Title: Not Tonight, Honey, I Have a Headache
Rating/Warnings: NC-17- sexual content and some swearing.
Wordcount: ~3400
Summary: Clint's got a headache and Natasha has the cure.

Author's notes: First Clint/Nat fic! Wheee! :-D Thanks to my enablerbeta, allisnow, for her help in cutting out the extra verbage! :-D


Clint Barton dragged his ass back into the base along with the rest of the Avengers team. His body was sore from the blows he'd received when he'd been forced into hand-to-hand with the terrorists after temporarily losing his bow and arrows. That pain was topped only by the headache from the shell that had exploded too near his head, and that headache was quickly moving into a migraine situation from all the talking that Steve Rogers was doing as they walked in side by side. Barton knew he too was no slouch at being, as he'd once been called by Tony Stark, a 'Chatty Cathy', but right now with his brain threatening to explode it was no time for someone to be talking his ear off. And, of course, Rogers was patently ignoring the glares being fired in his general direction.

So Clint decided that before he put an arrow in the captain's head, he'd find the darkest, quietest spot on the base and just hibernate for the next couple of days until, hopefully, the pain in his head went away.

Clint managed to sneak away from the rest of the team, even from Fury who’d come to ‘greet’ them by looking for some explanations as to what had gone wrong with their latest mission, even if it had ended well enough. He made his way through the base to one of his catwalk hiding spots where no one would think to go looking for him. He avoided a couple of techs walking through the area before he pulled down a ladder, climbing it and pulling it up again with a bit more effort than usual thanks to the protests of his sore muscles.

That done, he slipped off his boots and quietly padded along the metal grating in his stocking feet until he reached one of the darker spots at the corner of the catwalk. He sat down, letting out a breath as he placed his shoes next to him, and then closed his eyes, finally starting to feel some relief from the throbbing pain in his head. He crossed his legs into a lotus position, hissing out a breath when he accidentally brushed a particularly nasty bruise on his right thigh. He placed his hands instinctively on his legs, palms up, and began to breathe slowly and deeply in and out.

For several minutes all he heard was his own breathing; this area was blissfully quiet the majority of the time, which he’d learned a long time ago when exploring the new base. The labs around here were barely used, so he could count on long stretches of silence.

That silence was broken by the sound of the doors opening at one end of the corridor, not far below. He kept his eyes closed, hoping it was just more techs who would be gone soon, none the wiser of his presence above. But when he heard an all-too-familiar grunt from below, he knew it wasn’t any techs. Only Natasha Romanoff made that noise when she was frustrated. He held his breath and opened his eyes, looking down to see her standing there by the doors. He wasn’t surprised that she’d come looking for him, but as much as he loved being with her, this was one time he really wanted to be alone.

“Told you he wasn’t in here, Steve. Only labs down this way, and we both know he loves those as much as we do,” she commented sarcastically to, Clint assumed, the unseen Rogers.

“Okay, but maybe we should check down there anyway; he could be hiding there knowing we’d think he’s not there,” the captain stated from the other side of the open door.

“How about we split up. I’ll go there and you check back down that other corridor. Shave off the search time. We’ll meet back here in 30 minutes,” Nat suggested.

“You really think it’ll take that long?” Rogers asked, his tone puzzled.

“We have a lot of little nooks and crannies to check out,” she responded.

“Okay. See you back here in 30,” Steve said, seeming to accept her answer.

Clint heard the door shut as she turned on her heel to head in the opposite direction. He watched her walk around the bend to the other door at the opposite end of the corridor. Once he heard the sound of that door opening and closing, he finally breathed out and in several times, punctuating his breathing with an annoyed groan as he held his head in his hands for a moment. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to hold his breath that long - his growing migraine was evidence of that - but he knew those two had exceptionally good hearing. If they’d heard one breath out of him, they would have found him and dragged him down from his perch. Most likely they’d been sent by Fury. He *really* didn’t need the director getting in his face right now.

He sat up and closed his eyes again, placing his arms back on top of his legs. He hoped that was going to be the last interruption for a while. He took several deep breaths in and out again, willing his body to relax.

"You really suck at hiding from me."

Barton jumped at the husky sound of Nat's voice near his ear. He opened his eyes, looking into the green eyes mere inches from his. He didn't hide his surprise at how close she was and she smirked at him, obviously pleased that she'd been able to sneak up on him.

She sat back on her haunches - he noticed that she wasn't wearing her boots either - and quickly looked him over, as if checking for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine, Nat, I just needed some alone time, okay?" he stated in an attempt at a coaxing tone.

She raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, "Really? You think *that's* going to work?"

Clint sighed. He knew she wasn't going to go easily, but he still hoped she might ease up on him this once.

"It's just a headache. And the med techs checked me out in the field and cleared me of any possible major head injuries," he told her.

"If it's just a headache, why are you hiding out here?" she challenged.

"Have you ever tried to get rid of a headache with Rogers and Stark arguing loudly nearby about baseball stats?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow at her.

Natasha chuckled. "Fair point. So what can I do to help?" she offered with a tender smile.

Barton smiled at her, feeling a warmth in his chest. "I appreciate the offer, but really, I'm good meditating here. It should help being in the dark and quiet for a while."

"And how long do you think you can hide here before Fury has someone else find you and drag you back to the infirmary?" she queried.

"Well, maybe I could find another spot away from the base..."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You can't keep hiding from him; he'll get suspicious that something worse than a headache is going on with you," she said, then a shadow briefly crossed her face before she shook her head slightly as if to shake it off.

Clint knew exactly what she was referring to without her spelling it out plainly; despite being cleared following Loki's mindfuck, there were still moments he saw a look on some people's faces, including the director's, that seemed to question whether he was truly back to full mental capacity. Hell, there were moments he even wondered himself.

"Hey, you in there?" Natasha asked, pulling him out of his brooding thoughts.

He focused again on her as she laid a hand on his right arm, kneeling right next to him. He gave her a half smile in an attempt to ease any concern she had for him.

"Yeah, all present and accounted for," he joked, and her smile returned.

"You know, there is a way I *can* help with that headache, much faster than meditation," she stated suggestively, sliding her hand slowly down his arm to his inner thigh.

He let out a slight hiss of pain as she touched the bruised area, and she frowned at him. "I thought you said you just had a headache," she muttered.

"And a few bumps and bruises. All part of the package of working for SHIELD," he joked lightly.

"Hmm, well, I'll try to avoid that area, but no promises," she stated. Before he had a chance to ask her what she meant, she straddled his lap, hovering over his legs. She moved her hands to take hold of his face as she leaned toward him to kiss him.

In a move he thought he might regret, he grabbed her hands, quickly pining them to her sides to stop her several inches from his face. She raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "Tash, don't get me wrong, I'd normally love to take you up on this offer..."

"Are you telling me, 'not tonight, honey, I've got a headache'?" she cut him off, her tone highly amused. He shrugged, his expression somewhat embarrassed. "Do you trust me?" she suddenly asked him.

He didn't hide his astonishment at her question. "Do you really need to ask?"

Clint felt a tug on his heart as Natasha's expression softened. He smiled at her and before he knew it, she'd freed her hands and had them once again on either side of his face. She swiftly closed the short distance and kissed him hard on the mouth. The thought of whether it was smart to be doing this so close to possible discovery flitted through his mind, but when her tongue slipped into his mouth and he tasted her favourite mints that she liked to suck on before they had sex, any rational thought was no longer in play.

He moved his hands to her waist, sliding his legs out straight as he pulled her body closer. His body was reacting to the deliciously familiar torment of her lips and tongue playing with his, and then he groaned in pleasure as she pressed her chest to his, gently grinding her hips down against his. He felt her smile against his lips, most likely feeling smug at the reaction she so easily elicited from him.

She pulled back slightly from their embrace, much to his displeasure. The desire in her eyes let him know that she wasn't done, but he couldn't help but wonder why she'd stopped.

"Cameras?" she breathed out.

"What?" he questioned, his mind still in a sexual fog.

"Where are they?"

Suddenly he understood where she was going with her questions. "They're not pointed toward this area of the catwalk. Only reason they might is if there was a request from someone who saw or heard something suspicious. So we'll have to be quiet," he stated teasingly.

Natasha gave him a look of mild annoyance. "I can do quiet," she told him matter-of-factly.

Clint tried not to laugh, knowing from experience that she wasn't a quiet lover. Not that he was complaining. Obviously he didn't hide his amusement too well as her annoyed expression increased. "Shut up," she stated in a clipped tone.

He smirked. "Make me," he taunted.

Her lips descended on his again in a rough, bruising kiss. His body arched toward hers, wanting more contact with her, but she teased him by keeping only her lips and hands on him. Even when he tried to pull her hips down to his she resisted quite well, as if punishing him for his teasing.

She pulled back again and he groaned quietly, but he stopped when he saw her hands go to the zipper on her catsuit. He watched with hungry eyes as she slowly, agonizingly, lowered the zipper in a tortuous striptease. She stopped the descent around her midsection and moved her hands to his that still sat loosely at her hips. She removed them and stood, and then went back to lowering the zipper the last few inches to the top of her hips. Fortunately she was lacking her usual belts, so she moved on to sliding it off her shoulders, and his breath hitched to see she was also lacking in underwear as the suit slipped down her body.

"You plan this?" he queried breathlessly.

He unconsciously licked his lips as he drank in every inch of her now naked body as she stepped out of the suit and tossed it aside. She returned to a kneeling position beside him. "I was in a rush this morning and didn't get a chance to put anything on underneath before we had to go out. *Someone* let me sleep in," she whispered accusingly.

He grinned. He hadn't been able to help it; he'd woken before her for once and had been enjoying watching her sleep, forgetting the time. It wasn't until the call from Maria Hill came in to remind them of the approaching mission that he'd been forced to wake her. He'd made an excuse of oversleeping himself, which she'd seemed to accept. Of course, he wouldn't tell her the truth because he knew she'd roll her eyes at him and tell him that he was being 'such a girl.'

Clint quickly returned his attention to her as her hands moved to his waist and she said a touch sarcastically, "I've showed you mine; time to show me yours."

He realized that, yes, he was severely overdressed compared to her, and he went to take his top off, but she stopped him. "Leave it on; Rogers will be back any time now looking for me, or us," she explained when he gave her a confused look.

She didn't say any more, simply helping him slip his pants and underwear down as he shifted as painlessly as he could to get them off, adding them to the pile with her catsuit. He heard her take in a breath as the various bruises on his legs were revealed. The fist-sized one on the top of his right thigh was a fabulous shade of purple. It hurt him just to look at it.

Clint was surprised when she leaned down and kissed it lightly. The touch of her lips gave him a slight stinging pain as well as a sensual pleasure that ran straight up to his groin. His breathing became shallow again when she turned her head to look up at him, her eyes on his, but her mouth tantalizingly close to his growing erection.

"Maybe later...if you're a good boy," she teased huskily, straightening up into a kneeling position again. Natasha straddled his lap once more, lowering herself just enough to hover over him, his penis sitting so close to her opening, but not yet permitted entry. He wondered at her propensity for teasing him like this, especially when she was saying minutes ago how they needed to move things along.

Natasha finally reached for his penis, gently holding it as she eased it into her vagina, letting go as it slid into her. They both hissed out a breath as she stopped moving, and she laid her forehead against his. She slowly moved her hips up again, and he had to bite his lip for fear of letting out a loud groan at the loss of her heat surrounding him. As she moved down on him again, his hips came up to meet hers this time, which gained a gasp of pleasure from her.

They started into their familiar rhythm: in and out, up and down, hands and mouths tormenting and pleasing whatever inch of the other that they could touch. Natasha arched her back slightly, creating a different angle that seemed to hit just the right spot with her and she was getting very close to coming, if the expression of ecstasy on her face was any indication. This only increased his desire to come along with her, if only to see that look there because he gave her that pleasure.

Clint could feel her beginning to tighten around him, which meant that she was going to get a lot louder very soon. He could see her biting her lower lip in an attempt to keep her cries in, but he knew her too well and she wouldn't be able to stay quiet for long. He surprised her by pulling her to his chest, barely losing their rhythm, and he kissed her hard, forcing open her mouth with his tongue. He heard her whimper as he slid his hands down her back and to her ass, squeezing it in encouragement as they ground together harder and faster. He felt her body suddenly tense and he moved his right hand to her head, effectively holding her mouth against his as she yelled out her release into him. She clenched fully around him and he went tumbling after her seconds later.

He loosened his grip on her slightly as they sat exhausted in each other's embrace, breathing heavily. Natasha laid her head just under his chin, nuzzling his neck.

"Told you I could be quiet," she joked in between the kisses she was placing along his jawline.

He chuckled in response.

"How's the headache?" she asked as she placed a kiss on his right temple.

Upon hearing her question, Clint realized that his headache was completely gone. He never failed to be amazed at how this woman managed to find ways to make him better, and not just physically, if he was completely honest.

"What headache?" he joked, and she leaned back to look him in the eye. "It's good; better than good, it's gone," he told her reassuringly.

Natasha smiled widely, seeming quite pleased with herself. Before she got to say anything, they heard the doors below them open, and they both pursed their lips, literally holding their breath to see who came in. Clint had the better view of the doors, so he watched as Steve walked through, a worried look on his face.

"First Clint, now Natasha. Where the heck are they?" he muttered loudly to himself as he stomped on through the corridor below.

Once he disappeared around the bend, they let out the breath they were holding.

"We should probably get back down there before they figure out we're up here," Clint stated regretfully.

Natasha nodded but said nothing, and then slowly eased him out of her before she stood up. He found himself missing her warmth and closeness, like every time before, and he was sure every time after.

Damn but you're getting schmoopie, Barton, he internally mocked himself.

She walked over to where they'd tossed the clothes, and he couldn't help but admire the view as she leaned down, grabbing his underwear and pants that sat on the top of the pile. His view was quickly obscured when she threw them toward him, hitting him perfectly him in the head.

"That's just mean," he commented, pulling them off his face. She was already back in her catsuit and zipping up, much to his disappointment, and she was grinning at him.

"Get your pants on before I let Rogers know you're up here," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Clint did as he was told, knowing all too well that she'd go through with her threat. Once he had everything back on, including his boots, they headed for the ladder, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his.

"Let's go through the vents, one branch leads into an empty lab and it's less noise than your ladder. That way we can keep this spot our little secret," Natasha told him, smiling seductively as she rubbed her thumb across his hand as she spoke.

"So that's how you were able to sneak up on me. How did you know I was even up here?" he asked, trying to stay focused while she continued stroking his hand.

She leaned close, whispering in his ear, "I know your scent." He groaned quietly as she gently bit on his earlobe, tugging it before she pulled back from him. She removed her hand from his and spun away from him, laughing when he went to pull her into an embrace. She took off for the vent opening and he quickly followed, eager for the chase.

The End