Just Like Budapest

The archer sat in the rafters as usual, both for the view, and the fact that he'd prefer solitude to all company. All but his partner, and only friend, Agent Natasha Romanova, though she was out in a mission. So the hawk sat in his nest, and awaited his partners return, unable to keep hints of worry from his otherwise unreadable eyes. There was exactly one person who could read those eyes, one person who saw through all the walls he'd put up, as if she was already inside him, knowing his every thought, and she was two days late to return from her latest solo mission. The people, agents, below him passed through the room he knew that she'd enter into, she'd walk through the door, he'd spot her, she'd spot him, and he wouldn't be so damn lonely anymore. Loneliness wasn't new to him of course, he'd know that much longer than he'd known her, but when you find somebody who makes the hardest part of being you seem easy, not being with them, facing that part, is hard again. Clint sighed, and leant his chin against the railing of his perch. "Guess it'll be awhile." He said to himself, and with that in mind, he laid his head on the bars as he'd done to many times before, and drifted off to sleep.

As Agent Barton slept, people continued to pass, agents continued to glance upwards at the sleeping man, wonder when he'd wake, if he was ever coming down, then walk away, back to whatever their previous goal was. Just as things have always gone, and just as they always will. And as things go on this way, a red-headed woman would stumble in, covered with just enough blood and scrapes, and she would fall in such a way, that it would cause a commotion great enough for the sleeping agent to awake to shouts for medics. All he sees when he wakes is a woman on the ground, people crowding her, and a tangled mess of striking red hair. In a horrifying moment he realized that's his Natasha, his Nat, and he rushed down, pushing his way through the crowd of concerned people, to kneel by his partner.

"'Tasha..." He breathed. The spy blinked up, hearing his voice. "Clint." Natasha returned, managing what the archer knew was a smile. "What happened- When did this.. Are you alright? God 'Tasha.." He muttered, all the worry from his eyes seeping into his voice.

"Clint- I'm alright."

He laid his hand on top of hers. "Are you sure? I'll call a med-"

"Clint! I'm fine, are /you/ okay?"

He sucked in a breath, and looked down at her.

"Tasha.." His fingers wove in with hers, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I thought... I just can't lose you."

Natasha smiled, and returned the squeeze just as gently. "You won't have to... After all, somebody reminded me a bit back that I'm a spy, not a soldier." She smiled. "You should listen to him."

He laughed softly, and with that she leant up to kiss his cheek.

"I promise."

The a archer picked up his partner, and began carrying her to her quarters.

"Somebody cancel that medic... I'll take care of her."

An agent grunted, and another sighed. "Yeah yeah.." Somebody murmured. "Just like in Budapest." Another said, going ahead with what the bowman had ordered.

The two agents locked eyes, as a look for only them to share crossed both their faces.

"I hope it's like Budapest." Natasha says, not even bothering to disguise the seductive tone her voice took on.

"Oh, it can be..." Barton returns, grinning as he leant down to once again kiss his partner.