The New York Assignment

Two

"You want me to what!?" Clint asked, shocked.

Natasha gave him a look of irritation. "I didn't know the idea of moving in with me was that disgusting to you, Barton."

Clint gave her a look. "You know it's not, Nat. I'd love to wake up with you every morning." He smirked suggestively.

She nodded. "Good. Get your stuff and take it by my place."

He grabbed her arm as she turned to go. "Hold it, Nat. What's up?"

Natasha looked at him, acting confused. "What do you mean?"

"What's with the sudden change? Before your last mission I seem to recall someone being very upset that she did a certain thing with me, and that it would lead to... Oh, what did she say? 'An unbreakable connection', that's it!"

Natasha sighed. "Hill was just talking about how it wasn't a good idea letting you and I have a... relationship."

Clint smirked. Since The Avengers incident, Natasha had been quite frustrated with Hill's lack of cooperation and overbearing attitude. "So the only reason you want to move in is because Hill don't like it?"

Natasha gave him her classic look, telling him to cut the crap. "No, of course not," she said in a harsh whisper. "But I'll admit, it does have some bearing."

Clint thought for a moment. He'd had this conversation with her a couple of times. When was she just going to accept that their relationship was their own?

"Nat, we have been over this. You can't let other people dictate what-"

"Do you want to move in or not?" The question was sharp, and indicated an immediate answer.

He signed heavily. "Yeah, I do," he admitted. "As long as this isn't Natasha Romanoff: Reform Specialist coming out again."

Natasha agreed, and the pair walked back out to the flight deck. They flew back to New York, dismissing Bates' questions. Clint drove back to his apartment. They walked up the steel stairs to Clint's fourth-floor apartment, and he unlocked the door.

Natasha was rather taken aback. It seemed every time she entered his apartment, she expected to find a mess. And every time, she was surprised to see none. This was no different. Natasha had expected, given the fact that she found him in a bar, that there would be clothes everywhere, half-empty pizza boxes, bottles of alcohol, and other assorted things cluttering the place. But the only thing less than ordinary was a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink, and a bottle of beer on the kitchen table.

Clint pulled out his old duffle bags and started throwing things in them. He wouldn't really need much. He would probably be back there in a week anyway. He packed seven changes of clothes, a nice suit, and, of course, his weapons.

Confusion and doubt began seeping into his mind. Did she really want him to move in with her? This was really sudden.

A chilling, English-sounding accent voiced his chief doubt, "Why would she ever want to be with you? After everything you've done? You left her, and SHIELD, and everyone you ever cared about. You led to Coulson's death. Why would a woman as beautiful and independent as her want you?"

Clint shook his head vigorously. No. He violently zipped the duffel bag. He was going to take a chance on her once again. Even the chance of her wanting to be with him, to live with him, was worth the risk. He shouldered his two bags and walked out of the bedroom.

Natasha looked up. "That was fast."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, there's not much to bring."

She relieved him of one of the bags and walked out the door. He followed her to the car, and deposited his luggage in the back seat. He sat in the driver's seat, her, in the passenger seat.