My Weakness

Clint and Natasha had a marvelous time in the southwest. When they weren’t lounging around, just spending time with each other, they spent six weeks driving to tons of tourist sites and took pictures of each other - some typical tourist shots, some romantic, some silly. Their favorite was a picture from the Grand Canyon…a dad with a family had taken pity on them when he saw them trying to take selfies and had volunteered to take a couple of pictures for them before the park closed for the day. Clint put his arm around Natasha’s waist and they smiled, then he pulled her to him and they kissed. The sun happened to shine a ray right behind Natasha’s head at that exact moment, creating a starburst effect, and it was their absolute favorite picture.

Neither of them had ever been so silly in their lives: it felt foreign to them, slightly uncomfortable and more than a little scary, but still wonderful. They didn't know it was possible to laugh quite like they had been, easily and freely. It seemed as if they were trying to chase away Loki and the chitauri and Coulson’s death with laughter on some subconscious level they didn't know about, but they didn't care. They were just happy to laugh. It felt a little like they were undercover when Natasha jumped down from a boulder in her sundress and floppy hat laughing, when Clint caught her and spun her, kissing her. But there wasn't any target and they weren’t on a mission. They were on their own, being a couple, doing what normal couples do. Neither of them had any idea what “normal” couples did, beyond the undercover couples they pretended to be sometimes. Natasha and Clint were going on instinct, and were a little terrified by it. Neither of them had ever dreamed that there would come a day when they would laugh beyond quiet chuckles at black humor - yet here they were, in love, kissing softly and sweetly in the New Mexico desert on the way back to the safe house as the sun began to sink. They realized immediately how cliche that was, and didn't give one single solitary shit.

Every night, they made love and Natasha drifted to sleep, her back against Clint's chest, his arms around her with their fingers interlaced and his face nuzzled in her hair. He told her how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much she meant to him. She loved him, too, and he knew it - she could finally say it and told him frequently - but he wanted her to fall into the darkness of sleep knowing she was safe and loved. By him. He wanted her to feel and know the security in the night that he didn't have, that was being robbed from him.

He lay awake every night, praying he could stay awake because as long as he was awake and with Nat, he was free, happy and secure. But at night, in the darkest recesses of sleep, Loki still came to him. Loki told him that she'd lied when she said she loved him, and that every time she made love to him she was simply using him the same way she had used the men she targeted during operations. Sometimes Loki jeered at him about Phil Coulson’s death, telling Clint it was all his fault. Loki taunted him until he was begging, crying, pleading for Loki to stop, please go away and stop saying these things. He couldn't take it.

Clint would wake up sweating, sometimes muttering, and Natasha was always there. She told him she loved him, she was there and she always would be, that everything was going to be okay. He would gather her close and pray for sleep to elude him until it inevitably settled on him again. It happened every night and became a pattern. The next morning, every morning, Clint acted if nothing had happened and Natasha reluctantly followed his lead. She wanted to find the demons in his head and chase them out, but she didn't pursue it. She just hugged and kissed him a little more than usual first thing in the morning. Clint knew why, but he wasn't turning it away. He appreciated the comfort.

Natasha wanted to visit Las Vegas and enjoy it, not like the other times they had been while working a mission. They contacted Fury to make sure that the safe house was open, then made the drive. Clint went out to buy makeup, a wig and a couple of cocktail dresses for Natasha. He knew her size and tastes perfectly, he didn't need her along. She'd spent time in Vegas, she couldn't afford to be recognized. They gambled and saw some shows, things that they had both done before but hadn’t been able to relax and enjoy because they’d had to be watching a target and listen to a monitor in their ear. They still watched their backs, but had a wonderful time. Clint didn’t mind Natasha as a blonde.

Clint was delighted when he found out the circus was in town. He insisted on taking Natasha, reminding her that he had promised years ago and he had to honor that promise. Something stirred in her, seeing him at the circus; he seemed as excited as a child as he pointed things out to her, dragged her over to the clowns and animals, then beat every rigged game, winning so many prizes that a laughing Natasha began giving them to children passing by. He took her on the carousel, putting her on a white horse next to his brown and holding her hand as they spun around and around, up and down. They went on the Ferris wheel and he kissed her at the top, putting his arm around her, holding her tight when she looked around warily as the car rocked, telling her he loved her and would never let something happen to her on his watch.

They made love that night and Natasha fell asleep curled into Clint, feeling as safe and happy as she ever had. He was inhaling the lingering smells of his childhood mingled with the scent of the love of his life, his face buried in her hair, content and happy, lucky in love, wanting the next week to last forever.

Sleep found him more quickly than usual that night, and Loki rode in on the tide of his subconscious like Alexander the Great claiming Egypt.

"You are living a lie."

Go away, Loki. You are the lie.

"She does not love you. She loves only herself."

No. She loves me. There isn’t any reason to doubt anymore, she told me.

"She lies. She will leave you someday, when a better man, a man who is good and not broken, comes for her."

She won't. She WON’T.

"Her heart will never be yours. She gave her body to be claimed by others, and still does whenever required. But her heart...her heart...her heart belongs to no one...least of all you. You will never have her, Clint, she will never love you..."

Clint sat up and roared, "NO!"

Natasha bolted upright, jumping out of sleep into a wide defensive stance, climbing immediately back onto the bed when she saw Clint wild-eyed and sweating. She put her arm on his shoulder tentatively as he heaved for breath, looking around the bed at nothing.

"Clint, baby, what's wrong? Tell m-"

He grabbed her suddenly, pulling her across her his lap and kissing her roughly. "You love me. Tell me. Say it!"

"Clint, you know I do..."

"Say it, dammit!"

“Clint. Calm down.” She gently started to push away, positioning herself optimally to defend herself if need be.

He didn't let up. "I need to hear it, Natasha. Please! Tell me you love me. Tell me you're mine, just mine, that you won't leave me. I've got to hear it. Please!" He let her go and she slid backward. He looked at her, haunted and searching. "I've got to know. Tell me he's lying!" He leaned forward and brought both fists to his head. "I can't stand it, Natasha, please just tell me."

She reached up tentatively and rubbed the back of his head, contemplating. This was Clint. She had seen him do things that defied belief. He could spot and hit targets he wasn't looking at, that he hadn't seen coming. He never missed unless he wanted to. He was strong: until she met Thor and Captain America, he was the strongest man she had ever known. He was mentally strong; she'd never seen a mission break him. And even when he came back from being abducted by Loki, he hadn't seemed broken. Or tormented. Not like this. Clint Barton was the toughest man she knew. She had a hard time comprehending him being laid so low - over her.

She spoke softly. "Clint, look at me." He looked up, and she saw no trace of Loki, only Clint, but his eyes were agonized and her heart fell to the earth, shattering. She touched his face and kissed his lips lightly. "I love you, Clinton Barton. I'm yours. Only yours and nobody else's. For as long as you'll have me."

He grabbed her, pulling her into his lap and put his head on her chest, letting a strangled, muffled sob. She stroked his head and back, shushing and soothing, waiting until he calmed down. When he had settled, she stretched out, guiding him to lie back down. She lay in front of him, facing him, stroking his face and hair.

"Clint, do you dream about Loki?"

He nodded.

"He tells you I don't love you?"

He nodded again, looking away.

She put her hand to his cheek. "Is that all he tells you?" He looked at her quickly, then looked away again.  "I want to know what he says so I can prove what a liar he is. Because he is a damned liar. He is a trickster god. His magic is deceit, and he thrives on the misery he causes because of it."

He closed eyes tight and gathered himself, swallowing hard before he answered, "He says that you'll leave me the first chance you get. That everything you've ever told me has been a lie. Sometimes he harasses me about Coulson.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. "And he says that you enjoy sleeping with other men on operations."

Natasha recoiled, her eyes flashing. Her mind reeled and she cursed Loki for the torment he was causing Clint. She strived to keep her tone level and calm when she said, "Clint, I have not let another man touch me since Jamaica. On an mission or otherwise."

He watched her face, searching for the truth. "But what about...how did you..."

"I've sit on their laps and kissed them when I had to. Part of my job is to flirt with them and get in their heads. I have to do that, it's my job. But if they started to feel me up...I slipped their drinks."

He just stared at her. "You're telling the truth."

"Yes. Ever since Jamaica. Nobody but you, Clint. And as for the rest of the bullshit he's fed you...well, I don't know how to convince you I love you and don’t want anyone else, but I do and I won't. I'd do anything to prove it to you, though."

"Marry me." Clint was surprised at his own words; he hadn't planned them, but realized that he didn't want to call them back.

She blinked. "What?"

"Marry me. Be my wife." He reached for her hand and kissed it. "Please."

She sat up. "You're not serious."

He sat up beside her. "I'm deadly serious. I don't want anything in this life but you. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want you to be Natasha Barton. Please. Please marry me, Nat."

She just looked at him, dumbfounded. “Holy shit, Barton. I don't know what to say."

"'Yes' would be the optimal answer."

"Like, right now?"

"I hadn't thought about it, but yeah, we are in Vegas, so we could if you wanted to. It's up to you."

“Jesus.” She rubbed one hand over her open mouth. ”What about work?"

"What about it?"

"We're not allowed to have any kind of romantic relationship, you know this. We got off lucky as shit when Fury found out last time. What if he finds out now? Getting married would be way beyond the pale."

"I don't care. Fuck them. Marry me."

She just looked at him, dumbfounded. "I can't run out on S.H.I.E.L.D., they keep me alive. We'd have to play by their rules."

Clint beamed. ”Oh God, you're coming up with ways to make this work. You're not going to say no, are you?"

She ignored him. "Do you know we'd have to hide it from everyone?"

"Yes, for a while."

"Are you okay with that?"

"I'll survive."

"We wouldn't be able to wear rings or anything."

"We'll improvise."

"Do you understand that until Fury knows and takes pity on us, I'll still have to sit on laps and cozy up to marks to get the job done sometimes?"

"It'll eat me alive, but it already does. It's bothered me almost from the beginning, Nat. I've been jealous and wanted to fucking castrate every one of those bastards before I slit their throats. But I trust you and know the score. Just try not to, and don't enjoy it when you do."

"I never do." She lay back down, throwing her arm across her forehead and staring at the ceiling, still stunned. He lay beside her, rolling her to him and entwining their arms and legs while rubbing her hair gently, looking at her softly.

She looked at him, still not fully comprehending, wanting to make him understand. "Do you understand that I'm not going to leave you whether we're married or not?"

"Yes. But I still want to marry you."

She thought a few moments, her face screwed up in concentration, shaking her head every now and then. He just watched her, unusually calm for such an important moment in his life. He had heard the direction her thoughts had taken and read her body language. This was his Tasha, and he knew her, inside and out. She was about to be his fiancée. This was it. He'd waited a long time. Clint savored the moment.

"Are you sure this is what you want? This isn't an emotional reaction to your bad dreams? Or New York?"

He kissed her lightly. "Tasha, I've wanted to marry you for the last three years. For the longest time I never dreamed you'd have me, then I was wanting to wait for the right moment: until we got some better living arrangements and wouldn't have to hide it and all that, but it looks like I botched that." He grinned. "I can try again later, if you'd like. But you know my intentions now."

She kissed him. "No, you don't need to try again.” She chewed her lip, her eyes glinting. “I don't know that I can marry you. I love you too much, and being the Black Widow and all…”

“Oh shut up. If we haven’t killed each other by now, I think we’re good.”

She got serious again. “Clint, I want to marry you, but I don't see how it will work."

"So are you saying yes, you'll marry me at some point?"

She smiled. "Yes. As soon as we figure out the details."

He beamed and rolled her under him, kissing her deeply. "As long as you're promising to marry me. That's all I care about at the moment."

"I am."

He kissed her, long and slow, communicating a wealth of meaning with no words. Then he stopped kissing her suddenly and rolled onto his side, pulling her close. "Go to sleep."

She craned her neck and blinked at him, confused. "...but...I thought since we just got engaged we might....?"

"Not right now. You need to sleep, we have to be up in a couple of hours. We're going jewelry shopping as soon as the stores open. I want to get something on you before you change your mind."

~*~

Natasha was surprised to find that she was little disappointed she couldn't get a traditional diamond engagement ring. Clint was disappointed too; she could tell that he very much wanted to do the whole traditional thing as much as possible, but given their professions and the fact that they weren't even supposed to be dating, going home with a big sparkly solitaire didn't seem wise. When they revealed that they were a couple and just how much of a couple they were, maybe then they'd go for the ring. They didn't know - everything was kind of a haze of joy at that moment.

They decided that some sort of necklace seemed like the best idea. She could wear it all the time, it was much less likely to be lost, she didn't have to take it off during ops - it was just the best choice. Clint wanted to get her a diamond solitaire necklace, possibly one that could later be turned into a ring. Natasha was on board and looking at stones when she spotted what she wanted in another case and pointed it out to Clint. He was reluctant to leave what he was looking at, he had his eye on a half-carat oval, but Natasha insisted and he followed.

It was a small arrow of white gold on a delicate chain, and she couldn't think of anything more perfect. Clint was touched that she wanted to send even that much of a message to the world, wearing what was clearly his mark. He kissed her and told her he'd do better by her soon. She kissed him back and said, "Let's go do it now."

~*~

A couple of hours later, the two hardened assassins showed up at a little chapel to be married. Clint wore a charcoal suit with no tie, Natasha had picked out a simple, strapless knee-length a-line, white with little lavender roses embroidered and a lavender sash. She left off the wig and styled her hair just the way he liked it, she carried a nosegay of flowers in shades of purple. Clint was thrilled when he saw: she'd picked his favorite color.

They spoke their vows, and when the time came for an exchange of rings Natasha raised her hair, Clint fumbled a little with the catch on the necklace, clasped it, then kissed her on the back of the neck where the chain lay. She turned to face him, radiating, and the bored-looking clergyman pronounced them man and wife in front of two hired witnesses. He kissed her, a scorching, possessive kiss that would have embarrassed anyone who was paying attention, then scooped her up and carried her out.

Since they had used their IDs that identified them as Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov to get married, wanting it to be legal, they decided skipping town and heading east may be best. Old habits died hard for paranoid spies, and they might as well meander their way back home, they were almost out of time.

For the rest of the day, she kept reaching up to touch the little arrow that marked her as belonging to Hawkeye. Mrs. Clint Barton. Damn, that was a mindfuck. But she looked down at her hand, fingers laced with her husband's (husband?) and smiled, thinking she would enjoy getting used to this.  Clint followed her gaze and brought their hands up to his lips, kissing her hand as he drove.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too."

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, Clint stroking her thumb with his absently. After a while, he broke the silence.

"So, uh, here's something we never talked about."

She looked over at him. "There's a lot we didn't talk about. We kind of dove into this thing head first...but I'm not sorry." He smiled. "What's on your mind?"

He darted a glance over at her. "What's your name going to be?"

She frowned. "I hadn't really thought about that. It has to stay 'Romanov' for work, doesn't it?"

"Probably, or we'll blow our cover."

"What do you want it to be?"

He paused, stroking her hand, sensing a test. "As much as it may make me a chauvinist pig, I really like the sound of Natasha Barton. But I won't raise hell if you want to keep your name."

She pondered. "How long do we have to decide?"

"Until we get the legal marriage certificate, I think. I’m not exactly well-versed in this kind of protocol. Illegal IDs are more my thing.“

"Okay. I'll chew on it. I'm not sure which I prefer." She leaned over to kiss him on his cheek. "I'm Mrs. Barton either way, right?"

He smiled. "That you are, sweetheart."

~*~

They decided to stop at the Hoover Dam for the night. There was a while yet until sunset, but it had been a long day, they were hungry and, well, they had plans for the evening.

Clint had found them a surprisingly nice hotel and was checking in under an assumed name when Natasha's personal cell phone rang. She was surprised enough by the contact to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Why, hello, Agent Romanov. How's the vacation?"

"Lovely. How can I help you, Mr. Stark?"

"Please. We saved the world together, we ate schwarma together. I like to think we're friends. Call me Tony. I'm still unclear as to whether to call you 'Natasha' or 'Natalie,' though."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Natasha is fine. Or Nat.”

"Excellent! And how is Agent Barton? Is he enjoying your vacation? May I call him Clint?"

Natasha was momentarily taken aback that Tony would know they were together, but hoped she recovered quickly enough. "Uh, he's having a nice time as well. I'm sure it's fine if you call him Clint."

"Good, good, that'll make this easier. I don't know if you've been following the news or if you've been otherwise occupied..." Natasha's cheeks burned "...but I've been doing some pretty extensive renovations and remodeling to Stark Tower. In fact, it's Avengers Tower now."

"Really?"

"Yes. I've created a home base for the six of us, complete with training centers, labs, medical clinics, entertainment areas, gyms, the works."

"That's really impressive."

"It is. Of course, there may be things you may want that I haven't thought of, but we can accommodate that. We've got plenty of room."

"That's -"

"I've also got one dedicated floor for each Avenger. You can remodel or redecorate however you like. So you can paint yours pink with little spiders, Hawkeye can turn his into a nest, or you can make some kind of mashup. I'm sure one of the modern art galleries would be all over it."

Clint walked up as Natasha stood there listening, slightly slackjawed. He signaled - 'what's wrong?’ She signaled back - 'nothing, hang on.’

She said, "Tony, I don't know if I have enough furn-"

He cut her off, "Stark Industries is providing the furnishings, appliances, and whatever painting or remodeling you want to do. Basically, 'the house is on the house.'" Her mouth was a fully round O. "All you have to do is go to a store that delivers to NYC and have the bill sent here."

"Tony, we couldn't possibly-"

"Natasha, I have a feeling that the Avengers are going to be called upon very frequently. We, as a team, have a tremendous amount to offer this world. It would behoove us - and by extension the entire world - to function better as a team, instead of running around doing our own thing all the time."

"What about S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

"We'll be working in conjunction with S.H.I.E.L.D.. Can't get away from the bastards."

She just stood there for a moment, then said the only thing that came to mind: "I don't know what to say, Tony."

"Don't say anything just yet, the renovations aren't done. Just stop by the Tower on your way back to S.H.I.E.L.D. so you can take a look and - ah - maybe claim a room next to a nest."

Natasha's cheeks went up in flames and Clint's eyebrows furrowed. Natasha never blushed.

"Okay, we'll come by."

"Enjoy the rest of your vacation. Say hi to Katniss."

She laughed. "Will do. And thank you."

She hung up and turned to Clint. "You're not going to believe this."

~*~

Clint and Natasha decided to go to dinner before settling in for the night, and they left before even taking their bags up to the room. Clint looked up the location of a good Greek restaurant nearby, somewhere intimate, and put on the GPS. On the drive, Natasha told him about the conversation with Tony.

Clint said immediately, "I wanna do it."

"We haven't talked about it."

"We're talking about it now."

"We have to get better at this talking about things thing. Apparently there's still lots of ground to cover."

"There is. I'm sure we'll always have things to talk about."

"Why do you want to do it?"

"Think about it, Nat, two entire floors of a state of the art building all to ourselves, and we wouldn't have to hide. As much."

"I'm glad you quantified that."

"Well, yeah." Clint made a left and Siri complained. "Oh, go to hell, Siri."

"I don't know, Clint. It's a big switch."

"Exactly. It would almost be living like normal people, except not. It sounds like Stark already knows about us, or has guessed. We wouldn't have to hide all the time. We wouldn't be under constant surveillance."

"Don't be naive."

He sighed. "You're right. The press is onto us, clearly. But I'd at least like to set up housekeeping, even if we keep residences at S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Tower until we decide. Will you think about it?"

She smiled. "I will."

Siri told Clint turn right while still on a bridge. ”God, Siri, will you fuck off already? I'll make the right turn when I get to the fucking road."

~*~

They pulled back into the hotel parking lot and Clint parked. "Stay here. Just a second." He hopped out of the car, went back to the trunk and got their two bags, strapping them across himself, then stopped by the backseat to grab her bouquet. He then opened her door, handing her her bouquet and smiling. "Mrs. Barton?"

She stifled a giggle. "Mr. Barton?"

"May I show you to our room?"

"I'd be delighted."

He took her hand in his, kissing it as he helped her stand up. He pulled her body flush to his and she wrapped her arms around his neck, putting a nosegay of flowers beside his head. He dipped his mouth towards hers, nipping at her lips. Once, twice, then claimed her, spreading his hands wide on her back and pulling her into him.

"God Natasha. I love you so fucking much." He kissed her again, running his hand over her ass and down her thigh, pulling her leg up around him, letting her feel how hard he was getting for her. She ground against him a little and he moaned, kneading her thigh just behind her knee.

Natasha was sucking Clint's earlobe and kissing that spot behind his ear at the edge of his jaw...the place that always left him weak-kneed when she licked him there. She darted her tongue out and tasted him there, and he shuddered. "Clint?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"There a bed inside with our name on it."

He raised his head, seemed to come out of some sort of reverie, and grabbed her hand. His face was grim determination - a man on a mission - when he started pulling her across the parking lot. "Come on, we gotta go."

~*~

She caressed his arms and kissed his shoulders in the elevator, smiling wickedly when he clenched his fists and jaw to maintain control. "You're evil."

"Yes, I am," she whispered, standing on tiptoe so her lips were brushing the spot behind his ear. He shivered, gave up the fight with a growl and turned, grabbing her by the waist with the bags slapping each other on his back as the elevator dinged the top floor.

Thwarted.

Clint grabbed her hand and fairly dragged her, smirking, down the hall.

“There's a penthouse in this place?"

He nodded and scanned the key card, opening the door and holding it with his foot. “This place got three and three quarter stars. It’s the best I could scrounge up.”

She made a move to go in, he held out a hand to stop her. "Wait."

Clint whipped the two bags off his shoulders and tossed them into the room haphazardly, then turned to Natasha, put both hands on her face and brought his lips to hers. He kept the kiss chaste and sweet, romantic, but she brought her body to his, arching herself backwards and opening her mouth to him.

He picked her up, kissing her deeply, and carried her across the threshold, letting the door close behind them. She pulled back. "Oh, Clint, I can't believe you did that."

"There wasn't much I could do, but you were by-god going to have some of what other brides have on their wedding days."

She smiled at him, her hard-as-nails husband, the assassin, worrying over whether she had a romantic enough wedding. "It was perfect."

She pulled him closer to kiss him and he took her to the bed, his unerring vision finding it without fail even in the very low light, and laid her down.

He started to undress quickly, and she sat up to unzip her dress. He stopped her. "No. Let me." She smiled at him, slid off her heels and laid back down, watching him take off his clothes, loving the sight of his muscles flexing and rolling under his skin.

I can touch him whenever I want. He's mine now. Forever.

She sat back up and walked over on her knees to where he stood by the bed, putting her hands on his chest, lightly running her fingers along his torso. "I had to touch you. You're so beautiful."

"Men aren't supposed to be beautiful."

"Tough shit. You are." She ran her hands up his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles jumping and flexing under her touch as much as she’d enjoyed watching, and reached up behind his neck. "Kiss me, Hawkeye."

He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her body tight to his as he laid them down, positioning her partially under him on the bed, kissing her softly, trying desperately to be romantic and make their first night as a married couple special. Natasha was making soft, whimpering sounds and undulating under him, winding one leg around him, and if she kept it up he was going to be throwing romance out the window and going straight for 'make her scream.'

Clint turned them on their sides and fumbled for her zipper, finding it and sliding it down. His hand sought out the soft skin of her back, spreading his fingers and kneading her skin, pulling her even tighter to him as if he wanted to absorb her and never let her go. She released his mouth with a moan, started grinding his leg, and Clint's ability to romance his wife dropped another few degrees. He took hold of her bra and, with the ease of someone who had a great deal of practice with this particular bra, snapped it open.

She grinned against his skin at how easily he'd freed up the skin of her back and then licked the spot on his neck, where the shoulder meets. Clint clutched her ass, pulling her warmth against him, feeling how wet she was through her panties. He ground against her a few more times, liking the mewling sound she made, before he pushed her back from him and sat her up.

"I swear to God, Nat, I wanted to go slow tonight. But I don't think it's going to happen." He bunched up her dress and pulled it over her head, catching her bra as he went, tossing her red hair everywhere and thinking he had never seen anything so fucking sexy in his entire life as her in that moment, naked, hair rumpled, smiling at him and wearing his necklace.

"Goddamn, Natasha," he muttered, and he assaulted her with a kiss, pushing her back onto the bed, mining her mouth with his tongue, his hand slipping into her tiny lace panties and surging with pride when she whimpered and arched to him. "You're so wet, sweetheart. So fucking wet."

"It's your fault."

"Damn right." He slipped a finger inside and she made a little sound, he put his thumb on her clit and she gave a soft little moan.

She looked at him, her eyes hooded and her cheeks flush. "Oh please, Clint. Please baby." She bit her lip.

He slipped another finger in her and rubbed circles on her clit, moving them in and out as he licked and kissed his way down her torso. "Shhh, sweetheart." He suckled a nipple and she ground against his hand.

He planted open mouth kisses and licked spirals on her abdomen as he fucked her with his fingers. She moaned, "God, Clint, please...please..."

"Please what?" Clint asked, feigning innocence, kissing the inside of each thigh. She groaned and rolled her body, pleading. He kissed all around her, his fingers still working, listening to her keen and moan.

He removed his hand and she whimpered in protest. He wrapped one arm around each thigh, repositioning his thumb on her clit and resumed making circles. He licked her, his tongue just barely parting her lips, tasting her juices. She clenched her hands over her head and bucked against his face. He retreated, smiling, then licked her again, slowly and lightly. She bucked against his face again. She knew this game but wasn't in the mood to play tonight.

"Goddammit, Barton!"

"You want more?"

"Yes!"

He licked her again, so, so lightly and she grabbed for his head. "I swear to Christ, Clint, if you don't - oh!"

He had removed his thumb and shoved his fingers back into her, replacing his thumb with his tongue, sucking and licking like lightning. His fingers slammed into her with the perfect amount of force as she moaned and yelled, declarations that made no sense, English and Russian mixed with his name, and when he took her clit into his mouth and suckled it, crooking his fingers towards him inside of her, she screamed. He kept going as she pulled his hair, begging - for what neither of them knew - until she was sobbing, crying out, shuddering. He slowed, removed his fingers then stopped, licking her clean, feeling her shudder. He crawled up her body, planting soft, quick kisses on her torso, smiling every time she jumped from his touch, finally lying beside her as she panted for breath.

"That good, eh?"

"Jesus Christ, Hawkeye."

"We're not done."

"Good," she said, and rolled onto him.

~*~

They lay together a while later, tangled in the sheets, Natasha tucked under Clint's arm, each of them engrossed in their own thoughts, idly doodling patterns and words on the other's bare skin with their fingers. Clint rolled onto his side to face her, touching her necklace and looking into her eyes, probing.

"I can't believe you actually married me."

She smiled, the Clint-only smile. "You asked."

"I mean it. I'm waiting to wake up, it doesn't seem real. This is so unlike us. Especially ever since Loki -"

"Hey. Don't bring him into this. I don't want that bastard in our bed."

"I'm sorry. I just...it occurs to me how different we are. How much we've changed each other."

She pondered. "Do you think we're completely different? Or just with each other?"

It was his turn to think for a minute. "At work or in everyday situations, I'm the same as I ever was. I'm clearheaded, I can do what I need to do and there's no interference. But when it comes to you...if you get involved somehow...I'm ruined. There's no fucking way I would have bounced around a carnival for fun before I met you, or that I’d even do it now with anyone else. And before you, the thought of getting married made me laugh and cringe at the same time. But for the last couple of years - even before we were together - it's all I wanted. I wanted to come home to you, to sleep with you every night, to call you mine. And from the moment I got home from London and you kissed me, you've been my priority. If it comes down to you or pretty much anything else, I choose you." He paused. "Come to think on it, it's kind of been that way since I laid eyes on you. I blew orders for the first time ever over you."

She kissed him. "So glad you did."

He continued slowly, "And I think, if I read you correctly in the infirmary, that you're the same way. Is that what you meant when you said you were compromised?"

She nodded.  "You were all I could think about. Getting you back safely. I still managed to do what had to be done, but it was all colored by getting you back. You were priority." She paused. "I think maybe Fury and Coulson knew what they were doing when they separated us that time."

He growled. "I still disagree."

"It's academic now." She kissed him. "Are you pissed about how different we are?"

He looked contemplative. "No, not pissed. But I understand what you meant about not liking feeling so vulnerable. Lo- he hit me where I live, and he brainwashed me with it."

"Do you wish we hadn't gotten married?"

"No, not at all. Honestly, I think getting married is the most therapeutic thing I could have done to get rid of him. I'll feel better when we can live openly, but I understand that will be a while." He looked worried. "Do you regret it?"

"Not at all. I'm really very content with my decision." He smiled at her and she rolled into him, curling up for sleep. "Besides, even if I did, it's too late to have it annulled. We've already consummated it. A couple of times. Thoroughly. And quite creatively, I might add.”

Clint dreamed of Loki that night, but this time when he told Loki to fuck off, he did.