"So," Clint tossed the keys to the apartment down on the little table by the door as we walked inside. "Take out?"

"Yeah, sure. I think there's a menu on the coffee table." I took my shoes off again as I walked through the apartment to my bedroom. Closing the door with a click, I began to take off my dress.

"Noodles and sweet and sour?" Clint called through the door.

"And spring rolls."

"Awesome." I heard him pick up the phone and begin dialling the take - out number. I paused, looked at the dress that was at my feet, and screwed it up into a ball, tossing it into the corner of the room, and trading it for a sweater and a pair of jeans. When I stepped out into the living room, Clint was still on the phone. I noticed he'd taken off his tux jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He'd also taken off the bow tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt, and looked - as much as I hated to admit it - all manner of hot. He grinned at me, and as I threw myself down on the couch and grabbed the remote, I felt his eyes still on me.

"Yeah, great. Apartment 21. Thanks. Bye." He hung up and tossed the phone onto the armchair, joining me on the couch. "Anything good on?"

I channel surfed lazily. "Uh... There's the tail end of The Hurt Locker."

He pulled a face. "I hate that film."

We flicked through the channels in silence for a couple of minutes, before Clint spoke again.

"So, you forgive me?"

"Huh?" I looked at him. He was still staring at the TV screen.

"Do you forgive me for running your ass ragged during training?"

"Oh." I laughed, "Yeah, course."

"Good." He dragged his eyes away from the TV and looked at me, smiling gently. "Because to be honest, you're not actually so bad."

I decided to take that as a compliment.

"But then again, you still haven't answered my question." He turned to face me fully, his eyes suddenly serious.

"What question?"

He reached over and plucked the remote from my hand, switching off the TV. "What made you so special?"

I swallowed hard. When he'd reached over to take the remote, he'd scooted a little closer to me. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, and his hand was only centimetres from the nape of my neck. He cocked his head.

"Bailey?"

"Clint, look," I began, but I didn't really know how to continue. As I was searching for a plausible explanation, I didn't realise he was slowly creeping closer. Then, as I looked back at him, I realised how startlingly close he was to me. "Uh, Clint."

He didn't answer me. He just bowed his head a little and kissed me.

It took a couple of seconds for my brain to register what was going on.

Clint Barton.

Kissing me.

On a couch.

In a kick ass apartment.

Wow.

And he was a good kisser too...

That was roughly the point that my brain kicked into gear, and my hands slid up his shoulder to his neck, and my fingers curled in the ends of his hair. His right hand, the one not on the sofa, slid around my waist, and pulled me in a little closer. His other hand went to my lower back, and all of a sudden I was enveloped in a warm embrace.

"Clint..." I whispered against his lips, not wanting to open my eyes. I still wasn't totally sure this wasn't just some incredibly lucid dream.

He was about to reply, when a knock at the door made us both spring apart. I stared at him, confused for a couple of moments, before realising what it was.

"Delivery!" Someone called through the door, and Clint sighed, shooting me a sheepish grin.

We ate the Chinese in silence, both avoiding the others' gaze. Every time I did happen to catch his eye, we would both look away hastily and continue eating. When we were finished, I quietly said goodnight, and hurried to my room, where I lay in bed, my lips still tingling after the kiss.

---

"How's it looking out there?" Clint asked quietly from behind Tuscane's desk. I poked my head out of the door and looked down the deserted corridor.

"You're good. For now. How long is that gonna take?"

"Well, this memory stick I put in the computer is drawing all the files Tuscane's got on here."

"So how long is it going to take, Clint?" I looked back at him. I could only just make him out across the room, as the only light was that of Tuscane's computer.

"Ten minutes?"

I bit my lip nervously, tapping my foot against the door frame and glancing back down the corridor. That was when my earpiece crackled to life. After the party the previous night, Abbott, Jones and Mitchel had all returned to SHIELD, and were now aiding us from their desks. They were on comms with us, and had managed to hack into the security cameras of Tuscane's building, in the hopes of tracking down any security guard movement before they got too close.

"Movement on your floor, Bailey. Two security guards. Heading your way." Jones said.

I felt my heart rate quicken. "Do they know we're here?"

"Of course not. We disabled all of the camera function. Nothing's being recorded at the moment; everything's being put on our feeds."

"Agent Kane, you need to distract those guards while Barton finishes up with the files. We can't risk you being cornered in there." Fury said.

"I'm on it." I glanced back at Clint. "You good in here?"

"Go get 'em."

I slipped out into the corridor, walking slowly.

"The first one is round the next corridor."

I pressed my back up against the wall, trying to calm my breathing as I heard lazy footsteps coming in my direction. Mounted on the wall opposite was a security camera. I flashed it a quick smile.

As the guard approached the corner, I slammed my hand across his mouth to silence him while I dragged him a little further down the corridor. He struggled and kicked out, but luckily, he wasn't in such great shape, and I easily knocked him flat on his back. His head lolled to one side as I straightened up. He was unconscious.

"You've got about ten seconds before the next one comes."

I repeated the process, flattening myself against the wall. I waited to hear the footfalls, and then leapt out. This time though, I realised the guy was a lot bigger than I was. He was well over six foot, and he must have been about twice my weight. Nonetheless, I swung a punch at him, which he avoided and ducked, catching my fist at the last minute. He twisted my wrist back on itself, and a burning pain shot up my right arm. I cried out in pain, and as he kept twisting, he sent a booted foot into my stomach. I grabbed at him with my left hand, but he caught that two, and forced me onto my knees. As much as I struggled, he still overpowered me. Finally, he managed to flip me so I was on my back, and that was when his hands closed around my throat.

I scrabled at his hands, I clawed at his arms, and I groped to push at his face, but nothing ended the tight, constricting force around my neck. Dark spots began to appear in front of my eyes as I struggled, and somewhere, dimly, in the back of my head, I heard people calling my name.

"Agent Kane!"

"Bailey?"

"Bailey come in!"

Then, as I opened my eyes and raised them to my attacker, his eyes went wide, and he gave a tiny little cry of surprise. His hands loosened from around my neck, and he slumped to the side, lifeless and still. I looked past him, speechless, up at Clint, who was standing a couple of feet off, still holding his bow aloft. His lips were curled into a grimace.

"You okay?" He asked. I managed to nod, feeling my throat gently. I winced as my fingers brushed against already bruising skin.

"Hold this." Clint murmured, bending down to me. He was holding out his bow. Slightly confused, I took it, and then the nex thing I knew, he'd wrapped his arms around me and scooped me up.

"Clint!"

"Agent Barton, this is no time to be getting sentimental." Fury snapped.

"Not sentiment sir." Clint side stepped the guard I'd brought down, and nudged the door to the office open with his hip. "Just concern." He flashed me a grin.

"Well keep it that way." Fury grumbled, as Clint set me down in the office chair. He looked at me for a couple of seconds longer, frowning a little, before turning back to the computer to finish working on the computer.

Notes