bakerstreet | The Morning After Meme

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.

Clint wasn't thinking that far ahead either, too fascinated right then by the spill of hair over her shoulder and down her back to think of much else.

He'd come around soon enough, he always did, it wasn't like him to stay transfixed for long. Mostly this was because he always just wanted to pet her hair and usually let himself, when he knew she wouldn't swat him for it.

Right then, for instance, he sluiced the excess water and the last of the lather from her hair, not quite ringing it out, since the water was still running, but something close.

Natasha was in a state of such complete and utter relaxation that she didn’t want to move even when it seemed like Clint might be done with her. He always seemed to have a particular fondness for her long, red hair, and more than once she had entertained the thought of cutting it all off just to see what his reaction would be. In times like this she was glad she had never followed through.

Lifting the hand that was not helping to support her weight, she brushed excess water from her eyes. “Is that all you got?” she said, knowing that if their positions were reversed he would throw out a very similar teasing comment.

He smiled crookedly at her, both brows arching, his expression pure innocence when he asked: "Why? You need a break already?" He even managed to keep the laughter out of his tone, if only barely. He swept her hair together then, wringing it out once more, "But no, not even close, we just started, didn't we?"

“Not even close,” Natasha replied. “Just making sure you’re not getting too tired. You are older than me, after all, and all that standing...” There was a teasing note in her voice, but there may have been an ulterior motive to her words. He was the one with the leg injury, and while she wasn’t about to flat out ask if he was still okay or if he needed to sit down for a while, this was her way of checking in.

Tilting her head back slightly as he run out her hair, she took a deep, relaxing breath. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. YOu know I don’t have the endless patience that you do.”

"I've walked around with worse." He said with a shrug, already snagging the bottle of conditioner in turn. Of course, walking around with worse had been something of a necessity at the time, they hadn't had the luxury of being able to sit down and take a rest if they needed.

He was fine, for the time being, though he was keeping most of his weight on the good leg even so. Conditioner got worked into her hair more carefully than shampoo did, without as much fingernails against her scalp, but more gentle finger-combing of her hair, apparently wholly focused on the task with the kind of concentration he usually only had for a potential target.

Clint saw past her joke to her true concern, and although she knew it was true, that he had certainly dealt with a lot worse, it was still reassuring to hear him confirm it.

Relaxing back into his hands again, Natasha purposefully let out a low moan, hoping to at least get him a little worked up. He was practically turning her to putty in his hands, and while she knew he was enjoying every minute of it, enjoying having such power over him, it was only fair she return the favour a little.

Or maybe she just wanted to take a bit of that control back.

Reaching back to grab his good leg she squeezed it firmly, just below his hip.

He gave a contented little grumble at the squeeze, though his balance didn't waver. It probably would have, at least a little, if he hadn't been in the middle of something else.

He smiled, though, "Trying to knock me over?" He knew of course that if she was trying she would have succeeded and that more likely it was just a check-in of sorts, making sure he really was alright.

Of course, it might have been a little bit of an attempt to catch him up. Which was why he finished with her hair, twisting it out of the way again to press a quick kiss to the slope of her shoulder.

“Now why would I want to do that?” Natasha asked, all innocence. “Especially with you being so accommodating and attentive.”

As much as she enjoyed teasing him and having the upper hand, she was still a little disappointed when he finished with her hair. Not disappointed in anything he had done, mind you, just that it was over. It really was one of her favourite things.

Turning her head to look back over at him she raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I was simply trying to get a rise out of you,” she replied with a mischievous grin as she slid her hand around to the inside of his thigh and slowly upward.

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