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Clint Barton is going back to bed. (today_sucks) wrote in snapthread,

It was good she wasn't looking to contradict him, because frankly she'd have been wrong. So, so wrong. In this moment Clint was positive she was perfect, from the eager responses, to the huge hoodie (which was just, god, it was so cute okay, he'd been dying about it for a while now) to the way that she fit in his lap.

He kissed at her shoulder - the little space between the start of her shirt and her neck and slid his hands under the hoodie, against her back and then waist and then was more than happy to go back to kissing her properly. Clint genuinely really liked kissing, just for the sake of it and could probably just do that the rest of the night and be fine. Mostly fine. Ish. Well, if that was the mood it'd be perfect. But --

"I know a better way we could fit," he said with a stupidly boyish grin. Because, look, Clint was himself and Natasha was just going to have to get used to that. If she wasn't already. She probably was.