"Don't stop there!" Tony complained loudly, spilling a generous amount of beer on the floor.
"No, I think that's a perfect place to end the story." Steve grimaced.
"But I-" Tony stopped, finally noticing what had caught Natasha's attention in the first place. Even when she was drunk her senses were better than his.
"Oh, please. Don't stop on my account." Bruce stood awkwardly in the doorway, his suit jacket strewn over one arm. Clearly he hadn't expected the entire team to be gathered in this particular spot.
"Where have you been?" Steve asked, stone-cold sober after four beers.
"I had a meeting with some of the scientists at SHIELD. I'm afraid to ask, but is there anything left in the fridge, alcohol or otherwise?"
Thor chuckled loudly nearby.
"Right. Diner tomorrow, anyone?"
Everyone cheered, and Bruce smiled to himself. They certainly would have a different mindset come tomorrow.
"Brucey! Natashalie and Legolas had sex!"
Bruce blinked at Tony. "Um, okay…"
"It's true; Tasha just told us!"
"Don't call me Tasha." The redhead said, trying to look dangerous despite her inability to focus.
Tony pouted. "Barton calls you Tasha."
"He's allowed." She slurred, attempting to stand up and falling over sideways as she did so. Clint sighed and helped her up, slinging her onto his back when she proved too uncoordinated to walk properly.
"See you in the morning, Nattie!" Tony gleefully called after her. Normally she would have chased him down and beaten him senseless, but now she lacked the energy to do anything more than flip him off.
"We're going to bed, too." Pepper declared, dragging her boyfriend to his feet. The two stumbled their way to the elevator, and right before the doors shut Pepper could be seen laughing hysterically at something Tony said that probably wasn't very funny.
"So…" Bruce said, looking around the stuffy, trash-strewn room in confusion. "What exactly did I miss tonight?"
Steve grabbed a garbage bag and proceeded to dump several handfuls of bottles and plastic cups inside. "Tony got Natasha to talk about the first time she ever made love outside of the Red Room. Apparently it was when she was 18 and on a mission with Barton."
"And let me guess: she did it for the sake of the mission." Bruce shook his head, not needing confirmation. "Well, maybe this will give them incentive to talk about the present."
Clint and Natasha's strange and trustful partnership often hinted at romantic tendencies, something that did not go unnoticed by the other team members. But since the agents lacked any serious personal communication skills, they remained either oblivious to their behavior or too stubborn to admit it.
A loud slam brought the sober men's attention to the only other person in the room. "I tire of this conversation! I, too, shall return to my quarters for the night." With that announcement, Thor made a grand exit to the elevator, where he tripped and practically smacked his skull into the wall.
Steve tied a knot on the trash bag and said goodnight to Bruce, who'd found a water bottle in the very back of the fridge and was drinking a generous amount of it all in one gulp.
When he finally came up for air, he settled on the couch, thinking about the night's events. His brow furrowed as he considered Natasha and Clint's situation. As a scientist, he spent a great deal of time trying to answer questions that couldn't be answered. He loved figuring things out, fixing things, helping people, but he'd never tried experimenting on a social or emotional level because the risks were so much higher. But perhaps with the agents, if he was very careful, he could give them the gentle push they needed to realize their feelings for one another. He stretched his feet out in front of him, the first tendrils of a course of action floating through his head.
"Ugh," Natasha groaned as Clint dropped her on her bed. Tony had taken the liberty of decorating her room in bright colors, probably because he assumed she'd hate it, but she quite liked the pale yellow walls and frilly curtains (not that she'd ever admit it out loud). The only thing that didn't match the light and airy feel of the room was the bedspread, which consisted of reds and blacks that formed a curious hourglass shape.
"It's on the back of black widow spiders. You know, so you have something the fans can put on a T-shirt." Stark had said pleasantly, oblivious to Natasha's horror at the word 'fans.'
Her eyelids drooped immediately after she stretched out, digging her hands into the soft fabric of the comforter. She opened her eyes to find her partner gazing down at her with an unfamiliar expression, which he quickly replaced with a neutral one. He wordlessly handed her a glass of water, and she sat up to sip at it.
He bit his lip, knowing this wasn't the time but unable to help himself. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
She shrugged, kicking off her shoes. "You didn't want to ever talk about it again. So I didn't."
"No, you didn't ever want to talk about it. I tried to bring it up several times after the mission. So why did you finally mention it tonight, after almost 10 years?"
"I don't know," she said, her tone changing from the sleepy drawl she'd been favoring. "Maybe it's time to finally start talking."
She stood up with difficulty and lifted her shirt over her head. Clint averted his eyes respectfully, assuming she was changing into her pajamas, but suddenly she turned his face in her direction.
He wasn't entirely sure how to react to her close proximity or the generous amount of cleavage she was showing him. She was clad only in a pair of leggings and a polka-dotted bra, leaning over him with half-closed eyes.
"Tasha-" he didn't know why he hadn't been prepared for it, but suddenly her lips were on his, her hands coursing down his chest. He allowed himself three seconds to enjoy the moment, his own hands traveling down her torso and along her arms, before he abruptly pulled away.
"This isn't talking."
"Who said anything about talking?" she asked, leaning towards him again. He firmly detached himself and took two steps back, latching his eyes onto her face.
"You did. And I think your soberness was running through for a brief moment before you buried it again."
She grunted in response, clearly not paying attention.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Go to bed, Tasha. If you're in the mood to actually talk tomorrow, come see me."
He left her standing there, part drunk, part asleep, and part turned on, in her mismatched bedroom at 2 A.M., wondering if she'd even acknowledge that the entire night had even happened in the future.
I'm back on campus and my days will get much busier, but I will update when I can. Thanks for reading! Please review!