Clint dropped heavily into the chair across from her, a slow, lazy grin stretching his lips.
"Morning."
Natasha flicked her eyes up and studied his tousled hair disdainfully.
"You missed our meeting with Fury," she replied, and made a savage jab with her fork as he reached for a piece of her bacon. Clint's reflexes were too good, and the fork only left a series of shallow impressions on the table.
"That was last night?" Clint asked absently. He was still eyeing her plate, but she diverted his attention by pointedly laying her Glock alongside it. "Jesus, fine. I'll get my own bacon."
"You skipped our run this morning, too," she accused.
"Give him a break, Romanoff." Rumlow pulled out the chair beside Clint and sat. He slid his tray in Clint's direction. "All yours, if you give me the details. How was she?"
"Like a dream, man," Clint replied, and chuckled a little. That stupid dazed expression was back. Natasha rolled her eyes and groaned in disgust.
She glanced around the cafeteria, but it was 0800 and all the other tables were occupied. She considered abandoning her breakfast, but too hungry for that after her morning workout, decided to just bolt her food down and escape ASAP.
"She's a lady," Clint began, having accepted his bribe. "You just need a really light touch to make her purr. Doesn't take much to get her going, and when you do it's fast and hard."
A junior agent, one Clint had been training in combat maneuvers, hesitantly took the seat on his other side, rapt with attention.
"Perfect shape, curves in all the right places. Not as heavy as she looked at first."
A couple agents at the table behind Clint turned in their seats to eavesdrop. Clint gave a smug little smirk, clearly enjoying the attention.
"Amazing between your legs. Riding her just feel right, ya know?"
Rumlow and the rookie nodded enthusiastically and made sounds of agreement.
Natasha shoved her chair back and stood, jealousy burning too hot in the pit of her stomach to listen to Clint for one more second.
"Just shut up, Barton!"
He scowled as the junior agent cowered beside him.
"What's your problem, Tash?"
"You know what my problem is. You're choosing that over me. It's stupid."
The agents at the nearest tables had paused to watch. She felt her cheeks heat up.
"Hey, I invited you to come along. You don't get to ruin this for me. Besides, Fury assigned you the new Corvette two weeks ago! It's my turn."
She spun on her heel and stalked from the cafeteria. Corvettes were a dime a dozen. Clint's new Ducati bike was a prototype. Fury gave him all the best toys.