Chapter 10
The room had settled into the kind of quiet that only came in the small hours of the morning. The dim light from the cityscape beyond the windows cast soft shadows across the tangled sheets, a patchwork of limbs and warmth beneath the duvet.
Natasha lay on her back, her head nestled into the plush pillow, strands of her blonde hair splayed against the black silk. The weight of Tony draped over her was familiar now—his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face nestled into the curve of her chest. The duvet was pulled up over most of him, a dark mass of tousled hair and a soft, steady breath against her skin.
Her fingers found their way into his hair, nails grazing his scalp as she began to gently comb through the unruly strands. She felt the hum of his contentment against her skin, his grip unconsciously tightening around her. When she shifted, stretching out a cramp in her leg, his response was immediate—a groan, low and petulant, as his arms locked around her.
“Mm, no,” he mumbled, the sound muffled by the soft skin of her chest.
“Easy, tiger,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, his hold on her relaxing just enough to let her breathe but never fully releasing. She smirked, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Didn’t realize you were so clingy, Stark.”
A muffled huff escaped him. “Says the woman who hasn’t let me go all morning.”
She chuckled, her fingers slipping through his hair again. “You make a pretty good weighted blanket. You ever consider a career in professional cuddling?”
“Depends. How much does it pay?” He shifted just enough to peek up at her, his face half-hidden beneath the duvet, only one sleepy brown eye visible.
“Not much, but the benefits are top-tier.”
He hummed again, pressing his face back into her chest. “Already got the best benefits in the multiverse right here.”
“Is that so?” She rolled her eyes, but her fingers never stopped their gentle movement through his hair. “You sure you’re not just a boob guy?”
“Can’t a guy be both?” His voice was muffled, but the cheekiness bled through.
Her lips curled into a smirk. “I thought you were an ass man.”
“Don’t make me choose, Romanoff. I’m only human.”
She laughed, the sound vibrating through him, and he melted further against her, his body a warm, sleepy weight. “You’re something, alright.”
“Your something.” His voice was softer now, sincerity threading through the humor.
Her hand stilled in his hair, and for a moment, the banter fell away, leaving only the quiet honesty of his words. “Yeah,” she said, just as softly. “You are.”
Silence washed over them again, the kind that felt full rather than empty. She let her eyes slip closed, her breathing evening out, but Tony wasn’t quite done.
“You know,” he said, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “If I’m such a nuisance, I could always let go.”
Her eyes snapped open, and his arms loosened ever so slightly, as if testing her resolve.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned, her hands dropping to his shoulders, her fingers curling into the muscle there. “You’d better stay right where you are, idiot.”
His head popped up again, this time the duvet slipping down to reveal the messy sweep of his hair and the mischievous glint in his eyes. “So you do want me here.”
A groan slipped from her, but her hands remained firm, keeping him exactly where he was. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you’re still holding on.”
Her fingers tightened, nails grazing his skin in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. “For now. But if you keep this up, I might just change my mind.”
He buried his face back into her chest, his laugh muffled and warm against her skin. “You love me.”
“I tolerate you,” she corrected, but the affection beneath the words betrayed her.
“Tomato, tomahto.” His arms wrapped tighter, his body molding to hers as if he could fuse them together by sheer will. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Pretty sure it’s the other way around.” She shifted just enough to get more comfortable, his weight a grounding presence over her. “I’ve got a Stark-shaped leech attached to me.”
“Leech?” He gasped, an exaggerated sound that made her chuckle. “Rude.”
“Truthful.”
He nuzzled closer, his breath warm and soft against her skin. “I prefer ‘irresistibly charming.’”
“More like annoyingly persistent.”
“Mm, you love it.”
Her fingers slid back into his hair, her nails grazing his scalp in a way that had him humming again. “I love the silence more.”
His lips curled into a smile against her skin. “Guess I’ll have to keep talking then.”
Her laugh was a low, sleepy rumble. “You do that, Stark. See how far it gets you.”
“Right here,” he whispered, his voice dipping into something softer, something real. “Right here, with you.”
Natasha’s lips curled into a gentle smile, her fingers never stilling in his hair. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
His breath hitched, and she could feel it—a slight tremor against her skin, a reminder of how fragile this all was beneath the warmth and safety of the duvet. “You mean that?”
“Every word.” Her voice was a quiet promise, wrapped in the early morning light filtering through the curtains. “You’re stuck with me, Stark.”
A smile broke across his face, the kind that pulled at his lips slowly, like he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to feel it. “Good. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to you.”
She let out a soft laugh, her chest vibrating beneath his cheek. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Oh, it is.” He lifted his head just enough to catch her gaze, the duvet slipping off his hair in a tousled mess. “You’ve ruined me, Romanoff.”
“Good.” Her fingers teased through his hair, nails grazing his scalp. “You could use a little ruining.”
He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “This is nice,” he murmured, as if the realization had only just dawned on him. “Like... really nice.”
“It is,” she agreed, her voice a soft hum. “Didn’t think you could be so... domesticated.”
“Oh, please.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “I’m practically housebroken.”
“Still a little feral, though,” she teased. “I’ve seen you around a wrench.”
“Hey.” He sat up, propping himself on his elbows as he gave her a mock glare. “That’s a sacred bond between a man and his tools.”
Natasha arched an eyebrow, her fingers now tracing idle patterns along his bare shoulder. “Is that what you call it?”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Careful, Romanoff. I might just leave.”
“Oh?” Her grip tightened, quick as a viper, and before he could fully process it, she yanked him back down. His back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and he found himself caged beneath her.
Her hair framed her face, red strands glowing in the early morning light. She looked down at him, a smug smirk pulling at her lips. “I don’t think so.”
Tony’s laughter bubbled up, rich and genuine, his body going limp beneath her. “Alright, alright. You win.”
“You didn’t even try.” She pouted, her weight shifting just enough to press him further into the mattress.
Tony’s lips twisted into a smirk, the kind that only deepened the playful glint in his eyes. “Didn’t even try?” he echoed, his voice dripping with mock offense. “You think I can’t get up if I really wanted to?”
Natasha’s pout remained, though a mischievous spark danced behind her feigned disappointment. “I think you talk a big game,” she quipped, her hands resting against his back, deceptively gentle. “But I haven’t seen any action.”
He huffed, the sound low and teasing, and before she could react, he pushed himself up. His weight shifted, the warmth of his chest pulling away from hers as he sat up, straddling her hips. The duvet slipped down his back, pooling at his waist as he planted his hands on either side of her head. His hair was tousled, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, and for a moment, he looked every bit the challenge he was setting himself up to be.
“Fine,” he said, his tone light but laced with defiance. “I’m getting up.”
Natasha’s fingers curled against his sides, her grip firmer than before. “No, you’re not.”
“Wanna bet?” He shifted his weight, the muscles in his arms flexing as he made a move to push off of her completely. The mattress dipped under them, the duvet rustling as his knee slid to the edge.
But Natasha was quicker. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him back just enough to halt his escape. Her hands trailed up his chest, featherlight, until they reached his collarbone. She leaned up, her lips brushing the curve of his skin. The touch was soft, almost innocent, but the way his breath hitched told a different story.
“Nat—”
Her lips moved higher, skimming over his neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. She could feel the tension seep out of him, the fight slowly draining as she pressed a kiss just below his ear. His arms trembled, his body caught between the instinct to pull away and the need to melt into her.
When she reached his ear, her breath fanned against his skin, and she whispered, “Stay.”
The single word unraveled him. Whatever resistance he had left crumbled, and with a soft, broken sound, he crashed back down. His chest met hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress as his arms wound around her body, pulling her as close as physically possible. His face found its home between her boobs again, his nose brushing against her skin as he burrowed himself deeper.
“Cheater,” he mumbled, his voice muffled but laced with a grin.
Her fingers resumed their gentle path through his hair, a hum of satisfaction slipping from her lips. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
He tightened his hold, his entire body slumping against her in utter submission. “Can’t complain when I can’t breathe,” he quipped, though his tone was nothing but pleased.
Natasha chuckled, the sound vibrating through her chest and into him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you love that.” His lips brushed against her skin, a fleeting kiss that made warmth bloom in her chest.
She rolled her eyes, her fingers tugging lightly at his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He shifted, just enough to rest his chin against her chest and look up at her. His eyes were soft, the usual walls and bravado completely stripped away. “You’re lucky I’m so easily bribed,” he murmured.
Natasha’s brow arched. “Bribed with what?”
His lips curled into a grin, his expression positively bratty. “Your boobs.”
She huffed, her fingers giving his hair a playful tug. “Idiot.”
“Your idiot.” He nuzzled back into her, his grip on her waist possessive yet gentle. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Natasha’s lips quirked into a sly smile, her fingers never pausing in their gentle path through his hair. “Good,” she murmured, “because I’d hate to have to track you down.”
Tony chuckled, the sound vibrating against her chest. “I don’t know. I might like it. You, all lethal and on the hunt for little old me? Sounds kinda hot.”
Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, and he shivered. “You wouldn’t last a day on the run,” she teased. “I’d have you tied up in an hour.”
“Oh?” He shifted slightly, his arms tightening around her waist. “Kinky.”
“Behave.” She gave his hair a gentle tug, enough to earn a quiet grunt from him.
He tilted his head up, his expression a blend of mischief and adoration. “I am. I mean, look at me.” He nuzzled back into her, his nose brushing her skin as he got even more comfortable. “Not even copping a feel. I’m basically a saint.”
Her laugh was soft but genuine, the sound wrapping around them like the duvet. “Saint Tony. Doesn’t quite have the right ring to it.”
“Yeah, well, ‘Saint Natasha’ doesn’t fit either.” He smirked against her, his lips brushing a warm line along her skin. “You’re too good at being bad.”
Her fingers stilled in his hair for just a moment, a thoughtful hum escaping her. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just bad at being good.”
He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. His gaze was steady, a rare moment of unguarded honesty. “I think you’re perfect,” he said, his voice soft but certain.
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth behind them betrayed her. “You’re such a sap.”
“Only for you.” He grinned, the boyish charm breaking through. “You make it easy.”
Natasha’s thumb traced the shell of his ear, her touch featherlight. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Like?” He gasped, feigning shock as he shifted above her. “Nat, you wound me.”
Her brow arched, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, you want me to use the other L-word?”
“Desperately.”
She leaned forward, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Loser.”
Tony let out a muffled laugh, his breath warm against the curve of her chest. “Loser, huh?” he mumbled, his voice vibrating through the soft fabric of his hoodie—well, his hoodie on her. “That’s a bold choice of words for someone who can’t seem to let me go.”
Natasha’s fingers threaded through his hair, nails grazing his scalp in a way that had his eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, I could let you go,” she retorted, her tone light but her grip firm. “I just don’t want to.”
He nuzzled further into her, the cool fabric of the hoodie contrasting with the heat of his skin. “Uh-huh. You’re just as clingy as I am.”
She scoffed, the sound soft and melodic. “I’m not the one practically fusing myself to someone’s chest.”
“Not my fault your boobs are basically the promised land,” he quipped, earning a gentle tug on his hair.
“Careful,” she warned, though the corners of her lips lifted. “I can still throw you off the bed.”
Tony smirked, the expression hidden against her but evident in his voice. “You could try. I’d just cling on like a koala.”
Natasha chuckled, her fingers drawing lazy circles along the back of his neck. “You are surprisingly cuddly for a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”
“Emphasis on surprisingly,” he murmured, his lips brushing the thin cotton covering her skin. “I’m full of surprises.”
“Mm, I’ve noticed.” Her voice dipped, a playful edge slipping in. “Like how you keep pretending you’re going to get up but never do.”
“Who says I’m pretending?” He shifted slightly, testing her grip. “Maybe I’m just giving you the illusion of control.”
Her brows lifted, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Illusion? Please. I had you pinned in five seconds earlier.”
“Only because you cheated,” he shot back, his tone both accusatory and impressed. “You know my neck is my weak spot.”
“Noted.” She smirked, letting her lips brush the top of his head. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
A shiver rolled through him, and he grumbled something incoherent as he nestled closer. “You’re dangerous.”
“You’re just figuring that out?” She tapped his shoulder lightly, a gentle nudge that had him humming contentedly.
“Always knew.” His voice dropped, sincere beneath the playfulness. “Guess I like living on the edge.”
Natasha’s expression softened, a blend of amusement and something warmer, deeper. “Good,” she whispered, “because I don’t plan on letting you back off the edge anytime soon.”
“Guess I’m stuck, then.”
“Guess you are.”
Silence settled over them, a rare and comfortable stillness. Tony’s breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling against hers, each exhale a soft brush of warmth against her skin. His hands, warm and sure, slid under the oversized MIT hoodie, his fingers curling against her bare waist. The touch was intimate but not suggestive—more of a grounding gesture, as if he needed to hold onto her to stay steady.
Natasha’s cheeks flushed, a rosy hue creeping up to her ears. “Getting handsy, Stark?” she quipped, her voice aiming for sharp but landing somewhere around breathless.
His response was a muffled murmur against her cleavage, the vibrations tickling her skin. “S’nice,” he mumbled, barely coherent. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to the exposed curve of her chest, then his head shifted, angling so he could actually speak. “You’re comfy.”
Her initial instinct to bite back with something sharp softened at the sincerity in his voice. “Comfy?” She arched a brow, lips twitching. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“Don’t act so surprised,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep and proximity. “Just ‘cause you’re a stone-cold badass doesn’t mean you can’t also be the world’s best pillow.”
“Great.” She rolled her eyes, but the gesture lacked heat. “Just what every girl dreams of—being objectified as a piece of bedding.”
He chuckled, the sound muffled and rumbling through her. “Hey, don’t knock it. I’ve had some pretty great pillows in my time, but none of them held a candle to you.”
Her fingers found his hair again, weaving through the strands as if drawn by muscle memory. “You really know how to flatter a girl.”
“It’s a gift.” His lips curved into a smirk against her skin. “Though I think you like it. Otherwise, you’d have thrown me off the bed by now.”
She hummed thoughtfully, letting her nails trail gently along his scalp. “True. But I think you’d just cling on like a tick.”
“Ouch.” He grinned, nuzzling into her further. “I prefer ‘adorable, tenacious koala,’ but sure, let’s go with tick.”
“Fine.” Her lips brushed against the crown of his head. “You’re my little tick.”
He pretended to shudder. “That’s not as sexy as you think it is.”
“Not everything has to be sexy.”
“With you, it kinda is,” he shot back, a lazy flirtation woven into his words. “Even when you’re threatening to kill me, it’s kinda hot.”
She let out a soft laugh, her breath fanning over his temple. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time you annoy me.”
“Good.” His hands tightened around her waist, not possessive but present. “I like keeping your mind on me.”
“Bold words for a guy who’s currently hiding in my hoodie.” She tugged the fabric gently, teasing him.
“Bold actions for a girl who could’ve kicked me off at any point but didn’t.” He turned his head slightly, his cheek resting against her chest, allowing him to look up at her. “Face it, Romanoff—you like having me here.”
Her lips curled into a smirk, a challenge simmering in her eyes. “Maybe I do. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass if you get cocky.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” His grin was a flash of teeth, mischief and warmth blending effortlessly. “But until then, I think I’ll stay right here.”
She made a show of sighing, though her fingers continued their gentle path through his hair. “Fine. You can stay. But if you drool on me, I’m smothering you with a pillow.”
He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “You’d miss me too much.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her voice softened, the banter melting into something gentler. “Don’t push your luck, Stark.”
He nuzzled closer, his grip on her never wavering. “Not pushing. Just... staying.”