A Little Piece of Heaven

Summary: Natasha and Clint were made to be private people. So private, that they were able to hide their relationship from the public. It isn't until circumstances are dire that they ever needed to reveal a thing.

Rating: T

Pairing: Clintasha [Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff]

AN: Well, I randomly got muse to write out a chapter three so soon, which is really a miracle. My muse when it comes to writing AU's for the movie are seldom, so this was great. I was actually able to crunch this one out pretty quickly despite my link to watch AOU being a huge dick to work with.

Really, I had to load the damn thing fifteen different times. I needed to extract the dialogue for the end of it, and of course that was near impossible. All of my other electronics were occupied so I couldn't even look up the script, instead I had to wait in agony for it to load and stop stuttering. Oh, what I do to get this story together.

This one is also kind of cute, but my next chapter is GOING TO BE my favorite. And the one following that. These are the two I've imagined more times than I can count and really, it's what I've been looking forward to doing the entire story, outside of the fix of the farmhouse. That one is going to be a huge chapter and I can just tell, but four and five are going to be fun.

Up until now, it's just been a lot of adding little snippets and subtly reworking moments, but from here on out, it's going to be a lot of shit from my own mind and that makes me very very happy.

Enjoy!

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There was something automatic about the way Natasha followed after the gurney, keeping easy pace with the female staff as they escorted Clint to the lab. It raised some looks, all curious to see exactly how the archer had wounded himself this go around, but Natasha's gaze was too focused on his face and the occasional flicker of pain on the odd jerk. The IV may have been taking a bit of the edge off, but it was hard to numb a bare patch of skin.

Of course the others were eventually going to trail after them, but it was Natasha who wanted to be at his side at all times. This wasn't exactly something that could go too wrong, but with the track record that some of them had had in the past when it came to various injuries, she had learned not to take chances in any regard. The hard part had been the transport and he was still fairly lucid, so she was going to call it a premature victory - at least for now.

Carefully, they lifted him onto the bed, a pillow to elevate his head, some cushion along the seat. To Clint's dismay, he found himself eyeing a somewhat encasing machine pushed to the side and he had a brief moment of clarity from back in the Quinjet, when he'd heard murmured discussion of Dr. Cho's newest advancement.

He knew it was going to fix him, but he always got antsy around medical staff [ask Nat and the one time he'd drifted back into consciousness in the middle of a MRI], even someone the Avengers had acquainted themselves with plenty over the past few months. He just couldn't recall a time where a procedure like this had ever been necessary.

To Natasha's credit, she didn't pull up a seat, didn't leer too closely. Instead, she just watched, out of the way as Dr. Cho familiarized herself with the injury, unwinding the tourniquet from his form efficiently, but gently; it was an effort that Natasha inwardly appreciated.

Clint arched his head to the side, burying the side of his face in the pillow while his injury was revealed, the tourniquet wet with fresh blood and caked with dried blood. His injury wasn't in the best shape and before they could even think of properly introducing treatment, they'd need to clean it to reduce the possibility of infection.

He met Natasha's eyes briefly, a half-grimace on his face, and she offered him a reassuring quirk of her lip, arms folded on the side lines. That helped a little.

His flinching was kept to a minimum as soon as he felt someone dabbing at the excess blood, possibly a nurse while Cho attended to the machine. He clenched his fist, but it was his only sign of being affected - the wariness on his face may have added to his situation.

Cho engaged in a scientific chatter with a nurse briefly of details Natasha didn't care to listen to at the moment, something along the lines of cell replication and quick healing. It wound up being the gist of what she needed to know. While they were programming and gabbing, she took the opportunity to draw nearer and crouch down beside the archer.

"Seems like they're going to have you fixed up soon." She murmured, resting her folded arms in front of his head, chin atop them as she stared.

He grunted, his frequent means of response lately, eyes half-lidded. "Seems like it. Kind of tired of the hole in my side; makes me a bit of Debbie downer, if you ask me."

She smiled to her own violation. "It does. All the rest of us are walking around completely able bodied, meanwhile you're sporting the injury of the month."

"Sorry to disappoint you." He chuckled, flexing slightly and immediately regretting it. Natasha tensed, instinctive in her care, but only in her eyes. "Relax, Tasha. Just a little sore, if you couldn't tell."

The mirth in her eyes had long been washed away with worry and as endearing as it was, he knew he had to rein her in a little bit. He had no doubt that Cho would have him up and ready within the hour; Natasha was just - careful.

"So dinner, tonight, what do you want?" He offered as a distraction, rubbing his ear against his bicep just to stall a sudden itch.

Her eyebrows raised incredulously. "Are you kidding? You want to discuss dinner right now?" She shouldn't have been surprised, not really. This was Clint through and through, brushing off his well-being and looking into the future. It would be an admirable look on anyone else that she didn't care for as much, but on him it just had a tendency to infuriate her.

He pressed his lips together, popping them just once. "Mm, yep. Looks like it. Something greasy, preferably. None of that rabbit shit you, Stark, and Banner get into. A pizza would be good." His words slurred and gruff, occasionally laced with the odd shrill sign of pain as the wound was cleaned.

Soon enough, he felt very little, a twinge here and there to remind him of exactly what was happening. Based on his experience, they'd probably numbed the area. However they were going to fix him up, he wasn't going to be put under and stitching together his skin or applying new skin or whatever? That probably was going to hurt a decent amount.

The conversation got lost in the shuffle of movement as Cho set up the scanner and Natasha had to retake up her initial stance, watching the rapid-fire configuring as the machine sprung to life. It took some alignment and a brief warning to Clint about a prickly, foreign feeling and vague pain before the process began.

Well, the pain part of the warning had initially played a bigger part in it [he blamed the temporary somatoform, head game and all], but the foreign sensation of cell replication along his side, covered by a plastic agent of some sort? That was a bit more distracting.

He smacked his lips, trying to wet them and lead to a distraction. He felt like his lips were going to crack off and he -knew- he was croaking; Natasha just wasn't going to say anything and he knew that, but his light at the end of the tunnel decided to walk in, checking on the beginning of the process.

"Everything gong without a hitch? No trouble setting anything up?" He first asked Dr. Cho, before his attention diverted to Clint once he received the affirmation he was looking for. "What about you, Barton? How're you holding up? Ready to be the Avengers' first Ken doll?"

He craned his head a bit, barely able to eye him with the way he was laid. "Did you see that monstrosity Nat gave me as a gag gift for Christmas? -That- is the Avengers' first Ken doll. Damn thing still terrifies me." He snorted, tiredly resting his head back down.

Tony chuckled, wandering around the set up, dodging Cho and leaving her to her musings, already having been briefed on the whole thing on the way over. "Need anything? Barbie doll? Blanket? Something with sleeves?"

"I'm thirsty." He uttered, regretting the look he took at his side and forcibly removing his stare. Yeah, it was a bit weird to watch your own skin recreate.

"You too, Romanoff?" Tony asked, flicking an eyebrow at the quiet spy in the corner. She'd still been watching, ever-so-diligent. "Something to sip?"

"Why not?" Shrugging, not really concerned with beverages, but she wouldn't really be concerned with anything while Clint was still healing; she fixated.

"And I'll snag something for you, too." He nodded to Cho, but she was understandably occupied. He took that as his cue to leave.

With that, he was off, easing out of the lab. Three seemed like enough in that room and Natasha had a big enough presence for everyone. Tony didn't blame her, really. Once he'd heard a couple years about about -why- and -how- she'd been properly involved in their endeavor to save New York, he'd always known there'd been a certain protectiveness Clint and her had for each other. Partners for however many years, secret-exchanging best friends. Hell, he's pretty sure he saw a friendship necklace involved in the mix, but he wasn't going to point it out.

He liked his balls where they were.

For a long time [even still now], he played with the idea that they were -more- than partners, more than best friends, but they were very good at keeping anything, if there was anything at all, private, and that generally put to bed any of his theories, at least from making it to intervening verbalizations.

Once again, he liked his balls where they were.

Natasha's eyes only removed from Clint when Bruce entered, stealing a lab coat off a hook and getting into action. It was pleasant to see him drifting back into his old self, shaking off the remnants of the Hulk's control for now. His love of science always trumped his self-loathing and that was admirable. There was a reason why he and Tony were more often than not geeking out, if not for the general sake of it.

Finally, she decided to duck down and watch the process from closer than afar. Clint may have found discomfort in watching, but it really was an incredible thing to watch in her opinion.

"You sure he's really going to be okay?" She asked, half-noticing that Clint had slipped into a bit of a catatonic state of just letting things happen. A little bit of light-heartedness would give him a reason to keep awake. She stood back, folding her arms when he shifted, jerking his head in acknowledgment of her. "Pretending to need this guy really brings the team together."

"There's no possibility of deterioration." He looked a little relieved at that. "The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous." She informed really the whole room as she checked the level of reproduction. "His cells don't know they're bonding with simulacrum."

She had little time to ponder it when Bruce added, "She's creating tissue." Awe-struck and completely entranced by her work he was, while Natasha just looked at him the once.

"If you brought him to my lab, the re-generation cradle could do this in twenty minutes." Cho insisted, but Tony interrupted her with drinks, possibly to draw her away from criticizing the environment. He was prideful of the tech he had here at the tower and probably longed for a re-generation cradle of their own.

"Oh, he's flat-lining. Calling it. Time?" He asked, checking his watch mockingly.

"No, no, no. I'm gonna live forever." Clint bit out, chuckling hastily. "I'm gonna be made of plastic." His excitement was really not there, but eager to accept the offered beverage. Green sludge appearance or not, it did have a good taste to it. Some things just didn't -look- very appetizing.

Natasha just wished the bit about him living forever would be true. At whatever point, she wouldn't care if he was ninety-nine percent plastic; he would still be Clint inside.

She accepted her own drink quietly, just holding it while she watched him.

Cho slowly made her way over to him, amused by the implication. "You'll be made of you, Mr. Barton. Your own girlfriend won't be able to tell the difference."

The spy in the room quirked a single eyebrow at the assumption, but said nothing. She'd be able to tell, she was sure. Her fingers had become well-acquainted with Clint's body over the years and the feeling of his skin was a familiar one. Despite her lack of complaints regarding the quick fix, she knew she'd know. Clint probably did, too.

His brow furrowed a bit as he went for another drink, pausing over his straw. "I don't have a girlfriend." Mock-somber in the way he said, but in a subtle way only she could detect.

It made Natasha smirk behind the guise of her straw, amused by the interjection. Had he not been subtle, she would have had to give him a talking to later about secret keeping. Smug bastard always attempted to get away with hints while he was wounded, exploiting her worries to about as far as he could.

What could she say? They both could be opportunists.

Her irritation over his idiocy could never become larger than the still pending worry over his healing.

"That, I can't fix." Cho replied with humor, amused by the problem.

Clint glanced over at Natasha as he drank, smug and a bit sheepish. The best she could do was faux agitation, quirking a single eyebrow in question at his little joke, but it was no good when he stared at her like that.

All she did was lift her drink ominously to her lips as the conversation continued without them, beginning a slow walk around the room. The reminder of the party on Saturday had her even more appreciative of Dr. Cho's work on Clint. He'd be more than up to par for it and out of excuses for not attending.

He was one of those solitary guys that preferred the company of himself in a high, inaccessible location. Getting him to attend populated events was about as easy as dental work on the Hulk, but this would be fun. Now that the flashy get-togethers were a little less infrequent when it came to Tony's knack for organizing outlandish social functions, the odd one here or there was nice.

Don't get her wrong, she was also solitary - but her social skills had improved, much to Clint's dismay. He'd rather hang out with her at his perch.

Cho's inquiry about Thor's attendance hung around in her mind while Tony led Banner out of the room, having thoroughly assured her he'd make it. It was cute, really. Such a crush. She didn't blame her, because he was good looking - anyone with eyes could see it. Clint had even referred to him in such a way on a handful of occasions, despite the 'still very heterosexual, Nat' that generally followed the admission.

The last thing she required was an assurance of any kind, but it was funny nonetheless. Straight men and their insecurities.

"So Thor was all the incentive you needed to come to Tony's party? If only Clint were that easy." She remarked, sending him a particular look that gave him a flash of what had been in her mind that last several minutes. "Thanks to you, he won't have an excuse to not come."

If she looked close enough, Cho may have been blushing, but Clint spoke up for her.

"Find me a hot date and maybe I'll have an incentive, huh? Cho can't fix the fact I don't have a girlfriend, maybe you can find me one, matchmaker." Oh, he was being ridiculously cheeky and wearing that damn mask she'd taught him for missions years back. She'd helped fine-tune the facade he was giving her now and he was really an ass for it. A semi-wounded ass, but still an ass.

When she'd met him, his ability to steel himself had been equivalent to grumpy cat. Now, he was believable.

Even if she didn't appreciate bringing up her endeavors with getting Steve a date. Really, she just wanted to help him and if he couldn't find his big boy trousers and approach Sharon, well, she'd prod with other girls until he cracked. It was a devious plot.

"I'll see what I can do. The second I find myself a hot date, I'll look into getting you one." She arched a challenging eyebrow for the umpteenth time, setting aside the remainder of her drink and trotting out for a bit.

She knew that would leave him internally a little slack-jawed, though amused. He was fine, sewing up plenty well and snarky enough to fully lucid now, so she could duck out. Besides, she needed to disappear and check on the state of a few things. Had Clint not gotten injured, they would have been able to check on things promptly this evening with a visit, but that just wasn't probable yet.

Instead, she passed Tony and Bruce and wandered to the 'boardroom', stealing a tablet from one of the nooks in the wall and logging in. A quick check-in would calm the remaining twenty-five percent of her anxiety; it'd been a week and a half since last visit and she liked check-in's. Just because she didn't need assurances on Clint's sexuality, didn't mean she didn't need assurances regarding other things.

Maybe they could sneak away once before Saturday.

Maybe.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed!

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