The New York Assignment

Nine

Slowly, Clint came out of a deep sleep. His head gave a painful throb. He was laying on something soft. He let out a low groan before opening his heavy eyelids.

He was in a strange room, decorated in greys and whites. He was in a strange bed. What the...?

It all came back to him like a bolt of lightning. Morse. He'd asked her about Trick Shot and foolishly stayed. The last thing he remembered was her intoxicating kiss. Oh, God, what would Natasha say? It took him a moment to remind himself that he didn't care what Natasha would say.

He sat up and put a hand to his head. The room swayed slightly. He slowly got out of bed and stood up. He found himself in only his boxers. Great. Just... great. He found his suit laying in the floor, as if tossed there, and hurriedly pulled it on.

He realized his suit had been purged of weapons. Crap. His mind worked as fast as it could hungover to find a way out. There was no telling what was behind the closed door. But the room had no windows and one door. Cursing his own stupidity, he decided the only thing to be done was open the door and fight his way out if he had to, weapons or not.

Clint's hand stretched out and turned the doorknob. He took a deep breath, and opened the door. No one was there. The scent of bacon and biscuits confused him. He sneaked through the hallway and came to the kitchen.

Morse stood frying bacon on the stove. Her tight tank top showed a sliver of her tan midriff above her tight pants. Her hair was down, and damp. She bent over to check on the biscuits in the oven, and Clint couldn't help but stare.

"I hope you're staying for breakfast," she said sweetly, taking the pan out of the oven.

It took Clint a moment to organize his thoughts. "What... who... What happened last night!?" He was afraid of the answer, but it was the only thought he could form amid the scramble of worries and concerns.

She smiled at him. "Don't worry. I don't think we're having a baby."

His stomach did a nervous flip. "Did we...?"

"You mean you don't remember? I'm insulted."

"Answer me!" he snapped.

She smirked. "Yep."

He nearly gagged. He thought for sure he was going to throw up. All he could think about was Natasha's face and the pain he'd be in if she ever found out. "Oh, God..." He had to undo as much of the mess as he could. "Look, whatever-"

"One time thing," she interrupted, nodding. "I know. That's how I want it, too."

Surprised, he gave a curt nod. "Good. Well, I'm going. I've gotta find-"

"I'm coming, too."

Clint knew he must have misheard her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm coming." One look told him she was perfectly serious. "He ruined my life, Clint. I'm going to end his."

All he could do was stare at her for a long time. Bad idea! Horrible idea! Not gonna happen! "No way. You think I trust you enough to let you come along!?"

She opened a drawer and pulled out a gun. "You don't have a choice. If you won't let me come, I'll blow your brains out and hand then over to Trick Shot."

He just smirked. "You wouldn't."

"I'm not the sweet little girl you thought you knew, Clint. I will kill you. And how else do you expect to find him?" She didn't point the gun at him, just held it. If he was being honest, that was worse.

A million thoughts rushed through his head. What if she led him into a trap? What if she put herself in danger and he had to rescue her? What if they happened to meet Natasha? Two were more easily tracked than one. He was better off alone.

But her point about finding Buck Chisolm made him pause. She was right. How was he supposed to find him? He needed an insider.

With a deep sigh, he consented. Briefly, he missed the days when he actually made good decisions and still got crap done. It seemed those were over.

"Fine."

She smiled. "Good. Now why don't you sit down? We'll eat breakfast, then set out."

_______________________________________________________

Natasha felt like screaming. No, more than that; she felt like crying. Clint was gone, SHIELD was going to kill him, there were four people in her house that weren't supposed to be there... She couldn't handle this. Tony and Edith were debating over something idiotic. Phil was fangirling over Steve. Steve was trying to shut Tony up. Natasha was done. Completely and totally done.

Without a word, she stood and marched out, slamming the door to her bedroom. She put her back against it and sank down. Sleep deprivation dulled her mind. All she could think of was Clint.

Where was he? Why couldn't they freaking find him!?

She thought of all the things he'd said to her, what felt like a lifetime ago. His promises to keep her safe, his vows of love. He'd said nothing could ever make him lose his love for her. But the way he looked at her when he'd found out she'd lied told a different story.

He hated her.

A knock made her jump to her feet. "Natasha?" a muffled voice spoke from the other side of the door. "It's Steve. May I come in?"

She threw the door open. "What!?" she snapped.

The concern in his eyes was well accepted, though she'd never tell him. "I wanted to see if you... Natasha, are you crying?"

She wiped her cheek, and her finger came away wet. She was crying. She hadn't noticed...

"What do you want?" she demanded, refusing to answer his question.

Steve looked at her, worried and wanting to help. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine."

He didn't believe her. She didn't blame him. "Natasha... I'm so sorry. We're going to find him. We will. We've got Stark's technology, Agent Coulson to smooth talk SHIELD, and no one knows Barton like you do."

She swallowed hard. "Steve... he was furious when he left. Even if we do find him... Oh, God, what if he hates me?"

The lack of sleep, stress, and despair finally boiled over. Tears slid down her cheeks and a heartbroken sob broke from her tired body. Steve stared at her for a moment, shocked, unsure of what to do. Natasha Romanoff, SHIELD assassin and most dangerous woman alive, was crying.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder. When she didn't do anything more than flinch, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He rubbed her back and let her cry without interruption. It was, whether he knew it or not, the best possible thing he could have done for her.

"I... I love him," she whispered through the tears, so quietly that Steve only just heard her. "I fell in love with him and... I didn't... I didn't have an extraction plan. Oh, God, what have I done!?" She screamed the last part.

Tony, Phil, and Edith looked in on them, worried by Natasha's scream. The sight of the Black Widow crying into Captain America's shirt was enough to make even Tony speechless. Steve gave them all a warning look. Natasha was so lost that she didn't notice them. She clung to Steve like an anchor, and she knew better than she wanted that it should have be Clint.