Balance
Plucking the papers from Natasha's hands and setting them back on the table, Clint stands. He must feel the grip Natasha has on his wrist clench tighter, trying to stop him. Taking two steps in her direction, he holds his other hand out for her to take instead.
She accepts it gladly and he pulls her to a standing position. Once she is stable, he looks her in the eye and raises her hands to his lips.
Gently, he presses tiny kisses to the knuckles of each of her hands. Throughout the entire exchange, he never breaks eye contact with her. Natasha finds the whole thing highly erotic. She drags in a shuddering breath when she realizes she has gone for too long without, her refusal to do so purely due to not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment they were apparently having.
Smiling at her from behind their joined hands, Clint glances over her shoulder, then around the room before peering back over his own shoulder. Eventually he seems to decide something, though Natasha has no idea what it could be.
Turning them both around, he walks them backwards, back through the still open doorway they had entered through, leading her by the hands to sit on the couch. He manages to make it there without turning around and she is moderately impressed he managed it. A true testament to how comfortable he is in his own rooms.
She doesn't hesitate to drop down onto the cushy surface. He remains standing in front of her for a moment longer, just looking at her, gaze fixed carefully on her face. When he finally does join her, he sits in the far corner, careful to avoid contact with her, long limbs tucked carefully into his own space, and the implication is clear.
She has given him too many mixed signals, or perhaps this is simply a strange enough situation; whatever is the cause, he is making it known that she is going to have to be the one to make moves.
It's not something she ever thought she might struggle with. Natasha had never been the shy type, not with anyone or at any age. The idea was practically laughable. Boys and other girls her age when she was younger, men and women of any age now that she's older, and she has never questioned her own choices in any interactions, never questioned a single move she made with any of them.
Only now, with Clint, the man she is marrying in so little time that it no longer has to be measured in days, she is frozen, unable to conceive of what her next move should be.
Or her first move, she supposes. Since that is so clearly what Clint is waiting for. She wonders if it would have been the same with James had Clint been the one to 'get to her first.' She suspects it might have been, knowing them.
Now that she thinks about it, it seems highly likely they may have formed some sort of pact regarding the development of their own personal relationships with her in an effort not to overwhelm her. The thought has her suppressing a laugh, as she knows snorting in her fiance's face is the opposite of what she is going for here.
While her thoughts had wandered, Clint had come to lay one arm easily on the arm of the couch while the other rested along the back of the cushion. His body language is certainly open enough, she is well aware that any move she makes would be welcome enough. If that weren't the case, he wouldn't have positioned himself so, so…
Suggestively? But no, a man wouldn't pose 'suggestively.' An ugly thought crept back to the front of her mind. A master certainly wouldn't pose that way for his slave, male or female, would he? Wouldn't he simply command what he wanted, order what was expected of them?
Natasha has never had a problem remembering her place when it came to Clint. So now she just needs to make sure the confusion of also being his fiancee doesn't color her outlook on the matter too much. If she can just keep the proper perspective…
But then again, his distaste for the entire concept of slavery may mean he doesn't want to be reminded of it while he's with her. It'll be difficult, given that's what she is, but she thinks she might still be able to make it work. It will just take a little trial and hopefully not too much error.
Settling on an approach, she watches him from the corner of her eye. She watches his smile as he gauges her uncertainty, and decides that yes, she can play this game, just the same as any other. If she's right and he doesn't want a slave, then fine. She can do her best to make him forget she's a slave.
And she might even have fun doing it too.
Determinedly but slowly, Natasha puts on a coy expression until she's all sneaky eyes, confident smirk, and raised eyebrows. Slowly, making sure he's watching every movement, she inches her way sideways towards him, moving well past the middle of the couch. She stays facing forward, turning her body into him just enough to show her interest.
Clint's face betrays his eagerness, but also some smugness. Like this is all going according to some grand plan. Even though she knows it just worked out this way as a matter of chance.
She thinks about calling him on it for a split second before deciding to just let him have it. This time. That is so far from the top of her priority list at the moment.
When she's close enough that she can touch him without having to awkwardly extend her arm, she turns her whole body towards him. Her knees draw up onto the cushion, tucked in next to her. She tilts her head towards the cushions along the back of the couch and lays an arm on top of his so her hand lands on his shoulder. Her other hand comes down on Clint's knee.
She enjoys the heat and the feel of the muscles under her fingers when she squeezes a bit. Natasha does her best to cozy up to him, the top of her head coming to rest against the side of his arm, nuzzling into it a bit. "What exactly were you wanting to catch up on? Or were you hoping to one up James?"
She lifted her head and pressed a kiss against the warm skin on the inside of his forearm, watching how his breath stutters just a bit.
Repeating the action, this time more slowly, she watches his eyes narrow.
Natasha raises her eyebrows at him, questioning without words. He looks suspicious, but she can't fathom what he would be suspicious of.
"Hmm. Perhaps we should just keep talking until James gets back." He sounds firm, but his voice is whisper quiet. It has a startling effect.
She frowns, effortlessly covering her disappointment and relief with her obvious confusion. Where has this sudden change come from?
"Come now, no pouting about it." Well, she had thought she had hidden it. Clearly not. It makes her wonder when she had become so transparent.
"Pouting? I'm not pouting." She protests, knowing that, although she does feel a bit like pouting, she would never stoop so low as to actually do so. "I would, however, like to know why the sudden change of heart?"
Clint turns to mirror her position, leaving his arm along the back of the couch, but turning so that now his back is up against the arm with one foot still firmly on the floor. His other knee comes up and tucks towards the back of the couch, foot hanging off the front.
"Do you recall what I told you about our wedding night?" She gives him her best blank stare. Of course she remembers everything he had said, but she has no idea what it has to do with their current situation. "I don't take unwilling participants." He gives her a very pointed look, like that is supposed to clear things up for her.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly unwilling." She challenges him, refusing to break eye contact.
"Deciding to put on a show and make the best of a situation does not mean you are willing. If it's not something you would choose independent of the situation, it's not your choice." Something about the words seems to pain him. "I have become intimately acquainted with the truth of that. Do not make that mistake."
Oh. That was not something she had considered.
She had wanted James. She had been more than willing with him. She wants Clint too.
But he's right, she finds. She wants him, but she can't parse out if those feelings are independent of the situation or because of them.
"I'll not have you approaching being with me as another chore on another list. This isn't something you must do to 'serve me.' It won't be looked on as a duty." He holds up a hand to stop her protests before they begin. "Whatever you may or may not feel for me, I watched you add this to your list just now. It was very subtle, I'll give you that. It doesn't appear to be distasteful to you, at least. Which I will count as a win."
He laughs, maybe a little too self-depricatingly. "But I will not be checked off some list of things the slave must do to please her master. You know my feelings on all that already, I'm sure. We've discussed it before." He fixes her with another look, daring her to deny it. She remains silent. "Do me the courtesy of not treating me as a slave owner. Considering I have never, through this whole process, treated you as a slave, I believe you owe me at least that." He pauses, then corrects himself quickly." Only that." He stresses.
She is taken aback by his bluntness. Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes grow wide. They have had a few open conversations since that first disastrous one, and they are getting to know each other, slowly but surely. But never has he spoken so candidly with her about her own actions.
Maybe James isn't the only one able to call her out on her behavior. The thought of multiple people knowing her well enough to do so is a novelty. Not even her parents had been successful in doing so. Only Yelena...
Thankfully, they are spared from having to come up with where to go from there by James who enters carrying a two tiered tray of food and a basket with wine and glasses tucked inside.
He stands in the doorway while the door closes, taking in their positions on the couch, and probably her own gobsmacked expression, and scowls. "Is that why you sent me to get food? To try to get even? Or were you trying to outdo me?"
Clint looks at Natasha and winks at her. "Oh yes, we had to get rid of you to have a, uh, moment of our own. Didn't we, dearest?"
The smirk he wears when he says it draws the last bit of awkwardness out of Natasha and she grins, making a show of straightening herself up again.
"That we did." She agrees with Clint, approaching James to take the trays from him. When she reaches him, she whispers, "Although I wouldn't worry about him 'outdoing you' anytime soon."
She leans up and in to kiss his cheek then whirls away when he goes in to claim her for more.
Clint had been watching, as she had expected, and he's smiling at her when she looks back, like she had just made him very happy.
Natasha never imagined such a simple thing could fill her with such pride.
She really is in trouble with these two.