bakerstreet | The Mistletoe Meme

He put on a mask of surprise. “Nothing! I mean... it’s not... nothing bad,” he stuttered, completely worried that Natalie might think he had untoward intentions like John with all his wine. Clint could see that Natasha was enjoying this little game of charades, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t as well. It was certainly making the night much more interesting than it had been so far.

“Oh,” Chris sounded disappointed that Natalie might be leaving soon. Clint accepted the information as it was. This was Natasha’s show and if she felt they were wasting their time here tonight and that the boss wasn’t likely to show, then he would follow her lead. “How are you getting home? I mean, I assume you’re not driving.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see John cutting through the crowd, glass of wine in hand as he searched for Natalie again.

A flutter of eyelashes as a look of disappointment played over her features. No, Chris certainly wouldn't do with this attitude. "Shame," her voice was low enough so only they could hear, not even Edith with her craning neck could hear that simple word and the way it was said, and sure Natasha was playing with fire, but he'll, she'll just blame it on the wine.

"I was planning on getting a cab, or walking depending on the weather," she eyed him carefully, smile on her lips, "unless you want to share a cab?" The question was innocent enough even if the glint in her eye was all Natasha's doing.

No, Natalie needed to get the hell out of there before John spotted her, it wasn't like she was hard to miss.

Clint’s brows lifted just the slightest bit. That one single word was clearly meant only for him and he wasn’t sure how to take it so he just scratched his chin and glanced quickly around the room. John had spotted her and was on his way over, though he faltered when he noticed she wasn’t alone.

“You shouldn’t walk, it’s pretty cold out,” Clint said, meeting her eyes again. Noticing the glint there he felt his stomach tighten slightly. The plan had been that if they found nothing of interest she would leave first and twenty minutes or so later he would do the same, but it seemed the plan was changing. He knew he should refuse, but how suspicious would anyone really be? It wasn’t like people didn’t hook up at these sorts of things all the time. Chances were that nobody would even notice.

“I was thinking of leaving soon myself, so uh... yeah. It would make sense. Splitting the cab... I mean, if we’re going in the same direction...” As close to anything less than gentlemanly that Chris had managed, and he looked nervous for even suggesting it, and ready to play it off as innocent if he had read too much into her own comment.

Natasha almost felt sorry for Clint,playing this role had to be hard when he was faced with Natasha and her many changing faces. Yet something inside of her ached, something inside of her gloated at making him just another fool. Maybe she could trick herself into thinking that this was right; playing him just like she'd played all the others. Maybe.

Nick, Steve, no Daniel approached, and Natasha had eyed his hands long before he'd made tracks in their direction, holding out the sprig of green and white and she'd merely perked an eyebrow at it. But with John creeping closer and Edith still hanging around it seemed right.

"Are you going to indulge me before we leave Chris? It is Christmas after all..." Not that she would wait for an answer. When they were back in work Natalie would blame it on the wine. She lent forward on her elbows, inching closer as she stared at Clint across the gap, not Clint, not her Clint. But Chris.

She blinked at him, eyes fleetingly casting upwards at the sprig of mistletoe. "You're keeping a lady waiting Chris..."

Clint had been tracking the progress of John and his alcohol and hadn’t noticed Daniel approaching from the other side, clearly half in the bag and making the rounds of all the unsuspecting duos littered about the party. When Natasha spoke, pulling Clint’s attention back to her, he found her leaning closer again, but he didn’t follow her words until he followed her eyes upwards to the mistletoe held over their heads.

Well, this definitely wasn’t part of the plan, but Clint was never one to back down from a challenge, and Natasha was clearly posing a challenge right then. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the point of view, Chris wasn’t so bold. Clint would have made a show of it and kissed her so thoroughly it made her hair curl, but Chris leaned in a little hesitantly. “Oh, uh, well, we can’t have that,” he said. Shifting ahead in his chair he placed his hands on his knees, his fingers brushing her knee as he did so. “And it’s tradition, after all.”

Sometimes Chris really talked too much, so he finally silenced himself by pressing his lips softly to Natalie’s.

Plans were supposed to be their for a reason and usually Natasha wouldn't go against the plan unless hers was a much better option, but this, this was all for amusement, something she could look back on and smile to herself about when she was bored in her office shuffling papers.

Poor Clint, being used like a pawn in her game, still, she'd doubt he'd truly mind.

If they had been alone and not sharing false names Natasha would have made sure his lips were on hers a long time ago, but since Chris was a little slow on the uptake Natasha would just have to be patient.

She just kept a smile on her painted lips, kept her head tilted as her eyes fell from the mistletoe back to Clint across the now small gap and when he finally plucked up the courage to kiss her she smiled, her fingers twitching to find his, just brushing along the back of his hand.

When they finally parted she swore the sound of breaking glass came from behind her where John had been standing, and Natasha could guess her glass of wine was now painting the floor. Oh well.

"Not bad Chris, you get an E for effort."

There was a part of Clint that thought this was a very bad idea, but as her lips moved so softly against his, tasting of wine and seduction, he had a hard time identifying why. It certainly felt like a good idea, though it was pretty damn hard to stick to character and keep the kiss fairly chaste when what he really wanted to do was tangle his hands in her hair and explore every inch of her mouth with his tongue.

Licking his lips when the pulled away, he didn’t lean back from her, keeping up the close proximity. “Don’t you mean an A?” he asked, his eyes darting behind her for a split second to catch the murderous look John was throwing at him. Whoops. This probably didn’t count as keeping a low profile. He was supposed to be Natasha’s backup, little more than wallpaper unless she needed him and getting what information he could while remaining fairly unnoticed and forgettable. Kissing the hottest woman in the room in front of everyone was not the way to remain unknown.

“You still wanna get that cab?”

Neither was being seen leaving with her.

Natasha would let him, he could do whatever he wanted to her and she wouldn't bat an eyelid, but Natalie well,for her sake it was probably best they didn't get into a heated match of tongue hockey. Neither could pass that off as a quick party hook up, Natalie wasn't drunk enough and Chris certainly wasn't that bold.

Her eyebrow raised slowly, giving him a smile as a slender shoulder shrugged, "no, I meant the E. You may upgrade depending on how much you let your hair down." She lent back slowly, raising a hand to her head and feigning fatigue. "Well, the wine has certainly gone to my head, yes, I think it's time for a cab before I'll have to ask a polite gentleman to carry me home." One effortless girly laugh as she smoothly stood, looking down at him with that same pleasant smile on her lips. All an act, her words had been loud enough for those around to hear, the perfect alibi for leaving.

Natasha turned slowly in her heels, facing John with a sudden look of confusion to the spilt wine. "John!" The look of surprise on his face was nearly priceless, considering it was the first time she'd addressed him by his name all evening. "Thank you for the hospitality but I'm afraid I'm turning in, lots of work to do and Chris here has offered to split cab fare." Well, that was him taken care of even if he was still glaring at Clint from over her shoulder as she hugged him carefully.

“Ouch, you’re a harsh judge, Natalie,” he replied, wincing a little at her comment though clearly still interested in upping his grade. When she finally leaned away he shifted in his seat, watching her carefully. She was good, speaking loud enough for those nearest to them to hear but not too loud to be obvious or one of those attention seeking drunks.

Getting quickly to his feet after Natasha stood, Clint looked sufficiently uncomfortable when faced with John, though inside he was laughing at the guy’s expression, first the surprise and then the evil eye he quickly went back to. “Yeah, uh, it’s on my way so I figured it made sense,” he said, shrugging sheepishly. John looked like he was about to say something, probably offer a drive himself, but while Natalie was hugging him Edith took the opportunity to pounce and anything the man might of said Clint missed completely.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving!” she trilled, wrapping her hands around Clint’s bicep. “I never did get that dance you promised me.” She tried to pout alluringly but the effect was completely the opposite.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I... I’m not much of a dancer...”

Natasha simply gave him a look, and it was truly meant for Clint, a smouldering gaze full of promises and lust but the look disappeared as quickly as it appeared. No use in over exciting their fellow colleagues, some things were better left out of common knowledge.

John was like a squid, Natasha had had her fair share of men who kind of, just clung on, but this was awkward to say the least. She could feel the mans gaze and knew the look directed at Clint was one of drunken hate. Oh well, the man would get over it eventually.

As she finally shook off his grip she turned to be faced with a quite amusing site, arms crossed and foot tapping her heel into the floor. Edith was a tricky customer and although Natasha only knew her by file she also knew the woman had access to information that could be key to their mission objectives. Maybe she should let Clint take her home to do the bedroom tango.

Naw.

"Edith right?" She approached carefully with a cheerful smile under flushed cheeks. "Natalie, I just came over to say that John thinks your dress is wonderful and he'd really like to talk to you but he's playing coy..." And with that she reached behind her to pull John forward, eyebrow perking slowly at Clint. "I'm sorry to steal your dance partner, but he's promised me a cab ride home and no lady should be left wandering the streets on her own this day and age.." Even though Natasha was no ordinary lady.

Clint knew he should probably humour Edith more, maybe spend more time with her considering her position in HR, but she was so grating. He was glad for Chris’s shy persona so he could dodge her advances easily, and he was even more glad in this moment for Natasha’s help. She could have thrown him under the bus, could have left him to deal with this on his own, but when she practically threw John at Edith he was entirely grateful. Amused as well, but mostly grateful.

And from the look Natasha had given him a moment ago it was looking very likely that he’d get ample opportunity to show her just how grateful he really was.

Edith, for her part, was not happy with the introduction and sized Natalie up like women do their competition, but the line about John caught her by surprise and soon her face lit up as she seemingly forgot that she wasn’t supposed to like this woman.

“Well, I suppose I could let him go if John will dance with me instead...” she said, releasing Clint’s arm and holding her hand out to John.

Oh Natasha would have found it amusing to watch Clint pony trot around the room with Edith on his arm, but alas that's not exactly what partners did and she did owe him for saving her from John and his squid like arms.

Watching the woman pull John off she smiled, gave Edith a convincing look of happiness and turned back to Clint. "Well Chris, your grade just dropped to an F, I do hope you're going to put in the work desired to bring your grade up to the mark." Her eyebrow raised, giving him a look meant for Clint, not Chris and brushed past him to acquire her coat.

The night had been a bust, the best she could hope for was getting him alone for some much needed TLC, and to see if he would work on his grades.

Natasha’s plan worked perfectly, managing to rid them both of the clingy coworkers they had been trying to escape. Smiling over at her, the smile dropped at her words. “Wh-what? What did I do wrong?” he stuttered, though Clint was pretty sure that letting John grope her while being distracted by Edith had been his downfall for sure.

That look, though, made his stomach tighten a little. The closer he got to getting her alone the more his desire grew. These past few weeks of working in the same building with her but not being able to see her had been torture, and more than once he had been tempted to come up with some sort of excuse to talk to her, to bump into her somewhere outside of ‘work’. The party may have been a bust in terms of the mission, but considering where it was heading it was a success as far as Clint was concerned.

Chris moved quickly after her and managed to get her coat before she could, holding it out like a gentleman for her to slip on and clearly trying to win back some points.

Another look, one that suggested his thoughts were correct, not that Natasha could read minds, obviously, but standing around while she was cajoled by John? Instant points loss.

Still, he had plenty of time to make it up to her and by god she'd make sure he did.

The coat was a nice start, allowing him to act this way was certainly more Natalie than Natasha. For one Natasha was her own brand of independence, and the mere thought of Clint holding out her coat would have made her double with laughter. No. That's not how the two worked in terms of their partnership.

She stepped closer, hand smoothing a crease out of his shirt. "Oh Chris, you're going to have to try harder than that to get back in my good books."

Clint had never been the best at spy work, he was better when he could keep his distance from a target, and playing a gentleman was a definite stretch for him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hold coats or doors for a lady, but he was more likely to make a crass joke and go for a laugh than shower on the compliments. The fact that this was Natasha he had to act like someone else around just made it worse because she knew how fake it all was and was probably going to rib him for it later.

Looking down at her hand on his shirt, he smiled a little. “It’s just a start,” he said, collecting his own coat. Fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, he called for a cab before turning back to Natalie. “It’s a bit icy out there. You might wanna hold onto me. I, uh... I doubt those shoes get much traction.”

Rib him? Certainly. The joke would give her at least an hours worth of entertainment, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

A laugh, a lovely chime which brought along a smile with it, "is that a promise Chris?" Another laugh at his suggestion, a fleeting glance down to her heels and yes, he was right, if she wasn't careful she may just lose her footing, not even Natasha was immune to heels on ice.

"You really are a gentleman aren't you, just make sure I don't fall because if I do you're coming with me." Of course Natasha looped her arm through his, fingers grazing the palm of his hand softly, brushing against the calluses on his skin. Of course they were from his many intimate hours spent with his bow, although for cover sake.. "They must push you hard down in the warehouse, your hands are like stone."

Of, if that didn't just give her a lovely image of his smoothing her curves, and the shiver that ran down her spine certainly had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the memory of his hands working her skin.

Clint usually loved to make Natasha laugh. It wasn’t something she often did around other people, so when he managed to win one it always felt like a victory. Natalie’s laugh sounded different, though; not nearly as satisfying. To everyone else it probably sounded carefree but to Clint it was completely fake. Still, he put on a shy grin, looking rather pleased with himself. “Well, I mean, I can’t accept an F, right? I need at least a passing grade.”

His skin was rough but her hands were smooth, soft, just like the rest of her body. “I won’t let you fall,” he said quietly, and for a brief moment both lives bled together. He wondered if she knew he had fallen long ago.

“It’s not easy, lots of boxes to move, supplies to unpack and shelf... just as exciting as it sounds, really. Means I don’t gotta go to the gym all the time, though.” Reminding her of the physique his dress shirt and jacket were hiding certainly couldn’t hurt his case.

When the cab pulled up out front he opened the door for them with one hand, keeping hold of her arm with her other.

She was supposed to be fake, everything about this persona was almost fake, almost. Natasha sometimes wondered if she blurred the lines, if she sometimes slipped and fell into another name just because she could, if she'd ever done it with Clint. Made him feel like the mark she was trying to seduce or kept him at arms length because, just because.

Because one of her personas could.

The hushed words didn't escape her and for a moment it hit too close to home, it made those lines blur and hard to separate and she slipped, Natasha flooding back into her own body with eyes giving him a look as if she'd never seen him before.

She knew what he meant, she just didn't want to wholly believe it. Maybe because of her doubts, how could a man fall for her with all her debts and all the blood and the smell of death following her where ever she went?

Natalie came back with a smile and a toss of her hair. "Well Chris, all that hard work is certainly paying off and I for one would be far more appreciative if the goods were fully on display..."

She'd blame the wine, completely.

Following him out, keeping close to his side and careful of her foot steps somehow, someway she made it into the back seat of the cab without falling flat on her ass. "You've upgraded to an E again.."

Clint caught the look she gave him, but it was gone again so fast he couldn’t be quite sure it had been there at all, let alone what it really meant. Every once in a while he wondered if she was just playing with him, but he never truly believed it, refused to let himself. She wouldn’t do that to him, not to him, not on purpose. He just kept telling himself that.

Tonight he didn’t dwell on it, though. Tonight he didn’t want to complicate things, he just wanted to feel her touch, to run his hands and his tongue over every inch of her and reacquaint himself with the body he loved so much.

“I, um...” Chris stuttered, eyes widening, clearly not sure how to respond. “It’s a bit cold for that...”

What an idiot.

Helping Natasha to and into the cab, Clint climbed in beside her, and after she’d given her address to the driver he settled back in his seat. “I’m on the right track, then,” he said, smiling at her. Christ, he wanted to jump her right then and there. “Was it the helpful part or the talk of my, um, working out?”

Was it possible for Natasha to play with him? The man she'd grown to trust and care about, the man who saved her when she was so lost, who pulled her from the dark and into the light? Could she play him like a fiddle? Like she'd done to so many men and women over her life time?

Of course she could, but what she could do and what she would do were two separate things. Natasha wouldn't do that, not to him.

She laughed, another melodic chime and shuffled instantly closer to his body once they were seated in the cab and moving.

"It was both, just a shame about the cold." She flashed him a teasing smile, hand moving to rest itself on his knee. "So do I really need to invite you in for coffee?"

Even despite the cold her hand felt warm on his knee and Clint felt his mask slipping. They were away from their coworkers, surely they didn’t need to keep up appearances anymore, right? He really wanted to believe that, but this wasn’t exactly a big city and for all they knew this cabbie played softball with Daniel or drove Joan’s drunk ass home from the bar every Saturday night. Word got around, and until they were safe behind closed and locked doors they had to keep up appearances.

“Well, it would... it would help with the cold,” he said. “And, I mean, I gotta walk you to your door anyway to make sure you get in alright.”

And he would be lying if he said it wouldn’t be tempting to push her up against that door the second they got inside and have his way with her right then and there.

She saw him start to blend back into Clint and it couldn't happen, because this cabbie could know someone from their office and Natasha was certain she couldn't talk her way out of something that big. So she squeezed his knee, lent in closer and let her lips brush the side of his face.

Okay so she wasn't making it easy, but honestly she was having a hard time too.

"Can't let you go home without being the perfect hostess, plus you're right, it would warm you up, or there are other ways if the coffee doesn't work." Whispered words against his ear.

No, she was evil, dangling herself like a carrot in front of him.

No, she certainly wasn’t making this easy, and Clint’s eyes slipped shut as she moved closer, her lips brushing his cheek.

Mind on the mission. Mind on the mission, he repeated in his head but it did little to help.

He should probably refuse her; Chris was a gentleman and she had been drinking, but Clint knew Natasha could hold her liquor and it was hard to even think of her as having had so much to drink that it would impair her judgement in the least.

“If you want,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “If you’re sure you want me to come in.”

There was no way he was going home at this point, even if he had to sneak back under the cover of night on his own two feet.

Natasha would have apologised but it seemed she was just as geared up as he was. Funny how being separated did that and she shouldn't let it happen. She shouldn't have gotten this close to the point where being apart from him did strange things to her. She shouldn't miss him, it was dangerous territory.

"If I wasn't sure I wouldn't have instigated..." She smiled, pulling back enough just so he could see it, coy and innocent. "I'm blaming it on the wine though, if anyone asks." And they were bound to.

Even if that was an excuse, Natasha certainly wasn't drunk, just an excuse for a lapse of Natalie's judgement when people questioned her at the water cooler.

"Plus my house is warm, so it may be a opportunity to see if this warehouse work has really paid off."

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it definitely made a lot of other things grow too. Despite his preference to not actually get involved in spy work often, Clint had been happy to get the call to back Natasha up on this mission. They had already been apart for longer than his liking, and even though he knew she could handle herself he never felt quite right when he wasn’t there to have her back.

He had missed her, and he was very much looking forward to the opportunity to show her just how much.

“As long as it’s not really the wine,” Chris said, looking worried that it might be.

He swore this was the longest cab ride ever. Maybe the cabbie was a pervert and was taking them on detours in hopes he’d have something to watch, but more likely it just felt like it was taking forever since Clint was highly anticipating it being over.

“It has. You can see for yourself. I’ll show you,” he said rather quickly, his eyes dropping to her lips so tantalizingly close to his.

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