So, Natasha and Clint decide to have a snowball fight in this chapter and one thing may or may not lead to another. Find out for yourself. Here is chapter 20!
When Natasha awoke the next morning, she was cuddled up next to Clint in the king-sized bed. She had all the room in the world in the bed, and she chose to sleep up against Clint. His arm was wrapped around her as usual and her head was resting on his shoulder with her right arm stretched across his chest. Natasha smiled to herself. She could get used to this too, just the two of them waking up next to each other every morning.
She rolled over as gently as possible so as not to wake up Clint and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. When she her feet touched the cold hardwood floor, she quickly and quietly padded over to the chair in the corner to pick up Clint's sweatshirt and put it on. The electric fireplace was still burning from last night since they didn't turn it off when they went to sleep, but the heat wasn't quite keeping the vast room warm enough. Suddenly she regretted getting out of the warm and comfy bed.
The TV was also still on from last night, playing the main menu from the Breakfast at Tiffany's DVD. By the time they had returned from Tiffany's last night, the snow was coming down in large flakes, the temperature had dropped significantly, and the wind had picked up. When they walked through the front doors to the apartment building, they shook the snow from their hair and loaded into the private elevator to the penthouse.
They entered the penthouse and realized how cold and exhausted they were. They skipped eating dinner and immediately changed their clothes to climb into bed with each other. Before that, Natasha had grabbed a couple of her grandparents' DVDs from her grandfather's office and brought them into the room. Most of the movies her grandparents owned were classics, such as Casablanca and Gone with the Wind. Natasha's favorite was Breakfast at Tiffany's, and Clint told her to pop the movie into the DVD player so he could maybe finally understand her strange fascination with Tiffany's. However, Clint and Natasha never finished watching the movie because they fell asleep about halfway through.
Natasha tip toed across the room and slipped out the door, quietly closing it behind her, and she padded down the hall to the kitchen. She walked into the kitchen and went straight to the fridge to grab the bottle of orange juice. When she went to open the door, her hand lingered on the handle as she noticed the note addressed to her hanging on the fridge. She pulled it off of the fridge and ripped it open, instantly recognizing her dad's untidy scrawl.
Natasha, it read. Your grandparents wanted you to know that they have left money for you for the remainder of your stay. I left it on your grandfather's desk in his office this morning. I will be spending most of my time at OSCORP preparing for the financial New Year. Mr. Osborn has graciously offered to let me stay at the OSCORP apartments next door to the company so I won't be home very often during your stay. If you need anything, call me, or you can stop by OSCORP or the apartments. Mr. Osborn said he wouldn't mind. You and Clint should behave yourselves and keep the penthouse in order. And don't spend all that money at once. Use it wisely. Love, Dad.
P.S., the note continued. Mr. Osborn's son, Harry, and his friend Peter are having a New Year's Eve party in Times Square. Harry has been nice enough to extend the invite to you and Clint. You don't have to go if you don't want to, but at least consider it. He's a nice boy, and it would give you and Clint something to do besides sit at home that night.
Natasha set the note on the counter behind her and proceeded to open the fridge and pulled out the bottle of orange juice. She heard footsteps coming down the hall as she started to pour herself a glass and Clint appeared a couple seconds later, rubbing his eyes.
"Hey," he said, yawning.
"Hi," she said. "You want some?" She shook the bottle of orange juice and he nodded. She grabbed another glass from the cabinet and poured him something to drink. She returned the bottle to the fridge and then grabbed the two glasses, handing one to Clint. He gave her a quick peck on the lips and then took a swig from his glass. When he swallowed his drink, he looked at Natasha and gave her a confused look.
"Is that my sweatshirt?" Clint asked and Natasha nodded.
"It's a shame. It looks better on you than it does on me," he said, and she playfully smacked him on the arm. He set his glass down and leaned against the counter.
"So Miss Tour Guide, what are we doing today?"
Natasha shrugged. "Not sure if there's much we can do what with the snow and all," she said, nodding her head towards the window. Clint turned and looked. Sure enough, fluffy snowflakes were dancing past the window, floating down to the ground. He could see Central Park was coated with a white layer of fluff and so was the entire city.
He turned back to Natasha. "We could have a snowball fight in the park."
"We haven't had snowball fights since we were kids, and that's because you would cheat," she teased.
"I did not cheat. You were just a sore loser," he shot back teasingly.
"Fine," she said. "You're on. A snowball fight in Central Park."
With that, she padded off back down the hall to gear up for battle.
When the private elevator to the penthouse reached the main floor and opened its doors, residents of 834 Fifth Avenue probably thought Clint and Natasha were crazy. They were suited up in the puffiest of jackets and the fluffiest of scarves. Natasha was wearing a pair of tights underneath her jeans, which were tucked into her boots. Clint had on his sweatshirt – which he had to fight Natasha to get back – underneath his light jacket.
They stomped out of the building and rushed across the street to Central Park. They raced up Fifth Avenue to find the perfect spot that Natasha had mentioned for a snowball fight. They were going to take over Bethesda Fountain and Bow Bridge. The bridge would be Natasha's base while the fountain would be Clint's.
When they reached their destination, they parted ways to begin strategizing. Neither one of them were supposed to go past the confines of the battle zone between The Lake and Terrace Drive. When the clock struck 2:00, the battle began. The amount of space that they had mapped out to be the battle zone was quite big for just a small chunk of the park so they had to be on high alert for any rogue snowballs.
It didn't take long for Natasha to find Clint, and when she did, she chucked a snowball right in his direction. When the snowball broke apart as it hit Clint's shoulder, he chucked one right back at her.
Madness ensued. Snowball after snowball was tossed through the air. Some broke apart before they even reached their target, but most of the projectiles disintegrated when they collided with something else. At one point, Natasha jumped out from behind the giant boulder she was using as a shield and jumped on Clint's back and shoved a snowball right in his face.
"And you say I'm the cheater!" Clint said. Natasha giggled and he quickly swung her around and laid her down on top of a huge pile of snow. He knelt down next to her and lowered himself down, his lips just barely touching hers.
"Are you going to surrender?" he asked. She could feel his breath on hers and his blue-grey eyes were staring into her green ones.
"N-no," she stammered.
"Your plan is weak and flawed. You should probably just give in," he said. His lips were still just barely touching hers and it was killing her. Just a little closer and they could kiss. But he was torturing her. He wanted her to surrender so she could get a reward.
"No," she said firmly this time.
He pushed himself off of the ground but Natasha quickly flipped him onto his back and climbed on top of him.
"Now it's time for me to torture you," she said with a sly smile. She leaned down but tilted her head so her lips were right by his ear.
"Surrender," she whispered. The action made Clint jump and sent his heart racing. When she turned her head to face him again, he had a hard time focusing. She was staring him down and saying absolutely nothing. She knew that he loved her green eyes, so she was using them to her advantage right now.
"Okay, I-I'm done," he stuttered.
"I'm sorry. What was that?" she asked teasingly.
"I surrender."
"Ha!" she yelled and she got up and starting jumping around in celebration. Clint pushed himself up in a sitting position and laughed at how ridiculous she looked dancing around in the middle of Central Park.
"Okay, you've rubbed it in enough. You win," Clint said with a laugh.
Natasha stopped her celebration and walked over to Clint and offered him her hand to help him off of the ground. She pulled him up and then wrapped her arms around him.
"Okay sorry," she whined. "It's a tie then."
Clint chuckled. "No, it's okay. I surrendered. You won."
Natasha pulled away and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay suit yourself," she said.
"Okay, so what else are we going to do today?" Clint asked.
"I'm a little exhausted," Natasha said, "And really disgustingly sweaty."
"We can go back to the apartment. It's fine with me," Clint said. Natasha nodded and slipped her hand into his as they made their way out of Central Park and back down Fifth Avenue. The snow had stopped coming down in the large flakes but it was still coming down.
When they stepped back into the lobby of 834 Fifth Avenue, residents and staff of the building looked at them as if they needed to be committed to a psych ward. Clint and Natasha didn't care and they loaded into the private elevator and stood in silence as it shot upwards to the top of the building.
The elevator door slid open and Natasha and Clint stepped into the foyer. They pulled off their shoes and then proceeded to shed the rest of their outer layers. Their jackets, gloves, and scarves were soaked from the melted snow and it made a mess on the hardwood floor. Natasha gathered up all of their clothes and walked down the hall to toss them into the dryer.
When she returned, Clint wasn't sure why he found her to be so incredibly adorable. Strands of her hair were matted to the sides of her face and it was sticking up in all different places. Her jeans were soaked from when he had her lying in the snow and her cheeks were flushed from the cold.
"What?" she asked when she caught him looking at her for too long.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and looking away.
"Okay," she said with an I-don't-buy-that-excuse look on her face. "I'm going to get changed out of these clothes."
She walked down the hallway and started banging around in the room to find a change of clothes. Clint strode into the living room and sat down on one of the couches. He listened as she continued to bang around in the room, searching for various items of clothing, until she finally ceased the noise.
Moments later, he heard her soft footsteps on the hardwood floor behind him and he turned around. She was dressed in a pair of dark blue sleep shorts and a black camisole that hugged her curves. She was also wearing a grey sweatshirt to keep her warm.
Natasha walked around and sat down on the couch next to Clint. She leaned into him, and instinctively he wrapped his arm around her.
"So, what are we going to do tonight?" she mumbled against his chest.
"I don't know. You tell me," Clint said.
Natasha shrugged, and then leaned forward to grab the remote off of the coffee table and turned on the TV.
"Well, my grandparents have every premium cable channel on the face of the planet. Showtime, HBO, you name it and they probably have it. All we have to do is pick a movie to watch. The problem is, with so many movies to choose from, how do you choose?" she joked.
Clint laughed and took the remote from her hand.
"I'll take care of this," he said, scrolling through the channel listings. He picked a romantic comedy on HBO; Natasha was about to protest until she saw Ryan Gosling come on the screen and then she was perfectly fine with it.
Natasha couldn't help but absentmindedly twirl Clint's promise ring around her finger as they watched the movie. Not only could she tell this was going to become a habit, but she was still getting used to the fact that it was there.
Clint noticed the strange habit she was developing and he reached his hand up to hers, lacing his fingers through hers.
"Is the ring bugging you?" he asked.
"No, no," she said quickly, defensively. "I'm just trying to get used to it being there. I'm sure I'll stop doing it after a week or two."
He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers, his lips lingering on the ring finger. She looked up at him and their eyes locked. Natasha reached up and ran her fingers along his jaw line before Clint leaned down and they locked lips.
The kiss became more aggressive and Natasha pushed Clint onto his back on the couch, and she climbed on top of him. They barely broke from the kiss, not even when Natasha shed her sweatshirt and tossed it on the floor.
It became more heated when Clint sat up and Natasha helped him pull his t-shirt off. She tossed it on the floor aggressively and continued to kiss Clint as he fell back against the couch. She could feel him running his hands up her legs, and at that moment she was thankful that she had shaved the day before. His hands continued to travel up her legs and rested on her waist before continuing up her shirt.
It was almost like that one day back in the summer after the accident. Only now they had taken it one step further with both of them half dressed on the couch. The skin on skin contact was magnificent and Natasha could feel Clint's hands making their way down her back. But, somehow, she was pulled back to reality and she quickly broke away from the kiss with her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
"What? What's wrong? What did I do wrong?" Clint asked concerned, sitting up on the couch.
Natasha removed her hands from her mouth. "No, you did everything right," she breathed. "It's my fault."
Clint saw the disappointment in her eyes, but it wasn't disappointment in Clint. It was disappointment in herself.
"No, no, no, it's fine. It's fine," he reassured her, rubbing her arms. "So, you're still not ready. That's fine."
"But what if I'll never be ready?" she muttered almost inaudibly.
"I don't think this is something you can be ready for," Clint said, trying to ease the tension and her nervousness.
"I feel like every single time we break apart from this, it's my fault. I'm the one who's not ready. I'm the one who's nervous. I'm the one who's scared," she said, her voice cracking a bit.
Clint had no idea how to respond to that. First and foremost, he would never blame her for stopping what could have been. He always thought he was putting too much pressure on her in the first place anyways. Nervousness and being scared worked hand in hand, and he wasn't sure how to relieve it for her. He could tell her a million times that he would make it safe for her, that he'll stop if it hurt or if it seemed like he was hurting her, but no matter what, she probably would still admit to being scared to prevent it.
"I'm going to bed," she mumbled as she climbed off of him but he grabbed her by the hand to stop her.
"Not without me you're not," he stated. "I still love you, you know. You can push this back as much as you want, but it won't change how much I love you."
She cracked a small smile; he knew that would make her feel better. She sat back down on the couch and bent down to grab her sweatshirt from the floor. Clint reached onto the floor to grab his t-shirt and slip it back on when Natasha stopped him.
"Umm, no. You're sleeping without a shirt tonight," she demanded. Clint chuckled and then leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. When she didn't turn her head to face him, he kissed her on the cheek again, and then the neck, then the shoulder. He continued to taunt her until she turned to him and he finally kissed her on the lips.
"I'm not mad at you. I promise. I don't understand how you could think I would be," Clint said.
Natasha shrugged. "I feel like such a tease."
"You are," Clint joked. "But that just makes our relationship all the more interesting."
She playfully shoved him and then got up from the couch and headed down the hall. Clint got up and followed her. When reached the bedroom, he tossed his shirt on top of his bag and then grabbed a pair of shorts to change into. He went into the bathroom and changed, and when he emerged, Natasha was already burrowed under the heavy blankets. He climbed in and she automatically rolled over and nestled into her usual position.
"I'm really, really sorry," she mumbled once more.
Clint decided he wasn't going to say anything this time. As a response, he just wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. He didn't care how long it took her. He didn't even care if it never happened. He just wished that they could stay like this forever, lying together in bed with her in his arms. He knew that after this week, it would be awhile until it could happen again so he held her as tight as he could and drifted off to sleep.
Oh I'm such a tease! haha, I promise this will happen. I'm just still debating as to WHEN I want it to happen. I'm torn between two separate parts in this story. Both of them will be romantic though haha.
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