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Chapter Text

Prologue

Most days, Jordan liked working for SHIELD. The benefits were awesome and she got to feel like a badass even if she was just pushing the paperwork for the agents (but hey, someone has to do it otherwise things would never get done.) But today was not like most days. Today, she had to go up to her supervisor to tell him about an oversight on the regulations which pertained to the deadliest woman she had ever known on paper and in gossip trails.

If Natasha Romanoff does not get her citizenship in three days, then she would be deported and could not work for SHIELD US, but rather she’d have to be transferred to another branch of SHIELD with the discretion of the World Council.

Shit.

She looked away then looked back at her computer screen just to ensure that she read it correctly, no need to falsely worry anyone (things tended to explode randomly when someone in SHIELD was worried… something about ordnance). Twice. Three times. Yes, damn it. She’d have to tell her supervisor who would have to tell his, who eventually it would get to Natasha Romanoff code name Black Widow that she was the one who found the discrepancy.

Jordan made a mental note to stop by the legal offices to ensure that her will was up to date.(Someone had to take care of her dogs if she disappeared). She stepped up to her boss’ cubicle and with a breath knocked softly on the side.

“Mr. Smith?” Jordan whispered trying to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“Sir there’s a discrepancy on an important paperwork for one of the Level 13 agents.”

“What? There’s only like twelve Level 13 agents.”

“Yes sir, that’s why we’re only checking their paperwork after three fiscal years.”

“It’s not even close to the end of a fiscal year, Jordan.”

“I’m trying to stay ahead of the paperwork, sir.”

Mr.Smith, an older agent who refused to leave SHIELD because it was everything he knew nodded his head. Fast burner, he wouldn’t be surprised if he came across Jordan Nile’s application to become an agent soon enough.

“What is it?”

“I’ve forwarded you the file sir, on your inbox.”

“Okay but give me the cliffnotes.”

“Sir, Agent Romanoff’s working visa is expiring. She’s going to need to get her citizenship or expedite the process which usually takes even SHIELD two weeks otherwise she’ll have to be permanently transferred to a sister organization in another country.”

Smith almost chocked on the soda he was sipping.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes sir, I double checked with Legal and this is what they came up with.”

“Fuck. This stays between the two of us, Nile. You hear me? I’m not trying to piss anyone off with this information.”

“Copy, sir.”

“Damn it,” Mr. Smith said dismissing Jordan with a wave of his hand before picking up his phone and dialing the number for HQ.  “Yes, this is John, yes John Smith. No, not that John Smith. The third one, in personnel? Yes. Yes that one. I need to speak to Agent Coulson about a Level 13 agent? It’s important.”

Jordan would’ve loved to have heard the conversation thereafter, but she was getting looks from the other senior admin personnel in the area.

Chapter Text

 Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff sat in the conference room in the Helicarrier attempting to keep calm as Coulson explained to her that she was going to have to do some serious paperwork or come up with another way to stay in the United States. She has stayed silent throughout this whole ordeal letting her partner, Hawkeye, speak for her in her enraged state. What kind of bullshit was it that required Natasha to obtain a work visa when she’s a spy. Wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of it?

“This is bullshit, Coulson!” Hawkeye exclaimed rejuvenated from flying a thirteen hour flight to debrief. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“We’re doing our best to think of a solution. So far only a handful of people know about this predicament,” Coulson explained. It was true, Maria Hill and Nick Fury, along with a John Smith and Jordan Nile from Personnel have locked themselves in an office trying to figure out the next course of action. "We're keeping this need to know, the Black Widow's shaky status would have organizations lining up at her doorstep."

“Why the hell does she even need to do this? We’re master assassins, we don’t have paper trail. We don't even exist!”

“But you do have legality. We cannot protect a Russian citizen should the international community somehow tries to take her on. She’s not an American, we cannot protect her.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to just leave her out to dry? The Red Room - ”

“Or transfer her to another country, within the World Council’s reach,” Coulson stated then met Natasha’s eye. “You will no longer fall under SHIELD, but you can be an attaché and conduct missions with us occasionally.”

Natasha opened her mouth but Hawkeye cut her off.

“No, if she goes, I go.”

The redhead shook her head and placed her hand on Clint’s. He sat down immediately, defeated and looking more tired than she’s seen him in a while. While she appreciated his need to fight for her, she was more than capable enough to fight her own battles. 

“Is there no other way to remain at SHIELD?”

“We receive government funds, we have to abide by the laws set. It’s what separates us from them.”

“I understand that, Coulson,” Natasha sighed. She kept firm eye contact. “But is there no other way?”

“The last resort is that you find an American to marry,” Coulson stated. “It is not our recommended course of action, obviously as we do not condone and would not force you to commit this very personal act against your will… but…”

“Where can I find someone to marry?” she blurted.

“You’re kidding,” Clint replied shaking his head. “There has to be another way, Natasha. I told you when I brought you into SHIELD you wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. A forced marriage to stay in SHIELD sounds like one of those things you don’t want.”

“How about it be an agreement? Between two people? I’m sure Coulson can find someone for me to marry for a certain period of time until I can get my citizenship and this whole thing blows over.”

“I’ll see if I can find someone for you within the next 48 hours,” Coulson nodded. “For the record, I am still against this solution.”

“It’s the only one we have right now,” Natasha replied. She was never a big fan of marriage, and statistically over fifty percent of them in the current world fail because of one reason or another. Out of everything she’s done in her life, faking a marriage in order to stay with the only family she’s ever known sounds like a non-decision. She would do everything she could to stay at SHIELD, to stay with Clint Barton who was helping her create herself and a home.

To Natasha, a marriage was just like any other contract that she's formed. Once the contract has been full filled, she can always terminate it. Marriage seemed like the most logical solution as she did not have any reservations about it or any romantic gestures to tie her to the tradition.

“Don’t worry about finding her a husband,” Clint spoke up again. “I’ll marry her.”

“What?” Natasha and Coulson exclaimed simultaneously.

“I’ll marry you,” Clint stated looking at Natasha. “It makes the most sense.”

Natasha shook her head. Clint, as rough a childhood as he had, still believed in love, and a family, and marriage. They had a vivid conversation about how they pictured love and their lives if they weren’t at SHIELD.

“No, Clint. You can’t.”

“You don’t wanna marry me?” Clint smirked at her, an eyebrow raised. “Is it because I can’t clean up after myself?”

“It’s because you want to have a real marriage,” Natasha muttered angrily looking sideways at Phil. “Phil, please. If you can just…”

“Clint has a point, Natasha. The less people that know about this, the better. This is a faster solution to all the problems while keeping the circle as small as possible.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Don’t worry, Nat. I won’t take over your cable box.”

“I don’t own a television,” she replied shortly. A fact that he knew all too well because whenever he went to her house, he would complain about the television, or lack thereof. But they didn't need the television to keep them entertained, there were plenty of late nights when they would sneak to the rooftop of her apartment complex, lay there and just be. 

“So whaddya say?”

“To what?”

Clint shook his head, grabbing Natasha’s hand. “Natalia Alinovna Romanova, will you marry me?”

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Fine, if I have to."

Clint grinned at Coulson. "You certified to marry us, Coulson?"

Coulson hid his grin by turning away from the two and sending a quick message to Fury and Hill. The two owed him a hundred, never bet against Strike Team Delta.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

“You’re not wearing white,” Clint stated seeing Natasha walk into the conference room where they would be having their ‘wedding ceremony.’ She had on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, not that she didn’t look damn good, but Clint always wanted to see Natasha in a white dress. He, on the other hand, put a little more effort than his daily wear, with some slacks and a button up.

“Neither me nor my ledger are pure, Barton,” Natasha rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s tradition, Nat,” he scoffed.

“This isn’t exactly a traditional ceremony.”

“You’re right it’s not,” Phil said walking into the room with a folder in hand. “I have the proper paperwork for you two to sign, this should be finalized by the end of the day and you, Agent Romanoff, should be able to work for SHIELD without further legality problems in citizenship.”

Phil set the papers out handing both agents pens. “You’ll have to wait six months in order for Natasha’s citizenship to kick in before either of you can file for an annulment so it’s valid.”

“Understood,” Natasha said signing the paperowork then passing the packet over to Clint as he did the same. “When’s our next mission?”

“You brief in about an hour,” Coulson stated watching as the two of them finished signing the last of the pages. The two were everything but inefficient especially when they were with each other. This was probably the quickest marriage to date, paperwork signing included.

“Signed, sealed, delivered,” Clint said collecting the two packets and handing them to Coulson. “You need us for anything else?”

Coulson shook his head. “That should be it, Mr. and Mrs. Barton.”

Natasha scoffed. “He’ll be Mr. Romanoff before I become Mrs. Barton.”

Clint tilted his head with a smile. “She wears the pants in this relationship if you couldn’t tell.”

“That was glaringly obvious, Agent,” Coulson stated. “Conference Room B for your brief with Fury and Hill.”

The two agents walked out the room and left Coulson to sort out whatever else he needed to send in the marriage package.

“So, how does it feel to be married?” Clint nudged.

“Jury’s still out,” Natasha shrugged. “You’re not going to start cooking for me, are you?”

“Only if you wear that skimpy little thing tonight,” he replied with a wink. “It is our wedding night.”

“You try anything, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“This is why they call you the Black Widow.”

Natasha laughed in response as they walked down the halls of SHIELD towards another conference hall for their mission brief. The formality of their wedding slowly faded in the background as they were given mission prep folders. Ironically enough, they were assigned to go undercover as (stereotypically) a newly wedded couple on a luxurious honeymoon.

The mission ran much the same as their usual missions, clean and easy. They continued to be the best team that SHIELD had, but only sent out as the last resort when other agents lacked the skills necessary to make things happen. They played brothers, they played strangers, they played lovers. Nothing was different, but at the same time, nothing was the same. In the back of their minds, the fact that they were married remained. If Clint took more risks in order to keep Natasha Romanoff alive, or the hands of a creep from touching her, she didn’t say anything.

A year to the day that Coulson married them, Natasha received a happy anniversary card from Coulson.

The first time that either of them brought up the subject was almost two years after signing papers, they were in a bad situation, waiting for their evac with less than what they came with (except the mission was a success, so there was that).

“You ever think about life after SHIELD?” Natasha asked him as they sat on a hilltop in the middle of a classified country, surrounded by nothing but stars.

Clint looked over at her, looking peaceful. “Sometimes.”

“I don’t mean, like, death,” she clarified still looking out.

“I know,” he whispered in response. “I think… I think maybe a dog, and you can get a cat – if you want. Maybe retire somewhere nobody knows us, where our only problems are if we have enough food to eat, and just, happiness. Dunno, whatever you end up wanting.”

“You’d spend the end of your days, with me?”

“I married you didn’t I, Mrs. Barton?”

She chuckled. “I almost forgot.” Liar.

He smiled, laying down on the cool grass, crossing his arms under his head. “You’re my best friend, Nat. You know that?”

“I know. You’re my best friend too, Clint.”

“Can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”

She smiled in the dark. “I mean, who else would get your lame jokes.”

“I have the best jokes, and you know it,” he defended. “Seriously, Nat.”

“Seriously, Clint.”

“I kinda want a golden retriever, you know?”

She scoffed at that. “The perfect American Dream? What next, 2.5 kids?”

“Nah, I don’t have to have kids, just you Mrs. Barton.”

After the conversation, the subject of their marriage was less taboo between the two. One the second year anniversary of their wedding, Clint was sent on a solo mission while Natasha was left on base. She woke up with a single rose and a post card in her gym locker from her husband. “Happy Anniversarry” the post card read in Clint’s handwriting. “Sorry couldn’t be there to get drunk with you.”

She figured Coulson must have placed it in her locker.

Natasha was sent in to help Clint’s mission two days after their anniversary, only to find out that Clint did not require  help at all (Read: Coulson). She broke into the small studio apartment that Clint used as a base in Budapest and waited for him to come back.

“Uh, Nat?” he greeted her as he walked through the door, covered in dirt from the latest, and last, surveillance he did in the streets, bow slung across his back. He was surprised to see her there on his bed and had to mentally pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone thought you needed some backup,” she replied. “Can’t handle yourself out there, Hawkeye?”

“You get my postcard?”

She nodded her head.

“Good,” he said shedding his gear near the door and coming towards her in a t-shirt and boxers. He sat next to her on the bed. “I missed you, Nat.”

“You’ve been gone for two months, Hawkeye.”

“Yeah, but you’re my wife, am I not allowed to miss my wife?”

“You are,” Natasha responded a hand coming up to clean the dirt off his cheek.

Clint leaned into her touch, eyes closing.

“Stop me if you don’t want this,” he whispered, his face stilling.

For hours, nothing more was heard in the small studio apartment in Budapest that was once so quiet and empty.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” Natasha whispered in the dark, attempting to control her breathing. She didn’t dare look at Clint, her partner, best friend, husband, and now, lover.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t have to change anything, Nat.”

And it doesn’t really change anything between them. Most of the time they spent out of duty was still spent with each other, but instead of just lounging out on the couch, they lounged out in bed. Instead of being fully clothed, they were bare as the day they were born. But neither of them complained, in fact, Natasha thought that it the change was better for their relationship because she could focus 100 percent on the mission instead of 99 percent because the other percent was sexually frustrated with her partner. So really, it was better for society, and their relationship that it happened when it did.

“You think you should just move in here?” Natasha called out to Clint who was in the living room as she made dinner in the kitchen. It was her turn, and while she wasn’t horrible in the kitchen, Clint was certainly better.

“What?” Clint asked her walking to the entrance to the kitchen, eyesbrows furrowed.

“Do you think –“

“Is that what you want or is it something you think you have to do?”

Natasha counted to ten, furious he would even think that she would give up her personal space because she thought it was something she needed to do. In the matters of her personal life, Natasha Romanoff rarely did anything which she had to do because of social pressures. She geniuinely wanted Clint to move in with her, but his reaction had her re-thinking the proposal.

Clint’s face paled. “I’m sorry, I just… are you sure that you want me here?”

This time it was Natasha who tilted her head trying to read Clint. She could see the insecurity lying behind his eyes and wanted to kiss it away.

So she did. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.

“I do, I want you to be here.”

He cracked a smile. “And Lucky too?”

She paused raising an eyebrow. “I guess you do come as a package don’t you?”

“Buy one get one free?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice then,” Natasha laughed looking at the direction of the door where the mutt, she knew, was sitting outside waiting for his master to come outside and give him a belly rub.

And so it went, a week and a half later, Natasha was tripping over boxes and re-thinking her decision. For a spy, Clint had a decent amount of belongings. She understood where he was coming from but it was a surprise to say the least. He became attached to inatimate objects in his time in the system. So, she couldn’t get mad at his packrat ways, so differnet from the agent everyone thought of as Hawkeye who kept his SHIELD barracks barren.

“Barton, you need to start putting away the boxes, or at least letting me put them in storage.”

“I’ll bring them to the farm, it’s alright,” he said looking around at the boxes that looked displaced in Natasha’s chic, antique yet minimalist apartment. Often times when he looked around, he didn’t think he belonged there, but Natasha has assured him time and time again that she wanted him there. And if he couldn’t trust Natasha, then who could he trust?

He looked over at said redhead who had her head tilted in confusion. “What Farm?”

“Oh! The farm that Ma left Barney and I. Her family owned the farm for a long time and … Well, I haven’t taken good care of it but it’s mine, and it’s home.”

“In Iowa?” she asked, she knew his file inside and out just as he knew hers.

“Yeah,” he smiled at her before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Will you take me there sometime?”

Clint’s face snapped up searching hers. “You wanna go to Iowa?”

“I want to see where you grew up.”

“It’s nothng good, I’ve been meaning to renovate the house it’s… nobody’s lived there since…”

“But it’s you,” she smiled at him, a hand on his face.

“When do you want to go?”

“When do you want to take me?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Natasha has never been to a farm, nor has she been in the middle states of America (excluding her trips to Colorado for the snow). She tended to stay in the coasts, or in Europe where her skill-set and proficiency in languages served SHIELD, any other agent in the United States could be sent to in the middle of America – Natasha was not any other SHIELD agent. In Europe she was a chameleon, in the middle of cornfields America, while she knew she could easily wear a country hat and fit it, the Red Room ensured that should they need her to be somewhere, she would be there. But the real Natasha, the one she fought to get to know, was not a country-bumpkin. Although she liked the quiet confines of their apartment and craved simplicity, the farm land and the rolling hills was not something she craved. Clint heavily advised anyone else but the real Natasha when they were alone together so her first time at the small farm was a trip.

But she grew to love the silence, the fresh air, and the fact that she didn't have to play to be anyone really, she stayed within the land and the cows and chickens could give two shits about who she's killed the last week. To them, she was just Natasha Romanoff, the woman who fed them, and milked them. It came a point that she and Clint were spending most of their downtime (while filed for just being in New York), at the Farm. She helped re-build the farm, covering up the holes in the roof so that they wouldn't be drenched when it rained, re-plumbed the house so they had hot water.

After the first couple of months (with no outside help) and with a lot of hard work, she and Clint were closer to making the farm theirs and rebuilding the memories that haunted Clint for a long time.

Any and all their free time were spent re-building the farm. It was as therapeutic for her as it was for Clint to take the memories away and start a new, start from the foundations.

"Hey handyman," Natasha smiled walking into the dining room where Clint was fixing the flooring. The carpet was disgusting and Clint was replacing it with Natasha approved wood flooring (and heated floors… and a weapons cache underneath, just in case.)

A sweaty Clint looked up at her, whipping his forehead. "Hey there, pretty lady."

"I got the groceries," She said holding up the arm with the brown bag.

Clint stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"You buy anything good?"

"Ingredients for home-made alfredo, per your request."

"Awesome!" he said dropping a kiss to her lips and moving over to their newly remodeled kitchen. He washed his hands as Natasha unpacked the bag of groceries. She and Clint started a routine of cooking together, and like everything else they do together, cooking ended up seamlessly.

"Those fresh strawberries?" Clint asked as he spotted the small bag of strawberries.

"Yeah, I saw Mrs. Marlin out front and she handed me a bag. I think we should start growing our own strawberries."

"We don't have time to water them," Clint pointed out. As much as he would love to grow plants, he and Natasha weren't around enough for the upkeep of plants. They barely got on with the animals in the farm if they didn't rent out part of the farm to the neighbors to upkeep.

"I know, it was a good thought," Natasha muttered.

"One day," Clint said stepping up behind her, trapping her between his arms. "One day we'll come back here and retire."

"Retire?" she scoffed, turning her back to him to chop some garlic.

"You know, not work anymore. Between the two of us, we have enough around the world to not have to work."

"And be boring, ordinary people? I don't think we're cut out for boring and ordinary."

"It's still a nice thought."

"Maybe one day, we will."

"Lucky would really like it," Clint said pointing out their dog (his dog, according to Natasha) who was sprawled out on their relatively new leather couch. (Much to Natasha's dismay who has stopped trying to tell Lucky he couldn't sleep there. She was just happy she won the argument that Lucky was not allowed in their bedroom!)

"Oh, anything for Lucky," Natasha said sarcastically rolling her eyes with a smile.

"You know you would do anything for Lucky," Clint said stealing a kiss from her, not at all being helpful to her cause of making dinner.

"No, I would do anything for you, and since you'd do anything for the mutt…" Natasha trailed on, trying to shrug her husband off from behind her, but her movements just caused him to tighten his arms around her to bring her closer. She could feel his body responding to her proximity.

"Anything?" he smirked, this time running open mouth kisses on her neck, one of the many spots he discovered she couldn't say no to.

"Anyt—" Natasha's words were cut off by the ringing of her phone on the counter. She glanced at it with a sigh, tapping at Clint to let her out of his grasp. "It's Coulson."

"He knows where we are, he can wait," Clint muttered from her neck.

"Clint, it's our job," she protested.

He sighed defiantly letting her out of his arms. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before reaching for her phone.

"Romanoff."

"Natasha, it's Phil. We've got a situation. I know you and Clint are out on vacation, but Fury will not trust this assignment to anyone else, and frankly neither would I."

Natasha's face burrowed in confusion, watching as Clint took over her duties to make their dinner.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sure you're read up on Tony Stark."

"Billionaire, philanthropist who created the Iron man suit?"

"That very same," Coulson replied. Clint looked over at her mouthing ' So cool" regarding the Iron Man suit which she promptly shook her head at and motioned him to continue cooking their food.

"What about him?"

"He's dying, and he's out of control. We need you to come in and gather some intel. We need him stable for the Avengers initiative."

"Fury's make believe team of superheroes?"

"I wouldn't let him hear you say that," Coulson pointed out. "But yes."

"When do you need us?"

"Intel is putting together background information to plant in Stark Industries."

"So when do you need us?"

"Natasha, this is a solo mission. We need you out here by tomorrow afternoon."

Natasha took a breath. "Tomorrow afternoon?"

"It was supposed to be tonight, Fury was under the impression that you were in New York. I talked to him about extending it."

"How long for this one?" Natasha asked knowing the answer would be indefinitely. She's read about Stark, about his womanizing, his unpredictability… She'd be far from Clint and the farm for a while.

"We don't know. But as soon as you're done, you are due for three weeks. Barton is too."

Natasha nodded, just watching her husband as he whistled in the background, whipping the heavy cream around to make fresh alfredo sauce. "I'll be there. Pick up spot 8 in Brooklyn."

"Give my regards to Clint," Coulson said before hanging up the phone.

Natasha tentatively stepped up to where Clint was cooking, resting her back on the counter.

"When do you leave?" Clint asked her, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Indef?"

"Is there any other kind?"

"What's it about this time?"

"Infiltrating Stark Industries. Tony Stark is scaring Fury."

Clint nodded. "Last night together in a while?"

"You could always come out ad visit wherever I end up," Natasha suggested. They've visited each other on occasion during long missions. Coulson assigned the other person a mission close to each other, especially when they've been away from each other for more than a month.

"Yeah," Clint sighed. "Retirement's looking a lot better all of a sudden."

"Clint," Natasha sighed, pushing him away and taking over the cooking. She looked over at the pasta to ensure it wasn't going to boil over before focusing back on the sauce. "We'll retire, soon."

"But how soon, Nat?"

"How about you finish this house, and we'll talk about specifics."

"That's a deal," Clint said, cataloging everything else that needed to be done around the house.

"And let's have a good last night, hm?"

He nodded his head and leaned in to kiss her. Screw the food, they had a limited time left before they got to see each other again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

"Hey babe," Natasha answered her phone, basking in the sunshine of southern California. She and Clint kept in contact when they could through video chats, but she couldn't help but think that it wasn't enough. She wanted to ask him to visit her, but it didn't seem plausible with her hectic world schedule and unpredictable boss.

"Hey," Clint replied running a hand over his hair.

"You look tired."

"Little bit."

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed. Clint had been uncharacteristically short the last few times they spoke. Usually she couldn't get her husband to shut up about the latest project around the house that he finished so that they could retire. He wanted to know paint schemes that he wanted, the flooring, the way that a painting was placed on a wall. In the past few video chats, he did not seem to really want to talk, too tired to do anything. A part of her felt guilty at the effort that he put towards renovating his old home, for them, so that they can start a new, but in due time she knew she would pay back his effort. Stark and Potts reminded her of them, when they were dancing around their feelings towards the other, seeing how desperate Stark is becoming because of the deadline on his life inspired Natasha to re-think her commitment to SHIELD. A quiet life with Clint would be how she wanted to spend the last few years, days, hours, and seconds of her life.

"Clint, is everything alright?" Natasha asked him.

Long distance relationship, no matter how short, sucked, she thought because while she was great at reading people regardless, Clint was also trained in the arts of evasion (not as great as her training, but he had the greatest resting face.)

"'M just tired," he shrugged admittedly.

"How are the renovations coming along? Floor should be done next week right?"

"Actually... it's going to take another two weeks…I've been uh, busy."

"Busy?" Natasha asked trying to rack her brain for anything about his missions or doing work. They did not tell each other everything about the job, they valued their clearances and privacy. Yet, Natasha figured that he would at least let her know that he was working again.

"Yeah," Clint admitted. "I've, uh, I've just been helping out the community, ya know."

She smiled. "Can't keep you from your do-gooding jobs."

He smiled in return thinking about his 'job.' While Natasha was out in Malibu trying to reign in one crazy superhero/ vigilante, Clint was doing some saving of his own in the form of Laura Brown, and her two children.

After the afternoon that they met at the groceries, Clint had been invited to dine with the family almost every day for a week while he fixed their roofing. When their roof was fixed, he helped out with the plumbing, and then the porch, then the fencing outside. He's spent the majority of his month off fixing someone else's house, but he thought it was worth it every time he would see the smile on Laura, Lila, or Cooper's faces. He had to admit he slept better at night knowing that those kids had a functioning roof over their head and food to eat. It didn't hurt that Laura was a great cook and would cook three meals a day for him while he worked around their rental home.

In all honesty, he loved the way that he was a part of a family. He never thought he would love coming home to food cooking and kids screaming to meet him, but he did. Clint knew the life he gave up when he married Natasha (because while a SHIELD agent was given plenty of opportunity to have a home and a life away from SHIELD, he knew Natasha well enough to know it wasn't in the cards for him.) He could not phantom what Laura's husband thought when he walked out the door to leave his wonderful wife and kids to fend for themselves, and he bit his tongue from asking Laura. Clint would not be able to stop himself from hunting down the man and making him answer for his actions.

"Sorry 'm out of it," he apologized. "'How's the great state of California?"

"Sunny, the beach is beautiful, but Stark is getting on my last nerve," she replied rolling her eyes. "His birthday is tomorrow night, he's throwing what he says is the party to end all parties."

"And I wasn't invited?"

"I would if I could, you know that," Natasha admitted. "It's just too dangerous, Stark is uncontrollable."

"I miss you, Tasha."

She smiled at him, a soft smile that he knew melted diplomats and murders to giving them what she wanted. To him, it was the light after a dark day. "I miss you too, Clint."

"I'm trying to get out there, soon. Stark won't give you a break?"

"I haven't worked this many hours in an office since we got grounded by Coulson. Pepper Potts is a damn workaholic and I can't compete."

"I believe in you," Clint said with a smile.

He looked down at his watch to check the time, he needed to be over at Laura's for dinner, he promised the kids.

"Somewhere to go?"

"Yeah, uh I promised some kids –"

"Go," she smiled, that soft smile. She knew Clint had a soft spot for children, saw it every time they worked a case involving kids. "We can talk later."

"Okay," Clint said hanging up the phone leaving a Natasha Romanoff on the other side of the continent puzzled.

It wasn't like Clint at all to forget to say something like he loved her. The last image of him stayed frozen on her phone, he looked like he was lying. His tell was not as obvious as the rest of the world, but to someone who spent most of her free time with him, she knew. He wasn't telling her the truth.

She dismissed it though, she knew Clint was busy, he told her that he had some side projects that was taking his main focus away from the farm. Natasha assumed it had something to do with either putting together his pitch to her for them to retire, or SHIELD was using him for mission planning, not just usual execution. She wouldn't be surprised if it was both, but what she would be surprised at is what he was actually doing: spending time with a family he barely knew.

Clint walked to the door of the house that Laura and her kids lived in, grant it, it was a rental. When she and her former husband separated (not divorced), she was strapped for cash and needed a place to stay. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so she agreed to pay cheap rent at a broken down house on the condition that she would have to fix what she couldn't live with. Holes in the roof during a snowy winter were something the kids should not deal with. Clint's presence and help was such a blessing for her and the kids, especially Cooper who was eager to learn how to play catch—a skill she couldn't teach him even if she tried.

"Hey guys!" Clint exclaimed, forgoing the doorbell and just walking in the house. Laura and the kids had given him an open invitation to come over and after a few days, she asked him not to bother with the formality of the doorbell.

Lilla and Cooper ran to his open arms, excited to see him from the night before. It was the first day in almost a month that he did not spend over at their house fixing something or helping Laura around the house. Clint felt a tug on his chest that he let the kids down by not being there when they got home from school but quickly dismissed it.

"They missed you today," Laura noted, leaning on the door frame, watching her children welcome the man who last month was a stranger to them.

"Missed them too," Clint replied with a smile on his face, shaking Cooper's hair and lifting Lila onto his hip.

"Did you get all the errands you needed done today?" Laura asked him as he placed Lila on the couch and attacked her with tickles. The little girl squealed and squirmed out of his grasp. Clint laughed the whole for a moment before letting her go and looking up at Laura.

"Nah, I need to get some more work done at the house."

She nodded. "I'm sorry you took so much time fixing things around here."

He shrugged. "I'm happy to help. I told you, it's not like I have a deadline or children depending on a roof that doesn't have holes."

"Still it's—"

"Clint?" Cooper called out interrupting their conversation.

"Yeah, what's up, buddy?"

"I have a game tomorrow, are you going to come watch?"

"Baseball game?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "It's my first game ever. And you were the one who taught me how to catch."

"But only if you're not busy," Laura interjected. "We take so much of your time as it is."

Clint shook his head with a smile. "You tell me where and I'll be there."

"Great!" Cooper exclaimed running out of the room.

"Cooper, I need you to come back down in ten minutes, dinner will be ready soon," Laura called out to him. She walked to the kitchen with Clint in tow.

"Anything I can do to help?"

She chuckled. "You're handy around the house, the kitchen you're useless."

He scoffed, hand over his heart feigning hurt. "I am great at cooking!"

Laura laughed at him. For a moment, he thought about how he wanted to hear that woman laugh and be the reason for it, but quickly dismissed the thought. While a part of him thought that it was alright, that wanting to hear and make people smile and laugh was natural (after all, he enjoyed making people at SHIELD like Coulson or May laugh) but the other half of him was sending up red flags. As a married man, it seemed inappropriate, so he dismissed the thought. He knew in a greater part of his gut that wheat he was doing was right. The other half of his gut can go shut it.

"For yourself, when you have children, your food actually has to be edible."

"Hey! Lucky and I eat my food, we're alive. It's edible."

"Both strays with a stomach of steel," she joked. "And that dog eats anything."

"So, what's cookin'?"

"Lasagna in the oven. Made some garlic bread too."

"Yes!" Clint exclaimed.

"Why don't you call Lila over and set the table? You're a hindrance in the kitchen, Barton."

He laughed as he left the kitchen in search of Lila in the living room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Clint wandered around the aisles of the supermarket. It was the first time in over a year, since he first brought Natasha, that he's been alone at the farm. He usually stayed in New York when Natasha wasn't around, but he vowed to her that he would finish the flooring around the house and possibly the walls as soon as he could. He didn't want to give her an excuse to talk about retirement. He was in his mid-thirties, and Natasha a decade below him, but they both have been in the business for far too long. To him, their ledger have settled, and then some. He knew how Natasha felt about the red in her ledger, but he's seen what she's done since joining SHIELD, and for two years when he followed her around the world in an attempt to give back before she gave up on life. He knew he would have to convince his wife to give up the only life she knew for something better, but it might take more than a few selected weird yellow paint in the guest bedroom instead of the purple he thought would be better there.

A small tug on his pants caught him off guard and shook him from his thoughts. There was a little girl, no more than two, tugging on his left pant leg.

Clint looked around for a sign of a panicked parent but saw and heard nothing.

"Hi there," he said bending down to greet her. The child did not look homeless, she had brown hair, big blue eyes, and a toothy grin. Her clothes weren't torn, her shoes weren't all that scuffed.

The girl looked up at him and pointed to something on the aisle. Clint glanced behind him to see a pink cereal box.

"Did you want me to get that for you?" Clint asked pointing at the cereal box.

The little girl stuck her other hand in her mouth, the other bobbing to try to point at the box, babbling and nodding her head.

"Okay, I'll get it. But first, I need to know where you mom or dad is. Do you know where they are?"

She shook her head, then pointed again at the cereal box.

Clint reached out a hand and grabbed the box handing it over to her. She took it earnestly in her little hands and smiled at him.

"Okay, now we need to go find your mommy or daddy, they must be worried about you," Clint said, staying in the squatting position. The little girl shook her head, and Clint was about to lift her up until he heard a squeal and hurried footsteps from behind him. The little girl looked at the sound of the footsteps and beamed.

"I'm so sorry if she was bothering you!" the woman exclaimed at Clint, stopping her grocery cart right in front of him and swopping the little girl up. Clint stood up with the little girl and looked at the woman to ensure she wasn't some stranger picking up a child in the grocery store.

The little girl embraced the woman fully and tried to thrust the cereal her way. The woman shook her head with a disappointed sigh that anyone with a normal hearing wouldn't catch, but Clint, the trained spy that he is caught the sound.

The woman placed the cereal back on the shelf and turned to Clint.

"I'm sorry if she bothered you about it," the woman muttered and started to push her cart away with her daughter, and a child inside the cart.

Clint opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"Sorry, Lila, momma doesn't have enough to get the cereal," Clint heard the woman mutter, to who he was assuming was the little girl. With a quick glance, Clint could see that the woman's refusal to buy her daughter the cereal was not because she was health conscious or was concerned for the sugar that was in the cereal. He could see the bare minimum that was inside her cart, eggs, cheap bread, some canned goods that were bent. He knew all too well that picture in his mind, that woman used to be his mother, walking down the aisles and scavenging through the imperfect canned goods so that they would be able to eat. He could see, that while the woman took care of her daughter, she herself was wearing shoes that were worn to the sole, and threadbare clothing. Clint could see the little girl reaching out for the cereal box, so he grabbed the same box and ran up to the woman.

"Hi, I'm sorry," Clint said putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm uh, I couldn't help but overhear you, and I … I uh, was wondering, if I could, I can buy this cereal, and the rest the groceries, for your family."

The woman's eyes bugged out. She shook her head vigorously.

"You, uh," the woman stuttered, her cart stopped as Clint offered the little girl the box of cereal back. The girl looked at her mother who was still shaking her head then longingly at the box of cereal. Her puppy dog gaze went from the cereal to her mother and back again.  "No, no thanks."

"Please, my good deed for the day," Clint insisted. "I remember what it was like for my mom to make ends meet for me and my brother. Please, let me pay it forward."

The woman opened her mouth to say something but shut it as she looked at her son and daughter. "I… I don't think we could ever repay you. Money's -"

"I don't need repayment, this is me settling a debt with the world," he told her.

She paused again, hesitant as her children babbled on. "I... I normally wouldn't accept this but… The house, it needs a new roof and I have to take another loan for that and…"

Clint smiled at her, the soft, crooked smile, "Like I said, that little kid, that was me. Don't worry about it. In fact, how about you get the kids a little more fresh food, grab a whole chicken or something? It's on me."

"Oh no, we couldn't-"

"I insist."

The woman looked back down at her children then up at Clint. "I'm Laura."

"Clint," he said, forgetting that he had to use the name Ralph Barton around the town. If he was to settle some cosmic debt, he was going to do it as Clinton Barton. He smiled at the little girl who was looking at him curiously. The little boy in the cart looked determined, much like Barney when they were growing up, probably carrying the world on his shoulder like his older brother.

"Are you sure -?"

"Yes, ya know, while I'm at it, I just got done fixing the roof of my folk's old place, I can fix the roof, free of charge."

The woman, Laura, shook her head incessantly. "I… I can't ask that of you. That's too much help you've already given with offering to buy –"

"Nah, the spare parts were going to waste anyway, might as well make it useful."

"I – I can't offer you anything in return," she repeated her earlier statement.

"I'm not asking or looking for anything," Clint clarified. This woman – Laura – reminded him of his mother, strong and resilient, not wanting to bother people for help when it was clear that she needed it. "I know this is weird and out of left field, but these are the things I wish someone did for my mother when she was alive and trying to keep us alive."

"I…"

"Just say yes, and let me know when you'd like me to patch up the roof."

Laura smiled at him, "Thank you."

Clint didn't know what it was about that smile, but in an instant, he knew that he wanted to see that woman smile all the time. He had a feeling that like his mother, her smiles to her children, while real were also clouded with the pain and sacrifice that she was going through. So somehow, in that moment, nothing else mattered but making that woman smile.

"So what's your favorite food?" Clint asked the little boy who grinned up at him. He grinned back. "Mine is pizza."

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Clint was a soldier first, and as a soldier he was used to following orders. Actually, the first thing that brought him to New Mexico was pretty damn interesting. Turned out the blond Viking looking dude was actually an alien, and the hammer was his, even though he couldn’t lift it the first time. But babysitting scientists? That was boring. He knew he was getting shafted for taking so much time off.  He was happy he took the time off, that he was able to spend time with Laura and get to know the kids, but Natasha was going to be pissed off that he didn’t fix the house like he promised. He was nowhere near the timeline he proposed to her, the only thing finished was the kitchen.

“Hawkeye, you need me to take over for your lunch break?” Sitwell called out from the ground. Clint was, as the scientists called it, at his nest. That was where he spent most 18 hours of his working days before the night crew came in and the scientists were forced to sleep (except Selvig because, Clint suspected, he was some sort of super human and didn’t need sleep).

Clint nodded, getting on the rope and sliding down, careful to brace for the impact to not blow his kneecap off.

“Need to run some errands,” Clint admitted looking at his watch. He had to call and check in with Laura and the kids. Oh – he paused taking out his phone typing a quick message to Natasha that he was fine. She was wrapping up her mission with Tony Stark, assessing whether or not he would be a good pick for Fury’s collection of Superheros.

His phone buzzed as he walked back to his quarters. 

Natasha: Call you now?

Two hours? He replied to his wife, glancing at the time. He promised Laura and the kids that he would call them in about three minutes. He missed one call because Sitwell did not show up to relieve him for his break. He was not up to breaking his promise twice.

Ok. Miss you, call me when you can.

The text went unanswered as he clicked the screen for Laura’s contact information waiting for the video to start.

“Hey Clint!” Laura greeted with a smile.

“Hey!” He smiled back at the screen. He missed her and the kids, desperately. He was only able to say a quick goodbye before SHIELD ushered him from the farm to New York then to New Mexico. He gave them an excuse that he was getting called into work, which was not a lie, but he did not know what kind of work he did.

“You called a little earlier, Coop and Lilla are still in their rooms,” she admitted.

“That’s okay, I don’t only call to check in on them,” Clint stated. “How you doing out there? Things with the house going ok?”

“They’re great, thanks to you, Mr. Handyman.”

He chuckled. “All in a day’s work.”

“How is your work at…?”

“New Mexico, just a side job doing security,” he paused. It wasn’t completely a lie he was there to keep the glowing blue orb secure. So, it’s a security job, at the very basis of it.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you do.”

“Kids doing alright in school?”

“They’re doing great. Lila’s taking to day care really well.”

“How’s your new job going?”

“It’s a lot better than the last.”

“That’s not saying much,” Clint noted, remembering the stories of her last job and how little they paid her. “At least it’s something.”

“It is, but Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“They miss you. We all do.”

Clint opened his mouth to reply but heard the screams of Cooper in the background demanding to talk to him. He saw Cooper run into the room with a big grin on his face.

“Can you say ‘please’?” Laura asked blocking him from the computer with a smile on her face. Clint shook his in the background.

“Please! I miss Clint!”

“I miss you all too, kid.”

“Clint! You’ll never guess what we did in school yesterday!”

“What?”

“We had to do a competition, and I used a bow and arrow! Just like that one time you taught me and Mom how to!” Cooper said going into the shooting stance like Clint had taught him, drawing an imaginary bow and releasing it. Not bad.

“That’s great! You get a bullseye?”

“No,” the boy admitted sadly. “But I’m going to practice until I’m as good as you!”

“Atta boy!” Clint responded proudly. “You show ‘em how it’s done, Coop.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“When are you coming back? I miss you.”

Clint sighed. “I don’t know, Coop. But I promise when I comeback we’ll spend lots of time with each other, I’ll even help you with your shot.”

“And my baseball?”

“And in baseball, it’s the same technique.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you never miss,” the little boy pointed out. 

“I do sometimes.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah Coop?”

“When I grow up, I think I wanna be like Iron Man!”

“Oh yeah?” Clint responded, for a moment thinking about Natasha and her debacle with Iron Man. He needed to give her a call after talking to them.

“I saw him on the TV, and he flies!”

“He does.”

“Cooper’s got a crush on his new assistant,” Laura said in the background as she fiddled with Lilla. He smiled seeing them at the corner of the screen. She was a great mother, and those kids loved her just as much as she loved them.

Clint smirked at that revelation. “She’s a looker, that Natalie Rushman.”

There was a pause, Laura’s surprised look and Cooper trying to bury himself in the hood of his sweater.

“You know her?” Laura asked him.

“I do,” Clint admitted, schooling his features to not give anything away. He justified it to himself as protecting his real identity and everyone involved. He would rather not Laura and the kids become involved with SHIELD.

Laura nodded her head, busying herself with Lila. She was avoiding something, and Clint pushed away at the thought of liking the feeling of Laura jealous of Natasha. He was a married man.

“Clint, it’s time for dinner, we’ll call you next time?” Laura told him before the line went bad.

“Okay,” Clint whispered to the nothingness of the screen and sighed. He ran a hand over his face to shake it all off. He really needed to get a hold of himself and his thoughts about Laura, about the kids, and most importantly about Natasha. Natasha; his wife, his partner, and his best friend. Laura was a woman who he met less than six months ago and yet she and the kids consumed his every thought outside of work where Natasha used to occupy. He was slightly thankful for the reprieve he had until Natasha would visit New Mexico because one look at him and she would know. She read everyone like they were a Dr. Seuss book, him especially. While a part of him wanted to stop talking and keeping in touch with Laura and the kids, he didn’t have it in him to cut ties when Cooper and Lila looked at him with such hope in their eyes.

He got up from his seated position and headed towards the chow hall. He was a married man, and he loved Natasha – was lucky to have her in his life. Men around the world would die to have an ounce of her as he had.

“Hawkeye, Casper, your break’s over,” Sitwell stated through the walkie-talkie. (His call sign was Casper, as so many people thought his name was Casper, not Jasper).

“Copy, headed back now.”

“Good, coz this shit is boring.”

Clint walked back to his post. It’s a good thing that he had hours on hours to think about what was going on with his life. One thing was true: he signed a contract with Natasha to be her companion for life. He was not going back on that promise.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Scripts from the Avengers was taken from the following: imsdb com scripts Avengers,-The-(2012) html

Clint didn't know what the hell was going on, but the last thing he remembered was some weird guy coming out of a portal saying "you have heart," then all of a sudden, it was like he was dreaming. It was one of those dreams where you know and can see everything going on around you, but it seems like whatever you do, you cannot control it. It's happening to you, you're not happening to it. It disturbed Clint that he was not disturbed by someone else taking control, especially because of the pact he made to himself long ago that he would never let anyone control his life as his father did once upon a time.

Clint made it a point to never get too drunk, never take drugs, even the recreational substances that other kids in the foster home and circus took. He was teased endlessly for not being cool enough to dare, but he those words went one ear and other the other, over powered by the screams of his mother and father.

He heard laughter in his mind. His laughter, the man who played puppet master with his brain.

Clint shook his head, trying to fight the control. He heard stories from Natasha, when she would wake up from a nightmare, about how she fought the words they used to activate her when they put in cyro sometimes. How she was able to control her mind, at such a young age.

What would Agent Romanoff think of your weakness, Barton, when she, so young, was able to do what you cannot, the voice echoed in his head, taunting him.

Clint clenched his fists, unable to fight back.

The man in his head laughed again.

"Nevermind that, what do you think she would do if she found out about your little secret?"

Clint tensed up. To an outsider, it would seem that Clint was awake, maybe daydreaming. His eyes were open; the lights were on, but nobody was home. No, instead, Loki was picking apart at his memories. Letting him watch them in his mind, as the demi-god pealed another layer that was Clinton Barton. The most recent layer he picked on were the archer's most recent memories. The video chats with a family in Iowa that was not his.

"I have nothing to hide from her."

"Tsk tsk. I thought you mortals had a thing about lying."

"I am not lying to you."

"And the little family in Iowa? You're synapses seem as though you care for them a great deal, maybe even more than your wife."

"They are not important."

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Loki exclaimed. He placed the memory of Clint at Laura's house, twirling a giggling Lilla while Cooper helped his mother with the table. "I am the god of lies. You cannot lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"What is the family to you?"

"Not important," Clint gritted in his mind. He tried his best to erase them, the two kids who run around with smiles on their faces and their beautiful mother.

"That is not, nothing, Agent Barton. Are you in love with a woman who is not your wife?" Loki smirked.

"I love my wife," Clint replied resolutely. That, if anything else, was not a lie.

Loki pulled a memory of Laura and the kids from his mind and played it like a movie. He was tempting, if not testing the archer.

"She does look beautiful, does she not, Agent Barton?"

"No... Yes."

"You are right, she is nothing compared to your wife. I wonder how she would feel knowing, what I know."

"There is nothing to know."

"How would your wife feel, Agent Barton, to know that you are thinking about leaving her for a lesser woman, because she cannot bear the children that you deeply wish to have?"

"I am not leaving Natasha," Clint denied. Never in his rightful mind did he think about leaving the greatest thing that ever happened to him. Often times, Clint thought that one of these days, she was going to realize that she wasn't good enough for him. Natasha was the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that he had ever had the fortune of meeting. It was only a matter of time before she realized that, and left him for someone more deserving of her, not some washed out archer who was close to leaving the field because of old age and deteriorating skill.

"No, Barton," Loki smirked. "Once she sees what is truly in your heart, she will leave you."

"I know."

Loki left him alone after that. The demi-god would come in and out of his thoughts to check the status of their take over on the Hellicarier but the personal business was quickly out of the demi-god's mind as he plotted the end of the world.

A part of Clint dreaded that Natasha would be on the carrier when he attacked, he hoped that she would not be there, but knew that the reason Fury used her to test Stark was because she would be a part of his superhero band, she would be the only one to control Stark, stand up to the Hulk, converse with Captain America, and not feel intimidated by a six foot five muscle man from another world. She was the most capable woman he had ever met, and he knew with his luck she would be there.

And he was right.

When Loki allowed himself to be captured by SHIELD, the demi-god used his powers to let Clint see who was inside the carrier to carry out his plans.

"There's not many people that can sneak up on me," Loki stated, sensing Natasha, feeling Barton, who he allowed to see through his eyes in the cell, tense.

"But you figured I'd come," the redheaded spy stated, coming to face him.

Barton warned him that Romanoff stands as the greatest spy. Loki knew that Fury would send his best, eventually, as a last resort as to not get into Romanoff's mind. Fury must be getting desperate if he goes straight for his ace card.

"After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm," Loki explained, this was her MO according to Barton. "And I would cooperate."

"I wanna know what you've done to Agent Barton."

Ah, Loki wanted to say. So this is not a business call. Do you see this, Barton? Your wife loves you more than you respect her. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you will break her heart when she truly finds out that you are stepping out on her.

Barton clenched his fists in defiance.

"I'd say I've expanded his mind."

"And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain. What happens to his mind?"

Natasha did her best to show Loki what he wanted to see, a woman trying to be strong. She knew that Loki must know her connection to Barton. If it was true that he now controlled Clint's heart and mind, he must know and she was going to use that to her advantage. Men always presumed her as weak, and she played that presumption off very well against them.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?" Loki smirked. Of course it was, he had seen what was in Barton's mind. A woman like Natasha Romanoff did not give her heart out easily, but she did to this archer who promised her forever but would never be able to follow through with it. Either Loki killed him first, or he would leave the spy for the quiet life in the farm.

"Love is for children, I owe him a debt."

Well maybe she doesn't love you, Barton, Loki chuckled within his mind laughing at the feeling of anger from Barton.

"Tell me."

As Natasha pulled a chair up to the door and recalled her story, of how Barton was sent to kill her but was too weak, too much of a mortal man to see the danger that was the beautiful woman in front of him. Barton told him the events, or rather, he pulled them out of Barton's memories, seeing it from the man's eyes as he read and memorized the Black Widow's file. Natasha's greatest regrets amounted to the killing of Dravok's daughter and Sao Paolo.

"And what will you do if I vow to spare him?" Loki asked the desperate woman, the wife that he saw through Barton's memories.

"Not let you out."

He chuckled, he was not an idiot. He did not need to be let out, he had a plan.

"Ah no. But I like this, your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man."

"Regimes fall every day. I tend to not weep over that. I'm Russian," Natasha paused. "Or was."

Was Russian, because a man named Clinton Barton decided to spare her life and take her to SHIELD. Was, because the same man married her for the sake of allowing her to continue to work for SHIELD by giving her part of his American identity. The same man who she fell in love with, and is now under the control of a crazy demi-god who wanted nothing from the world but to have people kneel to him. Of everything else that was motivating her, it was that Clint was alive and he would come back to her. No matter the cost, world be damned.

Loki watched the woman, told her that he would make Barton kill her, in every way he knows you fear, and he would follow after. He smirked, with all the strength which Barton portrayed her as, she still had one weakness. It was just luck that Loki happened upon the weakness of the one woman who would be strong, capable, and connected enough to bring his plans down. It was luck that he held one true information that would make her doubt everything she knew, and everything that grounded her.

How unfortunate to watch the most beautiful thing fall apart, is it not Barton?

"So Banner, that's your play?"

What?

"Got you didn't she, boss?" Clint smirked smartly, proud that Natasha was able to outsmart a man, even a man who was fed intel from the inside. She knew he would be watching, somehow knew that Clint would be forced to instruct Loki on what was going on in Natasha's mind and how she operated to try and outsmart her. Well, she was right, and she was prepared for it.

"Shut up and get the plan in process, Barton. I've been had."

"Aye, sir."

Clint's body moved on its own accord and started calling out the agents around him, the enemies of SHIELD who would be more than happy to see it fall. They had a plan to execute, and while it was a few days earlier than they expected, they were no less ready to take down the carrier in the sky.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Natasha knew that Clint needed to level out. After getting his brain scrambled and while SHIELD determined his status as an agent, Clint needs to keep his mind and body busy so as to not wander back into the depression waiting for him. As his wife, partner, and best friend, Natasha figured he'd be happy to come back to the farm where he could fix things, rather than use his hands to break as he had in the Hellicarrier.

"Fury gave us some time off," Natasha told him as he buckled into the passenger seat of the SHIELD issued car.

Clint nodded. "You mean he ordered me to take some time off."

"Clint, it's going to take some leveling off," Natasha said driving away. "We need you to get better."

"We need to debrief first."

"We're excused from the de-brief."

"So that I won't know how many lives I've taken?" Clint questioned angrily. "I need to know how many people, Natasha. I need to know how to fix this ledger."

"It's not on your ledger! It's on Loki's! You can't tell me that it was you who attacked SHIELD."

"It was my intel!"

"And I know you, you could have done worse. You have done worse in the security exercises!"

"It was still me, Natasha!"

"We're leveling off. Here," Natasha said parking the car off a couple of blocks from her apartment, where she knew SHIELD would expect her to ditch the tracked car. She was not going to lead them to where she and Clint were going, especially with so much blood in their hands that an agent seeking vengeance can easily find.

Clint nodded, following her, suddenly feeling tired. He followed her through Central Park, in and out the course until they ended up where they were before, where they dropped off Loki to be escorted by his brother to Asgard. They kept walking until Natasha took his hand to get to a non- descript car, a typical brand, a typical color that can blend into the traffic.

"I'll take the first shift," Natasha said sliding into the driver's seat.

"Do I get to know where we're going?" Clint asked her as he buckled in. Natasha was not the safest driver.

"A place where you can level out; be yourself."

"And nothing I can say will change your mind about the de-brief."

"Clint, you aren't allowed to be on SHIELD property until you've leveled off. Those are the Director's orders, and I happen to agree with him this time."

Clint nodded. Natasha was a spy, not a soldier, more often than not, she chose which orders she would follow in order to get the mission done. If Fury had a problem with it, he never approached her because her judgement always took a bad situation into a good. Clint knew that there would be no point in arguing with the Natasha when she had her heart set.

"Sleep, Hawk. I'll wake you when it's your turn," Natasha said handing him a couple of sleeping pills. With Clint's tolerance, those pills should last at least ten hours. A duration of shuteye she suspected he hasn't gotten in days. "I figured you'd have trouble sleeping. At least this way, you'll have no choice."

"I don't want to not be in charge of my body," Clint said shaking his head.

"And what? Never sleep? You know how long you last not being able to sleep, Clint. I'll be right here."

"Nat."

"For me? If it doesn't work, I have the go pills."

Clint nodded his head taking the pills from her hands and swallowing it dry. He was used to taking so many meds with the amount of times he's been injured on the job. He knew how he would react to the pills, knew how each dose would affect Natasha as well. What made him hesitate was Loki's control on his mind. What if, he slept, actually went into REM sleep, and the control came back? What if he couldn't control himself and somehow killed Natasha? What if, what if, what if?

He slipped into unconsciousness, Natasha's hand slipping into his: a lifeline. She was his anchor into the reality.

I am Clinton Barton. This is my mind.

He woke up with a start. Natasha was nowhere in the car, they were stopped for gas. The sun had already set, and the blanket of darkness seemed to have settled well into the world. He glanced at his watch, it was about eleven hours since he fell asleep. Fell into a state of unconsciousness where he doesn't remember anything, no dreams.

He was lucky this time.

He figured that Natasha locked him inside the car, as a security measure, and he would be correct. He waited for a few minutes before reaching to for his phone.

Grab me some food?

Hot dogs and chips? We'll stop for something real, later on.

That's fine. Get me a few.

A few moments later, he could see Natasha walk towards the car, two bags in hand. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, getting in the car, bags of food first.

"You picked at your shwarma. Didn't know how your appetite was," Natasha admitted sliding in as Clint looked in the bag. Chips, salsa, protein bars, at least five hot dogs, and taquitos.

"There's also some pizza," Natasha admitted.

Clint smirked. His wife knew him well.

"You want me to take over on the next stop?" Clint asked her, stuffing his mouth with pizza. He was hungry, he didn't remember the last time he ate before Stark offered them Shwarma. He was too busy plotting the end of SHIELD.

"I'll be fine for another couple of hours."

"Took a go pill?"

She shook her head. "No."

Neither of them needed her to voice the reason behind her needing to be 100 percent into the drive, in case Clint was taken over again and needed to be stopped. But Clint nodded his head in understanding.

"We only have a few more hours. I'll keep first watch when we get there."

"I know you will," Natasha smiled. "For now, there's more pills in the glove box. You can take two, that should be enough to get you to where we're going."

"You haven't been to the farm in a while," Clint pointed out, trying to make conversation.

The back of his mind itched, thinking about the farm, about the kids, and about Laura. But there were bigger things at play, like SHIELD, the dead and damage he left at SHIELD, the world at its knees, and the redhead sitting beside him who would trade it all to get him back. Who did trade it all to get him back.

Funny how his mind worked, when Natasha was in front of him, he thought of nothing and nobody else. She was his world, but when she was gone, like those quiet moments he looked over Selvig and his team of scientists playing with the Tesseract, he thought of nothing but the kids, and Laura. He was torn, with no reason to be because he had a duty to Natasha. He would give her forever, as he promised her.

"Clint?" Natasha called out to him, the worry in her voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, what did you say?"

She stopped the car and faced him, placing her hand under his chin. Natasha lifted his face slowly, her eyes analyzing every wrinkle on his tired face. She searched his eyes and sighed in relief. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "I just… got lost in my own thoughts. Nothing bad, no Loki."

"Do you want to go inside, we can talk about it then?" Nationa motioned in front of her. There was the familiar view of the farm, their farm. He was stuck in his thoughts that he did not notice that they were

"How would your wife feel, Agent Barton, to know that you are thinking about leaving her for a lesser woman, because she cannot bear the children that you deeply wish to have?"

"I am not leaving Natasha," Clint denied.

"No, Barton," Loki smirked. "Once she sees what is truly in your heart, she will leave you."

Clint shut his eyes and shook his head. No.

"Clint," Natasha said touching his arm, gently. "Let's get you inside."

He nodded his head, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. Natasha was already on his side of the car when he stepped out.

They walked side by side, up the porch. Natasha took her keys out, opened the door, and disabled all the security measures they installed around the house (it was the first thing they did to the house, per Natasha's request).

She turned on the lights and looked around. The living room had plastic covering all over it, buckets strewn all over the place. They were still working on that room. She peaked out at the kitchen with a smile. It was exactly how she pictured it. Her husband did a fantastic job creating the small image she provided him.

"At least the kitchen's done."

Clint nodded. "Bedroom is too."

Nothing much else, and Natasha didn't ask why he took so long fixing up the house when he had months away from her that he dedicated to fixing the place up. For that he was thankful. He briefly wondered how the kids were doing; he hadn't talked to them since before Loki.

"We don't have any food," Natasha said coming out of the kitchen and meeting Clint where she left him, standing in the hallway.

"I'll go out and grab groceries, tomorrow."

"We can do it together."

"No," Clint insisted. "I… I need to do this."

She nodded her head. "I'm headed up to bed. Will you be alright out here?"

"Yeah," he shooed her. "I'll keep watch."

"Or work on finishing the living room."

"We both know you won't be able to sleep with the buffer on. I'll pick it back up tomorrow."

She smiled. "Alright, so just keep watch. Don't be creepy about it."

With that, she left to go upstairs and into the bedroom. He sat, on top of the plastic covered couch hearing her pitter patter as she washed up for bed. He didn't bother turning the television on for white noise, content to sit in the silence of the night, only the sounds of the farm in the background.

Clint didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the wall, thinking about nothing, and everything, but once he heard the crow of the rooster, he knew he should be up doing something.

Something along the lines of visiting Laura and the kids. He wrote a quick note to Natasha, and ensured that the security systems were on before stepping out of the farm and walking the stretch of over a mile to get to Laura's home.

He knocked on the door, it's been months since he was last on the doorstep. He could hear the children getting ready inside and Laura shooing them to the side to answer the door.

"Just a minute!"

"It's okay, I can wait!" he replied with a grin.

A sudden rush of footsteps, and the door opened. Clint was tackled by little hands of Cooper and Lila, Laura standing in the back with a smile.

"I couldn't stop them when they heard your voice," she smiled at him. Lucky jumped at him as well, after figuring that his master was back.

"Like you tried."

"Clint! Clint! Are you back? Can you stay?" Cooper asked, hugging his leg.

Clint ruffled his head. "I don't know how long I'll be here. But I was on my way to the store, wanted to know if you guys wanted to come with."

Clint kept eye contact with Laura, who nodded her head. "Let me get them ready."

"I'll just play with Lucky down here until you do."

Laura quickly heralded the kids to their rooms to change into appropriate attire and went downstairs to find Clint wrestling with Lucky. Lucky had his collar and leash on ready to go out.

"We're ready, is Lucky coming out with us?"

"Yeah, we can put the service vest on him. We won't be long, just need to pick up a few things in the store and bring them back."

"You don't want to wait for me to fix you breakfast?"

"I have a guest I have to take care of," Clint answered shortly. Laura's eyes flickered with emotion. Clint backtracked. "My partner. We needed to lay low after –"

Laura nodded. "I saw you in New York."

Clint paused. "Do the kids know?"

"No," Laura answered as they loaded her car to get to the grocery store a few miles out. They stopped at the parking lot and piled out after a few minutes of Clint entertaining Lucky and Lila while Cooper played on his game.

Clint placed Lila in the cart and while Cooper protested, he allowed Clint to place him in the cart as well.

"Do you have a list that your partner wants you to get? Is he an agent too?" Laura asked before biting her tongue. "Sorry, I didn't mean to push. I just… never mind. I'm here if you want to talk."

"No my partner likes bagels and cheese," Clint said picking up the items that Natasha likes. "Why don't we grab some things for you guys too?"

Laura sighed, "Clint, we talked about this."

"I know, but you know I only like to help out."

"I have a job now."

"Yeah, but it makes me feel better, to help out," Clint stated. "I…"

"If it would help you feel better," Laura rolled her eyes.

He smirked at her, "It will."

Laura shook her head and let Clint push the cart, holding the leash for Lucky. She couldn't help but lean into him, she did miss his presence around the house, but she would never admit that to him. He was a larger than life superhero, and she knew they were just the side projects. She knew it wouldn't last long, his fixation with them, but she was willing to take anything. She was in love with him.

The four of them, and Lucky, wandered around the aisles laughing and making jokes, picking up food and dropping it into the cart for Cooper to organize. Clint was so distracted that he didn't notice a redheaded woman, keeping her distance in the way only she could while keeping her focus on the people in front of her.

Natasha Romanoff had never thought she felt heart break before then.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

So the story goes: Hawkeye was sent to kill the Black Widow, but by some luck, he managed to best her in a hand to hand match and saw that she deserved another chance at life.

Or so the story goes.

In reality, it was the Black Widow who approached Hawkeye, months before Fury gave him the Top Level assignment. She told him that she knew how SHIELD worked, that with his reputation of assassinating from afar, he would be the one picked to kill her. Hawkeye had the knowledge that she took out four SHIELD agents sent to kill her before hand, her assumption wasn't far off. He's heard from the grapevine the plans, and he wasn't stupid. He had the best chance, if he survived to tell the tale after she cornered him in his own safe house, disabling all the surveillance cameras inside. She was that good. But greatness was tiring and she wanted out, a peaceful sleep six feet under was the only solution she saw, and she only wanted to meet her end with Hawkeye.

She told him where to meet her. How she would like to be killed and set up to make it look like she wasn't meant to be killed. She told Hawkeye that she was tired, that she wanted out.

Funny how she trusted him then, as a kindred spirit who she thought could relate to he did then, when given the opportunity surprised her. He did as they both planned, took her out from afar, at a pre-determined location, but he merely put her to sleep to capture her and bring her back to base to plead her to look for a chance at a new life. She believed him then, that she could balance her ledger, that she deserved to have a chance to be happy.

That was then, she was not as naive any longer.

She paced.

Natasha Romanoff did not pace. She did not fidget; it simply was not in her nature. She was Natasha Romanoff, Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow, a name renowned throughout the dark corners of the world. Yet there she was, fidgeting. It was hours ago when she left the grocery store, only able to watch Clint for so long before her heart could not take it anymore. He looked happy; happier than he ever looked with her. There was no question in her mind that Clint Barton adored that family and that the family adored him.

She looked around at the unfinished work that was their – his – farm house. The house that he promised to finish by the end of the year, but was side tracked with "helping out." When he first told her that he was spending all his time helping re-construct a house for a family who reminded him of his own, she did not think anything of it. Out of anyone she has ever come in contact with, she knew that hands down, her husband had the biggest heart in the world. Throw in some kids who need some help, and he would be there at a moment's notice. But there was a fine line with helping out a family and becoming a part of it. What she witnessed at the grocery store was a different level of gratitude and attachment to Clint Barton. While Natasha knew that Clint would never cheat on her, she also knew that he could not help what he was feeling. The distance he was slowly, if not unconsciously, wedging between them was a sign.

So, she did the one thing she was good at. She hacked the files of the grocery story, found the dates that Clint ran a charge for the credit card of the alias they used and cross checked it with the video feed. She watched him with the small family, as he grew more comfortable with them. As another woman and her children leaned on Clint for support and to play the role he looked like he was born to play.

Two hours passed since she started digging up the archives, three hours since Clint left for the store until he walked through the door. One hour since Natasha made her decision to pack her bags and catch the first plane back to New York the following morning; thirty minutes since she drafted the legal documentation needed to end her marriage.

"Hey!" Clint greeted, the biggest smile on his that he's given her since before she left for that Stark mission. (Yet another reason to torture Stark when she came to New York and lived in his Avenger's Tower. She would go to her place, but regardless of whether or not it was the place she kept when she needed to be alone, she knew there were traces of Clint everywhere. She could not go to her New York apartment, or their apartment, or her dorm at the carrier or in any SHIELD installation, none of her safe houses around the world that she stocked with a re-curve in case she and Clint Barton needed to run.)

"Hey," she smiled at him, a soft smile, one she used many times while she was undercover. Her Clint would have noticed the difference, how the smile did not seem to reach her eyes, but this Clint did not.

"I picked up a bunch of your favorites from the store," Clint said bringing in bags and bags of groceries.

"Thanks!"

"What do you think? Eggs Benedict? I know it's a little late for brunch but –"

"That sounds great," Natasha stated, her voice sounding flat to her, but adding fake enthusiasm. If Clint could not figure out her smile, he would not figure out the tone of her voice. It mean that he was too busy in his own head to notice the bread crumbs she was throwing his way.

"What do you want to do today?"

"I'd like to walk around the property."

"I can pick up Lucky and we can take him for the day? You don't sound so good, Nat."

She shook her head. So he did notice.

While she did not sound or look better, more exhausted from what she recently found out, Clint looked refreshed and happy. So much so that she could not believe the turn around that he experienced just by spending time with a small family.

"I'm fine, I just… I want to walk around."

Clint nodded. "I'll get started on brunch, you pack the basket, we can eat outside."

She smiled at him. "Thank, Clint."

Natasha packed the large picnic basket they had in the kitchen for all the food they would need for the day outside. She picked them perfectly, with the precision as to not think about the papers that were sitting on the office desk upstairs, or that it would be the last day she would spend with Clint as his wife. She listened intently as he sang to himself as he cooked breakfast and dismissed the thoughts in her mind wondering if he sang while he cooked for the family of one Laura Brown and her children. For one day, Natasha vowed that she was going to shut off her mind and just feel. She was going to enjoy her last moments with the one person who meant the world to her, one last time.

"You ready?" Clint asked her, looking at her analytically as a hawk knew to look. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be better," she admitted, standing up from the dining table and closing the picnic basket where Clint placed cut up fruits and their brunch. "Just need some fresh air."

Clint grabbed hold of the picnic basket from her arms, determined to carry it for her as they walked in silence, next to each other, about a mile into the property and up a small hill.

Wordlessly, Clint opened the basket to spread out the blanket and the food letting Natasha wander around the area. She seemed like she had a lot on her mind, starting from the façade that she placed when he greeted her at the door. Honestly, he had a great morning with Laura and the kids, forgetting all about Loki until he walked through the farmhouse and was hit with the memories of what he did just by looking at Natasha. Yet, hearing Laura talk about her estranged husband brought a twist in his gut, because his wife needed him. He was not the only one who had to fight for their world to continue spinning. She had to face the horrors in a different way.

"Nat? Are you alright?" he asked, grabbing her hand to pull her towards the blanket he set up.

"I'm fine," she shrugged.

"You don't wanna talk about it?" he pressed on.

She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Just thinking."

"That's a hard profession you're taking on, Romanoff. Don't think too hard."

"It's Barton."

He smiled at her. "You are a Barton, and thinking always gets us Bartons in trouble."

"I almost lost you, Clint," Natasha said, picking at the plate of fruit.

"But I'm still here."

"I… Yeah."

"I'll always be here, Nat. We signed a contract, remember?"

A contract. Not a marriage, a contract. Natasha shook her head at the thought. She was being ridiculous. She was the one who had papers drawn up to leave the wonderful man in front of her. The man who could read her face and voice when nobody else, not ever herself, could at times. On their walk to their spot, Natasha had time to re-think her actions, she was being rash. She acted like a woman scorned, when Clint came home to her after a couple of hours, when she knew in her heart that he'd done nothing against their marriage and was only trying to help a struggling family. She ran a background check on Laura Brown, knew her finances and the absent husband she had, who she knew nothing of his whereabouts. She found the troubles that Laura had to keep a job and take care of her family and knew that Clint would have felt the need to help a woman, much like his mother, through the hard times. She sympathized and could not blame him.

She could not leave him.

"What happened? With you, and the carrier," Clint asked her, gently. She shook her head. She should be the one comforting him, his mind was made a playground by a crazy demi-god who wanted nothing from Earth but to rule it.

"That's not what's bothering me," she admitted.

"What is it, Nat?"

"I just…" she shifted to look at him. He was looking at her the way he always did, part analysis of a hawk and part awe of a man. She loved that look, and she would miss that look if he tells her what she already knows in her heart. "I… was thinking about children. Kids, you know."

He tensed. Ever so slightly, and if she did not know him like she did, she would not have noticed it.

"What about kids?"

She took in a breath. "Do you ever think about having them? You know? Just two kids running around."

He paused. Longer than he would admit, his eyes never left hers. He schooled his features, he knew he had a slight tell. Knew that if he told her the truth, it would break her heart. Since Lila and Cooper entered his life, he thought about kids almost daily. He wished that those kids were his, that the kids were given a chance to experience a life with a father, and that he would be given a chance to become one. Become theirs. But that was a pipe dream. Lila and Cooper were not his kids.

"No," he lied.

She knew it.

He knew she knew it.

"Clint…"

But if there was one true thing about Clint Barton is that while he had many wants, there was one thing he needed in his life, and that was Natasha.

"You are everything to me, Natasha. I don't care about anything else."

She didn't look at him as he told her. Instead, she looked past him, not ready or strong enough to watch his left eye twitch. A twitch so miniscule that she knew Clint worked hard to control it.

Natasha had her answer; it was the answer that she knew she would get from him. The Black Widow part of her knew it, and accepted it when she went on autopilot typing legalese on a paper to end her marriage, packing her bags, and booking a flight to Manhattan before she could even think about the treachery that Clint committed against their partnership and marriage. Still, the part of her that was Natasha, the one who fell in love with her insufferable partner held onto hope. The weaker side of her that allowed herself to open up to the archer in front of her and believe that maybe, the universe owed her one thing. Maybe, the universe would finally give her peace and happiness.

Good things do not happen to people like you, Natalia, the voice of the woman, whose name she could not remember resonated in her mind. Good things did not happen to Natalia Romanova. Good things did not happen to Natasha Romanoff-Barton. This was proof of it. She had too much red in her ledger for good things to happen to her.

"I have too much red on my ledger," she stated.

That was the last of their conversation for the day. They were used to moving in silence, and that was what they did. Clint lent back against the tree, and Natasha was more than happy to absorb the feeling of completeness in his arms, for what she knew would be the last time.

She went through the motion as they walked back to the farm, hand in hand. Cherished the kisses and held back the tears as he undressed her in their bed to make love to her. Tears that she let fall when she unwrapped herself from his embrace quietly in the middle of the night, threw on her clothes, grabbed her bag, and started the long hike to the airport.

She almost didn't look back.

Until she reached the end of the path, on top of what, officially, was their spot in the past tense and looked back at the farm house.

A moment passed.

Then another.

It was a horrible thing to stand on top of a mountain with the moonlight announcing where she was. But she did it. She did not hind behind the shadows as she would for the rest of her life.

She stood on that mountain top for the last time as Natalia Alianovna Romanova Barton.

Another moment.

Another breath.

She moved her legs and forced herself to move on. With a heavy heart, she placed one foot in front of the other, hiding once again the shadows.

There was nothing for her there anymore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

When Clint woke up the morning after Natasha left, he did not sense the major shift in his life. For the first time since Loki, he slept peacefully, without nightmares of a blue orb or a man in green robes, not even the re-occuring dream that Loki tortured him with of watching himself kill Natasha. Despite his peaceful slumber, something pushed him awake. His first instinct was to reach for the warm body he thought he would find next to him but found it empty. Slightly warm, but empty. It did not strike Clint as completely strange to find his wife's side unoccupied as they spent many nights away from each other, and she spent many nights plagued by the images of her past just as he was. So, Clint shrugged it off, ignoring the feeling in his gut that something more was going on, a tugging feeling that he ignored as he shut his eyes and forced himself back into slumber. But he couldn't sleep, something kept bothering him and kept him up. Three hours of attempting to sleep, Clint got up in search of Natasha. Although she may not appreciate his company, it would calm him, but in his search, he found nothing. She was not downstairs int he kitchen stirring tea, or in the living room reading a book. She was nowhere in the wrap around porch, and he took note that her favored afghan was not draped over the swing like she preferred it to be.

He searched for a clue as to where she would be and he found it in the main weapons cache.

CB, it read. Printed from the computer.

The terms of our agreement has expired. I have taken the liberty of gathering the necessary paperwork in order to end the contract which you signed six years ago. They require your signature and to be forwarded to MH. Please cc me on the submission.

BW

Following the cover letter was a series of pages which outlined the termination of their contract - or as normal, not Natasha, people would call it - their divorce.

He glanced at the paper, but just looked beyond it for a second not believing the words floating on the white pages. Divorce.

The reason was irreconcilable differences.

As their names were never joint on anything, there were no joint assets to split up. A clean break, because he expected nothing less from Natasha. It did not make the pain of the divorce and the documents in front of him less real.

He clenched his fist and punched through the new drywall he installed only months before. He should have known that the Black Widow was not in love with him. She told Loki who detected no lies with "love is for children, I owe him a debt." The debt which she saw as repaid by pretending to love him for the last six years and giving him a small taste of happiness. He wanted to be angry with her, and a part of him was furious that she would leave him, but a part of him - a larger part of him - was furious with himself for believing that he could be happy. That someone as amazing and beautiful as Natasha Romanoff would settle down with a man like himself.

Clint flipped through the paperwork, reading every word like a stab in his heart, signing at the spots where Natasha conveniently put tabs in because she knew how Clint forgets to sign his paperwork for SHIELD and even then showed how much she knew his personality. He followed her instructions to the T, scanning the paperwork to send to Maria HIll on their private server at home. His private server in hisˆ home. He made sure to courtesy copy her, because she asked so nicely, then proceeded to focus on the loading bar, willing his heart not to stop. Clint then sent another email to Hill without the copy to Natasha requesting indefinite leave, he would fill out the necessary paperwork when he gets it but he was hoping to get put on the inactive roster. Should they be in dire need to his skill set, he would come back, but as of then, the didn't think he could face SHILED what with attacking HQ and without Natasha.

He stared at the computer screen blankly for minutes until his phone vibrated next to him. He quickly took it in his hands, expecting it to be Natasha telling him it was all a misunderstanding, but he should have known better. It was Laura.

Hey, hope you're up. Kids are asking for you, they want to go out horse backriding. Care to join?

Clint stared at the phone with a sigh. A small hope blooming in his chest. He quickly squashed the hope in favor of decency. Laura has never showed a sign that she was into him more than as gratitude for what he did (he was starting to see a trend here) and the hurt from Natasha's actions were so raw that he didn't think he could ever give that part of himself to someone else so soon.

But he needed the distraction, and it would be good for him.

Yeah, be there in thirty?

Good. See you soon.

Natasha watched the interaction unfold hacking Clint's phone and sending a message to Laura, without disclosing information, that Clint was in need of a pick me up. She connected Clint's phone to a part of Clint's phone to hers, and the masochist in her allowed herself to watch their interaction and messages. It further enabled her to take action and move on.

Her own phone line vibrated with a start.

Mission prep, rep asap

Natasha responded with a quick acknowledgement putting her game face on and walking a few hallways down to the briefing room where Maria Hill was standing, stoic faced except for the quick glance at Natasha asking her if she was alright. Natasha nodded and glanced around the room to see no back up strike team, just an intel agent with a really thick folder.

"Agent Romanoff, please take your seat," Maria stated motioning at a chair nearby.

Natahsa took her seat in front of the intelligence agent waiting anxiously for a distraction. Her mind wandered over to her husband who would have already made a note of the thick folder and complained about it. Natasha quickly dismissed that thought. Maria sat next to the agent ready to brief her.

"Due to the circumstances of your next mission, we thought it would be best to have just the two of us brief you. It will be a long term undercover, two years minimum, we are anticipating one and a half with your skill set," Maria started the brief. The redhead nodded knowing the underlying meaning was get the mission done within a year and a half, but they really expected her to get it done even less.

Maria took the thick folder from the agent and passed it to Natasha. "This is all the intel we've gathered for this organization. They are based in Budapest, and so will you."

Natasha took a moment to compose herself and not glare at Maria for sending her to Budapest.

"Should you have any questions, Agent Yolvosky is the intel expert on this one, he would be available anytime."

"When is wheels up?"

"48 hours, prep at 24, you need to get a read on this organization."

"Copy."

Maria stood up, as did Agent Yolvosky. "Romanoff, this is a remote mission, check in and comms only once per week."

The redhead nodded. "Understood."

It was what she wanted in order to get away from her life, and get away from her failed marriage. For a year, she thought of nothing besides the mission. She kept tabs on the Avengers, because she was technically part of the team. She was alerted and prepared to take action when she heard that the Mandarin picked Tony as his new adversary, and was ready to drop her mission when she heard that Pepper Potts (a woman who became a friend to her in her short time as Natalie Rushman, and thereafter when Pepper accepted and respected her job and skills). She was alerted again when activities with Thor began and the fact that Jane was transferred to Asguard, one of the first mortlas in SHIELD's knowledge to go to that realm.

What bothered Natasha most about the incident with Thor is the instability of Selvig. While she was sure that Clint was doing better, she could not help but worry about her ex-husband (ex because two weeks after she left, she received an email from Maria Hill, with Clint cc'ed that their contract was properly terminated). Clint was mentally prepared, not for alien demi-gods to take over, but for interrogation so he would fair better. SHe was doing so well in her assignment, only checking into Clint's life and retirement once a month, but those check ins became more and more frequent. She checked him for signs that he was going into the deep end, or needed SHIELD intervention in order to keep him mentally stable but he seemed fine. She cautiously avoided hacking into the Brown family's home for fear of what she would see there, or the grocery store. Instead, she checked in on any activity that happened in the farm, where he has never brought the small family, though she knew most of the time he spent, he spent with them. He was finishing up the remodeling of the farm, still as they had planned it what seemed like a lifetime ago. She knew it must have been therapeutic for him to create instead of destroy with his hands, just as it was therapeutic to a point when she watched him from a screen.

It was therapeutic to a point because while it comforted her to know that Clint was alright, it broke her heart that she was not there with him. He would work in the late hours in Iowa and disappear for the day, she knew where he was - with Laura and the children. On some days she would smile, because she knew that he was finally playing the role that he was born for. He always wanted to be a part of a family and re-write his past, his wish would never be granted with Natasha, but it was with Laura. It did not mater much to Natasha that her heart broke a little more each time, all that mattered was that he was happy.

Natasha knew she had to steal herself for the inevitable of running into him sooner than later. She had about a week left before she made her move with the organization and took them down. Though she knew that Clint was practically retired from SHIELD, she also knew that life was not always in her favor and that for some reason or another, she would run into him whether it be due to SHIELD or because the world needed Avenging. The redhead looked back up at the screen as Clint cleaned out the living room he finally finished, digging through the boxes of books - half were hers, she made a mental note to grab them when she came back - when he took out a purple and red hardcover from the box.

Her breath caught as she saw him open it. It was their book, a place where they could write down their thoughts and dreams. He brought it to her on the third year of their marriage to help ground her in their relationship.

She watched him open the journal and flip through the pages.

Clint looked down at the ink on the paper and thought back to the times when they would lay in bed and fill out the answers to the questions. He loved her then and wanted her to find peace in what was her first relationship. As a spy who was conditioned not to believe in love, Clint knew that Natasha would have a hard time processing her feelings so he bought her a journal on a whim about love, and relationship. It was a questionnaire to help her find herself in their marriage. He thought for a moment about scrapping the thing and throwing it, he was not interested in her lies, but he didn't. Instead he opened the journal and flipped through the pages, stumbling upon a page with the question "what would be the worst way for the relationship to end?"

In her neat handwriting, Natasha wrote: "If we should no longer be friends."

Clint paused on the page and stared. They were best friends and partners before they took the plunge to become more, and of the many things he missed about Natasha, her friendship was one of them. He realized then that he has not heard her voice or her laughter in a year, the longest time he has not heard from her since he recruited her into SHIELD. It was a bizarre thought hat he did not notice until that moment, but his heart was busy with the ache of her leaving him, and the joy of discovering that he could move on, with Laura and the kids.

He sighed, must be one of those comic signs again. He started believing in those, because really after a demi-god scrambles in your head, what shouldn't he believe in?

The archer thought long and hard about Natasha's departure from his life, that their love was not based on the passion which he thought it was. But their friendship was true, he would swear on the strength of their friendship and partnership, the trust that was tangible because it saved their lives so many times. In all her wisdom, Natasha was right, the worst way for the relationship to end was if they were no longer friends. He missed her voice, her laughter, the light jokes that she would say under her breath. He missed her friendship, her companionship. He just missed her.

What are you going to do about it, Clint? he asked himself, still standing in the middle of his living room, still holding onto the red and purple journal.

He picked up his phone and dialed her burner phone. He knew the pattern by heart because she kept it with her for emergencies.

Hey. I know you are probably busy. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. Clint paused, choosing the words carefully. He decided to play it how they had always, before she would deal him the final blow to defeat him in sparring, she always asked, with a grin on her face and red hair coming loose from her ponytail. We're still friends right?

Clint sent the message, holding his breath for the response. He knew it was unlikely she would respond quickly, he did not even know what time zone she was operating at. To his surprise, his phone buzzed moments later.

Depends on how hard you hit me.

He smiled. Somehow, things were going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Steve Rogers did not question Fury when the one-eyed man assigned him to work with Agent Romanoff. He relied on his military bearing so as to not show surprise when FUry suggested that if they worked well together, they would be permanently paired up with one another.

Steve heard a lot about Strike Team Delta while digging up intel on SHIELD and its trustworthiness as well as about his team. He saw the footage and heard the rumors that aside from being SHIELD's best team, the Strike Team also shared a level of intimacy that surpassed partners. He thought it was something that he and the rest of the Avengers saw when the redhead searched every corner of the world to get her partner back. It was not unlike what he knew Peggy did for him when he went down in the ice. So, imagine his surprise when he asked Fury about the previous Strike Team Delta.

"Agent Barton has taken a leave of absence, and indefinite one," Fury stated nonchalantly. "Is there a problem with your paired up with Romanoff?"

"Not at all, sir," Steve replied before about facing out of the room.

He never pictured the stoic woman who he met almost two years ago to be someone who would become one of his greatest confidants in this new reality. His first impression of her was that she was loyal to SHIELD, if they asked her to jump, she would jump. His first impression of the Black Widow was not an accurate portrayal of Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha Romanoff took risks, she was intelligent, smart, and manipulative. He could see that with her stature just above five feet tall, many easily underestimated her as fragile, something that she was not. Truth be told, she reminded him a lot of Peggy, strong and determined, one who would not let the fact that she was a woman deter her from getting what she wanted. In fact, she played on that gender-bias.

In her personal life, Steve noticed, she was closed of. Always looking longingly for a moment at the door, at an object, but just for a moment. It was something he overlooked on their initial missions but as he got to know her, he saw a glimpse of sadness. He wondered who she was thinking of those split seconds before she plastered a smile on her face and shook it off, he knew how she felt thinking about the past and memories of people who he could never share the same experiences with. They were kindred spirits, he realized the more he got to know her. But it seemed the more he was exposed to, the more questions he had about her.

Like the fact that she had a faint line around her left ring finger.

"So, Rogers, did you finally get the guts to ask that nurse on your floor on a date?" Natasha asked slipping on the stool beside him at the bar they, and much of SHIELD DC frequented. She nodded at the bartender who poured her a beer from the tap with a smile.

Steve scoffed at her. "Natasha, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't need your help in that area?"

She smiled at him. "Sure you do! Research has proven that if you are happy in your personal life, then your performance in the work place will also improve."

He frowned. "Are you telling me that I need to improve?"

"Well I didn't say that but you need to brush up on your pop culture and increasing your interaction with this century if you ever want to get into the good parts of the job."

"I don't need any of that to do my job. You're the up close one," Steve pointed out.

"Okay, here's the deal. Until you can properly blend into the new century, Fury won't be giving me any undercover missions because my partner won't be ready."

Steve felt bad about the fact that she was essentially grounded until he got his act together. Never in his life did he want to be a burden on someone, especially his team.

"Fine, I'll work on it," Steve muttered to her.

"Great! But first we have that mission tomorrow. Urgent according to Fury, we're going out with Rumlow's team as back up."

"They still don't trust us with each other?"

"We're a trial case, Cap. But we're their best," Natasha replied swallowing the feeling she got telling Steve that they were the best. Once upon a time, she was part of the best team SHIELD created in its short history; once upon a time, she was a part of a marriage.

"How is Hawkeye?" Steve asked her, just as he visited Peggy through alzehimer no matter how much it hurt his heart to know that she found a love other than theirs, he knew Natasha kept in contact with the former agent. It was the only way that the tam was able to talk to the man and update him with what was going on.

She met Steve's gaze, took a sip of her beer, then replied. "He's doing fine, enjoying his last few days as an agent."

In truth, she visited the farm, met Laura and her children with Clint's persuasion. It was therapeutic for her as it was for him. She knew without a doubt that the woman and her family loved Clint, that they would not break his heart. Natasha did not take for granted that their friendship remained in tact, it was true that she refused to stay over at the Brown-Barton farm. She opted instead to camp out near the farm that was half her own. The tent positioned so the back of the tent faced towards the farmhouse, she did not want to look at her past. Her future was a strong friendship with Clint as they had before they were married.

"Glad to hear."

"How is Director Carter?" she inquired. Natasha was the one who found out the information of Peggy's whereabouts - which was above her pay grade - to give to Steve for his peace of mind. Natasha arranged the first visit, talked to her relatives to let him see her, to say goodbye. Maybe to trigger her memory that she refused SHIELD care for. She wanted her mind to be hers on her last few years, she made sure Fury gave her that - the world owed her that.

"Beautiful as the day I met her."

There was a pause in their conversation, each nursing the drink in front of them.

"So, I met this girl who would be perfect for you..."

Steve shook his head with a smile at Natasha's attempt at light heartedness. He enjoyed her company. She was like the little sister which he never had, which is why he felt the need to protect her - though he would never tell her that for fear that she would kick him further down in time when technology ruled everything. It was why he went through great lengths to shield her on the nuclear bomb that SHIELD sent their way. It was why she allowed her to tease him about the last time he kissed someone (and yes, the last person he's kissed may have been Peggy, because in between figuring out the new century and Avenging, getting read up on SHEILD, he did not have time.) Natasha Romanoff gave him a family to fight for, it was a feeling he had not felt since Bucky.

Bucky.

The Winter Solider who uncovered the layers of SHIELD for the snake that it was.

Hydra.

The most recognizable Avenger did not mention the arrow necklace he saw hanging around her neck on the day that she finally shed her Black Widow persona for Natasha Romanoff. He never noticed that Natasha always covered her neck whether with a t-shirt or her suit. He would have made a comment, but finding out about Hydra was not the time nor the place to talk about the undeniable symbol she wore on her chest. He vowed he would ask her about it when it was all over, but the issue of Bucky became his integral focus.

Now, Natasha Romanoff was on the run, a fugitive as she had been many years before technology ruled the world and a man named Hawkeye found her and saved her from herself. In the wake of leaving Sam and Steve to their hunt for the past, she tried to find herself to no avail because the one person who grounded her was in a farm in Iowa. So in the darkest of the nights, as she had left the state, she came back and entered the place SHIELD has never been.

The farm she once shared, and left.

She entered the farm with the certainty that Clint would have changed all the pass codes and security measures. For a second time that month, she was wrong. She entered with ease.

"Welcome home, Nat," Clint's voice greeted her on the loud speaker, just as it had every time she walked into the farm.

She sighed, shedding the days old clothing she wore and collapsed onto the couch exhausted in the one place she could be herself.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Natasha wandered around the property with ease and familiarity. Not much has changed in the house besides the finished rooms, there were side projects such as the paint and smaller decorations that needed to be done, but Clint did a great job restoring the house as they planned it when they were married. It surprised her to see that he went with the floor tiles that she chose and the rest of the designs that they compromised on instead of going back to what he wanted, but she refused to read too much into it. The rest of the house was just as she had left her, Clint had not even touched the clothes that she left including her spare hiking boots that she was thankful was there so she could take a walk around the property and enjoy the scenery.

On her first day, she expected a visit from Clint who without a doubt would be alerted by the security network that she arrived and the house was in use. It was a visit she wanted to actively avoid so she spent the day re-discovering her favorite places in the farm, the places that were not tinted with the memories of her love for a man who found refuge in the arms of someone else. There were smaller places where she hiked by herself and sat to think, about nothing and everything. About SHIELD – or what once was SHIELD – and the role she played in aiding Hydra’s return to power.

A week came and went without a word from Clint, until she came back from the grocery store and he was sitting in the kitchen, putting up the decorative tiles that she picked out for the kitchen.

“Clint?” she called out. He left traces of himself all over the house, his boots were by the door, where she preferred them to be because she did not appreciate dirt on her hardwood flooring. His tool kit was evident against the door that led to the kitchen to announce his presence. Still she had her sidearm out, just in case it was Hydra and they found where she was leveling out.

“Just me,” he announced in the kitchen. She followed the sound, groceries in tow, dropping the re-usable bags onto the counter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him watching as he applied plaster on the decorative tile and placed it neatly, and precisely, on the wall.

“I, uh, I come by to finish the house,” he stated, as if it was the most simple answer in the world.

The redhead nodded, watching her ex-husband work. After a few beats, she picked up the courage to tell him. According to their divorce papers, she was trespassing on his property because the house was never hers to begin with. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Clint shook his head. “No, I’m glad… I’m glad you’re here. That you felt – that you’re ok.”

“I need to level out,” she admitted. “I thought --- I thought I knew who I was, that my ledger…”

He stood up from his position and set the tools down. He met her eyes. “Just because Hydra was pulling Pierce’s puppet strings, does not mean that what you did, what we did was wrong.”

“Pierce was pulling SHIELD’s strings, Clint. They were the ones who were telling us who to kill. Who’s to say that we never killed for them.”

Clint paused. Those were the same concerns that he had when he first heard about Hydra taking over SHIELD. That half, if not more than half of SHIELD was undercover for the organization that Red Skull founded under anger and thirst of power.

“I can’t tell you that I know for sure we never killed for Hydra,” Clint started. “But I can tell you that all those times we called the shot off because it didn’t feel right – we were our own agents. We were more independent than a lot of those agents, and that made all the difference.”

He did not need to voice his suspicion that Hydra may be the one that gave the order and intel that led to the Black Widow who betrayed them. He knew that his choice was not a popular one and the reason why Strike Team Delta was formed in the first place was because Pierce hoped that Natasha would turn on him and kill him for disobeying and order. He was wrong, as Phil would say, he lacked conviction.

“I put it all out there,” she whispered.

“I know, I saw. Stark said he was working on scrubbing it all out, from even the deep webs from existing.”

She nodded. “I don’t know – I don’t know who I am anymore, Clint.”

He leaned against the breakfast nook he set up months ago, the one that they compromised on because he liked how this one looked in their (his?) homely kitchen. He leaned next to her, careful not to touch her, because he no longer had that right. Because he did not want to bring back the feelings that he had every time their skin connected. It would be a lie if he said he was no longer in love with her, he admitted to himself as he finished the living room that he would always love her. He was trying his best to love Laura as much, as passionately, but he knew he would never love another as he loved Natasha.

“You are Natasha,” he said after a long pause. Because Hydra or SHIELD, even the Red Room, regardless of what evils she faced in the past, she was always her. Resilient, courageous, witty, brilliant – the hardships she’s faced did not make her resilient or courageous, it brought those existing traits out of her. The shadows of her past did not bring her down, instead she had a unique sense of humor that he missed because he knew her enough to know the joke she would crack about something and even anticipated, he would laugh. He missed her a lot during the days, and during the nights.

He never thought he was a man who would settle down, and it was harder than he thought after the first few months when the novelty wore off. He craved adrenaline and adventure; it was all he knew from a young age. He never told Stark to deactivate his status as an Avenger because he knew that if they called, he would drop the life that was slowly turning into a facade for a chance to feel like himself again. If Natasha was lost because SHIELD fell, he was lost because Natasha left him. 

She looked up at him, vulnerable. A look he was not used to seeing on her. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

His heart broke a little at her vulnerability. She was lost, and it seemed at that moment, she was looking at him to find her. So he vowed, just as he had many years ago, to help her find herself.

“You’re my best friend,” Clint admitted earning a surprised look from Natasha. “You are Natasha.”

“Do you,” she paused trying to search for the words. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Without hesitation, he nodded, wiped his dirty hands on his worn out jeans. (Laura would berate him later on for marking up another pair of jeans because of his renovation work, but he pushed that thought aside. This was bigger than everything in his world. This was Natasha.)

“Yeah.”

They walked along familiar paths that they have done many a times when they stayed of the farm. Paths that Natasha refused to take in the past week that she’s been staying because those were their paths. Clint was content in the silent presence of Natasha and the normalcy of it all. His heart still ached when he thought of her, but he understood her reasons, or what he thought were her reasons for ending their marriage – contract – as she called it. On the other hand, Natasha was content with Clint’s support, that although he’s moved on, he was still there for her. After what seemed like hours, the two sat on the highest elevation point of the property, on top of a tree and just watched the world around them. Iowa seemed so far from the terrors of New York and Washington. It was untouched by the world of espionage and the reds of their ledgers. The people there thought about the farm, their food, and how to get to the next day. Sure, there were nosy neighbors and feuds, but in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing compared to the weight that Clint and Natasha were used to dealing with.

It was a welcome change for them.

“How long do you plan on staying?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “If you want me gone I –“

He shook his head vigorously. “No, I just wanted to know, how long you would be staying. I miss you.”

She leaned on the tree that separated the branches between the two of them. He was two branches higher than her to the left, she was to the right.

“I miss you too, Clint. I’m sorry.”

He extended his feet down and landed gracefully beside her, the trunk dipping a bit, but holding their weight. Clint met her green eyes with a small smile on his face.

“Friends?”

He extended his had out.

She nodded her head and met his hand. “Friends.”

It was a start.