"Shit," Clint gasps, blinking dust out of his eyes and trying to catch his breath--he's lucky the grappling arrow held before his back hit the concrete.

Clint hears decidedly vicious footsteps stomping towards him--"Shit," he says again--and scrambles to his feet to see Natasha on the warpath through the post-battle debris.

He raises his hands, expecting her to hit him for jumping off the collapsing building, but her warm, chapped lips against his steal his breath all over again.