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"...and by the time Nat caught up with us, I had already subdued him," Clint said with a smirk, and then stuck his tongue out at Natasha Romanov who was lounging next to him on the sofa in Phil Coulson's office.
"You try running through a forest wearing these things!" Natasha shot Clint a murderous look as she kicked off the offending high-heeled shoes.
Just back from an undercover op, Natasha was still dressed in a ball gown, but Clint had stripped off his jacket and tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt. His dress shoes were covered in mud from the chase.
"Well, you should have worn something you can run in!" Clint was goading her, but the op had gone well and he had brought in the bad guy and they were lounging in Phil's office. Clint was in a good mood, and it made him daring enough to tease Natasha playfully.
"Sure, with a ball gown. That would have blown our cover the minute we walked in. You have absolutely no understanding of how much harder I have to work sometimes."
"Backwards and in high heels," said Phil, though his eyes never left the computer screen as he tapped out the post-mission report.
"Sir?" Nat turned away from Clint.
"Something my mother used to quote, 'Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, backwards and in high heels."
"Exactly!" Nat said triumphantly.
"Well, Ginger, put those tired tootsies here," Clint said, patting his lap, "and let the Amazing Hawkeye's magic fingers fix everything."
Nat weighed her options for a second, but her feet really did ache, and she knew that Clint wasn't idly boasting, he really did give pretty awesome massages. Besides, she'd have her toes right next to his balls, just in case... Nat flashed him a quick grin and shifted on the sofa so that she could lift her feet into his lap.
Phil glanced over in surprise. He knew that Clint and Nat were close, but Natasha Romanov was notorious for being completely untouchable, in the literal, not figurative sense. Phil found himself wondering briefly if Clint and Nat... and felt a sharp pang of jealousy. 'No,' he thought as he turned his eyes to his computer screen and went back to typing his report, 'their dynamic is totally brother-sister.' Phil was pretty sure of that, but it didn't stop him from glancing back as Clint started to massage Natasha's feet.
Clint knew that Phil was watching, and decided to try to make something of the opportunity that had presented itself. He slowed his hands and, stroking Nat's instep, deliberately raised his head and looked Phil straight in the eye.
The message was clear: I'd rather be touching you.
Phil quickly looked down at his keyboard, his ears going ever so slightly pink, so Clint knew he had his attention. Not taking his eyes off Phil, Clint went to work in earnest on Tasha's feet, skillfully massaging the sole and arch with strong thumbs until he drew a quiet moan.
Clint grinned at Phil, whose eyes were darting from the computer screen to Clint's face, to his hands, and back again. He circled Natasha's foot with strong fingers and rubbed slowly from ankle to toes. He alternated gentle strokes of his fingers with deep presses of his thumbs. He worked each individual toe with care and attention, but his eyes were always on Phil.
"Right, that's enough of that," said Nat, swinging her feet to the floor, and getting up off the sofa in one smooth motion.
"Is there anything else you need from us, Sir?" She put emphasis on the 'us'.
"No, thank you Agent Romanov, I have everything I need to finish the report."
Nat nodded and fixed Clint with a hard stare, "Come on."
With one last cheeky grin, Clint bounced up off the sofa and followed Nat out of Coulson's office. As soon as the door closed behind them, Natasha punched Clint in the arm, hard.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Next time you're planning to use me as a prop to seduce someone, ask me first." And before Clint could object or deny, she continued, "You'd better get your act together soon, otherwise I'm going to knock your heads together and lock the two of you in a broom closet naked. I'm tired of you both mooning at each other like teenagers."
She stalked off, leaving Clint rubbing what was going to be a very sore arm.
"Worth it, though," he said quietly to her back, "totally worth it."