[AU where Barney owns the Barton family farm bc that’s one of my favourite headcanons!]

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“Let’s go to Missouri, you said,” Natasha says loudly as she hears Clint re-approaching. “We’ll make it a romantic getaway, you said. Missouri is so beautiful in the fall, you said.” She nearly falls backwards off of the step-ladder trying to pluck the next apple. “I didn’t realize your brother just wanted to use us for free labor.”

“Aw, c’mon, lots of couples do this kind of stuff! We’ll make pie together when we’re done picking and eat it by the fireplace – how’s that sound?”

Natasha chuckles as she empties her armful of apples into her basket on the ground. “Alright. Twist my arm. That does sound very romantic.” She looks up to see him fiddling with his bow and arrow, and raises an eyebrow. “Are you really practicing right now? I thought you were gonna help...”

“I am!” Clint grins. “I just have quicker harvesting methods!”

At that, he pulls back his bow and lets an arrow fly. Natasha chases the movement of the arrow with her eyes and watches as one – two – three – four – five – six apples fall to the floor in rapid succession, the arrow piercing the stems above them, followed by a squelch and another thump as the arrow hit its final target and falls to the floor.

“Ha!” Clint says smugly, grabbing a basket and running after his arrow. “See?”

Natasha rolls her eyes affectionately. “Very impressive, Barton. Not sure Barney will be too pleased you’re bruising and stabbing all his apples, though.”

“What Barney doesn’t know won’t hurt him!” Clint calls back, picking all the fallen apples on his way. “And the stabbed ones are just for us! We’ll use ’em for the pie. Or –” he adds, picking up the apple the arrow had struck from the ground and taking a bite “– as snacks!”

“I see! Very ingenious. You clearly put a lot of thought into this one.”

“Yeah. Lot more thought than I put into most missions, actually,” Clint says jokingly as he jogs back over.

“Ah, but that implies you do put thought into missions sometimes,” Natasha teases. “And I know that’s a big fat lie.”

“Har-de-har,” Clint smiles, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her close. Natasha wraps her own arms around his shoulders and lifts herself onto tiptoes as he leans down, breaking the distance between them, and presses his lips to hers.

His kiss is honeycrisp; sharp and sweet and delicious.