She attacks him the following morning. It's been a while since she's done so, but that's the whole point of a surprise attack. He is indeed surprised, but recovers quickly. At one point in the fracas, his face is only inches from hers, so she kisses him.

"I think all things considered, I prefer being woken up like that," he tells her, and she just laughs.

Adjusting from being partners to being Partners isn't like turning a switch from off to on, and she knows they will never be a touchy-feely couple, but they don't need to be. The fact that his touch lingers a little longer now when they spar that morning, or that she no longer feels the need to maintain that invisible one inch barrier that has been between them since the night she slipped into his bed only to be told, "I am not your job," things like that are proof that their relationship has shifted into something else, something more.

And they even have a dog. Or, they do when they go to pick up Ghost from the vet's office after his morning bandage change. His tightly wrapped foreleg is now lilac purple. They get him home and as soon as his feet touch the ground he gives the woods a longing look, but he doesn't bolt for the trees like Natasha might have expected he would. Instead, he trots after Clint on the leash, trembling with canine worry when they walk the stairs.

"I've left the door open for him to let him know it's all right if he comes inside, but he has only ever sat on the porch and watched me. He's never been inside," Clint tells her.

He opens the door and it's the first time that Natasha has seen the dog truly balk on the leash, to the extent he rears back like a nervous horse being led into a narrow stall. "It's all right," Clint tells him, tugs on the lead, to no avail. In the end, he ends up just carrying Ghost inside the house, deposits him in the middle of the room and removes the leash. The brindle dog remains exactly where he is, while looking all around him as though he's waiting for the real torture to begin.

Natasha felt much the same way when she first came into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. He ignores the dog, the same as he did to her back then, giving him a chance to relax and explore on his own. And, again, Ghost does the same thing she did—he does not let Clint leave his sight. The bathroom door is particularly vexing to the point that he actually makes that strange grunting whine he is wont to, scratching at the door, and wags his tail when Clint complains goodnaturedly, "Can't a guy get a little privacy around here?"

That night, they're getting ready for bed and when Clint goes into his room, Ghost follows. The dog gives the bedroom a thorough inspection and then jumps up on the bed. When he circles once and lays down at the foot on the comforter, he lets go with a great sigh of contentment that has them both chuckling.

He starts to close the door behind him and Natasha stops it with her hand, saying, "I'll be damned if the dog gets to sleep in the same bed with you, and I don't."

She follows him to bed, waits until he turns out the light, and then kisses him. He's tense in her arms, and she knows he can't himself, can't help wondering if this is real or one of her performances, and not something she really wants.

Natasha splays her hand on his bare chest, and says, "This is not a job. I want this. I want us."

He exhales a long, slow breath and says, "I didn't think you believed in love."

"Love is for children," she scoffs, and brushes her lips over his. "This is not about loving. It's about living." Then she proceeds to show him exactly alive he makes her feel.

Ghost decides the floor is more comfortable, after all.

A/N Thanks to everyone who stuck with this story and especially to those of you who take the time to read and review it. Your kind encouragements helped keep me going!