Home. That’s what it felt like when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. His body was different, muscled more defined, but he still smelled like him and she still felt the same in his embrace. Home wasn’t New York, it wasn’t Stark’s tower, and it sure wasn’t SHIELD headquarters; home was right here in his arms.

She was practically clinging to him as he spoke, and clinging to every word just as tightly. She wanted to return it all just as good but her throat felt tight and she couldn’t seem to find the right words. She could do one better though, at least when it came to Natasha speak. She could tell him she missed him all she wanted, but she could prove it even easier.

“I have a meeting with Fury. Next week,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. She shouldn’t have touched him, she should have just gone to lunch and talked later, because now that she had she was a goner; now that he was in her arms she never wanted to let him go. “I’m going to tell him I don’t want to do them any more.”

She knew it wouldn’t go over well, and it could possibly end her career with SHIELD, but she didn’t care any more. She was a spy, and a damn good one, and these missions were her specialty, but this one had been so miserable she couldn’t face the idea of another, not without Clint. Having seen how reckless she had been maybe Fury would agree.