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"And just what do you think you're doing, golubchik?"
Clint froze. His head swivelled, shoulders hunched and mouth open, a doughnut hovering inches from his parted lips. Blue eyes wide, he stared at her. Caught.
"Doughnut. Clearly, " he said, nodding towards the offending pastry. It was one of those ones made up to look like Steve's shield, except that the star was a bit wonky and the blue was too light.
A slow, devious smile spread across Natasha's face as she pushed off the doorframe and slunk towards the archer with pantherlike purpose. She stalked around the edges of their living room, keeping him in her sights. Keeping the star-spangled object of her desire in her sights.
"The last doughnut," she corrected in a low voice. "I think you'll find that's mine."
Clint shifted, recovering himself.
"What are you going to do about it, eh, Tasha? You gonna fight me right here and now?" The tip of Clint’s very pink tongue poked out the corner of his mouth. His eyes sparkled. God, did Natasha love that stupid face of his. But she wasn't here to be distracted. She was here to win.
"Give it up. You’ll only live to regret it if you take so much as take a single bite," she said, very matter of fact but there was an edge of laughter in her voice and she had to wrestle her face back into her mask of careful neutrality.
He dropped the doughnut back into the box, braced himself, and grinned. His centre of gravity pitched low and forward and he matched her circling around the coffee table, hands out at his sides for balance.
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
The angel-faced bastard was teasing her now. A thrum of anticipation shuddered through her and she tensed: ready for action. Things were about to get ridiculous
“Do I need to remind you how easy it is for me to get you where I want you?”
“I think I need a reminder.” Clint raised his chin and had the audacity to blow her kiss as they continued their circling.
So it was going to be like that, was it.
Natasha crouched low like a cat, holding Clint’s gaze for just a second before she pounced. A single bound and she was up on the table. Feigning right, she tackled Clint around the middle. The impact left him gasping. In a confusion of limbs and flying fists, they fell back onto the sofa, peels of laughter ringing from their open mouths.
Fingers scrabbled at Natasha’s thighs. She squealed, twisting till he got her legs around Clint’s waist.
“Give it up Romanoff,” he gasped, fingers still trying to reach where she was most ticklish.
“Never.”
And with a well-placed buck of her hips, they toppled to the floor with a thump. They rolled and grappled. Clint tried to flip her - to gain the upper hand - but his knee just caught her square in the chest. With a gasp, Natasha rolled, trapping Clint’s arm between her legs, thigh pressed against his throat. She had him pinned now and he knew it. A lazy smile curled across Clint’s mouth.
“Ah,” he gasped, letting his head fall back against the carpet. “Consider me reminded.”
Natasha snickered and detangled herself, popping up onto her feet before helping a now very bedraggled Clint to his feet. His sandy blonde hair was mussed and his cheeks had flushed pink.
“Glad I could jog your memory,” she said sweetly, reaching up on her toes to press a kiss to one warm cheek and nuzzle his stubbly jaw with her nose. Clint just huffed in response and stole another kiss, rolling his eyes and muttering something about her being lucky he loved her.
But even as she flopped back onto the sofa, sticky prize in hand, Natasha was breaking the doughnut in half.
“You really are the most ridiculous creature,” Clint mumbled, taking his half and shoving it straight into his mouth before she could snatch it back. Not that she would. She wasn’t that mean.
“But I’m your ridiculous creature,” she chirruped and scooped the jam from the middle of her doughnut and plopped it straight onto the tip of Clint’s nose.