When you wake up hearing the sink running and the bed next to you empty, you swing your legs out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. It’s warm from Natasha’s shower and you like it. Natasha is brushing her wet hair and she smiles when she sees you enter. You return her smile and slide your hands around her waist and pull yourself closer to her, burying you face in her neck.
“Good morning,” she says, turning and softly kissing your forehead.
You hum in response, kissing and sucking a sweet spot of hers on her neck.
“Hey,” she chides disapprovingly, but she can’t stop the pink flushing her face.
You rest your chin on her shoulder and look at yourselves in the mirror. “Good morning,” you reply. “You’re cute when you blush, I should do that more.”
Turning around to look into your eyes, Natasha leans up and captures your lips with hers. “Maybe,” she says softly. You smile and lean down again, cupping her face. When the kiss starts to get heated, you pull away, smirking at her frown.
“C’mon,” you say, already out the door. “Time for breakfast.” You leave Natasha flushed and pouting for the first, but certainly not the last, time that day.
It happens again after breakfast when you both are in the elevator headed down for a debriefing of a recent mission. Natasha feels your hand sliding under her shirt, your fingers gently tracing a scar she has on her side and making their way further up her body. When your hand comes dangerously close to her bra, you feel her breath hitch and you smile, stepping in front of her to face her.
Natasha rolls her eyes but again finds herself unable to hide her blush and the warm feeling inside of her. “Seriously?”
You grin and crash you lips into hers aggressively, still running your fingers along her bra line.
“Seriously what?” you ask innocently, pulling away after a few seconds. The elevator dings and the doors start to open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say grinning and stepping out of the elevator.
“Jesus.” Natasha shakes her head and steps out after you. Steve quirks an eyebrow when you saunter into the room with a still flushed Natasha just behind you. Wanda chuckles knowingly and you just keep wearing that shit-eating grin through the entire meeting.
Next time, Natasha is passing the gym after a meeting with Maria and finds you sparring with Clint. She watches you, wearing a sports bra and tight leggings, muscles rippling with every movement. Your face drips with sweat but you sport your tireless grin as you dodge Clint’s blows with ease, and Natasha begins to think you’ve never looked more beautiful, strong, or hot (but then she remembers the undercover op you did together in Paris where you fought Hydra agents twice your size in a tight black dress with heels and marks this occasion as a close second).
You can feel Natasha’s eyes on you and decide to give her a little show. You spin and kick Clint hard in the side and as he’s regaining balance, you sweep his leg out from under him. In two seconds you’re looking down at him, smiling, his back flat on the mat.
You turn and catch Natasha’s eyes and smirk at her. You reach down to offer Clint a hand and very purposefully flex your muscles for her as you pull him up. “See something you like, Romanoff? you call, grinning.
She just flips you the bird before smiling and walking away, hating but also secretly loving the way you’re making her feel today.
Throughout the day, you’re persistent. Natasha feels your hand on her ass or up her shirt or your mouth running along her lips and neck teasingly a few too many times. It’s during dessert when Natasha finally has enough.
She feels your foot making its way up her leg and thigh and watches as you nonchalantly eat your ice cream. After about 5 minutes she stands up abruptly, causing you and all the others at the table to look at her.
She trains her eyes on you. “You better be done with your ice cream,” she says, voice low.
You stand up and grin as she grabs your hands and starts to pull you out of the room. Sam lets out a wolf whistle and you turn your head back and smirk, eyebrows raised suggestively. All Natasha does is flip him off and continue to drag you to your room.
As soon as your door has closed, you feel Natasha shove you against it and her lips are on yours. Her hands are on your face and on your hip and you tangle your fingers in her hair. After a while you breathlessly pull apart.
“What you did today was the worst,” Natasha huffs.
You smirk, sliding your hands up her shirt again and kissing her quickly again. “Really? And here I was thinking you liked my hands up your shirt.” You start to pull them out when Natasha interrupts you.
“Wait!” she nearly yells. “No, I do, I do.”
You hum and press your lips to hers again and swiftly switch your position so it’s Natasha against the wall.
“I like it a lot actually,” she mutters through the kiss.
“Good,” you say, breathless. “I like it too.” And with that you pull her to the bed.