Clint & Wanda & Ev | Sunday, Late Morning
Jun. 24th, 2018 11:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_hawkeye posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsAfter their meetup to check in on her 'children,' Clint convinced Wanda to head back to his suite with him. Obviously, there had to be a semi-awkward morning after. [[Sexual Content Warning]]
Reaching over to his bedside table, Clint grabbed the pint glass of wine — still half-full — and handed it to Wanda. "I dunno what that stuff is," he said, "But it it'll kick your ass." Then he resettled himself against the pillows at the top of the bed and shifted until the sheets were comfortable around his waist. "I kinda like it. For wine."
Wanda snorted in amusement before taking an appreciative sip of the wine. He was right, it was a full bodied red that packed a delicious punch. "You 'kinda like it'? Barbarian." She leaned back against the pillows, carefully holding the pint glass so that it didn't spell over her chest or the sheets.
The sheets were also bunched up around her waist, eschewing the stereotypical 'woman has sheet snuggly around her naked chest' movie trope.
"I mean," Clint said, grinning. "It's beer or vodka for me. Wine's uncharted territory. I don't mind being a barbarian. Just don't make me a heathen."
"You're serving me wine in a pint glass, Clint," Wanda drawled, smirking at him over the top of the glass, "you don't have that much further to go to get to heathen status."
Grinning, Clint leaned over to nip at the underside of her breast. "You don't seem to generally have a problem with my barbarian ways…"
She laughed as a pleasurable shiver ran down her spine, though she was slightly distracted by making sure she didn't drop the pint glass or the wine all over his head. "Oh trust me, my standards are not so high as to eliminate barbarians or heathens from sharing a bed with me. Especially ones that bring me wine."
Clint laughed, licking his way up to her nipple. "You should raise your standards."
With her free hand she reached up to run her fingernails up his neck and into his hair, scratching lightly. "Mmm, you are not wrong but I feel it would be a shame to eliminate you if I do."
Humming, Clint tugged at her nipple, then said, "Pretty sure I'd make the cut, regardless of how high you set your standards." Pushing himself up, he stole a kiss before asking, "You want anything from the kitchen? Besides the rest of that wine?"
"I'm not going to dignify the first part of that with a response," Wanda sniffed, hiding a smile by finishing up the last of the wine. "But as for the second part, nothing but wine, please, garçon."
Clint slid off the bed and snagged his boxer briefs off the floor. Pulling them on, he headed out of his room and into the kitchen to grab himself a beer and the rest of Wanda's bottle.
There was a knock at the door. Ev stood on the other side, scrolling through his phone while he waited for a response. He had been on his way back to his own suite when he sensed the familiar pings of Clint’s and Wanda’s auras in one place. Always too nosy for his own good, he sought to investigate. He did not expect Clint to appear before him in only his underwear.
“Bro. Pants.”
Holding the door open with his hip, the cold bottles pressed between his forearm and his stomach, Clint glanced down at himself and shrugged. "Not like you haven't seen it all and more before. What's up?"
“That was a long time ago. When was the last time I was even on a honey pot?” Ev shook his head and then smirked. “I can come back later. I see you have company. Nice.”
Wanda appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, more dressed than Clint as far as anyone could tell, though it was clear she had just thrown on her shirt and skirt. "No need to leave on my account," she laughed. "Besides, you actually appreciate wine, unlike our friendly barbarian here. You can join us for some day drinking, if you'd like."
Shame was not an emotion Wanda believed in and her casual reaction was absolutely genuine. But there was an unfamiliar flip of something in her stomach as she looked across the room at Ev, one that she ignored by finishing off the pint glass of wine in her hand.
“No, I was just . . . it’s nothing that can’t wait.” Ev’s grin was plastered on, and to anyone who had not spent years in espionage, it would have been believable. “Gibney has this thing he wanted to show you.”
"Me?" Clint asked, glancing from the bottles he was holding to Ev, then over to Wanda. "Right now?" He didn't even have his phone on him to ask Kyle what the heck he needed at nearly noon on a Sunday. "Uh… I can… talk to him later? Right?" He looked back toward Ev, brows rising.
Ev nodded. “‘You’ll have to speak up, I’m wearing a towel,’” he quoted under his breath. “I’m sure he can hold his horses for a little while. What’s so important to interrupt Sunday brunch, anyway?”
Across the room, Wanda's eyes had narrowed just slightly in reaction to both the slightly passive-aggressive tone she may or may not be hearing and the stiff look on his face. "Maybe those demon baby squids of yours are up to something," she said, face smoothing out as she padded further into the room. "Which if you keep calling me their squid mother, Barton, will not end well for you."
"I mean," Clint said, raising his eyebrows. "Okay? But also, Sunday brunch got cancelled, Ev. Otherwise I'd be there. So. I'm gonna go… drink this beer." He handed the bottle of wine over to Wanda, gave Ev a half-sarcastic salute, and turned on his heel to find himself a bottle opener.
“That was a euphemism. But, you do that. I’ll catch you both later.” Ev smiled again, and even managed to get it to reach his eyes before he turned around and the expression vanished, leaving a neutral, unemotional visage in its place. Times like this, he almost wished he drank, too. He could do with a little memory wipe, or at least a levy to the emotional tidal wave that threatened to crash right on his head.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Wanda's head tilted back as she sighed at the ceiling. That … could have been less awkward. That unpleasant feeling in her gut came back and she was tempted to make her excuses and head back to her suite. Clint, she knew, would understand, in his own way, special Clint way.
But.
She crossed to the fridge, instead, and pulled out the rest of the bottle of wine before turning back to head into the bedroom. "As soon as you stop distracting me, I'm buying you real wine glasses, you heathen," Wanda called out, as she shrugged her shirt off.
Reaching over to his bedside table, Clint grabbed the pint glass of wine — still half-full — and handed it to Wanda. "I dunno what that stuff is," he said, "But it it'll kick your ass." Then he resettled himself against the pillows at the top of the bed and shifted until the sheets were comfortable around his waist. "I kinda like it. For wine."
Wanda snorted in amusement before taking an appreciative sip of the wine. He was right, it was a full bodied red that packed a delicious punch. "You 'kinda like it'? Barbarian." She leaned back against the pillows, carefully holding the pint glass so that it didn't spell over her chest or the sheets.
The sheets were also bunched up around her waist, eschewing the stereotypical 'woman has sheet snuggly around her naked chest' movie trope.
"I mean," Clint said, grinning. "It's beer or vodka for me. Wine's uncharted territory. I don't mind being a barbarian. Just don't make me a heathen."
"You're serving me wine in a pint glass, Clint," Wanda drawled, smirking at him over the top of the glass, "you don't have that much further to go to get to heathen status."
Grinning, Clint leaned over to nip at the underside of her breast. "You don't seem to generally have a problem with my barbarian ways…"
She laughed as a pleasurable shiver ran down her spine, though she was slightly distracted by making sure she didn't drop the pint glass or the wine all over his head. "Oh trust me, my standards are not so high as to eliminate barbarians or heathens from sharing a bed with me. Especially ones that bring me wine."
Clint laughed, licking his way up to her nipple. "You should raise your standards."
With her free hand she reached up to run her fingernails up his neck and into his hair, scratching lightly. "Mmm, you are not wrong but I feel it would be a shame to eliminate you if I do."
Humming, Clint tugged at her nipple, then said, "Pretty sure I'd make the cut, regardless of how high you set your standards." Pushing himself up, he stole a kiss before asking, "You want anything from the kitchen? Besides the rest of that wine?"
"I'm not going to dignify the first part of that with a response," Wanda sniffed, hiding a smile by finishing up the last of the wine. "But as for the second part, nothing but wine, please, garçon."
Clint slid off the bed and snagged his boxer briefs off the floor. Pulling them on, he headed out of his room and into the kitchen to grab himself a beer and the rest of Wanda's bottle.
There was a knock at the door. Ev stood on the other side, scrolling through his phone while he waited for a response. He had been on his way back to his own suite when he sensed the familiar pings of Clint’s and Wanda’s auras in one place. Always too nosy for his own good, he sought to investigate. He did not expect Clint to appear before him in only his underwear.
“Bro. Pants.”
Holding the door open with his hip, the cold bottles pressed between his forearm and his stomach, Clint glanced down at himself and shrugged. "Not like you haven't seen it all and more before. What's up?"
“That was a long time ago. When was the last time I was even on a honey pot?” Ev shook his head and then smirked. “I can come back later. I see you have company. Nice.”
Wanda appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, more dressed than Clint as far as anyone could tell, though it was clear she had just thrown on her shirt and skirt. "No need to leave on my account," she laughed. "Besides, you actually appreciate wine, unlike our friendly barbarian here. You can join us for some day drinking, if you'd like."
Shame was not an emotion Wanda believed in and her casual reaction was absolutely genuine. But there was an unfamiliar flip of something in her stomach as she looked across the room at Ev, one that she ignored by finishing off the pint glass of wine in her hand.
“No, I was just . . . it’s nothing that can’t wait.” Ev’s grin was plastered on, and to anyone who had not spent years in espionage, it would have been believable. “Gibney has this thing he wanted to show you.”
"Me?" Clint asked, glancing from the bottles he was holding to Ev, then over to Wanda. "Right now?" He didn't even have his phone on him to ask Kyle what the heck he needed at nearly noon on a Sunday. "Uh… I can… talk to him later? Right?" He looked back toward Ev, brows rising.
Ev nodded. “‘You’ll have to speak up, I’m wearing a towel,’” he quoted under his breath. “I’m sure he can hold his horses for a little while. What’s so important to interrupt Sunday brunch, anyway?”
Across the room, Wanda's eyes had narrowed just slightly in reaction to both the slightly passive-aggressive tone she may or may not be hearing and the stiff look on his face. "Maybe those demon baby squids of yours are up to something," she said, face smoothing out as she padded further into the room. "Which if you keep calling me their squid mother, Barton, will not end well for you."
"I mean," Clint said, raising his eyebrows. "Okay? But also, Sunday brunch got cancelled, Ev. Otherwise I'd be there. So. I'm gonna go… drink this beer." He handed the bottle of wine over to Wanda, gave Ev a half-sarcastic salute, and turned on his heel to find himself a bottle opener.
“That was a euphemism. But, you do that. I’ll catch you both later.” Ev smiled again, and even managed to get it to reach his eyes before he turned around and the expression vanished, leaving a neutral, unemotional visage in its place. Times like this, he almost wished he drank, too. He could do with a little memory wipe, or at least a levy to the emotional tidal wave that threatened to crash right on his head.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Wanda's head tilted back as she sighed at the ceiling. That … could have been less awkward. That unpleasant feeling in her gut came back and she was tempted to make her excuses and head back to her suite. Clint, she knew, would understand, in his own way, special Clint way.
But.
She crossed to the fridge, instead, and pulled out the rest of the bottle of wine before turning back to head into the bedroom. "As soon as you stop distracting me, I'm buying you real wine glasses, you heathen," Wanda called out, as she shrugged her shirt off.
