**As always: I do not own any Marvel characters or the movie storyline.**

Chapter 1 – The Meeting

Aliens. I really fucking hate aliens. I barely knew Thor and thought of him as one too. If it wasn't for his stupid fucking brother with his stupid fucking plans to take over the stupid fucking world and kill all of the stupid fucking humans... well, then I would be at home, cuddling with my man while our roommates argued over what reality television show we watched. What I wouldn't give for one of those arguments right now.

Most people would say that our trouble started when Loki decided to take over the universe, but I knew it began long before that. I was in my mid-twenties and working a part time job as a coffee barista near my apartment in New York. This guy would come in every day at 4:20 pm and ask for large coffee, black. He wouldn't give his name, but he would go sit in one of the comfortable couches that we had along the wall and people watch for exactly 34 minutes before he would get up, thrown his cup away, and leave. He always walked in front of the store and would look at me right before the window ended. No matter where I was in the building, it was like he could always find me.

It took him 2 months to smile and even then, it was just a small thing… a quick upturn of his lip. I decided to take a chance and ask him his name. I watched his shields slam back into place. He couldn't have been much older than me, or maybe he was, but he was gorgeous. He couldn't have been more than 6 feet tall, but he was solid muscle, like he lifted heavy objects or something on a regular basis. His reddish-brown hair was cut short in a messy way and the stubble suited him. He was dark, very serious, and seemed almost dangerous. So sue me… I was a woman. He looked good enough to eat.

4 months to the day since he started ordering his coffee, he came up to my line as usual. We were fairly dead for a Tuesday afternoon with only a few patrons enjoying the protection from the rain. Most days like this, we had no one. He ordered his coffee but instead of leaning back against the wall while I poured it, he stood against the counter and unabashedly watched me.

"What's your name?"

I couldn't believe it! He actually said something new. Be still my heart! His voice was rough and sexy as hell. He could have looked at my name board on end of the counter but he was looking at me. He was trying to have a conversation. Who was I to say no?

"Jaya."

He raised his eyebrows. "Jaya?"

I had to laugh. "I know. My mother named me after a Buddhist goddess. Doesn't matter that I'm from just a small average Midwest town." I handed him his coffee and he turned to go. "Wait! What's your name? It's been months and you've never given it."

Instead of sitting down today, he headed for the door. I thought he was going to leave without answering me, and maybe he thought that too, but before he headed back into the rain, he turned back. "Clint."

I watched him as he walked down the sidewalk and like clockwork… he found me.

It took another two weeks before he would talk to me again. I thought I had scared him away because I hadn't seen him once since our minor conversation. It was a Thursday and it was later than usual when he came in. Our café closed at six o'clock and it was quarter of when the bell dinged above the door. I looked up and I wish my heart had not reacted the way it did to see him standing there. No man should look that good in a pair of nice jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket.

"Jaya."

Damn. What I wouldn't give to have a guy like him say my name like that on a regular basis. It was like a breath or a prayer.

"Hi Clint. Coffee? Black?"

I would have played nonchalant except that I promptly spilled the tray of cups that I was carrying as I tripped over the area rug in front of the counter. I probably would have ended up on the floor except two very strong arms ended up around me. He helped me stand back up and picked up the coffee mugs that were around us.

"I've never seen someone move that fast," I finally stammered. Anything to fill the silence.

He shrugged. "Are you okay?"

I nodded but I was shaking. He was too close, way too close. I could smell the rain on his skin, amid the cologne that he wore. It wasn't over-powering. No, that was just him in general. His hand was still on my arm and was the only thing I was completely aware of… until he kissed me.

If I had blinked, I would have missed it, but the spark was tangible. I felt lightening go through me. The shocked look on his face told me that he felt it too. He took a full step backwards but still did not let go of my arm.

"I shouldn't do this, but damn it, Jaya." It was like I wasn't there. He was mumbling to himself, something about keeping himself apart and connections were dangerous. I just continued to stare at him.

He finally realized that he was thinking out loud and gave me a real, honest to God smile. It made his eyes soften and the hard lines on his face fade. It made him look younger… more approachable. "Dinner. Tonight."

Maybe he had meant it to be a question or maybe he knew it didn't have to be. He touched my bottom lip with his thumb so softly and was out the door. My coworker, Amanda, chose that moment to come out of the backroom and see him walking out of sight. He didn't look back to catch my eye.

"Was that lover boy?" she asked, taking the tray off the counter where we had placed it. She was the only one who knew about my crush on the mystery man. "I told you so. No way would you scare him away, but he still looks dangerous."

"Clint."

She stopped what she was doing and leaned over the counter. "What?"

I kept staring out the window. "His name is Clint. We're having dinner tonight, I think."

"You think!" she squealed. "What do you mean, you think?"

I told her what had just happed. "I don't know if I imagined it or not."

She hugged me quickly. "You didn't imagine it, no way! I don't believe it. Girl, get out of here. I will finish closing up. You need to go get ready." She practically pushed me out the door, locking it behind me.

The two block walk cleared my head enough to wonder how I could possibly be going out to dinner with a man who didn't even know where I lived. Was I supposed to meet him back at the café? I should have been more bothered than I was but I was still reeling from the barely there kiss. I lived on the third floor of an old brownstone apartment building that my parents owned. It was the only way I could afford to live in New York City. I wrote an editorial column for an online newspaper during the day, so I had bribed my dad to give me the nicest of the apartments. Why shouldn't I? I was the only tenant who was home all day. I had a small balcony and a decent sized bathroom. My closet was filled with nice clothes, but what do you know? I had nothing to wear.

I finally settled on one of my favorite outfits. It was a suede brown skirt with a red and brown lace top. I had a killer pair of leather wedges that I had splurged on to go with the skirt with a cool leather flower detail. I finally pulled my damp hair into a messy bun, added a few crystal clips to keep the fly aways in place, and decided to keep my makeup looking clean and simple. My favorite pearl drop necklace silver diamond studs that were a college graduation present from my grandmother completed my look.

Almost on cue, my intercom rang. I hurried over to see who it was. "Hello?"

"Are you ready to go?"

It would have freaked me out that Clint knew where I lived if I hadn't been so excited to see him. "I will be right down."

I grabbed my purse and my red pashmina and raced downstairs to meet him.

Surprisingly, unlike most men in the city, Clint didn't have a cab waiting for us. Instead, he helped me into the passenger seat of a brand new, black Porsche 911 Carrera 4S. The leather seats were butter soft and heated. I sighed deeply.

"So what kind of job do you have that you can afford wheels like these?" I asked fifteen minutes later as he weaved in and out of traffic.

So much for not taking candy from strangers. If my mother could only see me now, riding in a hundred thousand dollar car being driven by a man I barely knew, but who knew exactly where I lived despite the unlisted number and address. Creepy much? Maybe but… damn that kiss.

"I work for the government."

Ok. So mob related activities was out, but hitman was still a possibility. "What branch of the government?"

He didn't answer me. This was like pulling teeth, finding out information about him. I decided to just let him drive and a comfortable silence settled around us. I wasn't sure how it happened but it felt like I had known him for years, not months. I felt like he could drive us off a cliff and that would be okay. There was a sense of anxiety with how fast he was going but triple digits could do that to a girl.

Seven o'clock passed and it was nearing eight before we finally pulled into a quaint semi-rural town. There was a small restaurant we made our way to, Italian by the looks of it. Ever the gentleman, Clint parked the car and then walked around to open my door. We were greeted at the door by a pleasant man who shook Clint's hand vigorously.

"Well I'll be damned, Barton! We haven't seen you around here in ages, especially not with a lady this beautiful!" He reached out and shook my hand too.

"Jaya, this is Vincent. He owns this place."

"Welcome, Jaya. Let me show the two of you to the best table in the house."

The best table proved to be a quiet corner lit by candlelight. I was surprised by how romantic it all was. Clint didn't strike me as a romantic, but I was known to be wrong. At least he hadn't taken me into to the woods to dispose of me. Clint ordered for the both of us, in Italian.

He must have noticed me staring. "I travel a lot for work," he explained with a shrug.

We waited for our food and I watched him watch me. He was hesistant as he reached over and stroked my cheek. "You know, there is something… captivating about you."

"You don't know anything about me," I replied, grabbing my glass of wine and taking a long drink. "And you barely answer any of my questions."

He settled back into his chair. "Ok, so ask me a question."

I thought about it for a moment. "Are you going to kill me?"

He laughed. It was a rich sound… and I liked it. "No. I'm not going to kill you. So let's try this… I'll ask a question and then you ask one. Okay?"

I nodded. By dessert, I had found out that he was born in Iowa, had a brother who he was estranged from, and both of his parents were dead. He had lived the standard kid's dream of running away to join the circus where they exploited his uncanny knack for archery. He told me that was how he got the nickname "Hawkeye". He worked for part of the government as a sharp shooter with his best friend, Natasha, who was very skilled with all manner of hand to hand combat.

"When you meet her, you will understand. She's Russian," he said, as if that explained it all. I merely shrugged.

I wish I could say he learned a lot about me, but there wasn't much for me to tell him. I was just average: average height and weight, average schooling at an average college, average parents decided to have two average kids. It was my life, even if my brother ended up not being so average.

"How did you know where I lived?" It finally occurred to me to ask that very important question.

I knew he didn't really want to answer that one. "I followed you home one night. I just wanted to make sure you got there safe."

"Just once?"

He shook his head. "Every night."

Ok. Weird in a stalker kind of way, but sweet. He was so sincere that I didn't doubt him. I was a very good judge of character. My brother had taught me that early on.

"So why me, Mr. Hawkeye?" I asked, somewhat teasingly.

He didn't take it as a joke and got very serious again. "I told you. You captivate me." I started to protest but he held his hand up. "You don't think of yourself as much, but I see more to you. You're beautiful, but you also come across as very strong. Like I could tell you anything and you wouldn't run away."

"What do you have to tell me?"

It was a test. I didn't want him to tell me yet. I wanted to fall in love with this man so hard that nothing he said to push me away would ever matter. He passed with flying colors.

"That is for later. C'mon." He tossed some money down on the table and finished his wine. "Let's go for a ride."

On the way back to the city, even though the car was a manual transmission, his hand found mine and refused to let go. He walked me to my front stoop where he shifted nervously, still holding my hand.

"Jaya, I'm out of my element here."

At least he was bluntly honest. I could handle that. He had already told me that he didn't like my skirt because it hung down to mid-calf and I should show off my legs. He also told me that the perfume I wore was too strong, but he liked how green my eyes looked in the candlelight. I felt like whatever he said he took to heart and meant it. I just gave him the time to collect his thoughts, but inside I was panicking. I didn't want this to be a one-time deal.

"I don't date. I have never had a serious relationship. I'm not even sure how this is all supposed to go…" He pulled me to him so suddenly that I lost my balance and literally fell into his arms. With one arm around my waist, he leaned in so his mouth was very close to my ear, his hand holding the back of my head. "All I do know is that I don't want to leave right now."

I could only imagine the tremor in my voice as I replied, "Then don't."

My lips were bruised before we made it into my apartment, but at least we didn't leave any clothes in the stairwell. Clint Barton was fire, and I was being consumed.