And here we have the final installment of what has been an amazing adventure for me. :') Shoutout to all my followers/favoriters - just knowing you guys were reading inspired me so much! Shoutout to all my reviewers - I really appreciated all your kind comments so much, I read them over and over again. :D Shoutout to my squad: Mockingjay500, Buu22, Ravenpuff Nerd, NRomanoff, Liv, Little Toruk, Ilessthan3KH, dans, and SaphireInTheSky. You are the people who always made me look forward to posting, love you guys!,!

It was mid-afternoon and they were lying on the couch, napping. The house was still and quiet; the only noises came from a softly ticking clock and the sounds of their intermingled breathing. Afternoon naps had become one of their rituals - they would curl up together and doze for hours, each comforted by the warmth and proximity of the other.

Natasha lay still, savoring the peaceful bliss of the moment. Clint's head was tucked under her chin, and she could feel his warm breath striking her collarbone every time he exhaled. Her arms were around his neck, his around her waist, and their legs were tangled at the end of the couch. They had been lying like this for some time, relaxed and comfortable.

Clint began to stir.

The couch cushion dipped as he shifted, and the pattern of his breathing altered as he gradually returned to consciousness. His eyelashes tickled her skin as his eyes opened.

For a moment, he remained still, familiarizing himself with his surroundings.

Then he pressed a kiss to the base of her throat.

Natasha closed her eyes, her body going slack as he worked his way up her neck, leading a trail of kisses toward her jaw.

"Clint," she said after a moment.

Clint paused at the spot where her neck met her chin.

"Yeah," he answered.

He resumed, following the line of her jaw toward her ear. Natasha smirked to herself.

"You should've read through all the steps before you committed to the list."

Clint halted.

It took him a second to figure out what she was talking about. Once he did, his warm laugh skittered down her neck.

"Well, I'm an idiot, remember, Firefly?" he teased, nuzzling her jawline.

Natasha's eyes were still closed as she revelled in the moment.

"Yes," she said vaguely.

"But a smart idiot," Clint added.

Natasha frowned. "A 'smart idiot'?"

"It's an oxymoron, Nat," Clint informed her, easing upward for a better view of her face. Her arms dropped away from his shoulders, and he planted his palms on the couch, leaning over her. "A figure of speech where contradictory words are used in conjunction with each other."

Natasha opened her eyes. Clint was hovering just above her, grinning impishly, his hair mussed from sleeping. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I know what an oxymoron is, Barton."

Clint nodded with mock solemnity. "So do I. See, I'm a smart guy." He leaned over to kiss her.

"'Smart guy' is an oxymoron," Natasha quipped.

Clint halted a few inches away and grimaced. "Ouch, Firefly."

Natasha smiled coyly at him.

She kissed the corner of his mouth. "The word 'oxymoron'," she began, reaching up to comb her fingers through his hair, "originally comes from the Greek terms oxus and moros, which roughly translate to 'sharp' and 'dull'." She tilted her head at him. "So the word 'oxymoron' is itself an oxymoron."

Clint raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Is this your idea of sweet talk during an intimate moment?"

"Is this your idea of an intimate moment?" Natasha rejoined.

"Well it's about to be," Clint said roguishly; and then he took her face in one hand and moved in.

Their lips had barely brushed when Natasha's phone started jingling from across the room.

Natasha sighed and said "damn" into Clint's mouth.

Clint straightened, regarding her with feigned disgust. "Watch your dirty mouth when you're kissing me," he teased. "Now we'll both have to wash our mouths with soap."

Natasha rolled her eyes and shoved him away, then started extricating herself from him.

"Wait wait where are you going?" Clint grabbed her shoulder, pushing her down again.

"My phone's ringing!" she laughed, struggling to sit up.

"So let it ring," Clint urged. He bent down again, and they shared a soft, lingering kiss, Natasha's ringer shrill in their ears

Clint drew away, looking fondly down at her. Natasha smiled at him for a moment, then she stirred.

"Okay, I have to pick up before it goes to voicemail."

"No, no, you stay here," Clint reiterated, easing her down by the shoulder again. "If it's Pepper or Maria, you'll get stuck in a long phone conversation. I can shut whoever it is down." He got to his feet and crossed the room. Natasha curled up in the warm spot he had left, her gaze idling on his back and broad shoulders as he raised the phone to his ear.

"Yeah."

He turned and faced her, leaning against the half-wall to the kitchen with one arm crossed.

"Yes you have." He ruffled his hair with his free hand.

Then he looked over at her and grinned mischievously. "Sorry, but Miss Romanoff is unavailable right now."

Natasha lifted an eyebrow at him. He just grinned.

"A message? Sure can."

Up until that point, Natasha had been more focused on his posture and endearing expressions than on his phone conversation, but her attention was caught when his brows drew together and he let out a bewildered laugh. "She's what?"

Natasha frowned. Wait, what's going on?

Clint laughed again. "Um, okay, that's what I thought you said.—Yeah, yeah, I can tell her that. May I ask why?" He listened for a moment, then suddenly his expression changed, and he went rigid. He stared at Natasha in disbelief.

"She did what?" he demanded of the caller.

Natasha sat up, apprehension climbing. This didn't sound good.

"Who is it?" she hissed. Clint shook his head and raised a finger, signalling her to wait. He half-turned away and dropped his voice.

"Are you sure?"

He shot Natasha a glance, brow furrowed. She bit her lip, squirming self-consciously.

"When was this?" Clint continued. And then, "Are you sure you have the right Natasha Romanoff?"

What the hell is going on?

Clint sighed and dragged a hand across his face. "Yep, that... that sounds like her.—Okay. Yeah, I'll give her the message.—Yep. Thanks." He hung up.

Clint stood there for a minute, staring at the screen of the phone. Natasha fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, waiting anxiously.

Slowly, Clint turned and approached the couch. He lowered himself down next to her and sat still for a minute, frowning at the floor.

Natasha watched him for a moment, chewing nervously at her lip. She was on the point of just biting the bullet and asking him what this was all about, but then he turned to her, and his frown smoothed into a smile, though he still looked troubled.

"Hey," he said.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

Clint shifted, turning his body towards her on the couch. "You know that restaurant downtown, uh… Eleven Madison Park?"

Natasha frowned, puzzled by his line of questioning. "Yes...?"

Clint nodded. "Have you… been there in the past few weeks?"

Natasha's frown deepened in mystification. "No."

Clint exhaled and dropped his head, his shoulders sagging in relief. "See, I knew there had to a mix-up!" He lifted his head. "You just got banned from that place."

Natasha stared at him, baffled. "What? Why?"

"Well, apparently a few weeks ago, some lady who I guess looked like you was 'causing a disruption'. I guess at first they thought some other guy was the perp, but then they realized this lady was the one harassing him." He scratched his head. "They said something like she, um, 'attacked him unprovoked', like she just up and started yelling at him and dragged him outside. Luckily, security got involved before anyone got hurt." Clint shrugged. "Anyway, they thought it was you and I guess they've been having trouble getting a hold of you—"

"Wait," Natasha interrupted, frowning. Clint's description of the fiasco had triggered something in her memory, and she closed her eyes. "I… think that was me."

She could feel Clint's confused gaze on her. "What? But I thought you said you hadn't been there in a while."

She turned to him. "Remember that time... right after the Weber op... when I went on a blind date?"

"Yes?"

"...I think we went to that restaurant."

Clint was silent for a minute.

Then he said, "So you're saying you beat the guy up?"

"More like, started to," Natasha replied. "But, like you said. Security got involved before anyone got hurt." She managed a smirk.

Clint hummed in reply, nodding slowly.

Then he said, "So what did he do?"

Natasha noticed with appreciation that Clint had already dismissed the restaurant's claim that she had attacked unprovoked. He knew her too well to believe that.

But she wasn't sure she wanted to tell Clint exactly what had happened at that restaurant. She'd heard many people make the kind of comments that her would-be date had made about Clint and it always frustrated her, but overtime she'd learned to just ignore them – the erroneous opinion of others didn't really matter. She still had an urge to bestow the naysayer with a punch or two to the face every time, but she'd gotten good at keeping her temper at bay when it came to those kinds of remarks.

But that time, she'd been very on edge because of her situation with Clint. The combination of that, and the buildup of frustration at naysayers overtime, had caused her to snap. She had let the guy's negative comments get under her skin, and her response had been an almost cringeworthy overreaction.

Clint was still watching her, waiting for a reply, so she said, "Nothing really."

Clint gave her a look.

"Seriously, it was nothing," Natasha reiterated. "Wasn't a big deal." She got up and strode to the other side of the room, picking up her phone. Maybe if she fake-texted, Clint would drop the subject.

"Nat." Clint laughed incredulously. "It wasn't 'nothing'. This guy obviously really pissed you off."

"He did really piss me off. But I just—I'd had a long day, so my reaction was a little, ah, extreme," Natasha said briskly, avoiding his gaze.

Clint was silent for a minute.

"Tell me," he said finally.

Natasha didn't reply. She was starting to consider giving him the details; the only reason why she was hesitating was because she felt slightly sheepish about the whole thing.

"Natasha?"

She sighed in resignation, setting down her phone.

"He was talking about you."

Clint paused. "Huh?"

"About you," she repeated, turning towards him. "You know, the kind of comments the media's always throwing around: Calling you a 'dumb arrow guy', saying you're not an asset to the Avengers', all that crap." She felt a flicker of irritation at the reminder, and she scowled.

Clint chuckled. "Nat. You call me a 'dumb arrow guy'."

Natasha folded her arms and glared at him. "It's different when other people say it."

Then she exhaled and shrugged. "Anyway. The point is, it ticked me off, like it always does, but I was kind of stressed so I lost my temper. And, I don't just mean I was yelling at him, because he would have deserved all that. I actually…" She hesitated.

"'Dragged him outside'?" Clint quoted.

She nodded. "I overreacted. I mean, I had a right to get angry, definitely. But... I think it would've been better if I hadn't laid into him so much. I took it too far, and it was… immature."

Clint was quiet for a moment, thinking.

Then he said, "So, let me get this straight. You go on a date with some stranger, he trash-talks me a little, you verbally abuse him and come half a point shy of beating him into the ground?"

Natasha smiled ruefully. "Kind of intense, huh?"

Clint bobbed his head. "Kind of intense," he agreed. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Also kind of flattering."

Natasha laughed awkwardly and looked away.

"No, I'm not teasing you, Firefly," Clint said. "Do you really like me all that much?"

She looked at him sharply. "Of course I do, stupid. I like you more than anyone I've ever met."

Clint's face softened. He got to his feet and approached her, and then he was pulling her into a hug.

Natasha's arms immediately went around his neck, and she closed her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Me too," Clint said quietly.

Natasha smiled. "You may be a dumb arrow guy," she said. "No ty moy tupoy paren' strela." But you're my dumb arrow guy.

Suddenly Clint stiffened. He drew back, holding her at arm's length with a strange expression on his face.

"Say that again."

Natasha frowned, puzzled. "Ty moy tupoy paren' strela…?"

Clint looked at her for a minute.

"Strela," he repeated.

Dammit.

Clint murmured the phrase to himself again. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. He looked down at her, merriment playing in his blue-gray eyes.

"Natasha Romanoff. Did you name your cat after me?"

Natasha squinted. "Well… not technically…"

"Ohoho, I think you DID technically." Clint was grinning jubilantly at her. "The secret's out!" He laughed. "Or, you might say, the cat's out of the bag!"

Natasha hit him on the shoulder, grinning. "You are such a dork."

"But you know you love me," Clint said cheekily.

"Shut up." Natasha leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. She took him by the arm, tugging him back toward the couch.

"Wha—where are we going?" he laughed.

Natasha faced him, smiling diffidently. "We need to finish our nap."

Clint smiled fondly down at her. "Okay."

Natasha reclaimed her spot on the couch, and Clint lay down next to her, wrapping his strong arms around her. She relaxed and pressed her face into his chest, breathing him in. One of his hands stroked through her hair and she exhaled, already starting to feel drowsy.

"Love you," she murmured, her free arm dropping over his side.

He pressed his lips to her hair.

"Love you, Tasha." His voice rumbled through his torso. Natasha closed her eyes.

And they both fell into warm quiet, completely contented, resting peacefully in their shared love.

This chapter was written with two very special people in mind. First of all, Big fan, who asked for a scene where Natasha tells Clint about her 'date'. Thanks for the request, and thank you so very much for the reviews - there was something about them that just really touched me, so I'm very happy that you took the time to comment. :) Secondly, for Ravenpuff Nerd, who asked for Clint realizing that strela was Russian for arrow. Doll, as previously established, you are my number one bae, and I just... words like 'awesome' and 'fantastic' and 'amazing' are just so weak compared to how much I actually enjoyed getting to know you, it would almost be insulting to apply them here. So I'm just going to give you some pretty symbols in the hopes that they can communicate better than the English language: ~&_^-^_(:_382,?{}| (Yeah that looks pathetic. Whatever. I love you.)

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU EVERYONE. Wow, who knew I could get so emotional about posting fanfiction? :P But truthfully, this has been a spectacular experience. I'm really going to miss you guys, I hope I see some of you again on my future stories! Keep being awesome, keep loving Marvel, keep supporting the good ship Clintasha, and take care of yourselves because you're important to me. :)

-Talia