bakerstreet | The Mistletoe Meme

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.

Not the wine. Heavens no, but for the sake of playing up the game it was, completely and totally. She lent closer and squeezed his knee again, eyebrow curling with a smile. "I don't know if it's the wine or the gentlemanly demeanour. Either way, you've got me Chris."

Her eyes darted towards the windows, checking their surroundings as yes, they were on the right track, not long before they reached the fake home she'd been forced into. It was nothing like her style.

"Well Chris I look forward to giving you a check up." Eyes moved back to his face, taking in the lines and look and god, she really had missed him.

It was hard to play the perfect gentleman and turn Natalie down like Chris probably should have, especially since Clint knew it was all an act. And really, what man in his position would really say no to such an offer? She was still speaking coherently and her motor skills were fine. Maybe Chris was a gentleman, but he was no saint.

“Maybe a mix,” he said, as if that made it able for him to accept, able to continue without feeling he was taking advantage.

So far he’d been very careful about not touching her, but it was too much and he couldn’t resist anymore. Lifting one hand he ran it back through her hair, the fiery red strands just as silky as he remembered. “How close are we?” he asked, impatient and almost breathless just from her proximity. He was still putting on a decent front, but when he met her eyes again the desire and longing in them was all Clint.

"A good mix, a very good mix meaning this is a very good idea. Chris, stop questioning this," Honestly, She could appreciate good values and morals but here she was, practically throwing herself at Chris in the comfort of a cab and he was still questioning it. Underneath Natasha knew Clint wanted this more than anything right now, all he had to do was let his socially awkward persona go with it.

And there it was, the push. Her head tilted slightly into his hand, a breath slipped past her lips along with a laugh at his question. "Not close enough.." Her eyebrows wiggled, eyes slipping to the window, "Not far. Couple more streets."

“Right, a good idea,” he said, nodding. “A very good idea.” He certainly couldn’t think of a better idea at the moment. In fact, he was pretty sure this was one of the best ideas ever. Sure, they would probably have some explaining to do to Fury if they became the talk of the rumour mill instead of the barely acquaintances that they were supposed to be, but Clint didn’t give a damn about that right now.

Licking his lips, his free hand moved to her thigh, squeezing just slightly through the smooth material of her dress. He had been trying to hold off until they were inside, away from prying eyes and able to drop all pretenses, but she was sitting so close and looking so sexy and smelling so good he felt himself being drawn in like a magnet until his lips were just a hair’s breadth from hers. “Not close enough,” he echoed before crushing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss.

Fury could bite her. Natasha had no loyalties to that man, not to him and not to SHIELD. Not really. Her loyalties lay with Clint considering he was the one who spared her. If word got around then so what? They were two grown assed adults and as long as they got the job done what did it matter if they were caught making out in the back of a cab?

Her eyes dropped to the hand on her thigh, raising them slowly just as he'd lent in closer and she could practically feel the air between them move. Electricity. They'd both somehow riled each other up, Natasha had been the obvious antagonist but Clint and his coy, shy persona had done something strange to her.

She kissed him back with a neutral ferocity, her hand reaching up to tug the collar of his jacket until she was pressed against him and just as her other hand found his on her leg the cabbie coughed and halted. Worst timing ever.

She broke away, lips swollen and a giggle leaving her lips in way of apology, fumbling with her purse produced from her coat pocket and stuffing bills through the hole in the window.

It could jeopardize the mission, making themselves the centre of attention and putting their relationship on display, but Clint didn’t care about that right now. They could deal with it tomorrow, spin it positively, but right now he couldn’t even think about it. Right now all he could think about was her body pressed against his, her mouth hot and welcoming.

When they were interrupted he let out a loud groan, his head dropping back on the seat behind him. He tried to find the words to protest against her being the one to pay, even fumbled for his wallet, but she already had the bills out before he could find his. “I can get that,” he still said a little late, pulling out his wallet needlessly. “Or, I guess, I can... breakfast. I’ll spring for breakfast.”

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