AN: okay, so, we're doing this. Set after Winter Soldier, non compliant with Age of Ultron and Civil War. Follows my story Rest and Recreation, but I guess you don't have to read it if you don't feel like it.

This honestly has been written for a while, but after I saw Civil War I was compelled to go back and address things that I wanted and didn't get there. Hope you enjoy!

"Nat, why didn't you call me?"

"Clint, you were in Brazil."

"I know I was in frickin' Brazil, but you still could have called me!" Clint drops his duffel bag in the entryway of his apartment in exasperation.

Natasha smiles slowly and hands him a cup of coffee. It's four AM and she knows he probably stressed the whole flight instead of sleeping. "Steve had my back," she assures him gently.

"I know he did," Clint says, sighing and accepting the steaming cup, "but you still could have called." He pulls her into a hug with his other arm. She lets him. "Could've at least warned me that I might be surrounded by HYDRA agents," he mumbles.

She chuckles in his ear. "To be fair, we were a little pressed for time."

"Right," Clint says, "And then you exposed all of SHIELD's files to the Internet, including your own."

"Mmmhmm."

"Why, Nat?"

It's her turn to sigh. "It was time."

"That was really brave," he whispers.

She has told him all of it, in little pieces, one at a time, and it wasn't new information for him. That was all she really cares about. She hums noncommittally.

"But I'm not a fan of how you've taken over my apartment," Clint says, pulling back from her and looking about him. Around the Spartan living space were half-opened boxes and odd knickknacks —she won't lie, she did it on purpose. "Let me guess, your place and all your information were compromised, so naturally, you decided to move into my just-as-compromised apartment."

She considers this. "Yep."

"Do I still have a bedroom, or is that where you put your weapons stash?"

"Rest easy, I wouldn't do that to your poor jetlagged self," she says with a smile, ruffling his hair.

"Oh, good."

"I'll remodel it into a weight room after you get up tomorrow."

"Natasha!"

He doesn't miss her sly grin.

Steve's the one who spills the beans. They're at some bar, him and Steve and Sam, getting all back on the same page and catching up. Sam strikes him as a great guy —and he's got a rockin' code name. But he almost chokes when Steve drops that word-bomb.

"The —the Winter Soldier?"

"Yeah, he was brainwashed by HYDRA and…."

He doesn't hear the rest of it. He remembers that mission five years ago —can still hear Natasha's sharp call for backup over his earpiece before nothing. She was in surgery for hours after that bullet, and he was afraid she wouldn't make it —it would have been too cruel, only a year and a half after escaping the KGB and the red room to have her tenuous freedom ripped from her.

The Winter Soldier.

"Clint?" Steve looks at him funny.

He has because he works for —well. Worked for SHIELD —he's been trained to recall whatever he's told perfectly. "Yeah," he says automatically. "Hang on —" He's doubting that skill right now. "Bucky Barnes? He's the Winter Soldier?"

"Yeah, didn't Natasha tell you?"

"No," he says slowly. "No, she didn't."

He comes back late and she's still up, watching reruns of Barney Miller. He remembers introducing it to her. He shrugs off his jacket, sits beside her, and waits until an infomercial interrupts the episode.

She mutes the TV and looks at him steadily. Her sixth sense is working tonight, apparently.

"Why didn't you tell me about him, Nat?"

"It was Steve's story to tell," she says simply.

"Still could've told me," he mutters. "Nat, the guy —"

"He was brainwashed, Clint," she says. "They wiped his mind and pointed him at targets. It's not his fault."

"I know," he sighs. He has dreams of shooting people through a blue haze —and he doesn't know why but he's just gotta do it. Because Loki tapped his heart and plumbed his brain. He's got sympathy for the mind-scrambled. "Where is he now?"

"In the wind, I think," she says.

He nods. "Show's back on," he says, pointing to the screen. Nat unmutes the TV, and they sit in silence, his arm behind her shoulders on the couch.