Steve came to the end of his explanation of the night's events. Clint had remained completely silent throughout the story, his arm still covering his eyes, hiding his facial expressions. It had been a few minutes since Steve had finished talking , and he stared at Clint now, waiting for him to say something.
Tentatively, he reached out a hand to touch Clint's knee .
"Clint ? Are you okay ?" he asked, unsure about what to make of the assassin's silence.
"I'm fine Captain."
Clint's voice was cold steel, laced with fury. He sat up on the bed, brushing the Captain's hand off his knee, as he stood up.
"I'm fine. But Stark is dead."
Steve leapt across the bed as Clint started for the door, tackling the smaller man down, then rolling him over and pinning him. Clint struggled, grimacing up at the handsome man that now straddled him.
"Captain, I promise I won't kill him. I'll just smack him upside the head a little."
"Clint, I've already done that, and I think it'd be a bad idea to start another fight tonight. Can we please just leave it for now. Please ?"
Clint grunted, still struggling to break free. Steve tightened his grip , and shifted his weight, placing it more fully on Clint's hips, which were wildly bucking about, trying to throw the larger man off him. Steve leaned forward, his eyes wide and pleading. Clint turned his head, breaking the eye contact.
"Come on Cap', don't use the puppy dog look on me, I'm immune to it."
"Then why'd you look away ?"
"Because I felt like sneezing, and didn't want to spray you."
"Clint…that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"Clearly you haven't watched Tyra on ANTM."
"I don't understand that reference.."
Clint laughed, as the tension eased from his body. He wondered what the Great American Hero would think of the trashy television show. He looked up at the man still straddling him, the handsome face worried slightly, blue eyes searing into his. He'd never fully appreciated how blue the Captain's eyes were. The irises were a deep sapphire blue, fading into greenish-gold striations around the pupil, almost like a miniature ocean, framed by the thickest eyelashes he'd ever seen. They wouldn't look out of place on a Disney character, he mused to himself.
He suddenly realized how compromising a position they were in, and flushed red, his mind betraying him, with a sudden removal of their clothes, forcing a vivid image of him hilt deep in Steve, their bodies sweating as Steve rode him , gasping his name as Clint drove himself deeper inside him. He snapped back to reality, realizing that Steve was still on top of him, still fully dressed, looking at him quizzically.
"Clint? You okay ? Your pulse just quickened, and your face is really red."
"Yeah Steve, I'm fine. Maybe you could let me up now though ?"
As Steve leaned back to sit up, he came fully into contact with Clint's lap, and felt something hard shift beneath him. Thinking he'd brushed Clint's hip bones, he stood up gracefully, offering a hand to Clint, who ignored it, rolling over into an awkward crouch and standing up so he faced away from the Captain.
"Clint, are you sure you're okay?"
"Holy cow Captain, stop asking me, I'm fine," Clint laughed, turning to face his friend, making clear there was no malice in his voice. Steve laughed, his eyes taking in the man before him, pausing as he realized the front of Clint's pants were … bulging somewhat.
"It almost looks like he's erect...," Steve thought to himself, the thought trailing off as realization struck. "Oh my. Clint's got an erection. Oh."
He forced his eyes back to Clint's face, which had turned slightly pink again, Clint meeting his gaze, and shifting his hips away slightly as though he realized his body was betraying him somehow. Steve hoisted a grin onto his face, his own mind battling not to cause any activity south of the border.
"So, shouldn't our food be here by now?" he asked.
"It should be…that's strange," Clint began, just as Jarvis chimed in.
" Agent Barton, Captain Rogers Sir, I'm sorry to bother you - Ms Romanoff was looking after , who has regained consciousness. She asked him what he said to provoke the fight, and took the oppurtunity to repeat his statement verbatim. Ms. Romanoff is currently shoving his head into the toilet. An intervention on your parts might be necessary."