bakerstreet | The Morning After Meme

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.

Going completely still a moment, Natasha threw a strange look back over her shoulder at Clint when he seemed to read her mind and voice her very thoughts. It was a bit scary how easily he seemed to do that nowadays. She had gotten used to it out in the field, the silent communication that made them work together so fluidly, but it was different in their downtime, and to hear him actually voice her thoughts.

Shaking it off she straightened back up, the water now at a temperature she was happy with. “Maybe we’ll just have to be gentle,” she replied, because honestly? She didn’t plan on leaving this room without jumping him once more.

Pulling the button to switch the faucet to the shower she turned to face him again. “Any time now, Barton.”

"Read your mind again, didn't I?" He asked, smile going crooked, he knew that look, though it wasn't one that he got very often, just often enough that he'd started to recognize what it meant. Though, generally, he was only getting it during briefings, occasionally during debriefings, and sometimes in the field, only rarely in off-hours.

"Just waiting for you to get comfortable so I know where to put myself." He said, but did join her easily enough, setting the shampoo bottle on the soap dish ledge for the time being.

Not only could he read her mind sometimes but he could tell when he did so. It was almost irritating. “My mind is not the most welcoming place, you might want to watch yourself,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

Ducking her head under the stream of water she ran her hands through her hair until it was thoroughly drenched before stepping away and finally standing still to indicate she was ready. “How about you put yourself to work? You know I don’t have the endless patience that you do.”

"Watch myself? That's what I've got you for, isn't it?" It was mostly a tease, because he knew it was usually the other way around, that he was usually the one looking out for her, or at least watching her back.

His smile went crooked at the almost-request and not-quite demand, replying with an easy, amused: "Yes ma'am." Before he set to work, nudging her head into the right position to keep soap out of her eyes even as he scrubbed at her scalp.

“Well someone has to protect you from your horrible decision making skills,” Natasha replied. She knew it too, he always had her back, no matter what. It was partially because of this that she could leave herself so vulnerable and unguarded around him, though she was still a far cry from helpless in any situation.

That crooked smile of his always had an effect on her and it was tempting to wipe it off his face but instead she closed her eyes and let him move her where he wanted her. As soon as his fingers started moving over her scalp she smiled and sighed contently.

He snorted at that statement, shaking his head, the amusement audible in his tone, though his fingers didn't slacken off in their work, scrubbing tight circles from her hairline all the way back to the nape of her neck, "You'd need a whole cadre for that. Just ask Coulson."

A pause, brow furrowing as he thought that over, "And it's not always bad decisions, sometimes it's just shitty luck and crazy shit happening that no one could have predicted."

Natasha chuckled in reply, half as his words and half at the amused snort. Making a little noise of her own, though more out of pleasure than mirth, she reached one arm out to the side, her fingers splaying over the cool tiles of the shower wall. God, he was good at this; if he ever decided to quit the life of high stakes they were living he could certainly make it as a masseuse.

“I will give you that,” she conceded. Clint had more luck than any other person she knew, but it seemed to run fifty-fifty good and bad. “And I suppose not all of your decisions are bad,” she added, poking the top of his foot gently with one toe. The fact that she was here at all she had to count as a very good decision on his part, one she would always be in debt to him for.

If she said as much, he'd probably deny on the grounds of not having that kind of patience, though they both knew he did, it was all part and parcel with being a sniper, really. Didn't make it long in that line of work without some level of patience, and a fairly high level at that.

He was amused, and more than just a little, at the fact that she had to brace herself, "Nah, just most of them, eighty-five, ninety percent." He shrugged, "Mostly why I let other people make them." This was definitely an exaggeration, though he he knew she'd know it.

“Mmm, not a bad tactic,” Natasha replied, leaning a little more into his touch. She was practically purring, it was ridiculous, but only around him was she comfortable enough to not care. She didn’t have to uphold an image around him, didn’t have to remain professional; she could just relax and be herself. “You’re a good little soldier, Agent Barton,” she teased.

Yes, it was an exaggeration, but it was fun to play along. He didn’t always make the best decisions in his personal life, though, that much was true, but in the field she knew his quick thinking had probably saved both their asses more than once.

"Yes ma'am." He replied, only barely managing to keep the laughter out of his tone, just glad she had her back to him at the moment and couldn't see the half-manic grin he had on, because that was definitely a lie. He had been, once upon a time, but not for years now, since shortly after joining SHIELD, actually.

He gave her another gentle nudge then to tilt her head into the water so he could rinse the soapsuds out of it.

Natasha followed Clint’s silent instructions and ducked her head under the streaming water. It cascaded over her, hot and soothing, and she let out a sigh. The wound in her shoulder stung as the suds flowed over it but she had certainly hurt worse and such an annoyance barely registered. They both had some injuries that would have to be cleaned and redressed before they checked out. For now, though, leaving this room, leaving the shower for that matter, was the furthest thing from her mind.

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