When he finally looked at her, his eyes fixing on her lip, Natasha studied his face. “We helped each other,” she said, leaning just slightly into his soft touch.

While Natasha had been his idol, Clint had been her saviour. He was the first person to see her as a human, not just an asset; to see her as a woman, not just an object. He saw her strengths and her faults, and despite her past and her skills he had still let himself trust her.

That day he had spared her he’d done so much more than save her life. She had been little more than a drone, a shell, and over the years he had helped her discover who she truly was. For so long she had liked what she was told to like, had done what she was told to do, but Clint had given her a choice, something nobody else ever had. She would forever be in his debt for what he had done for her.

The kiss came as no surprise and she melted into it, into his arms and his body, the emotional scene they had just worked through making the need even greater. They had done pretty well with communicating, finally, but actions were always easier so she kissed him back, slow and deep. Shifting her leg so she could straddle him, she lay her body flush over his, their chests pressed together tightly until she could no longer distinguish between their heartbeats.