Summary: There is a form of tension that no spa, sauna or massage can cure. Tony tries to help his friends in any way he can. Post-movie Clintasha fluff. The other (earthly) Avengers play an important part too.

Rated T for mild sexy themes and language

Rest Without Relaxation

An entire week of rest - it felt like an eternity of waiting. During that time they were unable to do penance for the crimes of which they'd accused themselves. There was too much time to think about the terrible things they'd done. Was this forced relaxation in reality a form of punishment?

Tony looked around the sauna at his four companions, his new brothers - and one sister - in arms. They were spread out on the tiered wooden benches, all with thin white towels hanging limply around their waists, except for Natasha, who had hers wrapped tightly around her chest. Hardly the time for modesty, Tony thought. Not that he was really looking. They were sweating it all out, all the stress from the past week. At least, that's what they were supposed to be doing.

Clint was perched up in the corner as usual, though for once his eyes were unfocused, staring at the opposite wall while he leaned back against the close one. His lack of focus was intentional, the result of a mostly naked Natasha sitting a few feet in front of him on the lowest level of benches. Tony refused to believe he was imagining those furtive glances. Natasha, if she noticed the furtive glances at all, didn't let the others know. She sat with her back to Clint, her ankles crossed, hands resting on the bench beside each leg. She leaned forward, swinging her feet, staring down at the floor with evidence of deep thought etched on her face. Bruce was slouched near the door, always prepared for a hasty exit. He was, relative to the recent past, more relaxed these days, but he still had a long way to go by Tony's standards. Then there was Steve, stern and serious. If he was going to sweat it out, he was going to do it seriously, dagnabbit.

"You still look tense." Tony said to all of them, disappointed, as if they'd ruined his birthday party. They all reacted just as he'd predicted they would - Bruce admitted it with a sheepish smile, Steve was disappointed he was doing yet another thing wrong, and Natasha raised an eyebrow as she met his gaze.

"Do you guys ever relax?" Tony asked the room. "Do you even know how?"

Clint felt the furrow in his brow deepen. Of course that reaction only proved Tony right. With his shoulders and the back of his head resting against the wall, Clint closed his eyes, foolishly hoping it would block out the conversation as well as the sight. He'd been the first one in and he suspected he'd be the first one out if this kept up.

"There's always something going on, somewhere." Steve sighed idly. "It's hard to let it go."

"A tensed muscle needs rest or it only gets weaker." Tony lectured.

"You're prone to laryngitis, then?" Steve cracked.

"A hero's gotta eat." Tony went on unperturbed. "He's gotta sleep. He's gotta have a little sex, right? He's got to have a lot of sex..."

"See," Bruce piped up from the opposite corner as Tony made a show of biting his lip and getting that far off look in his eye. "Now you're just rubbing it in. You've got a fiancée, we've got-"

"Opportunities." Tony interrupted, before Bruce could say something silly like 'nothing'. "This is a very attractive bunch. Now, I may be spoken for, but Steve, you're a walking Ken doll. And, Bruce? With the absent-minded professor thing you've got going on, you could have a lecture hall full of undergrads at your feet. And you're both perfect gentlemen, evidenced by the fact that you haven't ogled any of Romanoff's lady bits even once the whole time we've been here."

Steve opened his mouth as if to protest, but he knew Tony was just trying to ruffle their feathers, Hawkeye's in particular. Steve shook his head softly, letting the protest fizzle out and become a chuckle. Tony looked directly at Clint to see his reaction to the last comment. When Clint opened one eye, brow furrowed even further, he caught Tony's little smirk and instantly regretted visibly reacting to Tony's latest bait. He closed his open eye and concentrated even harder on tuning Tony out. Natasha, meanwhile, cast her eyes down and smirked only to herself. She didn't mind if they ogled, and she didn't mind if they didn't. Their sweet gallantry made up for Tony's obvious, though ultimately harmless, mental undressing.

"I'm just one of the boys." she reminded Tony wryly.

"In a fight? Yes." Tony agreed. "In a sauna, draped in a damp towel? No. Thank goodness, no." He glanced down at her body and cleared his throat, and then looked around at the other boys. "Should I pour some water on the rocks? Anyone about to have a wardrobe malfunction?"

"I think you need to call your fiancée." Bruce joked.

"She won't pick up. She's in DC again, just...being one of the boys." Tony widened his eyes playfully at Natasha, pleased that she could appreciate his antics. Steve only humored him when he was in the mood for it. Bruce of course needed the patience of all mankind, but Clint...

Tony glanced quickly at the hawk and then back to Natasha before deciding to go. "Well." he said as he stood abruptly. "It's time for my deep tissue massage. I strongly urge all of you to get one. All the girls here are fantastic. The men, too. If you're into that. We don't judge here." He patted Steve on the shoulder as he passed.

"Why is that always directed at me?" Steve asked Bruce.

"Because you always react." Bruce informed him.

"Come on," Tony said to Steve. "I've got the perfect girl lined up for you. She's German, she'll resolve all your lingering issues."

"She'll-!" Steve started and stopped, looking again to Bruce to see if this joker was for real. Bruce couldn't help but chuckle, and he had to look away from Steve's serious expression because it was making him feel bad to laugh about it. Bruce stood as Tony approached. He hadn't missed Tony's subtle gesture, the one he made with his eyebrows. Tony thought Clint and Natasha should be alone, and he needed Bruce's help to get Steve out of there.

"A massage sounds nice." Bruce said, and since Steve found him to be a reasonable human being, his mind was changed.

"Just the massage." Steve said worriedly as he stood. He wouldn't put it past Tony Stark to plan something unseemly on his behalf.

"Captain!" Tony looked over his shoulder, acting scandalized. Steve's arms rose from his sides, always questioning why he had to endure this teasing. Bruce did what he could to comfort him, but it was up to Steve not to be bothered.

Natasha watched them all go. Clint waited for the ruckus to fade away. The lack of human voices was blissful.

"Finally, some peace and quiet." Clint murmured. He could feel Natasha smile even before she turned to look up at him over her shoulder. The silence created by Ironman's absence was sweet, but the tension only grew thicker without the distraction.

"I almost forgot what it was like," said Natasha. "Not having his voice in my ear."

"Like waking up from a nightmare." Clint said, so serious it elicited a chuckle from her. She turned to face forward and bowed her head, and it made her soft red curls bounce just so. Clint kept his eyes on her, and he observed as she glanced down at herself. She checked the tightness of the towel wrapping, and opened it just enough so she could tuck it back in again. Clint looked away, as if there were some danger in observing any more of her skin than was already visible. It shouldn't matter, he told himself. Coworkers, comrades, friends. The line had to be drawn there.

This was getting to be a problem. It was frustrating that his eyes forced themselves away from her every time he started having those thoughts. Even more frustrating were the words of Tony Stark, returning as an echo in his mind. 'Wardrobe malfunction...' Unlike Tony, whose impulse control was weaker than their Hulk even on a good day, Clint was an expert in poker faces and hiding his emotions. So was Natasha. There was no way to know what she was really feeling unless you asked, and only if she trusted you completely. What better way to lose that trust than to admit what he was really thinking when she adjusted that little towel?

Most frustrating of all, Clint finally had her all to himself, and it was making him so anxious he had to get out of there. Exactly when it had gotten so bad, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed to fix it before the next intergalactic crisis.

"Thirsty." he said as he stood, as a way of explaining. A tall glass of ice-cold water would help. He hoped. Maybe an intergalactic crisis would be better after all. "You want anything?" he asked, holding on to the towel around his waist for extra measure as he took the few giant steps to the floor.

"No, thank you." Natasha murmured. He heard the melancholy in her tone, and he felt guilty for abandoning her so soon after the other boys cleared out. Not guilty enough to stay. He was almost gone when he heard her voice again.

"Clint?"

Without thinking, Clint turned to her with an inquisitive look. It was always automatic and immediate, the attention they paid each other. One called the other's name, and they were there for each other, no matter what.

"Do you ever ogle?" she asked, her face completely straight. The real Natasha was straight forward, but still never gave away anything in her eyes.

Clint hesitated.

"Ogle?" he repeated.

"What Stark said before-"

"No, I know." Clint interrupted her gently. He was just stalling for time. Most of his mental strength was focused on keeping his eye line above her neck. This was the kind of question for which there was no right answer, only two wrong ones.

Yes, I ogle.
- You're just like the rest. Is that all I am to you?

No, never!
- You don't find me attractive?

If this is a trap, I've already been caught. Clint thought. But it was just them. Just Clint and Natasha. And maybe it wasn't a trick. Real Natasha was straight forward, level-headed. Feelings were just tools she used against the enemy during missions, right?

He hoped not. He hoped she at least felt a fraction of what he felt because the words he was about to utter would not leave much room for interpretation.

With one last goodbye to good sense and reason, Clint took a breath and said exactly what he was thinking.

"I'd lick the sweat off your skin." he said, still looking directly into her eyes. "Every inch."

There. He'd said it. Now everything between them could be unbearably awkward, Natasha would end up hating him and he'd eventually have to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and live the rest of his life in a remote cave to avoid the shame and humiliation of losing his best friend by admitting something so base and lurid.

To make it all worse, Natasha didn't respond. She sat there with an unreadable expression, probably shock. He didn't blame her. He didn't know what she'd been expecting to hear.

Clint shook his head a little, as if to clear it. He looked down at the floor, and tried to think of a way to fix what he'd just done.

"Sorry." he said quietly. He turned to leave the room, and he didn't plan on returning. Maybe instead of ice water he could find a bar and get a stiff drink. The door of the sauna faced a free-standing wall, around which Clint had to walk to get to the cushy anteroom with cushioned benches and lockers for visitors' sandals. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, just get the hell out of here, you idiot.

Natasha was definitely in shock. She'd frozen, not because he'd said anything wrong, but because his answer had been so spectacularly right. She didn't even realize what was happening as Clint turned to leave. It took her a few more seconds to realize that her impassive face had given him the wrong impression.

"Clint, wait." she said, projecting her voice so he might hear her outside the sound-dampening walls of the sauna. He didn't come back, so she stood up and hurried out of the room.

He thought he heard something, but he didn't turn to look until he heard her soft voice calling his name in the anteroom.

Her hand touched the wall as she rounded it. He'd almost made it out, through the door that led to the hallway and to the rest of the spa. His back was to her and he stopped at the sound of her voice calling his name.

"Clint." she said.

At first, he wouldn't look at her. He didn't want to make it any worse. But she'd called his name, and unspoken rules were still rules. She was standing there in her little towel, on legs that could take down any opponent with a single jump and twist. He'd seen her in action but she looked vulnerable here, holding the towel up with her hands and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He hoped it wasn't what he'd said that made her feel unsure. He waited for her to say something, to make the next move. He felt guilty, but he also felt some resentment. Nat started this, and if she was upset or angry with him, it was her fault for crossing the line.

Natasha opened her mouth to speak. Before she could get a word out, her attention was captured by someone else entering the room. Her gaze shifted, and as a reflex Clint spun around to see who was behind him.

A very sheepish Dr. Banner was standing there, and he could tell he interrupted something. The tension in the room was not the sort that could be relieved by anything the spa had to offer.

"I'm...sorry," Bruce said haltingly. "I left my stuff in here, I just need to grab it."

Clint nodded politely, feeling oddly relieved by the interruption. He'd sneak out behind Bruce, so Natasha wouldn't get a chance to give him any bad news.

Hello, my name is Clinton Barton, I faced an entire Chitauri army and I'm afraid of being rejected by a girl.

Nat, meanwhile, averted her eyes, and she gave Bruce a tight-lipped smile when he glanced at her and they made eye contact. He fumbled to get his belongings from one of the wall cabinets and merely nodded a goodbye before making a quick exit.

"Clint," Natasha said, before he could get away. Bruce was gone and they were alone again. "Please don't go."

"Why don't we just pretend you never asked." Clint suggested.

"No,"

"That way, I never answered,"

"Clint-"

"...and nothing changed."

"I liked what you said." Natasha blurted, when she could finally get a word in. "I want you to ogle."

Clint's eyebrows rose. His one hand was still at his waist, holding the towel in place. It suddenly felt like it was made of plastic, his whole body felt completely unnatural. Did...she want him to ogle her right now?

This was Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, ultimate seductress. Why was she having so much trouble expressing her desires to Clint? She respected him. She had real feelings for him. It made her feel shy because she needed this to be real, and real meant she needed to be extra careful not to mess things up.

"If you meant what you said," she continued. "If you really want to..."

"Well," Clint smirked sheepishly. "I'd kiss you first."

That made Natasha smile. "Please do."

Clint smiled too. Now that he had permission to ogle, he allowed his eyes to wander below the neckline. Even her collarbone was lovely. She saw him looking, and dropped her arms to her sides. The towel stayed up on its own, a miracle but only by certain abstract standards. Still, the towel didn't hide much. Clint reached up and scratched the back of his head with his free hand, taking a few slow steps toward Natasha. His towel was going to have to hide a lot more if this went much further.

She waited patiently for his arrival, anticipation growing when he got close enough to reach out and touch. He cupped her face tenderly with his hand, and she pressed her cheek closer, nuzzling his palm. Her eyes slipped closed, and her lips parted when she felt his thumb stroke the lower, fuller of the two. Her lips were so full, and so soft. He'd often wondered what it would feel like to kiss them, to kiss the Black Widow, to see if he'd even survive such a thing. So close, she did not seem deadly to him at all. She was vulnerable, and wanting, She'd opened up to him, told him things she could never admit to anyone else. He felt he had a duty to protect that trust. Maybe to her, he was the deadly one. He'd tried to kill her not so long ago, and even if he'd been possessed at the time, the fact that she was standing before him, trusting him, nuzzling his hand - it meant a lot.

Of course, she'd won that fight. She'd kicked his ass. And that was really hot.

His hand slipped lower, his thumb dragging along her bottom lip. Natasha felt Clint's hand move, to the nape of her neck. He pulled her gently toward him, and she welcomed his lips on her own.

Just when it was getting good, they were interrupted once again. This time they had more warning, the sound of two familiar, bickering voices drifting in from the hallway. When Natasha realized who and where it was coming from, she pulled away from Clint and they both tried to look completely natural as they readjusted their towels.

"...she was just flirting with you, Rogers. These are the opportunities I was trying to tell you about-"

Steve and Tony came into the room, apparently expecting their fellow Avengers to still be in the sauna. Tony became aware of their presence, and processed the scene in a few seconds. He saw Clint, his back to the returning visitors, leaning against the cabinets like he was just chillin', no big deal. He also saw Natasha, her cheeks flushed, arms crossed defensively over her chest, eyebrows raised with casual expectancy, waiting for Tony to ask her something important because, clearly, the only reason he should be back so soon is for something super important that could not, under any circumstances, wait until later.

Tony's mouth came open with a tiny jaw drop.

Well, well, well!

"We...are so sorry." Tony said in a matter-of-fact tone. He looked more giddy than remorseful when he said it. His little plan had worked, and as with everything else the Avengers did he was going to take way too much credit for whatever happened next.

"We're sorry?" Steve asked. He looked around at everyone, wondering what he was missing.

"Yes!" Tony informed him. "We were told to empty out our lockers, so we will do that and then leave immediately."

Steve furrowed his brow at Tony. The tricky billionaire had suggested they look in on Clint and Nat, to 'make sure they were okay.' Clearly he'd been trying to spy on them. Steve vowed in that moment never to trust Tony again unless they were fighting an interdimensional conquerer or caught in a similar emergency situation.

Clint looked over his shoulder and smiled in a not-so-nice way at Tony. Yes, you will get the fuck out. the smile said.

All that Tony could find was a wristwatch that he'd left on one of the benches. He stared hard at Natasha, willing her to crack a smile.

"My watch." he said, holding it up as proof. "It was a gift. From Pepper. Couldn't lose it, pain of death..."

Now he had both Clint and Natasha staring at him, staring coldly. Staring daggers, in fact.

"Alright then!" Tony looked at the Captain. "Steve, got all your stuff?"

"I didn't leave anything here." Steve answered him in a dry tone.

"That makes this leaving thing even more convenient then, doesn't it? Well, we will be in the massage area. Getting those massages. Finally. You two..." Tony pointed at Natasha, then at Clint, back and forth a few times. "Keep having fun."

Steve smiled apologetically on the way out. They could hear his hushed voice recede in the hallway, saying "Could you at least give me a warning, next time you want to 'check up' on our friends?"

The two that remained shared a chuckle. At least they weren't his only victims.

"Probably not the best place for this." said Clint, muttering into the door of the locker he leaned against.

"Probably not." Nat agreed.

"Too much traffic." Clint sighed.

"Come over to my place tonight?"

"Okay." Clint agreed immediately as he looked up at her.

"Or..." Natasha glanced around the room, knowing they were both done with the spa and its facade of relaxation. "Now?" she suggested.

Clint nodded dumbly. "Okay." he repeated.

"I'm going to get changed." said Natasha.

"That's a good idea. Because my level of self-control is reduced every second I see you without any clothes on."

The last thing he saw before Natasha opened up a separate locker so she could change behind its door was a big smile spreading across her face. He grinned to himself, opened his locker and threw the towel in. He was pulling up a pair of black boxer briefs when he told Natasha, "You can ogle me too, you know."

Natasha peeked around the door that hid her form. She'd missed the full monty, but the view from behind of his bare, muscled back and his butt in tight underwear made her smile.

"I already do." she said. Surprised to hear her voice so close, he looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. She smirked, and disappeared again.

"Hey, no fair peeking." he said.

Despite it being no fair, Clint took it upon himself to peek around Natasha's door too. She was already way more dressed than him. She slipped a black turtleneck over her head, pulled it down over her torso and pulled her hair out of the collar.

"I'll see you there." she said as she slung a small duffel bag over her shoulder.

"Natasha." Clint said as she walked by. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, so he could give her a proper kiss on the lips. She smiled a soft, grateful smile, but he also saw a teasing look in her eyes.

"I won't shower 'til you get there." she said. She took a few steps backward, slowly, since he was reluctant to let go of her hand. His gaze was intense, but her playful smirk was reflected in his eyes.

"You won't have to." he promised.

Her expression opened up, and she tilted her head in an affirmative nod. "Hm." she said, her mind suddenly filled with feverish thoughts. She took another step back and let his hand drop. She left, and he rushed to put the rest of his clothes onto his body. He didn't want to leave her waiting, even if all she'd be able to think about was Clint's promise.

Natasha walked past the room where the other guys were getting their deep tissue massages. Tony had his eye on the door, and he made a similar "Hmm." sound when he saw her go by, fully clothed, with her bag on her shoulder. That smile playing at her lips was intriguing. Half a minute passed, and then Tony saw Clint walk by. "Ahh." Tony said in understanding. Steve thought it was just a reaction to the massage, which truly did feel amazing. Without thinking - sometimes the words just bubbled up without needing to be thought, it was a gift, really - Tony craned his neck up further and shouted "You're welcome!" at the hallway.

"I'm right here, jeez." Steve muttered, keeping his face buried in the massage table.

A second later, Clint's head popped into view from the edge of the door. He looked at Tony, who flashed an overly friendly smile. Clint's mouth opened, and his eyes shifted as if he was thinking how to best thank Tony for all his hard work and dedication in the arena of Clint's personal life. Then Clint closed his mouth, shook his head and disappeared.

"That's alright." said Tony as he laid back down. "He'll thank me later. They both will. When I'm best man at the wedding."

"Okay, who are you talking to?" Steve asked, raising his head a minute too late.

"Steeeve." Bruce groaned face down from the third table. "Relaaaax."

Steve turned to his masseuse, a lovely young girl named Dörthe. "What you're doing feels very nice." he assured her.

A month later, they were called together as a team for the first time since the Tesseract crisis. Clint had to land the quinjet that was transporting him along with Natasha and Bruce about a mile from the Arctic outpost, and they all suited up for the short but freezing cold trek. They met Steve and Tony inside the research center.

The heating system was working fine, and the first thing they did was peel off their thermal parkas. Clint and Natasha watched each other strip down to their normal clothes, catching each other's eye playfully. There wasn't much skin to ogle in the Arctic, but their warm clothes were form fitting, and the ogling was an inside joke to them at that point. It was all fun and games until Clint looked over at their comrades and caught them all looking at Natasha's back side. His smile disappeared. Bruce was the first to notice Clint's cold hard stare, and he cleared his throat to warn the others. Steve swallowed and pretended nothing had happened at all.

"Right." Tony murmured. "Off limits."

Natasha walked to the front of the room and stood at ease with her hands clasped behind her back, ready to relay Fury's instructions. She was the only one with the full mission plan, so technically she was in charge.

"Gentlemen?" she addressed them. "Are we ready to save the world?"