bakerstreet | The Morning After Meme

There were always going to be more minor things that they'd missed, that was the nature of minor injuries. He nodded at the statement however, "Easy enough. I didn't try to put any stitches in you while I was impaired, did I?"

One round of drunken sewing each other up had been more than enough, and something they'd both vowed never to repeat.

Tilting her head to the side, Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. “Should I feel insulted that you don’t remember?” she teased him. She always had been better at holding her liquor than Clint, and she certainly never drank enough to lose her memories; they had been tampered with enough by other people and she would not risk impairing them herself. “You put the stitches in before you were too far gone, don’t worry,” she reassured him. “How is the leg?”

"Don't give me that look." He replied, arching both brows at her in turn, "We might have decided to make it into a drinking game. Again. Because, you know, it wasn't a total disaster the first time."

He shrugged at the question, fingers dipping to knead lightly against the bandage, "Aches, but nothing new there. Nothing too bad."

“What look?” Natasha replied, her expression suddenly one of pure innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Honestly, something not being a total disaster was just enough for them to decide to try it again some day. They had been through enough complete disasters so why limit themselves?

“Good,” she said. Pushing herself up to sit she winced only slightly at the pain in her ribs. “I know a long, hot bath later is going to feel wonderful.”

He grinned at the innocent look, and the statement that went with it, shaking his head and stretching again as well, finding that he was actually fairly comfortable where he was. Plush carpets were good for that kind of thing.

"I'll wash your hair, if you want." Oddly enough: it was something he liked doing, if only because fingers against her scalp tended to turn her into a happy housecat.

Rolling her neck and her shoulders, Natasha brushed her hair back from her face but only managed to catch her fingers in the many knots that had accumulated. She would probably need some serious conditioning to get them out painlessly.

Closing her eyes she rubbed the back of her neck, a smile curling her lips at Clint’s offer.

“Mmm, that sounds good,” she murmured her acceptance. It sounded more than good, actually. She loved having her head massaged and Clint was excellent at it. He always put the right amount of pressure in all the right places until she was pretty much just putty in his hands.

"Thought you might like that idea." He replied, levering himself up into a sitting position finally, though he leaned forward to rest folded arms on the edge of the bed, "How long until we're supposed to check in?"

Because if they had a while, he intended on making the most of it. Really, he'd make the most of it even if they didn't have a while.

She did like that idea, very much. Opening her eyes again at his question, she pursed her lips and looked around the room. At one point there had probably been an alarm clock on the bedside table but the table had been swiped clear, the lamp dangling precariously over the front of it by the cord that was still plugged into the wall. Looking at the window instead she tried to judge by the light filtering in.

“I would say at least a couple of hours,” she ventured before reaching out across the bed and peering over the other side in search of the missing clock.

It was probably there somewhere, under one of the pillows that had also been kicked to the floor. Who needed that many pillows anyway? Seriously.

Clint, for his part, just smiled as he watched her move, given as how he had a good vantage point for it where he was right then, "Plenty of time."

Natasha only managed to remove the pillow that had gotten stuffed down between the bed and the table to check under it before giving the clock up as a lost cause. Any further searching would require further stretching, or actually getting out of the bed, which she wasn’t prepared to do yet unless it was to hit the shower.

Hugging the pillow to her chest as she abandoned her search, she threw a look back over her shoulder at Clint. “Plenty of time for what, Barton?”

He shrugged, the movement exaggerated half on purpose and half just due to his current position leaning against the edge of the bed, "For whatever we want to use it for, I guess. Could start a game of Monopoly or something, don't look at me. I suck at this."

Mostly he was still just smiling crookedly, because he couldn't help it, it wasn't often that they got to actually relax after a job.

It was a rarity to see him this relaxed and she had to admit that it looked good on him, though the tousled hair and crooked smile helped. She had always thought him an attractive man, even when they had been strictly partners, but never more so than mornings like this.

“I don’t have the patience for Monopoly,” Natasha replied, tossing the pillow at his head. “I would suggest strip poker, but...” she trailed off with a smirk of her own; they didn’t really have anything else to take off. “Though I am surprised you would admit to having no ideas of what we could do to fill the time. I thought you were more creative than that.”

"Oh I can think of plenty of things." He said, "Just not things that wouldn't take all day." Another shrug followed before hoisting himself back up onto the bed, "Besides, I already promised to wash your hair. That's going to take most of the head-start we've got if I'm going to do it right."

“I will keep that in mind the next time we get an entire day off,” Natasha replied, not that that seemed to happen very often.

Sitting up again as he pulled himself up onto the bed beside her, she let her eyes travel over his body, lingering on the bandage around his thigh. Luckily the bullet hadn’t caught the femoral artery and he had been able to walk away fairly easily.

“That long? You certainly have my attention,” she said, running her fingers lightly over the scratches on his chest that were a perfect fit for her nails. “We better not waste any more time then.” Leaning down she just grazed her lips along his jaw.

He shifted forward into her touch just a little, not entirely catlike, but comfortably so, just nodding at the almost-incredulous statement, "If I'm going to do it right, yeah."

The fleeting kiss to his jaw just made him smile, fingers sliding up her arm, the touch only just firm enough not to tickle, "Definitely. Might already have wasted too much time."

“Oh, well...” Natasha spoke against his skin. Trailing lazy kisses down his neck, her hand also slid down over his stomach. “In that case...” she dragged her teeth over his collar bone, her fingers trailing down what she had seen referred to as his ‘treasure trail’, a term that never ceased to amuse her. “We should probably start with that, then.”

In the blink of an eye she had pulled away and was already sliding toward the edge of the bed until her feet touched the floor. “Then we can see how much time we have left for... other things.” Her wicked grin was more than apparent in her voice.

He grumbled contentedly at the touch, shifting closer to her once more, and really he should have known that if he was going to react like a cat she was going to treat him like one.

He sighed heavily when she slipped away, even going so far as to pout after her, but it didn't last long, simply due to the fact that he was too amused to let it. He rolled off the side of the bed after her, stretching carefully once more when he was upright. He felt tired, and bruised, but nothing terribly detrimental.

With her back to him Natasha missed the pout but she did hear the heavy sigh and gave a satisfied smirk.

Her movements were slow and deliberate and she was barely on her feet before Clint was beside her, amused and stretching. “Alright, Barton,” she said, heading for the adjoined bathroom. “How do you want me?” The words were completely innocent, of course...

Of course they were, the same as his reply was: "Oh, however you're comfortable, you know me, I can do this wherever." As far as washing her hair went, it was actually pretty close to true. Of course, it was also true for less-than-innocent endeavors as well.

This was one of the things that he liked best about missions that were just the two of them, their downtime was just as easy, and often just as intense, as when it was go time.

Oh, it was true alright, and they had definitely been putting it to the test for some time now. Against the wall, in airplane bathrooms, and there had been that one time they had been stuck waiting in a ventilation duct that had barely been large enough to crawl through. “So I’ve come to realise,” Natasha replied, barely holding back a laugh.

Deciding it was probably easiest to just stand in the shower she stepped in and crooked her finger at him to join her.

He grinned outright at that, following where he was bid, commenting offhandedly: "Oh I see, going for vanilla." He shrugged, "I guess that's probably the best idea, I mean, we are working on a time limit here."

Not that this sort of thing had stopped them before, nor was it likely to in future.

She narrowed her eyes a bit at him for his comment. “If you have another flavour you would rather try I am completely open,” she said, poking him lightly in the chest. She cared nothing about their time limit, had not even searched out an alternative clock to find out what they were working with. When the call came in it would only take them five minutes to get ready, no matter what state they were in, though she was always perturbed when they got interrupted. Not that they didn’t make time to finish if they were.

He laughed softly, shaking his head, "No, vanilla's good now and again." Especially given how infrequently they managed it in the hubbub and craziness that usually went on prior to their actually falling into bed together.

"Anyway, probably a good idea to relax a little y'know? Who knows what kind of problems we'll run into if we overwork ourselves." To be fair, he wasn't terribly concerned about their time limit either, nor if they even had one at that point.

She had to admit, though only silently to herself, that she did like the idea of relaxing a bit. Last night had been fun, pretty amazing really, but she wasn’t sure her body could handle another marathon like that. The bedroom certainly didn’t look like it could.

“In that case...” Leaning forward she kissed him softly, though she couldn’t help herself from sucking his bottom lip in and dragging her teeth along it as she pulled back. “Let’s see those magic hands at work.”

Turning her back on him she bent over to mix the water. Okay, so maybe she was still teasing a little...

"Besides, I don't know if either of us would survive another round like last night." He said, stretching his fingers, knuckles popping as they often did, "And even if we did, I know the room wouldn't." He was grinning again, because while he was mostly joking, it was only funny because there was more than just a grain of truth there.

He snagged the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo from the basket on the counter, just rolling it between his hands and waiting for her to settle.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject