A deadly pair of assassins were in their kitchen apartment, preparing for dinner. The archer stood at the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti and another of pasta sauce while the spy put plates, napkins, silverware, and glasses of water on the table. He dished out two servings of pasta and set the pots back on the stove, taking his seat on the opposite side of the table from his partner.
As they dug in to the home-cooked meal, the two made small talk.
"Good pasta," Natasha commented.
"Thanks," came the mumbled reply from Clint. "What time is our briefing tomorrow?"
"Nine AM at the base, conference room three," she responded. For a few minutes, there was just the sound of forks clinking on plates and the occasional slurp of pasta. It was a comfortable silence. The agents would agree that the only person it would be comfortable to sit in silence with was sitting across the table. Neither particularly wanted to break the silence, but there was a question burning in one of their minds.
"Why are you here, Clint?" Natasha asked, seemingly out of the blue.
"Um, because it's my apartment too?" His reply sounded more like he was trying to guess at the correct answer to a trick question.
"No, I mean why haven't you left me yet? It's been years, and you haven't abandoned me, kicked me out, left me to die on a mission, tried to kill me... again."
Clint smiled to himself. For the smartest spy in the world, Natasha could be pretty stupid sometimes. "I told you. I'm not leaving you."
"But I'm not exactly an easy person to be around. I'm kinda a-"
"Stop making excuses, Tasha. I need you, and I know you feel the same way, even though you don't tell me. It's the little things you do: the way you smile at me and no one else, the way you let me touch you, the way you touch me back, when you let me kiss you, how no one knows you better than I do. The little things, those are the reasons. I'm not walking out, I'm not gonna leave you."
Natasha froze, fork midway to her mouth. Slowly, slowly, she lowered the utensil and stood up. Clint swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti and gave her a puzzled look, eyebrows knitting together. She walked gracefully to him, bending down and pressing her lips on him. Clint's eyes widened before they closed contentedly, and he stood up and put his arms around her waist. Natasha tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, slowly snaking them around his neck as he kissed her back. Clint smiled into the kiss, realizing that this was the first one she had initiated.
They finally broke apart after running out of air. Clint brushed a fiery curl back from Natasha's face and smiled. "You have always been better at showing me how you feel rather than saying it."
The barest hint of a blush appeared on her cheeks. "Yeah..."
Clint's hand gently made its way to brush against her neck. "I like it." He leaned in slowly and kissed her again. His body language made it clear that she could lean back and evade him if she wished.
She didn't.
If nothing else, they both agreed on one thing: best dinner ever.
Hey guys! Um sorry for... that. I think that was probably the first kiss scene I've written, so let me know what you thought. But hey, they kissed! Clintasha finally kissed! And Natasha was the one who started it. I bet you didn't expect that, did you? So... we probably only have one more chapter:( I'm gonna be so sad when this is over, I love writing this story.
Review? Maybe? Please?