“I always was good at making drinks, so we’re further ahead than we could be,” she replied, leaning into his side.  Drinks that she couldn’t drink anymore, for a while at least.  That didn’t mean she couldn’t mix them for Clint, though she had a good idea that if she didn’t drink them then neither would he.  Just last night he had forgone wine to share juice with her instead.

For a moment she closed her eyes, just enjoying the sun on her skin and Clint’s comfortable presence at her side.  Eventually she had to laugh at his statement, though.

“You just like to see me dirty and disheveled,” she said, looking at him coyly from beneath her lashes.