I've gotten enough not-Clintasha prompts that I'm giving them their own place here. Right now just two Steve/Natasha ones, but there's Thor/Jane and Clint/Coulson on my list to write.

Up first, from the nsfw prompt list: #18, flashing the other.

"Damn it," Steve muttered as the last drone exploded - point for Romanoff - but he couldn't really be angry. The training exercise had been his idea, after all. Making sure every Avenger could pilot the Quinjets and accurately man the weapon systems on board had seemed prudent. He'd all but begged Natasha to call up Barton and drag him out of retirement to give lessons.

And now he regretted it very much.

"Three outta five?" Barton suggested in his ear, Natasha's gleeful laughter filtering over the comms as well. Strike Team Delta was unbeatable. He and Sam couldn't seem to get the communication between pilot and gunman figured out; Sam kept firing at the target drones a moment too soon or too late, and Steve couldn't hold the jet steady long enough for him to correct.

The other Quinjet drifted along beside them, but Steve kept his eyes firmly on the airspace ahead. After the first round Natasha had given him her best Black Widow smirk, the one that said she was ready to tear him apart, in a friendly way of course. After the second round she'd flipped him the middle finger as Barton zipped past. He didn't want to know what she'd throw at him this time.

If there was anything that was going to put the brakes on their slowly-developing whatever, it was Natasha's competitive streak. This Natasha was a world away from the one who let him kiss her on the sofa after movie nights. Last night he'd even put his arm around her, right in front of the whole team, and she hadn't found an excuse to get up and leave the room like usual when he attempted gestures like that.

Maybe today was punishment.

"Aw, man," Sam groaned beside him, disgust and dismay coloring the words.

"Come on, Nat," Barton said in his ear, mirroring Sam's tone, and that caught his attention.

He steeled himself, then chanced a small glance to the left.

Natasha was mooning them, sweats tugged down and her naked ass pressed against the Quinjet's side window as she balanced on her half of the consoles.

"Romanoff, this is a serious mission simulation."

He tried, really tried, to put on his best no-nonsense Captain America voice, but the amusement and annoyance leaked through. He found himself staring a moment too long, then two moments, then he found himself wishing they could move past arms-around-shoulders and kissing in common areas, then-

"Eyes on the road, Cap!" Barton admonished, and the Quinjet veered sharply away and Natasha yelped in his ear and fell out of sight. "Nat, if your ass touches one more surface in this Quinjet, I swear to God-"

Steve corrected his flight path and tore the comm unit from his ear, studiously avoiding the raised-eyebrow expression Sam was shooting him. Definitely punishment.