“Hey, I’m not short,” Clint protested halfheartedly. He certainly wasn’t the tallest of men, but if poking fun at him got her to smile like than they he could certainly take it.

Feeling her shiver in his arms, he misunderstood, thinking she was cold, and rubbed her arm gently. He didn’t think anything when she pressed closer to him again until he opened his eyes to find her looking at him. Even in the darkness he felt he could see the vivid green in her eyes and it was drawing him in. She was hovering over him, so close he could almost taste her, his every breath filled with her, the warmth of her body against his spreading to every inch of him, filling him with comfort and need, with trust and desire.

Then she kissed him and he felt his senses ignite. She tasted of coppery blood and spices, intrigue and... home. Before he could even accept that it was happening, before he could react, she was already pulling away to settled against him again. Good night? A good night kiss? No, they didn’t do that, that wasn’t their thing. They talked and they cuddled and they danced around it always but it didn’t end that was, so why...

“Why did...”

He trailed off. Don’t ask. Don’t complicate things. Don’t ruin it all. Don’t.