What It Comes Down To

By sick-atxxheart

Warnings: A few swear words.

Oh, my dear, I'll wait for you
Grace tonight will pull us through Until the tears have left your eyes
Until the fear can sleep at night
Until the demons that you're scared of
Disappear inside
Until the guilt begins to crack
And this weight falls from your back
Oh, my dear, I'll keep you in my arms tonight

-"Oh My Dear," by Tenth Avenue North

What it came down to – for all of them, really – was trust.

Of course, there was the type of trust that came along with being on a team. That type of trust was important; the "I've got your back, go get the bad guy" type, and it was due to that connection that as a team they thrived. But each of them, on an individual level, was different.

Both Thor and Steve had a problem with trusting people indiscriminately, and the rest of the Avengers had had quite a time attempting to teach them that not every person they met was honorable and worthy of their faith. Bruce at the beginning trusted no one, as he couldn't even trust himself. Tony trusted his team and he trusted Pepper, but other than that he was remarkably weary for someone so arrogant.

What Clint and Natasha had, however, was something completely different. Their trust for one another was unreserved, unconditional, and as the rest of the Avengers soon learned, apparently crucial for their well-being and survival. It was never explicitly stated whether or not they were in a relationship, but as time went on, everyone began to wonder.

Bruce was the one who noticed first, which wasn't really a surprise. He's a people-watcher, and it gives him more insight than reading file after file of information could ever do.

He noticed the way that each of them unconsciously, without even realizing, checked for the other one's presence whenever they entered a room. He noticed that if possible, they were always a team. Bruce noticed that they could practically read each other's minds, bringing things the other wanted without being asked. And that was only skimming the surface.

It was only a week or so after they had defeated Loki, and everyone was staying in the newly-christened Avengers Tower for the time being. Tony's team had reconstructed and remodeled the Tower remarkably quickly, and each Avenger had their own floor. All things considered, they had it pretty good, and Bruce wasn't complaining.

He was working late in the lab one night, per his usual schedule, when Clint came in.

"Hey, Doc," he greeted, leaning against the white countertop. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and had bags under them.

"Clint," Bruce acknowledged, looking up from his work and offering the man a smile. "What are you doing down here this late? You are welcome, of course," he added as an afterthought.

Clint looked downcast. "Just heading down to the range," he said. "Thought I'd stop in and say hi."

That was the extent of their conversation, and Clint headed on down to the archery range, leaving Bruce to his work.

It was nearly four a.m. when Bruce finally put down his work and exited the lab, making his way down the long corridor. As it happened, the archery range that had been built for Clint was in the same hallway as his lab. Bruce stopped at the door and listened for a moment on a strange hunch, and wasn't disappointed: the muted twang of the bow as it was released, and the dull thwack of the arrow as it hit the target, undoubtedly spot-on. Bruce sighed.

Climbing four flights of stairs to avoid the elevator, Bruce exited the stairwell on Natasha's floor and took a deep breath before knocking on her door.

He stepped back as far from the door as he could, his back practically against the back wall. He had never tested the theory before, but Bruce had no doubt that Natasha could kill him in two seconds flat even in a sleepy state. He wouldn't be surprised if the assassin slept with her weapons; they seemed like such natural extensions of her body that Bruce couldn't imagine her parted from them.

True to his guess, the door was flung open and no less than two guns were pointed at him, wielded by a sleepy but still deadly assassin. Bruce stood as still as he could until she recognized him; it was only then that her weapons dropped to her sides.

Natasha yawned and sighed at the same time. "What is it, Bruce?" She asked wearily. "Is there a mission?"

Bruce smiled and shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong," he said, then frowned and changed his mind. "Well, maybe something is. I just wanted to let you know – Clint's in the archery range."

Natasha eyed him curiously. "Your point being?"

Unfazed, Bruce met her eyes. "He's been in there for the last five hours."

The reaction was instantaneous. Natasha's eyes clouded over and her shoulders hunched. "Damn him," she hissed, slamming her door shut behind her as she exited the room, weapons still in her grasp. "It's this thing with Loki. It's affecting him more than it should, although I understand why it is." She was halfway down the hall when she remembered Bruce and called back to him, "Thanks for letting me know, Bruce. You were right to come and get me."

Bruce nodded to himself and turned to head up to his own room. Of course he had been right; Clint needed his other half at moments like these.

Nick Fury knew about the relationship between his two top agents; he had a copy of the marriage certificate, of course, although he was fairly confident he was the only one. Neither agent had acknowledged their relationship to him, but that was unimportant. It had not as of yet affected their performance in the field, and that was what mattered.

This was why Fury was surprised when Agent Hill came into his private office one day with a message. "Agent Romanoff requests a moment with you, sir," the woman said, waiting for a reply.

Fury blinked once and acquiesced. "Send her in, Agent Hill," he said brusquely, clearing off his desk and attempting to prepare himself for the unknown. Never before had Agent Natasha Romanoff – or Natasha Barton, depending on how you looked at things – requested of her own free will a private audience with him. Something was up, and it was undoubtedly something serious.

The Black Widow swept into the room, as always dancing the line between respectful and defiant. She took a seat in front of Fury at his nod.

"What is it, Agent Romanoff?" Fury asked, getting straight to the point.

Natasha sighed deeply, almost as if gathering her courage (Fury had no doubt that that wasn't the case), and then looked at him directly. "I have an issue to address with you," she stated. "It's about Clint."

Although it didn't show on his face, Fury was rather surprised. Not only was she coming to him to address an issue, something she had never done before, but it was about her husband. He had been right – this was a serious matter.

"What about Agent Barton?" Fury asked, looking straight at Natasha.

The master assassin suddenly slumped back in her chair, as if all sense of decorum had been lost. "You will have to forgive me for my impertinence," she said, "But sometimes, you handle your agents completely wrong."

Fury barely blinked. "Please elaborate."

"Do you realize what you ask us to do?" Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed again, her behavior ever more perplexing. "Of course you do, you've done it. But you must realize – you are asking us to kill for you. For the world, for civilians, I know, but regardless, you are asking us to kill. Murder. It's what we're trained for – it's what we do. And believe me, each kill, each civilian – we remember. We count. So for the love of God – why the hell do you play the blame game? We come in after a mission that kicked our asses – we're bloodied and tired and hurt and guilty, and you are going to sit there and tell us how many civilians perished, how many millions of dollars of damages were caused, everything we did wrong and could be improved on? Don't you think that's going through our heads already? Don't you think we know?"

Natasha rose from her chair and began pacing anxiously back and forth, seemingly unable to contain her emotions. "And after the whole Loki-world-domination thing? You – you brought in Clint, who had been taken advantage of, who had no choice in what he did – you brought him in and told him how many people he killed! You told him the secrets he had spilled. You – you don't even realize what you did! We are people! We are not invincible! And you, sir, nearly broke him. And you know what? I'm the one who has to put him back together. And I am tired of having to put my husband back together."

The last sentence was hissed like a threat, coming from the assassin she truly was. Abruptly, Natasha stopped pacing and stared at Fury.

"I don't expect you to say anything, sir," she said coldly, her posture perfectly straight, her glare piercing. "I expect you to reform your behavior." With that, she turned on her heel and marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

Fury sat perfectly still for a long moment, and then stared at the door the assassin had just left. Both Natasha and Clint were valuable assets to S.H.I.E.L.D.; both too valuable to lose. It could only be assumed that the Black Widow had been telling the truth, and if one was operating under that belief, then perhaps a change was necessary. Fury knew that both of them, especially together, were strong enough to go rogue. He couldn't have that happen.

"Agent Hill," Fury called. In a moment, the woman was waiting in front of him. "We need to revise the debriefing manual for all agents," he said quietly. "There's new protocol."

Tony's first indication of Clint and Natasha's relationship came from Jarvis. The process of everyone moving in had gone impressively smoothly, and Tony was just getting used to having people living with him. The fact that each person had their own living space and their own training rooms definitely helped things, however; there was only so much togetherness one could take.

As usual, Tony was in the lab, without any real idea of what time of the day it was. He had just pulled out his tablet to run some new calculations when Jarvis spoke up.

"Sir," the AI said, "I have some information that you may or may not want to act upon."

Tony grinned. It was moments like these that the brilliancy of his invention hit him – the ones when Jarvis spoke up not on a programmed, expected issue, but on the basis of its own analysis and data. Jarvis was brilliant, and Tony loved it.

"What is it?" He asked, setting down the tablet.

"Agent Barton has not been sleeping in his room since he began living in Avengers Tower," Jarvis stated, his cool voice as calm as ever. Tony frowned.

"Where's he been sleeping, then?"

The reply was swift. "In the air ducts," Jarvis said.

Tony paused to consider for a moment. Clint had displayed a penchant for small spaces for the entirety of Tony's relationship with him, so the fact that the man was sleeping in air ducts wasn't that surprising. The real question, however, was why.

"Any air ducts in particular?" Tony wondered out loud. "Or just random ones?"

"He has been sleeping in the air ducts above Agent Romanoff's rooms." Came the reply. Tony grinned like a madman. Of course he had been! The Hawk and the Spider – Tony should have known.

"Thanks, Jarvis," Tony said, going back to his tablet. "I'll take care of it."

Inwardly, Tony smirked. In a way, it was rather sweet, Clint wanting to sleep near Natasha's rooms. Tony wasn't sure if the two were actually involved or not, but a little push was always helpful, anyway.

Tomorrow, when a small, contained explosion rendered Clint's rooms unusable, leading him to be given a room on Natasha's floor instead, Tony would vehemently deny any involvement.

The first time Steve noticed their relationship was in a moment he would later regret.

Yet another horde of aliens – it was always aliens, Steve thought – was wreaking havoc on one of the main streets in New York. The Avengers had been called in to attempt to control the situation and prevent civilian deaths.

So far, it wasn't going so well. The aliens themselves weren't extraordinarily difficult to kill, but the sheer numbers of them were nearly overwhelming the Avengers. What was worse was that some of the aliens, perhaps all of them for all Steve knew, were equipped with explosives that went off without any rhyme, reason, or warning. Predicting which aliens were going to explode, and when and where, was next to impossible. A few of the buildings had already gone up in flames, and the street was in complete pandemonium.

So far, as a whole they had been successful in avoiding the bombs that had dropped. Thor had had a close call, and Tony's Iron Man suit had taken a beating, but so far, so good.

The assault seemed to be slowing, and Steve hoped that they were nearing the end of the battle. It hadn't been a particularly difficult fight, but still a dangerous and tiring one.

There were only a few of the strange aliens left and Steve was just heaving a big sigh of relief when one of the aliens landed right in the street, dangerously close to where Natasha and Tony were. "Natasha – " Steve yelled, moving towards them, only to be pushed back by the force of the explosion. Steve could hear Clint's anguished scream from next to him, and had to almost physically restrain the man from running to her. "Are you alright? Natasha?! Tony?!"

Luckily, the alien had landed in between the two, so neither were seriously injured in the blast. Tony was thrown to the right of the street, the clang of his armor echoing off the pavement. Steve could hear a groan through the comm. "I'm good," Tony said. "I can't wait for these godforsaken aliens to get the hell out of our city."

"Me too," Natasha said, getting to her feet wearily and leaning against the building. She had just turned to get back into the fight when the second explosion hit.

The alien had crash-landed right into the side of the building Natasha was leaning in. Upon explosion, the entirety of the wall caved in and the roof came crashing down, sucking the red-haired assassin into the rubble.

"No!" Clint's cry was devastating, and with movement quicker than Steve thought possible turned and shot arrows in quick succession, felling ten of the twenty or so aliens still coming towards them. Immediately he turned and headed towards the rubble, which was now burning.

"Clint," Steve said quietly, catching the shorter man by the arm while simultaneously throwing his shield to slice an alien in half. "We need to finish the job and protect the civilians here, first."

Clint glared at him with a look of reproach so powerful Steve almost flinched. "I think the four of you can finish off the what, eightaliens that are left?" He nodded at the sky and ripped his arm out of Steve's grasp. "Get your hands off me. Doesn't fallen comrade mean anything to you?! If you're not willing to go in and get her, you're not the leader I thought you were."

Clint turned away and raced towards the burning rubble. Steve frowned and turned back to killing aliens for the moment. Clint's words stung. Of course he was concerned about Natasha; she was his teammate and his friend! And of course he cared about fallen comrades; he had known enough of them in the war. As a leader, however, he had learned that completing the assignment was of utmost importance, as was protecting civilians. In a normal assignment, sacrificing not only one but two of them could mean certain death.

Tony and Thor had watched the conversation with muted interest, but Thor's booming voice rang out and expressed it all. "The Hawk will care for the Widow," he stated, letting his hammer fall on another alien; but even his voice sounded doubtful.

"Let's finish these buggers up," Tony said, lifting off the ground and shooting at the aliens. "Our resident scary-as-hell assassin is going to need some medical attention, stat."

Steve pushed all his thoughts to the back of his mind as he nodded and focused on finishing up the attack. There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that Natasha might actually be dead, and Steve couldn't imagine the fallout that would come from that tragedy. Clint's words were still ringing in his ears, and Steve swallowed hard as the final alien was taken down.

The team immediately ran towards the rubble, where Clint could no longer be seen. It was as if the whole of the building had fallen into the street right over where Natasha had been standing. The Hulk was still wandering around somewhere; it was only a matter of time before he calmed down and returned to being the gentle Dr. Banner.

"Clint?" Steve called out loudly, hoping that either the volume of his voice or the comm would somehow reach him. "Did you find her?"

There was no response for a long minute. "Hawkman!" Thor boomed. "Do you hear us?"

Again, nothing. "Shit," Tony swore. "Come on, guys." He began to move pieces of rubble away, hoping to clear some type of hole.

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed. "What if you collapse it further?"

Tony stared at him. "That's a chance we're going to have to take," he said solemnly, getting back to work. "We've got two of our own in there, Cap."

Steve nodded once, and then got to work moving rubble.

What seemed like endless minutes later, they had cleared a hole that made it through the wall. "Clint?" Tony called into it. "Can you hear us?"

There was a loud banging sound in response, and Steve's heart jumped hopefully. "Do you need help?" Tony yelled out again. "Clint? Natasha?"

There was nothing for a moment, and then a loud groaning sound came from within. In the next minute, a figure stepped into their sight. Some of the structure of the building had been retained – just enough for a man to barely walk through at parts, others not at all.

It was Clint. He was bloodied and bruised, but alive, his quiver of arrows hanging off his shoulder at a strange angle. In his arms he was carrying Natasha, bridal-style, her hair hanging over his arm. She was completely limp and covered in dust and blood. Steve couldn't tell if she was breathing or not.

It seemed to take forever for Clint to make it out of the hole. When he did, he nearly fell to the ground but caught himself just in time.

"We need to get her medical attention," he gasped, down on one knee, Natasha still cradled in his arms. Tony and Thor were, for once, quiet as they helped Clint stand.

Clint stared at Steve for a long moment, and then looked down at Natasha's face, his eyes gentle. "For the record," he said, his voice contrastingly rough, "One moment longer, and she would have been crushed."

With that, he turned and walked away, his hold on Natasha not loosening. Steve stared after him. Perhaps he wasn't the leader he thought he was, after all.

Pepper's used to dysfunctional relationships, her one with Tony being only an example of the many she knew of. She's used to broken communication, distrust, and the constant worry that exists in a relationship. She's used to all of that.

What she's not used to is the unfailing connection that exists between Clint and Natasha.

It's the little things, mostly. It's the way only Natasha can talk Clint out of his nests – whether it's on the roof or just on top of the fridge. It's the way that Clint is the only one allowed to touch Natasha. It's the subtle brushes of hands that she's not even sure they notice.

Their relationship seemed too perfect that Pepper couldn't resist asking about it. She and Natasha had almost grown to be friends – being the only women in the house tended to help with that.

"How do you do it?" Pepper asked one day. Natasha looked at her askance.

"Do what?"

"Function in a relationship that's just so… dangerous. I'm talking about you and Clint, I mean."

Natasha looked startled. "You think Clint and I are in a relationship?"

Pepper just stared at her, wondering if she had made a mistake. She and Natasha were starting to be friends, but the other woman was a master assassin. "Am I wrong?"

Natasha sighed. "No, you're not wrong." Pepper couldn't keep in her grin, but it disappeared when she saw the look on the assassin's face. "You asked how I do it," Natasha whispered. "I'll tell you." She sat up a little straighter, as if to express the passion in her words. "I throw myself into every dangerous situation knowing that I am going to fight tooth and nail to get home to Clint. I am going to fight like hell to go home to him."

Looking up and meeting Pepper's eyes, Natasha smiled softly. "And I know he's doing the same for me."

Pepper found she had nothing to say to that unequivocal trust. Love, indeed.

It took Thor a long time to get used to being on a completely different planet. The people had different customs, were much smaller, and talked differently. All in all, it was a huge adjustment.

One thing he knew regardless of where he was, however, was love.

Although the pair had never acknowledged it out loud to them, it was easy enough to see, in their day to day life and the way they spoke. But it was most obviously present when they sparred.

Both Clint and Natasha were impressively skilled in hand-to-hand combat, undoubtedly from years of both training and experience. Each had taken their turns in the training room against the other Avengers, to varying levels of success. When they fought each other, however – that's when the true story revealed itself.

It was almost like a dance. Thor watched, transfixed, as the two swung at one another in rhythmic patterns. He had fought each of them often enough to know where their slight weaknesses were, and was surprised to see that both Clint and Natasha each aimed directly for the other's weak point, always. It was not a violent attack, however; it was repetitive and solid, almost as if hoping to practice the weakness and thus improve it.

That was the difference. When the others fought, it was for personal glory and individual improvement. When Clint and Natasha fought, they did not think of themselves. If a blow needed to be taken, then it was done. They were not fighting – they were training, helping the other improve in ways they themselves might not realize.

And more than anything, they were learning. Thor could see how with each sparring match they grew more attuned to each other, more in sync, more perfectly matched. He watched as Clint's weaknesses came to match Natasha's strengths, and the same with hers. Thor saw how well each knew the other's craft – when Clint could comment on a weakness in Natasha's left-handed hits, and Natasha could tell when something was wrong with Clint's bow.

It was then that Thor realized the universal truth; that Clint and Natasha were completely and utterly in love with one another, in the only ways that master assassins know how. They were each other's equal and other half on the battlefield and in the training room, and seemed to speak a language that only they knew.

What it all comes down to is trust.

It took a few months of them all living together for the rest of the Avengers to get conclusive proof as to Clint and Natasha's relationship. They had just returned from a particularly jarring mission – some sadistic villain had begun attacking orphanages and children's hospitals. They hadn't been able to stop him before he did a considerable amount of damage, both to the children and the Avengers themselves. Clint and Tony were both at medical getting treatment for minor injuries that could have been serious, and the rest of the Avengers were back in the Tower waiting for them to get back.

Everyone was visibly shaken. Bruce had wandered off to his lab for a moment and returned with a tablet. Thor had sat down and fumbled with the TV remote for a moment before finally figuring out how to turn on the baseball game. Steve had simply sat down and stared into space, as had Natasha. It was as if being together in the same room was somehow comforting.

The room was completely silent except for the soft noise of the TV for quite awhile before Bruce finally rose. "Tony and Clint should be back anytime now," he said quietly. "Does anyone want to help me make some dinner?" Both Thor and Steve gave their assent and rose to head into the kitchen. Natasha remained completely still, staring at the wall opposite her.

Bruce and Steve exchanged glances, and Bruce walked over to the assassin and delicately touched her shoulder. "Natasha?"

The reaction was instantaneous. She spun around and glared at him, her hand jumping to the gun at her hip. "Do not touch me," she whispered, sounding just as threatening as if she had shouted it. As soon as Bruce had backed up, she turned away and returned to staring at the wall.

Bruce turned to Steve and Thor. "I think it's shock," he said quietly. "I would have never expected it from her, but all the symptoms make sense."

Thor's voice had dropped to a significantly lower volume than normal, but was still as loud as a normal voice. "What do we do?" He asked.

Steve was the one who had the answer. "We need Clint," he stated, glancing over at the stoic assassin. "Let's sit here with her until they get back. Dinner can wait."

The other two nodded in agreement and sat down to wait for their teammates to return. It didn't take them long; within ten minutes, Tony wandered into the room, a white bandage wrapped around his left hand and a Band-Aid over his eyebrow. Clint followed right after him, limping slightly but otherwise fine. Bruce met them at the door.

"What–" Tony started to say, but Bruce cut him off.

"Clint," he said quickly, "I think Natasha's gone into shock. She won't let anyone touch her, and isn't talking." It only took the words a moment to sink in, and both Tony and Clint paled.

"Oh, shit," Clint said, moving past Bruce quickly. "Okay. I've got this."

Bruce and Tony followed Clint into the room. "Do you want us to leave?" Tony asked, completely surprising his teammates. "Sounds pretty… personal."

Clint looked around at each of them in the room and then at Natasha, who was still staring at the wall. "Nah, you can stay. Just… be quiet for a while." The rest of the Avengers nodded their assent and took their respective places on the couch, feeling awkward and in the way.

Clint knelt down in front of Natasha slowly and met her eyes straight-on. He stared into them for a long moment until he apparently saw some sign in her eyes. Then, still moving slowly, he reached his hands up and placed them on either side of Natasha's face. After another minute, Clint leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the middle of her forehead. "Nat," he breathed.

Natasha blinked and looked up at him. "Clint?" She whispered, her voice breaking. There were tears in her eyes.

He smiled softly. "Hey, baby," he said. "You disappeared on me for a minute there."

Natasha's eyes never left Clint's. "There was–"

"I know," Clint said softly. "I know, darling. I know."

Natasha's breath hitched. "Was it my – was it my –"

"No," Clint replied seriously, thumbs softly tracing Natasha's cheeks. "Never your fault."

It was as if a dam had broken. Natasha threw herself at Clint's chest, and as if it was second nature Clint caught her and gathered her into his arms. In a flurry of motion that almost no one caught, he had them rearranged so Clint was sitting in Natasha's chair and she was curled up on his lap, her head buried into his chest.

Clint put his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing soft kisses into her hair. To the surprise of everyone, Natasha began crying softly, still somehow oblivious to the world around her.

Stroking Natasha's hair, Clint looked up at Tony, Steve, Thor, and Bruce. "It's the fact that there were kids," he explained softly. "That's what always does it."

Steve spoke first. "How did you know how – how to do that?" He asked, gesturing widely.

Clint shifted slightly, and Natasha pressed even closer to him, looking impossibly small. "You're supposed to know everything about your partner," he said, sounding uncomfortable. "Even how to deal in the worst of times."

Tony frowned. "I don't think most partnerships are quite that close," he said, knowing he was walking the line between being polite and being pushy.

The archer glanced down at the woman in his lap, who gave a subtle head nod that the rest of the room didn't catch, apparently giving him permission to explain. "They're not," he explained, grinning. "I knew how to do all of that –" He held Natasha even closer – "because she's my wife."

The reaction was instanteanous and celebratory. "I knew it!" Tony crowed, grinning like a madman. Steve smiled widely, Thor looked like he was going to clap Clint on the back but thought better of it at the last second, and Bruce just grinned knowingly.

"How long have you two been married?" Bruce asked, pleased that he had guessed right about the existence of their relationship.

To their surprise, it was Natasha who answered. "Almost three years now," she said, moving her head to look at them, giving Clint the perfect angle to kiss her forehead. She smiled, almost shyly.

Everyone smiled back at her. It all made sense, now; all the pieces had fallen into place, but the bottom line was still the same. It all came down to trust. Natasha had shown that when only Clint could touch her and bring her out of her grief. Clint had held her so gently, so lovingly, that it had almost been tear-inducing.

Their trust was complete, and the rest of the Avengers could only be grateful that they had two people who complemented each other so flawlessly on their side.

I am so obsessed with the Avengers right now, and couldn't resist writing this. Please review!