bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

CUDDLE MEME

what to do:
☆ post a comment with your character's name and fandom or preferences, if you have them.
★ use the magic RNG 1-12 to pick the cuddly scenario. or not.
☆ then cuddle it out!

cuddle choices:
① Sweet dreams It's been a long day and all you want to do is sleep or just rest your eyes for a bit. Hopefully whoever is close by doesn't mind if you use them as a blanket.
② Stormy weather The heavy rain, thunder and lightning won't be letting up anytime soon. Luckily, it's the perfect weather to stay indoors and snuggle up close and keep warm.
③ Lazy dancer It's the end of a party, or maybe it's only the two of you, but the tempo is slow and the lights are low. Let your dance partner take the weight and just sway.
④ Surprise attack Time to invade someone's personal space. Are they working too much and need a distraction? Maybe you just wanted to brighten their day. Either way, they won't see it coming.
⑤ Movie night It can be on the sofa or in a darkened theater, but you've got your popcorn and someone to settle against during your favorite movie.
⑥ I love you, man It's totally platonic, really. You're just very good friends, no matter what people like to think. But you just love your friend so much you want to hug them, whether they like it or not.
⑦ Jeepers creepers Welp. You were just frightened. Was it a spider in the washroom, a ghost in the attic, a bad dream? Either way, you're looking for someone to cling to right now, and who better than that person right there?
⑧ Hurt and comfort Whether you're sick in bed, just been dumped or suffered a traumatic event, you need someone to wrap their arms around you and make everything go away.
⑨ Sunday morning Maybe you just had a wild night. Maybe there’s just not enough space at your place and you need to share your bed. Or maybe you just got really tired and someone else happened to be there. Doesn't matter because now the person with you looks way more comfortable than any blanket or pillow. Drape to your heart’s content.
⑩ Moment after You just had incredible, vigorous sex (playing out is totally optional) and if you weren't a cuddler before, you are now. You're probably too exhausted to do anything else anyway. Just enjoy the moment.
⑪ Ménage à trois Or four, or five. Get a group and cuddle away.
⑫ Player's choice Pick one or make up your own!

coding taken from

erotiquely

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

She ignored the shortened name, pushed it back to continue because if she didn't she felt like she'd drown under all her secrets and fears.

She watched him sit, felt the weight of his hand on hers, in her hair, brushing it back. She took in his words, felt something inside her snap, felt Natalia like a crushing weight, like a raging fire wanting to reach out and crack him around the face for being so weak, for telling her words she didn't want to hear. Natasha swallowed, fighting to keep those voices low like a badly tuned radio through static, focusing on the film still playing in the background, of the tiny other noises she could hear outside the windows, the few cars, a bird here or there until there was silence and she could feel herself breath again.

"Does it need to go anywhere? Do we need to have a future plan set in stone?" She stared at him, head half tilted, shuffling closer until she could smell her soap on his skin. "We live day by day. Knowing the next call might be our last. We're not planning people Clint, we do things, we get the job done and thank whatever higher power we believe in that we're still breathing."

Natasha took a breath, suddenly wishing she'd at least grabbed a carton of juice from the fridge downstairs. "I could have killed you. That day. I was ready too, if I couldn't get you to submit then I was going to tare you apart. But then I couldn't. Because there's always another way and, I couldn't face losing you. So no, I don't want to plan ahead. I want to live in the moment and I've made it clear I'm not prepared to lose you."

She really had tired herself out even more, muscles still screaming at her to shut up and get some well earned sleep, eyes feeling heavy.

She was silent for so long that Clint thought he had said something wrong again, it seemed to be one of the things he was best at. After a long moment she spoke again speaking of living in the moment like they always did, and he felt himself nodding. That hadn’t been what he had meant at all but he didn’t clarify; it sounded so silly in his head, trying to explain that he didn’t want this to just be a thing when they were both around and casual when they were on their separate missions. It was too much too soon, and everything she had said was enough.

He knew she could have killed him; he knew that had any other agent found him that day they wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot him on sight, but not Natasha. She had fought so hard to take him down alive, to get him back to his right mind, and in the end she had saved his life. It made them even in his mind even if she would never accept it.

“Hey, come here,” he said in a murmur, pulling her into his embrace, hugging her tightly. “Okay, we don’t plan ahead... except one thing.” He pulled back to look into her eyes. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, alright? So it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Natasha found herself clinging to him, legs sliding easily either side of his hips, hands clutching his shirt, holding on as if he was her life support and she guessed in some ways he was.
"You better not go anywhere, and you better stop thinking ridiculous things too." She nodded, catching and holding his gaze even though her eyes were still full of the walls she'd built so easily.

She lent, lips finding his and kissing him long and hard, as if she was trying to steal his breath. For one she was committing everything to memory, the way he felt, the fact he still tasted of butter and waffles, how the smell of vanilla was everywhere and for two to remind herself that this was real, not a dream and not a lie, something she needed to figure out before she fell deeper then she already had. She may not have understood love or 'feelings' but she understood trust, compassion and the comforting weight of him.

Breaking off only to use her weight to topple him backwards, legs bending so knees hit the mattress either side of his waist, reaching to tuck hair behind her ears. "You tire me out Barton" She mumbled, catching his lips again before she was gone, rolling back over to his side and curling her limbs around him once again.

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, but obviously he couldn’t make any promises. Not all their missions had them stationed together, so while he didn’t plan on going anywhere, while his heart would stay with her no matter what, he couldn’t truly promise not to leave, at least for a while. The ‘thinking ridiculous things’ part, though, he certainly couldn’t guarantee. At least he could try not to think them about her.

The kiss was powerful and deep and it succeeded in taking his breath away. It felt like she was trying to absorb him, to make him part of her and her part of him. It was a confession in its own, further proof that maybe he wasn’t alone in what he was feeling. He couldn’t put a label on it, he didn’t want to, but it definitely felt like this, like this one kiss was the embodiment of all of it.

Falling back to the mattress, he returned his arms to their home around her, kissing her again when she brought her lips to his and loosening his hold on her when she moved to curl up against him again. “Yeah. Unfortunately not always the good way,” he replied, because this had been more along the lines of emotionally exhausting than physically. “Why don’t we just get some sleep and try the movie again tomorrow?”

Natasha knew he could promise, just hearing him say he'd do his best was good enough. As long as he didn't start getting stupid and slow she'd have nothing to berate him about.

Lips turned into a smile, nodding slowly as she reached behind her to grab at the remote, turning the television off and dropping the remote back on the table. "I don't know, felt kind of good to spill some home truths, like a weight off my shoulders" The sleep idea sounded too good, she was already tired as hell and the little 'fumble' there hadn't helped in the slightest. "I like this idea" Nodding as she tucked her face into his neck, one arm slung over his chest, legs curled back with his like she was slotting herself into his jigsaw puzzle and she was literally gone. Falling asleep easily for once, curled around him like a comfort blanket.

Usually it was hours of tossing and throwing herself around her bed, but she was already completely worn out before their little talk, and now it was certainly too easy for her to push inane fears aside and let herself go, he was certainly more of a comfort then her gun or knives.

Maybe this honesty thing wasn’t so bad. They both had a lot of work to do, on their own and together, when it came to communicating but it felt like they were on the right track. It had been a struggle getting to the truth, but ultimately the end result had been worth it.

Pulling the covers up around them again, Clint lay silently in the dark, listening to the steady sound of Natasha’s breathing. He had felt it quickly grow steady, had felt her body go soft against him as she fell asleep almost instantly. It had been a long two days on very little sleep.

The past twenty-four hours had been full of revelations, but how much was too much too soon? How honest could he be, not only with her but with himself as well? He cared about her very strongly, more than anyone else he had ever known, but was it possible to love someone who didn’t believe in love? And even if she did, where could this really go? Marriage? Maybe. Children? Definitely not.

Clint forced himself to stop thinking about it. Natasha was right: in their line of business especially they couldn’t look to the future, they had to just live in the moment, enjoy everything that they could as it happened and just hope that there would always be another tomorrow.

Closing his eyes he focused on her breathing again, her heartbeat, and in the blink of an eye he was out like a light.

Natasha needed sleep, it was one thing she couldn't live without. It kept her focus, let her think clearly and overall made sure she could use her body for longer. But as she opened eyes and stared at the clock she thought maybe sixteen hours of sleep was pretty ridiculous even for her.

The again it had been a long time since she'd had long, unbroken sleep. Taking a moment to adjust, blinking away the haze from her eyes, knocking the sleep back she found she was still in the same position she fell asleep in, curled up to Clint like a lazy cat.

And there in lied the problem, not only did she need the toilet but she also found herself stuck under a tangle of his limbs, not wanting to wake him up because hell, she understood how hard it was to get to sleep without waking up every hour jumping at your own shadows. Wiggling lightly until she was half out and finally taking the plunge by untangling her legs and crawled out of her bed, stretching with a triumphant smile. Mission accomplish, another small win for Natasha to add to her belt.

And there was the victory, making a bee line to the bathroom and reliving herself, managing to scrub the remnant of waffles from her teeth and re-pinning her hair. It took her longer to tare her gaze away from the mirror, staring at her own pale reflection and thinking probably too hard for the amount of sleep she'd had.

Feelings, emotion. Love. She didn't know the meaning of love, had never full experienced what was typical, had never wanted to get that close to anyone but by a happy mistake it had happened. She'd broke her own rules and fell in line with Clint. Love didn't touch it, realizing for a second that it wasn't love, it was something that ran deeper.

That of course spurred the voices to start rumbling and Natalia's dusky tones slipped through with each, a small lapse of Russian that left her lips low and light. You're a fool.
It took her longer then a moment of watching her pupils change in size before she shook her head, rinsing her face down with cold water and scowling at herself. "No. I'm not". Then she was moving, light footed and angry at herself back into the bedroom, curling up in a chair so she could watch the bed and the door at the same time.

This required more then staring at herself and trying to work it out in her head, it would take longer to stop Natalia voicing her concerns as if Natasha really cared. Fuck, why was life so hard.

Clint was an incredibly light sleeper, but since Natasha hadn’t moved an inch all night (or all day, more accurately... or was it all day and all night?) and the room remained dead silent, he had managed to sleep straight through until he felt her wiggle against him. Keeping his eyes closed he feigned sleep still, somehow managing not to crack a smile at just how hard she was trying to slip away without waking him. Clearly she had never understood just how serious he was when he said he was a light sleeper.

While she was in the washroom he tried to drift off again but the lack of her body heat had left him cold and the blanket just didn’t cut it. Still, he didn’t move, just laid there with his eyes closed, listening. He thought he heard her voice once but couldn’t make out any word and a moment later she was back in the room. He was disappointed when she didn’t resume her place beside him, but considering how she had struggled not to wake him it was no surprise.

He let her sit there for a few minutes, keeping his breathing steady in a trick he had mastered to give the illusion of sleep. When he finally decided to reveal himself all that moved was his lips.

“Are you watching me sleep? ‘cause that’s kinda creepy.”

Natasha should have known better, should have known it didn't take him long to pull himself out of any depth of sleep but thoughts were lost on the static in her ears.

She vaguely heard his words, locking arms around her knees for a second before she stood, smoothing the shorts down her thighs. "You know I like to watch people. It's a bad habit" Her words started like a low rumble in her chest but grew in strength when she realized that it was all spilling out in English, not broken Russian and the static finally grew quieter. She couldn't answer for it being creepy, probably wouldn't have gone that far although it was, especially when she wasn't sure who was watching through her eyes.

She studied him carefully from her position until she grew tired and moved slowly to the foot of the bed, gaining the leverage to crawl back onto the mattress, working her way up until she was sitting where she presumed his legs were, head half tilted, smile playing on the corners of her lips. "Didn't want to wake you."

“You and me both,” Clint replied with a smile, finally opening his eyes. He liked to watch everything, really; people, nature, traffic, and nothing at all. He just liked to observe the world around him in all it’s beauty and ugliness. Propping himself up on his elbows he held her gaze for a long time, both of them studying each other, before she finally returned to the bed. A bed he would soon have to vacate if his bladder had any say in the matter.

“That’s pretty much impossible, but I appreciate the effort,” he said, unconsciously tilting his head to match hers. “You know, once you’re comfortable you sleep like the dead. I don’t think you moved the whole time.”

At the safe house she had woken him by shifting until she had been practically laying on him. This time she had started that way, already curled comfortably around him, and hadn’t moved an inch until just a few minutes ago. Just the thought of it spread warmth in his heart.

“How long were we out?” He lifted one hand to rub the back over his eyes.

That was the beauty of their job, the fact they got to concentrate on the little things, for him it was the world around them, for her it was human body language. Natasha would play innocent, watch the careless emotion flicker in eyes, watch the way people reacted to the simplest of things all in the aim of finding out how they worked, what made them tick.

A smile broke out on her lips, and she shrugged shoulders from her upright position, feeling the warmth radiate from him through the sheets. "I only sleep like that when your here, probably because I know I don't have to worry about you killing me." Or the nightmares. The voices. The unfiltered images of death and destruction.

He was her comfort, it was only natural that she'd feel relaxed in his company. He didn't make her on edge, didn't make her feel awkward (not that she knew how it felt to be awkward) and he certainly didn't try to harm her.

"Sixteen hours, give or take. It may be a new personal best for me" It probably was, she remembered her record sleeping time being around the twelve hour mark, those four extra hours had broken the lead. "Obviously needed it though" She nodded, rubbing her own eyes with her hands, working on unpinning her hair, growing tired of the clips digging into her scalp every time she shifted her head.

"Think I might drag myself off for another shower and then find some food, you game?" The shower was a good idea, considering how heavy her sheets were and the fact she'd been curled next to a human heater for the past sixteen hours, and of course food was necessary considering her stomach was protesting. Maybe a glass or two of alcohol to drown out the voices too.

Clint returned her smile. To anyone else it would have sounded like a strange reason, or they would have took her to be joking, but he knew better. To Clint it meant a lot. “Who would have thought that the cure to restless nights was just sleeping together? We should tell the doctor, maybe he can write us a prescription or recommend it to Fury as legit therapy.” His eyes twinkled a bit as he spoke.

Then she told him how long they had slept and his eyes popped open, hand dropping back to the bed.

Sixteen hours? You gotta be kidding me,” he said in disbelief, glancing around the room until he located the clock. It was in twenty-four hour time so he couldn’t argue that it had only been four hours and she was just pulling his leg. “Jesus, no wonder I gotta piss like a racehorse,” Clint muttered, forever charming. Definitely a record for him as well. He was lucky to get that many hours over the course of three days lately, and to do so unbrokenly was nearly a miracle. “I guess we did.”

It wasn’t just the lack of sleep during missions but everywhere lately. The nightmares were getting less frequent, less vivd, and as time passed with no relapse his fears had begun to diminish, but they still lingered.

“That depends,” Clint answered in regards to her plan, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he threw off the covers and extracted his legs. “You planning on blue balling me in the shower again?” Jumping to his feet he dashed for the bathroom in case she decided to physically retaliate; his bladder just wouldn’t handle that right now.

"Or we should just not say anything on the off chance that it would mean separate partners or one of us being out of a job." Ever the buzz kill. Logically she was right, still didn't stop her being a buzz kill. She'd call it part of her level-headed charm, others would call it her being an asshole.

"Filter. You need to remember to use that filter" Yeah, she really didn't need to know how much bodily fluid he'd been storing nor how bad he wanted to get rid of it, sure everyone had to go but voicing it was another matter entirely. "Sixteen hours, certainly enough to recharge. Guess we won't be sleeping for the next two days." Both a blessing and a curse.

Then he was moving too quickly and she was thrown off balance, toppling back onto her side with a groan of frustration and a burning desire to throw the alarm clock at him. Natasha didn't see it as blue balling at all, she saw it as a problem and a solution. She had been aching, standing up was a chore, the bed was a much better option.

She gave him a few minutes praise before standing, stretching her arms above her head and following into the bathroom, giving him a sharp jab as she passed. "Not my fault you can't contain yourself around me Barton. You might want to talk that through with the doctor." She shrugged innocently, reaching to turn the shower on, turning back to him to smile slowly. "You just forgot the plan, once again, not my fault you have a mind like a sieve." Eyes caught his as she reached to pull her vest over her head, slinging it in his direction. "Most men would have just sorted themselves out, appreciated the situation of being sore and bruised." Dropping her shorts she kicked them off her feet, perking her eyebrow at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my shower."

It wasn’t that Natasha didn’t have a sense of humour but Clint often suspected that she didn’t get his. That or she just really enjoyed being the ‘straight man’ of their comedy duo. “Fine, fine. It’s more fun all forbidden anyway.”

Sometimes he really disliked that no-nonsense quality of hers, though. This was supposed to be their week off to just spend together and she had to go reminding him of the reality of their situation. What would happen if Fury did find out? Clint doubted either of them would get fired, but could it really mean they would be separated? It was a possibility, and one he really didn’t want to think about so he pushed it from his mind.

“Well, we should get a good chunk of your marathon watched if we don’t have to sleep. Unless we find other ways to tire ourselves out,” he had replied with a playful leer. The combination of the two just seemed inappropriate, though he didn’t mention it.

Clint had closed the door behind him as he vanished into the washroom, probably a good thing because it blocked her from throwing any objects at him. By the time Natasha walked in he had washed his hands and had for the lack of a toothbrush he was swishing mouthwash around. When she jabbed him he spit it out, coughing a few times.

“Maybe I should, it sounds like some sort of addiction. Now that I’ve had a taste I can’t stop,” he said, glad to see she was smiling again. Turning around so he leaned back against the sink, he held her gaze until the shirt obscured it after which he took no shame in letting his eyes travel. It was quite clear as he caught her shirt that she was doing this for his benefit.

“A date, huh? Should I be jealous?” he said, dropping her shirt to the floor. “Now, about that plan... how about you remind me how it goes again?” Of course he remembered it, he just wanted to hear her say it again.

She got his humor, rarely found it amusing during situations that didn't deem it necessary for her to burst out laughing. In the middle of a fire fight wasn't the best time to start talking about the size of their enemies equipment. That being said the majority of the time Natasha did enjoy playing the 'straight laced' one of the pair, she wasn't one for rolling about laughing at every little joke or amusing observation.

For his benefit, probably. More than probably, in fact it would have been right on the money. She balanced a hand on her hip, tilting her head with a smile playing over her lips. "Depends, I'd ask if you were the jealous type but I already know the answer to that." Natasha watched the shirt drop, raised eyes back to his patiently, simply watching with a never-ending curiosity that never seemed to go away. Hey, she just liked working people out.

"Oh the plan? It might have to change a little bit, considering the sixteen hours of lost time. Five and a half days, five if we take into consideration the fact we need to eat." She stepped backwards, effectively stepping into the tub, eyes still carefully watching him before she motioned with her hand. "We'll have even less time if you waste it, by the way" Of course that smile remained on her face, even as she ducked head under the spray and lent hands against the tiles to let the hot water soak over her shoulder blades, rolling them to release the tension.

Hell, even if he didn't pick up on the hint her shower had certainly aided her in many situations before and would probably continue to do so for the near future so it was no loss either way. Although it kind of was considering she was already missing his warmth, hell even the way he carefully watched her. He was too far under her skin by now and she hated to admit it even to herself.

He wanted to protest that he wasn’t the jealous type but he had kidn of proved he was by getting all bent out of shape over Steve. Clint wasn’t the angry type nor the possessive type at least, he was more quietly jealous, or always had been before because he had to be. He hated the missions that required she flirt, or more, with the mark while he just had to wait around and watch, but he’d always had to bite it back because she wasn’t his to be jealous of. Was she now? Was she his? Would this ultimately effect their work? He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let his feelings get out of hand because then it would definitely lead to them being separated and that was the last thing he wanted. Above all else they were partners.

Clint didn’t like the sound of it when Natasha laid the schedule out like that. Five days didn’t sound like nearly enough time; a week had sounded much better until they had slept away a day of it. Still the goal wasn’t to regret time wasted but make the most of what time they had left.

The was she was watching him she could probably see some of the worry in his eyes as his mind ran rampant, but the mention of wasting time finally broke him out of his revery. He watched her duck into the shower, his eyes fixed on how her muscles moved, her skin stretching over bone. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said, shucking his own clothing and stepping in behind her a moment later. Strong hands moved directly to her shoulders, gently but firmly massaging the tight muscles.

They couldn't let whatever this was effect any part of their work. For one Natasha wouldn't have coped being partnered with anybody else. Considering she ultimately felt indebted to Clint, and the fact they worked so well together and actually got along. Nobody else got her humor. Nobody else understood her quirks, they didn't get the hint when she needed space or silence.

She lent back into his hands, shoulders only stiffening slightly and of course she mentally cursed herself for it. Old habits died hard. She dropped her head down, letting the water soak her hair, letting it fall around her like a soggy curtain while she concentrated on the feeling of those knots being worked out. Let it be said that Clint's hands happened to be good at almost anything. It was more how rough they felt from their use, and the way she could identify every ridge on his skin.

Safe to say it felt good and Natasha could never complain considering he was more than happy to put his hands to good use. "If you ever leave Shield consider opening a message parlor. I would literally live there, happily.."
considering all that was keeping her upright was her hands pressed against the tiles then yeah, she could safely say if he went into personal messages he'd make a killing.

Clint ignored how her body stiffened at the touch, just continued to massage her shoulders until she relaxed again. He felt the muscles soften under his hands and moved on to the back of her neck.

“Would you be paying me for my services?” he asked with a low chuckle. “‘cause if you take up all my time I won’t get much business.”

Sliding his hands higher yet he stopped at the base of her skull, one hand lingering there while the other grabbed for the shampoo.

“Turn around and tilt your head back,” Clint instructed, stepping back as far as he could to the other end of the tub so Natasha could get out of the line of the spray.

Natasha was certainly relaxing and damn she hated it. Everything about this was wrong. She wasn't made or built to be pushed over by rough fingers and placid eyes. She was supposed to be a tool of war, the traitor, the spy. Forcefully reminding herself by closing fists against the tiles that she wasn't that person anymore, that she'd changed teams. That she was Natasha.

"Probably. Didn't think of it that way. Guess I need to find something to spend my money on." She smiled, eyes had long slipped shut under her hair, sighing contently as his skillful hands.

She managed to open eyes (although that in itself was a chore) feeling pretty boneless already, and proceeded to follow his command, turning she eyed the shampoo bottle and half smiled. The last time they did this Natasha had been riddled with bullet wounds and had become frustrated three days into her shower ban, the end result had been her covered in a soggy towel with Clint trying to wash her hair, and hell it had been longer then.

Natasha raked fingers through her wet hair until it was all out of her face and she watched him with a languid curiosity, of course she couldn't help the fact eyes had ended up rolling down to where beads of water dripped down his arms and his chest, eyebrow perking in an approving manner. "Think you enjoy this more than me, although I'm certainly not about to complain."

With his free hand Clint helped her brush her hair back, more just for the excuse to touch her than anything. “As long as I don’t enjoy it too much, or we’ll never make it out for food,” he teased, brushing his hand back through her hair once more. Letting his hand rest on her cheek, he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her once, briefly and softly. Lingering only a moment, he pulled back with a smile.

“You said no wasting time. I’m just being efficient.” Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into his hand, he set the bottle aside and rubbed his hands together before running them back through her hair again. With even pressure and slow movements he gently massaged her scalp, the lather building up around his fingers.

She scoffed at that, Clint missing a meal? No chance in hell. "I don't know, you could do with loosing a few pounds" Throwing him a teasing smirk before it disappeared at the hand on her cheek drawing her in. She almost frowned at how brief it was, but managed to turn it around to grace him with a smile back.

"Oh you are certainly efficient Clint.." Natasha trailed off as soon as his hands met her hair and she instantly reached a hand out, curling fingers around his hip for balance more than anything. ".. And too good with your hands" The murmur was low and quiet, too busy with her eyes closed fighting off the urge to collapse on unsteady legs. He'd never let her live it down if her legs gave out on her again, she could only imagine the teasing now that would surely end in her kicking his ass.

"How'd you get so good at washing hair? Surely they didn't teach you this at the carnival?"

“Pfft, no fat to lose here,” he scoffed. “It’s all pure muscle, sweetheart.”

Clint definitely was enjoying this, the way she gripped onto him, how she seemed to almost melt under his hands; it was definitely satisfying. “You don’t know the half of it... yet,” he replied in a low, suggestive voice. It was tempting to elaborate with a little demonstration, but if she thought he couldn’t control himself around her then he was determined to prove her wrong. As much as he just pressed her against the tile wall and have his way with her right then and there he showed restraint.

“I didn’t always have such stylish hair,” Clint said, continuing his ministrations, making sure to comb down through the length of her hair to lather the ends as well. “Then there was Libby the Lobster Lady. She didn’t have fingers so much as claws, so sometimes she needed help with stuff like this.” He kept his expression and voice neutral so as not to give away whether he was joking or not.

Eyes would have rolled but considering she'd had to close them it was a lost motion. Instead she simply hummed out a content noise, increasing the pressure on his hip with slim fingers digging into the skin. "You contain more cheese than a cheese board Clint." Words were in good humor, fighting to stay upright, smile curling her lips.

Usually Natasha had a sixth sense around him, she could usually work him out, eventually. But this time with his being such a distraction she had no choice but to let a small laugh fall from her lips and nod her head, tilting only slightly to let him get better access.
"Libby huh? She sounds like your perfect kind of girl.. should I watch my back in case she tries to sink claws into me?" Eyes opened, lazily watching him, her free hand moving to curl fingers around his other hip.

Feet edged closer until she could close the gap, leaning up into his hands and to his lips, stealing a quick kiss. "Or better yet should I be worried she sank claws into you?"

The closer she pressed herself against him, the harder she dug her fingers into his hips, the more Clint had to work to keep from just giving in. There was the slightest crease between his eyebrows as he concentrated on her hair, though he couldn’t help but lick his lips after the brief kiss.

“That depends. Are you the jealous type, Romanoff?” he threw back the question she had refrained from asking earlier. “Though it’s kinda funny you ask when I still got the marks from your claws on my back.”

Tilting his head down as if to kiss her again, at the last second he dropped his lips lower to her jaw and then to her neck. Effectively tilting her head back, he pushed himself as close to her as possible, forcing her back a few steps until he felt the water running over the hands still tangled in her hair. Raising his head, he resumed a neutral expression and started rinsing her hair.

Natasha half smiled at his question, pondering ways to answer. Natasha got jealous, it was just something else she could add to the list of negative things about herself. It was never normally an issue, this jealousy game. The only time she ever felt jealous was when she was seducing some piece of shit while the guys got to sit around and watch her back, maybe it was about time she put her foot down. Then again it wasn't as if that was the only thing she could do, probably why she'd let it slide for so long, but with their new handler it seemed like the guy had a one track mind.

"Yeah, I'd say I am the jealous type Barton" Her eyes opened slowly, carefully watching him for a reaction, sometimes she wondered why she wasn't just completely open and honest with him. Maybe because he'd decide he didn't like what she was, or maybe she'd finally say something to scare him off. "Spiders don't have claws, we use our teeth mostly" Yes, she was referring to the bite mark on his arm, the nail marks were just a secondary effect.

A groan of contentment left her lips at his devilish way of getting her to tilt her head, moving with him, thumbs rubbing in small circles against his hips, eyes closed for the splash back of soapy water. The last thing she needed was to be blinded by vanilla shampoo.