neutralised most of the crew before anyone realised he was there. Unfortunately the Red Pole enforcer had managed to escape. Before Hawkeye could reach him, Lo hu Phat lay dead and Red Pole had released the chemical and scuttled the boat before taking a life raft to safety. The Ānquán tōngdào was now on a collision course for the Paracel Islands and if it hit the entire area would be completely destroyed, unable to sustain life for at least a thousand years. Conveying the information over the coms, Barton could hear the concern in Coulson's voice. 'You have to get out of there. That stuff is pure poison.'

'No can do, if this bucket hits then it's a long and painful death for every man, woman and child on those islands. I have to find a way to turn the boat.'

'And how exactly are you planning on doing that?' Coulson asked almost conversationally.

Clint looked at the mangled steering system and grimaced. 'That's the part I'm working on.'

Red pole had certainly done a good job. The rudders could not be manipulated from the bridge, or the ship stopped, the only solution would be to go below decks and attempt to shut down the engines manually. He relayed his plan to Coulson.

'That would take you directly through the chemical lab...' The fact that Barton would certainly be contaminated hung in the air unsaid.

'Clint?' Natasha said softly, he had not been aware that his partner was listening in.

'No choice Tash.' He said, trying not to show how grateful he was to hear her voice. 'I've always wanted to be able to glow in the dark anyway.'

Natasha was not convinced by the lightness in his tone. A slow death through chemical warfare was one of Clint's biggest fears, not that he would ever admit it to anyone else. She could only imagine the courage it took for him to go into that lab.

Just as the ship was half a mile from the closest Island, Clint managed to reach the manual override and the engines slowed until they were finally silent.

As he emerged from the hull blinking in the early morning sunlight, Natasha stood on the deck waiting, her arms folded. Overhead a Blackhawk helicopter hovered, a line descending to just behind the black widow. Clint could see the pilot wearing a chem suit. He couldn't imagine why Natasha wasn't wearing the same.

'Don't come any closer!' Clint said, holding up his hands.

'They're sending a tug to take the ship out to a safe distance while they decontaminate.' She said.

'You should get out of here.' The effects of the chemicals were starting to affect his body; he stumbled forwards, just as Natasha's arms reached him.

'Tash... you'll be contaminated...' He coughed, already realising it was too late.

Back at the small Asian base, the process for decontaminating the two agents had to begin as soon as possible.

'We have one booth. I suggest the sooner you are both clean, the better your chances of no ill effects.' The tech said from inside her protective suit. 'You'll have to share.'

And that was how Clint Barton found himself in a far too small contamination shower standing with his back to Natasha Romanoff, both of them completely naked.

He was grateful that the neutralising solution was icy cold, that helped. There were some functions that no man can perform at that temperature. But, even facing away from her, every hair on his body stood on end at her close proximity. The fact his eyes pointed the other way didn't stop his mind wandering to every curve of her body and how he so desperately wanted to explore her that his whole being ached with longing. It certainly focussed his mind away from his fear of chemicals.

'You should have worn a suit Natasha.' He said, teeth chattering as another icy blast of decontaminate hit them.

'And let you have all this fun on your own?' She snipped back, unable to keep the chill out of her own voice.

He'd been grateful to have her there, despite how stupidly she'd put herself at risk. Changing into Shield sweats, he watched her as she dried her red hair with a towel, and realised how this woman meant everything to him. He'd never really believed that there would be something between them that first day; it was merely a case of placating an enemy. Now things were different. She would put herself at risk for him, and he knew he'd die for her if necessary.

Natasha had always manipulated men, she used sex as a weapon as much as a gun or her widow's bite. He knew she felt something for him, but her training in the red room left her wary of any emotional attachments she saw as a weakness. He could not push her, she would have to be the one to let him in and that could take a lifetime. Fortunately, patience was one of his strengths.

'Are you really not going to talk to me?' He asked after they'd finally landed and left their seats. 'What are you, twelve?' He goaded. With still no response, finally in desperation he placed a hand on her forearm as she attempted to push past. Anyone else would have soon been holding a broken wrist but the Black Widow settled for a look designed to maim not kill.

'Nothing is going on.' Clint said quietly. 'She kissed me.'

'It's none of my business.' Natasha snapped as she tried to barge past him towards the ramp.

The kiss was indeed incidental in Natasha's mind. How many times had Clint watched from his vantage point as she'd kissed and cooed over a target to obtain information? It had never occurred to her that perhaps he had the same feelings she was experiencing now. She wasn't jealous she told herself. There was no reason to be. There was nothing going on between her and Barton. A little niggly voice at the back of her mind snorted in derision. When they first met and Barton failed to kill her Natasha believed that he would be as easy to manipulate as any other man. But when her initial attempts at seduction had failed, and subsequent temptations had been ignored, her opinion gradually changed. Missions sometimes required they share a bed, pose as a couple or even once ended up completely naked and in each instance, while the cover was always maintained, he had never once attempted to cross the line. She had gained a respect for a man that she would have never thought possible. As time went on she was surprised to find their intimacy was important to her, she relied on it, and it was the threat to that closeness that angered her the most.