Re: Clint and Steve
Steve had ducked away from Natasha only to be descended upon by a group of women wearing nothing but feathers, who still managed to be more covered up than Steve currently was. There was a fair amount of touching happening - one had reached up to ruffle his hair, while another kept running her hand over his shoulder and down to his elbow, exclaiming over how strong he was. Normally this was the type of behavior that would send Steve running for the hills, but he was having a hard time convincing himself to leave. It's not that he was enjoying himself, precisely - the conversation certainly wasn't anything to write home about, and he knew that each and every woman in the group probably had their eye on stealing him away from the party for a visit to their hotel room, but somehow, that didn't seem as distressing as it normally did. If anything, it might have even been intriguing, and there was no denying that he was enjoying their touches. His skin was practically humming with it, their fingers leaving goosebumps wherever they trailed, and Steve himself had gone rather loose-limbed and content under their attentions.
A decidedly different sort of arm, one that was solid and thick and firm with muscle, slung around his shoulders, steering Steve inexorably away from the ladies. Then there was Clint's voice in his ear, and Steve let out a laugh, wrapping his own arm around Clint's waist and leaning happily into him. "That was you, with the ribbons?" Steve asked, his smile stretching into something that was closer to a grin as he glanced at Clint. "I think I owe you a thank you. My stylist kept saying that she'd wanted to do ribbons, but couldn't because someone else had already beat her to it. At least the spandex is, y'know. Technically pants."