Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry guys. School started, lots of work, writer's block… yadda yadda. So I hope you didn't mind the long wait for the last chapter. All the mistakes are mine, unfortunately. I still hope you enjoy it, and I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you for everyone who's read this, and thanks for all of your support!

He always returned.

Perhaps it was because he owed her something, or she was injured. Perhaps it was because he missed her more than he could admit.

'Almost as much as much as a drowning man misses air,' he laughed at the thought.

Taking a deep breath and clinging onto the line, he took a step towards his destination; he rarely used the grappling hook arrow besides these nightly visits. Unfortunately, Natasha's room wasn't on the first ten floors of the hospital. Nope. In fact, it was almost near the top, Fury's orders.

Stealthily, (though he could never truly imitate the way Natasha would climb into hotel rooms) he popped open her room's window and climbed in. She didn't stir; he closed the window as quickly as he opened it, so a draft wouldn't sneak in with him.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, he moved towards the bed, taking his seat in the plastic chair next to her. She was cold; his calloused fingers wrapped around her almost delicate hands.

His voice was soft, unusual for someone like Clint Barton; known for making sarcastic jokes at every turn; for often trying to poke fun out of everyone when he wasn't on duty; for the often cold and silent killer on the roof of the tallest building, ready to aim and shout orders at rookie agents. Slowly, he rested his head on Natasha's stomach, finding comfort in her peaceful, slumbering body.

Natasha's eyes fluttered open in surprise. Why was there something holding her hand? She stiffened slightly, her eyes wide and calculating. Was this a plot to take her life? Her eyes scanned the room, but nothing was really out of place. Looking down, she expected the worst.

Her posture visibly relaxed at seeing the sandy-blonde locks of her favorite archer. 'So that was what he was up to,' she mused with a stifled chuckle. Her mind was racing; why didn't he come in the daytime when she was awake then? Hesitantly, she squeezed his hand, placing her other on his head.

Clint jolted awake, a gasp caught in his throat. He bit his lip; did she wake up? Was she furious with him? He looked up, his eyes meeting her bright green ones. Quickly, he leaned back into his chair, almost falling over.

"Oh god, Nat! Um… I didn't know you were awake. Oh god, I just- it's just that- I- I'm not trying to- fuck," he stuttered, trying desperately to find coherence in his own words. "I really screwed this up didn't I?" he tensed, his shoulders hunched in resignation.

She almost laughed. He was just so… silly? Was that the word? Whatever it was, she had never seen him this way, even when he was messing with everyone else around the tower. "You know, a simple hi would've been enough. It's a lot less wordy too," she smirked.

Even under the cover of darkness, she could see his face turn bright red. "I- I'm sorry?" he muttered meekly, "You shouldn't have sneaked up here like that, you're not a creeper, Clint Barton. Damn," he reminded himself under his breath.

Natasha's lips turned up in a smile. "You're not a creeper, Clint, though I didn't expect to wake up with your face on my stomach," she mocked. This was too good of an opportunity to pass.

His silent groan was almost deafening. He ran his hand through his hair awkwardly. "Sorry about that and everything else," he apologized quietly, getting up. "You probably- probably need your sleep, so I think- I think I should go," he stumbled on his words, backing up slowly.

Frustration started rising in Natasha's throat. "No you don't, Clint Barton," her voice had a tone of warning in it. "You're not leaving after until we talk and I find out why you only come at night," she demanded, sitting up. He flinched in response.

Seeing his eyes widen, a shiver ran through her body; a seed of confusion planted itself in her mind. Was he- was he afraid of her? She tensed slightly, drawing limbs closer to her body. She bit her lip before speaking; her voice was small like a child's.

"Why didn't you come?"

Clint's felt his heart clench; he was the one who made his partner like this. Why didn't he come? The 'reasons not to come' list seemed completely ridiculous now. Heat rose to his cheeks.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me," he mumbled, his hands crammed into his pockets awkwardly. "If you were mad at me before, then you must be even more furious,"

She sighed, a frown etched on her features. Did he really see her like that?

"I wasn't mad at you, at least not when I woke up," she started, her thoughtful gaze sincere and reserved. "I thought you stayed away because you were still angry with how careless I was. I'm sorry about that," she murmured, sinking down into her bed.

"No, don't apologize, Nat. It's not your fault; it's all mine. If only I didn't- perhaps if I had warned you-" he started, his eyes wild. He took a breath.

"Maybe if I didn't yell at you like that, you wouldn't have gone. If there's anyone to blame- it's me," he groaned, his head in his hands. It seemed bad enough to confront an angry Natasha, but an apologetic one was even worse.

"Why are you apologizing then?" her confusion surprised him. "It's not your fault, Clint. I was careless, and I learned my lesson, alright? Maybe this was all just a bit of confusion," she spoke with a soft voice and a small smile. She hesitated, her hand about to touch his shoulder.

"I was arrogant and annoying, and I shouldn't have told you off. I guess karma got me too," he looked up, leaning towards her touch. He smiled weakly; it was almost a grimace. There would be a lot of sorting out to do. His eyes were tired and weary, almost bloodshot from the recent lack of sleep.

"Friends again?" she smiled, leaning back into the pillows, waiting for sleep to envelop her. It had been a long day.

"Friends it is," he confirmed with a smirk, resting his head on her stomach once more. He was finally getting his long-awaited rest.

"So… plan Blackhawk worked?" Tony grinned, turning towards Steve. Visiting hours had just opened, and they had arrived in time to see everyone's favorite assassins sleeping next to each other.

"Fine, I guess you win," Steve grumbled as Bruce snickered beside him. Tony smirked, enjoying the scene in front of them. He turned towards Steve, whispering something into his ear.

"Oh, by the way, you owe me ten bucks,"