Not only is my candy supply dwindling -- by my own hand -- but my creativity is going into a sugar coma, it seems. I hope you like what I was able to put together before crashing… ;-)

Pepper Potts did not take "no" for an answer. So, when she called and asked Natasha to come to dinner on Thursday night while she was in town, it was less of an invitation and more along the lines of a command.

This was fine with Natasha. She felt directionless lately. She'd been searching for Clint for the past three months. While she'd never give up hope, her leads -- and her optimism -- were running thin. Getting a command was easier to deal with than wondering if her next decision would be her last.

A private dinner at Stark Tower would actually be a welcome distraction. And if she were completely honest with herself, she would admit to fishing for the invitation. She could easily come and go from New York without anyone knowing, but she needed to feel safe. If that momentary safety came wrapped in the annoying package of Tony Stark's presence, so be it. Yes, she was that desperate.

As she entered the tower, she felt even more than she'd hoped for -- there was a blanket of rare calmness. Odd for anything associated with Stark.

She was greeted by Pepper with a big hug and gushing compliments over her new hair style. The hair was more a function of necessity, really. Allowing her hair to grow out and maintain its natural curl was just easy. But, according to Pepper, it looked simply gorgeous. Who was she to argue?

Tony seemed confused as to how to greet her. He was waffling between offering his hand and moving in for a hug. Very odd. What was he nervous about? She leaned in slightly and gave him a squeeze of his shoulders, which he seem to take as permission to wrap one arm around her waist and peck her on the cheek. "Romanoff," was what he settled on with a smile that truly shone in his eyes.

"Thank you both for having me over for dinner," Natasha said as they walked toward the dining room. "It's nice to be able to relax a little and I'm sure the food will be --" suddenly she stopped with the pleasantries. Rising from a chair on the right side of the table was the one and only Clint Barton. He looked tired, hurt, and very much alive.

"Oh my God," Natasha whispered as she moved in his direction without thinking or looking, her cat-like reflexes allowing her to dodge every piece of furniture in her path.

"Hey," was all Clint could muster as stood before him.

"Seriously," whispered Tony to Pepper in the great room. "That's the best Robin Hood can come up with?"

When he didn't get a response he looked directly at Pepper. She was smiling, but her lower lip was trembling and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

"Hey," Natasha quietly replied. "I've been looking for you."

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, but could not find it in his heart to continue with the snarky comments. "Pep, should we leave them with Dum-E and hope he doesn't spill anything on either of them?"

Pepper bit her lip and nodded. "They'll be fine. Let's go," she whispered as they turned to attend their own dinner reservation which would have them out of the tower for several hours.

After more than three months apart, the shocking end to their organization, a million unasked and unanswered questions, and the obvious set up of Natasha by Tony and Pepper, no words were exchanged. The touch and feel, each for the other, confirmed that they were alive. They were back together. What that meant could be explored later. Well, sooner rather than later, they both thought. While they silently agreed that the emotional connection needed healed before anything physical, neither was willing postpone a kiss any longer.