study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

“Just don’t exhaust me too much or you might throw a wrinkle into our later plans,” she replied with a grin. She actually felt really good, much better than she had probably since they’d arrived. At the moment she felt like she could go all night, though she would probably pay for it tomorrow. Good thing she wasn’t one for planning that far ahead.

Dropping her shoes onto the sand, Natasha let Clint lead her in the dance, and they fell into rhythm easily. The steps were easy at first, and carried out rather professionally, but eventually they loosened up and started improvising. A light laugh escaped her lips when Clint picked her up, and she was not at all surprised when he set her down a lot closer than before, his arms snaking around her and holding her flush against him. With one hand curled around the back of his neck and her other covering his arm on her stomach, she moved her hips with his, closing her eyes and letting the music and their movements sweep her away.

Why did they not dance more often? Maybe this was something else, like the cooking, that they should find time to do. Or maybe it was better because it happened so seldom. Either way, she was definitely enjoying herself. “Those are some smooth moves, Barton. I may have to hire you for some private lessons,” she said, her smile evident in her voice.

"I'm at your service full-time, M'lady", Clint murmured against her skin, returning the smile he knew she'd feel.

As much as he would have loved to keep her close like that, with her sweet smell in his nose and her warmth all over his body, feeling her every step... Natasha pressing her perfect ass against him, that was a little too dangerous for his hormones.

Reaching for her hand again, he turned her around and went back to that small distance, mostly to let his dick know that now was definitely not the time. For a few seconds, holding both her hands between them, he just enjoyed watching Natasha use these deadly legs of hers, the extraordinary grace she put into her every move. Then he pulled her close for something that wasn't a kiss, not quite yet, more a grin against her lips, without really touching them.

"Don't think you need much teaching, though... You're breathtaking."

After making that clear, he softly pushed her out of his dancing space to do a few steps separately, in a parallel formation that wasn't completely clean if someone insisted on looking, but he didn't really care. With half an ear he noted that many people were not only watching them but there were a few admiring whistles. Here and there one of the girls threw him a very interested glance while some guys couldn't take their eyes off Natasha. Flattering but unwelcome.

He was quick to lead Natasha close again, that playful grin on his lips growing even wider when he wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, more secure than before.

"Don't castrate me, beautiful... Just trying something."

With the next beat, he pushed against her hand without taking his other arm off her, challenging her to lean back, and then let her body down nearly to the floor. Of course only to pull her back up immediately, a lot closer again this time, and all without even getting sand in her hair.

Natasha paid no heed to the attention they were getting; in fact she barely even noticed it. She only had eyes for Clint.

For so many months he had been little more than a shell of his former self and she had started to fear that Loki had taken a part of him that they would never get back. He hid himself away, wallowed in guilt and shut her out for so long, but this... she could barely contain the swell of emotion she was feeling seeing him like this.

He looked completely and utterly free.

She knew it wouldn’t last, that there was more darkness lurking within him, but he had started opening up to her, and had more good moments than before, but that playful grin and devil may care attitude was Clint, her Clint, through and through.

She let him lead, let him pull her close and push her away, never once faltering. His words caused her to raise an eyebrow, wondering just what he had in mind, but he didn’t keep her waiting. Trusting to his strong hold to keep her from falling she leaned back and couldn’t help but let out a laugh when he pulled her upright almost instantly again to the approval of the crowd. Snapping her head up, her hair flying wildly around her face, her eyes twinkled with her smile. “You’re just lucky you didn’t drop me. I would hate to ruin this dress.”

"As if I'd ever drop you."

Clint murmured it close to her lips again while he lead them in a few last, much calmer steps to end their little performance. This time he didn't hesitate to kiss her, slow and sweet and longing, and when they parted he was breathing faster for more reasons than that little workout.

"We definitely need to do this more often."

He gave her another short kiss on her cheek when the last tones of the current song faded and wrapped his arm around her waist to lead her back to the sidewalk. His cheeks were a little red, more from the attention they got than the dance, but that stupid grin was still on his face.

"Thanks for the pleasure, Mylady."

She knew he never would. The only time he’d ever let her fall was if he was there to catch her.

Despite the audience Natasha gave herself willingly to that kiss; what more perfect way to end the dance? Looking up to meet his eyes when they parted, she could see everything she was feeling mirrored back at her, could feel his heart hammering in his chest as quickly as her own.

“I think I can agree to that,” she replied before the mood reluctantly passed. Collecting her shoes she didn’t bother to put them back on, even when they reached the sidewalk. She could do so when they reached the restaurant, and by then all the sand should be gone from the soles of her feet.

“The pleasure was not entirely yours, believe me,” she said.

Clint pressed her a little closer to him instead of an answer and caressed her arm and shoulder with softly circling fingertips while they walked, leaving the cheerful scene behind. Definitely had been fun and it demanded for a repeat performance, but by now he felt a little hungry too. It had been too long since the last time a really good swordfish steak had been on his plate.

When they reached the stairs up to the small building which was partly hovering straight over the water, he leaned down to put his sneakers back on. With that boyish grin spreading on his lips again, he turned to Natasha, still kneeling, and held his hand out to her.

"Need help with these shoes, Mylady?"

Of course she was perfectly capable of doing this herself, but sometimes you just really wanted to pamper your girl a bit.

Between the swimming earlier and the dancing now Natasha had definitely worked up an appetite, so by the time they reached the restaurant she was more than ready to eat. While Clint quickly slipped his feet back into his sneakers, Natasha leaned against the wall and took her time brushing the sand off of her feet and from between her toes.

When Clint reached for her hand while on bended knee in front of her she felt a momentary feeling of panic. He had joked about marriage a few times while they were here, and she had teased back about his method of proposing. Had he been more serious than she had thought? Was this...”

Before she could finish that thought he spoke and she was surprised to find that among her relief there was a hint of disappointment. It was silly, they weren’t the marrying kind, and even if they were she couldn’t imagine such a traditional proposal from Clint.

Shaking it off, she handed him the shoes and leaned back against the wall again to steady herself while he put them on. “My very own Prince Charming,” she said, brushing her fingers lightly through his hair. Who would have ever thought that she could have anything even resembling a fairytale?

"Not pretty enough for a Disney prince, I'm afraid."

Clint quickly lowered his head before the lights shining down from the restaurant could reveal his blush. Natasha's slightly confused and uneasy expression just a second ago, had made him worry that she was getting sick of his clowning around after all, so it was a relief to have her joking back instead.

Since he had a feeling, that wasn't just his stomach growling, he tried not to keep them up with more fooling around but fitted the shoes back on Natasha's feet quickly enough, closing the thin straps with sure fingers. Only before he got up, he gave her lower leg a soft, admiring caress through that slit in her dress.

"Come on. I think we deserve our feast tonight."

“Good,” she replied, smiling down at him after pushing away her earlier thoughts. “I never was a fan of ‘pretty’ men.”

She preferred a man that wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, one with hands roughened from real work and who would take a t-shirt and jeans over Armani any day.

Thankfully Clint didn’t linger long in his task, probably heeding her earlier warning, and though he let his hand wander it wasn’t long before they were on their way up the stairs to the restaurant. Already she could smell a dozen delicious scents wafting down toward them.

The restaurant was only half-full, not really crowded on a weekday like this, which was just perfect. Clint didn't even need to bribe the waiter nearing them, to snatch one of the popular tables by the windows. Right where you could look outside and down and see nothing but water.

"Perfect."

He fell down on his chair with a happy little sigh while the waiter held out Natasha's chair for her - and at least tried to keep his eyes off her ass - and got lost in the view for a few seconds. The dancing lights of boats in the distance, the last of sunlight fading in a beautiful orange tone on the horizon. Just what he needed after a troublesome day.

He saw it more in the reflection than heard it that the waiter had asked something and absent-minded murdered something about the menu and a glass of water. If Natasha didn't mind, maybe he'd have a glass of wine later, just for the sake of enjoying it, but right now there were other things to enjoy.

"So.... You like it, I hope?"

Smiling at the waiter who held her chair for her, Natasha settled into her seat. Asking for just a glass of water as well, she turned her eyes to the windows, taking a moment to enjoy the view. It was beautiful, hovering over the water as they were with the last rays of sunshine disappearing over the horizon. The water was tinted orange and pink and little lights slowly appeared in the distance indicating all the boats out upon the water.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, finally tearing her eyes away to meet Clint’s gaze. “Definitely a good choice.”

Opening her menu she began to peruse the various plates on offer. “Any recommendations?”

"I've heard they make a pretty mean salmon risotto."

Clint finally had opened his own menu after staring outside for half an eternity. He held it up a little higher to hide the hint of blush on his cheeks. He wasn't sure, he wanted to tell Natasha about certain company he had had back then on that evening, who exactly had been such a fan of rice and fish.

One of the few really bad down phases in his months in the area, just coming ashore from one and a half month without a break on his boat... Truth be told, he couldn't remember really much from that night except for not waking up alone but to some pretty unexpected bed companion. Which was in this case not due to some memory block but simply his good old friend Jack Daniels.

"You know me, me, I'm more of a cavemen. Give me a big chunk of meat and I'm happy. I'll probably just go with my swordfish steak again."

Natasha considered the suggestion as she perused the menu, giving Clint an odd look over the top of it as he brought his own menu up between them to fully obscure him from view.

In the end she settled on a shrimp dish, giving the waiter her order when he made his way back to the table. Handing over her menu, she turned her eyes back to the beautiful view, the water practically black in the dark. “How long did that mission last?” she asked. She had a vague idea, but it had been before she had noticed the change in her feelings, before she had started to count the days they were apart. Or maybe it had been more denial, with her purposefully not watching the calendar, convincing herself that she didn’t miss him as much as she had.

The road they had taken to get to where they were now had been long and winding, but so worth it in the end.

"Not sure."

Clint frowned a little. Now he wasn't the best with dates, alright, but that usually went more for birthdays and not for his work. Then again, the way his brain refused to bring up anything bad that might have happened around these lands, he wasn't surprised.

"After they extracted me to get that blade out of my back, I've been out a week or two. Pretty sure I missed the Christmas party on the Helicarrier because of that crap, so yeah, make that December. And when I left there was still snow in the Central Park. Around February I guess. I packed like going to the Arctic. You would have laughed your ass off."

He nodded outside, grinning wryly.

"Gets pretty chilly out there in the winter."

So roughly eight or nine months. While much of it was spent on the water, that was certainly enough time to really get comfortable in this place.

Natasha had been on another mission when he had been shipped out and had only found out about his post upon her return two weeks later. She remembered feeling upset but hadn’t let herself think about why. She also remembered when he had come back injured. She hadn’t let herself linger at his bedside, though she had spent time there at night when he was sleeping and nobody else was around to see her. The party, though, she had taken advantage of everyone else’s absence to spend the time with him though he hadn’t been awake.

“You never did like the cold,” she said with a fond smile. Unlike her, who was never bothered by it. All part of her conditioning.

"Nah. Too many bad associations with the winter in New York."

Clint smiled back with a little shrug and sipped on his glass thoughtfully. Memories of living on the street were one thing, yeah. But his sensitivity had gotten so much worse after certain encounters with crazy-ass aliens and magic. Winter, that was only freezing to the very bone to him, freezing in his very soul, his brains paralyzed in ice, piercing, terrifying blue instead of clean white. The dull nothingness of a starry night and the deadly view of space.

He knew his arms were covered in goose-bumps and didn't even try to hide it or rub it away. Natasha knew anyway. Some things you just had to live with.

"It will go away, eventually. We'll just have to take a trip to Russia one day, remember? Just do fun stuff like... I don't know. Ice skating. Make better memories."

He didn’t hide it anymore, and Natasha was entirely grateful for that, both because he was opening up to her and because he had to be improving if he was no longer trying to hide all those bad feelings.

When he spoke of Russia she smiled. It was a place that held many bad memories for her, but going back there with him, making new memories to combat the old, was something they had spoken about before. Natasha didn’t hide from her past, but she wasn’t exactly open about it either. Clint wanted to share it, though; he wanted to know all about her, wanted to share in her grief and regret, and that meant everything.

“We’ll pack you a lot of layers, and buy you one of those big fur hats,” she said with a grin, picturing Clint in all these warm clothes. “And at night I will just have to find other ways to warm you up...” With the leg she had crossed over the other, she gently ran the tip of her shoe along the inside of his knee.

"I'll probably be the only one in the whole country still wearing one."

And just like that, in a second she could make him laugh again, followed by a warm, very welcome shudder when she was touching him under the table.

"Well, once I'm out of all these clothes then... I'm sure you'll think of something. You always have the most creative ideas..."

One of his eyebrows went up in challenge and he quickly hid behind his glass again. Better to not provoke her after he had already teased her so much before leaving.

“Maybe I will wear one too, then we can match,” she said, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly. It all had the desired effect and soon Clint was laughing, his good mood restored. It wasn’t that she didn’t think they needed to talk further about his mission here, but she knew how much he was struggling with it and that he didn’t remember so much of it and she didn’t want to push him. More than that, this wasn’t the place for such a discussion. She would call HQ tomorrow and convince them to send the mission file to them. After that they could hole up and talk about it until he had come to terms with it all. In the meantime she planned to keep him distracted.

“I’m having several right now,” she replied, removing her foot from that teasing place. Despite the straps on the shoes she managed to inconspicuously slip one off under the table and move her foot, now bare, back to Clint’s leg. He was asking for it.

The relief when Natasha pulled back didn't last long. In fact Clint needed all his self-control to not sputter in his glass when her foot came back to tease him. He coughed it away discreetly and raised his eyebrow at Natasha again. There was only so much you could hide under a long table cloth, but well if she insisted on playing with fire... No one was to say, Clint Barton didn't take a challenge.

"Well, it's your night after all. Including massages and all. We can do whatever you want..."

It didn't take much effort to put that rough, low tone in his voice he knew Natasha to like. At this rate not only his glass but the big water jar between them would be empty in no time. His throat suddenly felt like sitting in the sun for way too long.

Natasha’s eyes practically danced at Clint’s reaction. She didn’t push him any further, didn’t let her foot slide up his leg no matter how tempting; for now she just rest her foot against him.

“I am definitely taking you up on that massage,” she said, placing her elbows on the table and leaning her chin on her folded hands. She loved when he voice took on that rough quality; it never failed to send a shiver down her spine. “I want you to press those fingers into every inch of me.”

She had been leaning forward to speak and smoothly shifted back again, smiling up at the waiter when he returned to place their food in front of them. The change was instant, she looked entirely composed again as she sipped at her water before turning that smile back to Clint. “So if this is my night then when is your night?”

Clint had a feeling, he wasn't off the hook here yet and tried not to react too openly to Natasha touching him like that. Things could go embarrassing way too fast when Natasha teasing him was involved. She didn't make it easier to keep his mind out of the gutter with that seductive look and posture, inviting to lean in for a kiss, etiquette be damned...

It was a relief when the waiter interrupted them before he even got a chance to explain in detail how badly he wanted to touch her just like that, everywhere, until she melted under his hands, and when her skin was all slick and smooth from oil and... other things...

Definitely better to concentrate on his plate and drink that light blush on his cheeks down with another glass of water.

"Me?"

He frowned a little at her question, because that concept seemed a little odd. Every night with Natasha was fantastic and a gift to him.

"I'm easy to satisfy. I love everything we do, you know."

Natasha barely concealed her amusement and Clint’s obvious relief when their food arrived. Straightening her back, she looked the picture of proper in the blink of an eye, and she even gave him a brief reprieve by lowering her foot back to the floor so he could enjoy his meal in relative peace.

Looking up from her plate at that single word, her brow furrowed at his frown. Had the thought never even occurred to him? As much as she loved being pampered by him every day and night, he deserved the same sort of care and affection as well.

“As do I,” she replied. “But some nights there are things you want more than others. It’s only fair that if I get everything I want tonight, then the next time you get the same.”

"Definitely sounds like fun."

And it did, but Clint heard it himself that his voice wasn't really reflecting that, nor the way he separated some too green stuff from the potatoes that came with his swordfish. Jesus, if he wanted to eat a salad, he would have ordered one.

Why was this suddenly awkward? Things were never awkward between them if it was about sex. Maybe that was why he hadn't ever thought of turning the tables in bed like that. The last he wanted was an embarrassing, straining, maybe even hurtful situation. Not in bed. That was the last thing he wanted to risk with Natasha.

"It's just... I'd probably be afraid the whole time that there's something you don't like. I know it's stupid... It's a reflex, looking out for you, you know. Like breathing. Can't stop it if I tried."

Now it was Natasha’s turn to frown as Clint awkwardly poked at his food, his voice at odds with his words. Had she said something wrong? Did he think this was another debt thing, that she was only offering because she felt like she owed it to him? She felt a flash of anger at the thought, that after all this time he could still believe that, that he could still boil her involvement in their relationship down to making good on debts she felt she owed.

Glaring down at her plate, she stabbed a few vegetable with controlled precision and popped them into her mouth, chewing slowly as she inwardly began berated herself for jumping to conclusions. It could be something entirely different, she didn’t know what was in his mind.

He soon proved that last thought true.

His words were touching, even if part of him wanted to slap him for being so silly. She had never had anyone care about her that much, never had anyone truly worry about her, about what she wanted. She had lived so many years doing what she was told to do; it didn’t matter what she wanted or didn’t want, what she liked or didn’t. She did what she had to do, what was required of her, but she never had to do that with Clint.

Setting her fork on her plate, Natasha reached across the table to take his hand. “I wouldn’t do anything I don’t want to do,” she reassured him quietly. “I appreciate you looking out for me,” more than she could really put into words, “but we can always talk about things beforehand. If you want.”

And if he would rather forget the whole thing she wouldn’t push the matter, at least not tonight, but she hoped he would feel comfortable enough to talk to her about things. Wasn’t that why many men strayed? Because they couldn’t get what they wanted at home? Natasha felt certain that Clint would never cheat on her, but she wanted him to be happy and satisfied. She wanted to know about his fantasies, and maybe she could even make some of them come true.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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