study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"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.

"That'll work, yeah."

Clint pressed her hand shortly and gave her a reassuring smile. He wanted her to know, he appreciated the offer, and one night they really just might do that.

But he would feel better if Natasha knew what was expecting her. While he had done the dominating part before with partners who had not wanted to be handed a script before and had rather enjoyed everything blindly... With Natasha, still, after all this time, there could always come something up that could trigger bad things in her head. He didn't want to be the asshole responsible for that, ever, not if it could be avoided.

Besides, he wasn't sure he could even muster up enough guts to tell her about some of his fantasies, but that was a whole other story.

"Energy first, though", he grinned, dropping the subject for the moment, and then went to butcher his steak with fork and knife. Well, and if his cheeks were still a little red, he could always blame it on the spice.

Squeezing his hand before letting it go, Natasha watched him a moment longer as he dug into his food before finally turning back to hers. She was glad that they could talk about things like this, that they could discuss any issues they had in their relationship calmly and come to some sort of resolution. She had seen other couples lie, fight and cheat, and while she was under no illusion that they would never argue, she never wanted that to be them.

Hungrier than she had realised, she had to remind herself that this wasn’t a race and eating too quickly would probably be a bad idea. Pacing herself, she moved her legs under the table again, only this time instead of the teasing she had been doing earlier she just shifted enough that she could press her knee to Clint’s, just that little bit of contact.

This time he smiled at her when the touch came back and pressed his own leg softly against hers but concentrated on his food then. The swordfish was as delicious as he remembered, and next time he looked up, there was but a few bits of rabbit food and half a potato left on his plate. Apparently his stomach and him had come to make a truce for the moment.

He leaned back on his chair with a heavy, satisfied sigh and half-closed his eyes to watch Natasha, fully expecting an amused grin on her lips.

"Caveman, told you."

He tried to suppress a yawn, without much success. Food coma, definitely. Good thing they had the whole way back and maybe another little walk on the beach or something left for getting awake again. The night was still long.

They didn’t bother with small talk while they ate, had never felt the need for it. They could be just as comfortable in silence that they didn’t need to fill every moment with conversation.

The food was really delicious, and while Clint ate faster than her, as usual, she didn’t do too poorly keeping pace. Looking up at him when he’d finished, she raised an eyebrow when he yawned, one corner of her lips twitching upwards. “I hope you’re not too tired,” she said, inflecting just the right of suggestion into her voice as she dropped the tail of another shrimp on her plate. Picking up the last one she held it across the table to him. “You should try this.”

"If I'm ever not ready for you, I'm not tired, then I'm dead", Clint answered in just that same suggestive tone while moving his leg a little closer to hers, teasing along the inside of her knee.

He usually wasn't that much of a seafood eater except for fish but an offer from Natasha he could hardly ever decline, and it was obvious she had enjoyed her meal very much. So he leaned forward without letting go off her gaze and snatched the piece out of her fingers with clever lips and used the chance to give her fingertip a soft bite.

"Very tasteful indeed..."

Natasha chuckled at his reply and his turn back to teasing under the table. He was only playing with fire there; she still had her shoe off and while his knee couldn’t really reach far enough without his posture turning very conspicuous, she could easily put her foot to work and cause a rather embarrassing situation for him. She made sure her expression conveyed as much.

“It is a good thing we have such an effective workout routine planned,” she said, sucking the crumbs and spices from her fingers after he had taken the shrimp. “Eating like this every night we’ll need it.” Of course she would still gain weight and get larger no matter what, though she didn’t want to think about that right now. Tonight she was still beautiful and sexy and she planned to flaunt that fact while she still could.

"Yep, no need to worry about that."

Interpreting that look on Natasha's face just right, Clint rather pulled back a little and straightened up in his chair before things could get dangerous. Which of course didn't keep him from still teasing her with his words.

"I'll keep you so busy tonight, you won't need to workout for a week."

He eyed her over the edge of his glass with a very suggestive twinkle in his eyes but couldn't keep it up for much before breaking into a chuckle.

"I blame it all on you, red. I've just managed for an hour not to think about how much I want you."

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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