It's Not That Complicated

"It's really not that complicated," Clint says.

It's Christmas Eve. Outside the farmhouse, snow falls quietly and gently. Inside, Lucky has settled into his basket, contented with the old flannel blanket arranged to his liking, dozing. Clint and Natasha sit in front of the blazing fireplace, facing each other knee to knee, a bowl of popcorn and mugs of hot coffee within reach,  a quilt Natasha picked up in an antique shop thrown across their legs. Clint has insisted that Natasha opens her stocking now. They've been together going on seven years now, and  Christmas has never been an all out affair for them... little gifts of the practical sort, like archery gloves made from custom leather, knives of various shapes and sizes. But they have aways hung stockings for each other, no matter where they happen to be at the time, in different countries, dive hotels, safe houses, a few spent on base at SHIELD, and now this one here, at the one place they deem their true safe house.

Clint's words are spoken in response to what Natasha has just pulled from the toe of her stocking. A small, dark blue box. She clicks it open to find a delicate gold chain with a tiny arrow pendant hanging from it. Natasha gently takes it from the box, looks into Clint's face questioningly. Clint swallows hard, surprised that even though he has rehearsed the moment over and over and over in his mind, and imagined her response dozens, hundreds, of times since hand picking it for her specially in Milan, that he's a nervous wreck. He clenches his hands into the folds of the quilt, finding the fire suddenly a bit too warm.

"Ah..." he clears his throat. "It's really not that complicated.."

"For something that isn't that complicated, it sure has you breaking a sweat," Natasha teases.

Clint unclenches his hands, and reaches for one of hers. "This... this is the ring," he says, and he hears her draw in her breath. "I knew you wouldn't wear a ring, because of the attention, and I understand that...and it's not something... you don't have to tell me yes..or, no..right now..." He takes another deep breath and looks into her eyes, watching him. "But baby, I want you to know that I'm sure of you. I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with no one else but you." He reaches for her other hand. "So... Marry me.. When you're ready".

Natasha's eyes are glistening when she meets his, "You mean.. One day when we're finally tired of running?"

"Running or not." he replies,, and he leans over to kiss her in front of the fire, the light catching on the gold chain and making it sparkle as it dangles from her finger.

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*Three Years Later*

Natasha can't shake the feeling that she's being watched, even after she closes and locks the door to her apartment on SHIELD base in D.C. She's know the feeling before, and she doesn't like it, and she especially doesn't like it when it's coming from an organization that's supposed to be the good guys. To some extent, yes, there's always surveillance, cameras in the halls to keep track of the comings and goings of agents, security measures... But this feeling is different. It has her unsettled and distracted and she thinks again as she pulls her Ruger from under one of the couch cushions, she just doesn't like it.

With gun in one hand, she pulls her phone from her pocket, just to check again.. already knowing there won't be anything. Clint's in deep cover in Germany. It's been a good two months since she last saw him, and Fury stuck her with baby-sitting Steve Rogers here in D.C. She leans against the wall, closes her eyes, pictures Clint's face before he left.. He had been growing out a beard and dyed his hair black to go in cover, and she had teased him about how rugged looking it made him, but she missed how the beard had felt when he kissed her. She misses him. Especially now. She's so..so weary. She opens her eyes and frowns, knitting her brows in puzzlement as she does.