undeadgirlwalking | [PSL] Ana and Hawkeye

Entry tags:

[ana&clint],
[psl]

[PSL] Ana and Hawkeye

Who: Ana Adams, Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
What: Some TLC post a rough night.
When: Post a mission that was rougher than it should've been.
Where: Ana's apartment above Adams' Books.

***

He said he was coming... And he was late. Anan didn't know nearly enough about Clint's life to know exactly where he was, but she'd observed enough to guess. He fought, he killed, undoubtably for an organisation that would rather stay secret. That was fine, she had secrets enough on her own.

He wouldn't be a part of it if he wasn't skilled... Didn't stop her from worrying. Nursing a cold drink in the kitchen, wearing little more than a shirt that he'd left behind, she restrained the urge to send a shade to look for him.

He'll be fine. Clint would be fine.

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It was a rough mission, fraught with mistakes by others and close calls that he always pulled out in the end. He never missed, but he lost a few men, and it burned every time that happened. Another tick mark he had to rub out.

But, as had become somehow customary, he had somewhere other than HQ to go back to. Debriefed and patched up, he headed for the dusty book store, the place she'd first offered him that cup of tea. He couldn't even remember what kept him coming back at first, other than the fact that she seemed to turn up in the strangest places. He'd call it fate or something akin to it, but somehow that cup of tea after a mission always melted away the last remnants of the stress of war.

Customary, too, was his soft, rhythmic knock on the door to the shop.

She heard the knock, depsite being upsatis and setting the drink on the kitchen counter and headed down stairs. Moving through the shop on silent feet, she checked the peep hole and managed a soft smile.

Clint. Alive and well.

Ana unlocked the door and swung it open, hiding her half dressed state behind it.

"Hey, everything go okay?" It was the only thing she asked on evenings like this. Nosey as she was, she didn't pry about his work.

"Gold," he said, nodding and inviting himself in. A gold medal, he implies. A successful mission. It wouldn't do to think back to how many corpses he'd left in his wake on that one, so instead he simply reached to close the door.

That's when he got a peek behind it.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

She nods. A success, good. Stepping back from the door she'd started for the stairs in the back, trusting him to lock up behind him.

"Hmm?" She looked down at her bare legs. "Oh... No. You didn't. Wanna come on up?"

And lock up, he did. It was habit when he came to visit, as he'd been doing off and on for the last several months. He'd even crashed on her couch one night after a formal event he'd been dragged to and left early. Today he was coming to truly relax, though, spend a little time talking about nothing, maybe watch a movie and have some more of that tea.

"I was gonna ask if I could crash here for the night." He was looking at her bare legs for a second longer, too. Usually she was fully clothed when he came over. Hm.

She did enjoy his visits. It was company that was actually alive, he could make her laugh and it was simply... nice to have someone else around.
Leading him through the shelves, she moved up the stairs.

"Oh? Of course. you're always welcome, Clint." Up she went, like nothing was out of the ordinary and she wasn't wearing his shirt. She flashed him a smile.

"Want some tea?"

Unused to civilian gear, he looked a bit uncomfortable in his skin, quite the opposite of the apparently ever-comfortable Ana. Her ease and relaxed nature were part of what made him visit when times got rough. She always knew how to get him to relax and stop taking himself seriously for a few minutes. And why take her too seriously today, either?

"Tea's fine. Nice shirt, by the way."

He was always so tense, so serious. It was unhealthy. When she managed to get him to crack a grin, Ana always felt a proud little thrill. He had a nice smile, he had a great laugh... Amongst other things she couldn't help but notice.

"Oh? Ah... Thanks. Don't think it's mine though." She said as she reached the landing, moving through her open area living room to her kitchen.

Following her down this now-familiar path, he inhaled the scent of old and new books and let himself finally begin to truly relax. He took a seat, as he always did, in the most comfortable place he could find.

"No, it's mine," he responded, finally cracking a soft smile.

Which was the plush day couch. He'd slept there more than once, as had she. It was the newest bit of furniture in the whole building asidde from her fridge.

His comment made her stop. Ana looked down at the cotton shirt with a frown.

"Is it? Oops." She made a sheepish smile. "I'll get it cleaned for you tomorrow if you want." Now back to that tea.

"It looks good on you." He hoped it sounded as breezy and nonchalant coming out of his mouth as it did in his head. His train of thought was slightly elsewhere, but being tactful with a moderately kind young lady was always a good idea.

"Don't worry about it. You can keep it. I can count the number of times I've worn it on one hand."

Don't mind the sudden clatter of ceramic against benchtop. She's just... gonna clear her throat awkwardly and turn back to the kettle.
"Ah, thanks, Clint."

She chanced a peek over one shoulder. He looked a bit distracted. Filling the kettle with water, she set it to boil.

"You sure? It's a nice shirt." She hasn't noticed how one button's come undone giving him a lovely peek at deep green lace that could very well belong to a bra.

Oh, shit. He hadn't meant to make it awkward. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he--he noticed the lace. And he had to blink to make sure he wasn't imagining it.

Yes, she can keep it as long as she likes.

"I'm sure," he answered, coughing quietly.

Not so much awkward as bashful.

"Well.. I'll make sure to wear it then." It was a nice shirt and damn if he didn't look gorgeous in it. As the kettle boiled, Ana fiddled with the mugs, looking at him through her bangs. She did find him handsome, she did enjoy his company... And he'd appeared more than once her in thoughts. Sometimes well dressed and sometimes in nothing at all.

"Everything cool over there?"

"Maybe you could toss on a pair of shorts. It's distracting like that."

Distracting? Not exactly the right thing to say, but he ran with it.

"If customers come in, they won't be looking at the books."

...Not smooth, but truthful. And he was ever so fond of being blunt and straightforward. It just made life easier. She looked good, and she looked better in that. Why not tell her?

Distracting. That's... new. Ana gave a small smile.

"Who said I wore this to work?" She said, the words coming out almost like a purr. She'd only put it on once it'd gotten dark after her shower.

The kettle clicked and she moved to pour the water into the pot. Collecting the pot and mugs, she walked towards the low living room table and and set them down, giving hm another accidental flash of her bra.

Straightening she looked down at him.

"Am I distracting you Mr Barton?"

Unknown territory. He'd bantered with her before, and sure, maybe he'd insinuated that he found her attractive, but he'd never been... Well, this. Was he supposed to admit how attracted he was? He didn't want her involved with his life, didn't want to let her know how many times fellow agents had checked up on her, or how many knew her exact schedule.

Hopefully it wouldn't lead anywhere.

"From tea?"

Ana was a little uncertain herself. She wanted him, but she'd have to tell him all her secrets sooner or later if it got at all serious and how would he react then? Wasn't every day you found out that the person you were with was as much part of the dark as any monster.

She shrugged. "From anything."

"Yeah," he answered, ignoring the tea for the moment. "I'm distracted."

A little smile bloomed again, unbidden, almost more a smirk than anything else. So what if he got a little closer to her? What if he took some time out from being a solider and a superhero and enjoyed himself?

And with her, too, as calming and soothing as her company was, it might be nice.

Ana couldn't help but smile back and bolstered by his compliments and how wearing his shirt made her feel, Ana moved around the table to stand before him, one hand reaching to lightly lay over one shoulder.

"Is that a bad thing, Mr Barton?" She asked, voice coy.

He settled down into the chair more, relaxing his posture as he smiled up at her, this time a full-blown, genuine smile. He had little use for pretending, at this point.

"I'd say," he began, reaching up to brush the backs of his fingers against her arm. "It's a good thing I'm not asking for my shirt back."

Ana gave him a grin, a little shy but warm. It was always a good thing to see that smile of his, something honest. She shifted to stand over one of of his legs, straddling without touching.

"A very good thing, Mr Barton." She said and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Because underneath this... I'm just wearing some very nice underwear."

Unexpected, but welcomed. Emboldened by her shift in tone and position, he put a hand on her hip. With a moment's hesitation, he turned his head toward her.

"You're coming on to me, Ana?"

Maybe he'd thought about it, maybe he'd entertained the idea, but he'd never act on it. He'd never even kissed her, let alone attempted to touch her. Things just took a turn for the interesting.

Her eyes close at the simple touch on her hand. That was nice, Clint. Keep doing that.

Opening them again she gave him a look of coy surprise.

"Now, Mr Barton why would I ever do a thing like that?"

A moment later the expression shifted to something almost challenging.

His fingers curled around the curve of her hip.

"I was hoping you'd tell me." Preferably with more of what she was already doing, maybe something extra, maybe just going ahead and--

One eyebrow curved upward, and he fixed his sharp gaze on her lips.

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[PSL] Ana and Hawkeye

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