Insatiable Habits

Hotel Imperfections

After the gruelling final hours on board next to a more than irritated Natasha, the flight had finally landed. Unfortunately, Natasha's mood failed to lift throughout the remainder of the journey. She didn't so much as utter a word as you took your place in the Stark company car. The drive was silent, and even upon reaching the hotel her eyes stayed averted from yours. Yes, she was being over dramatic, you thought. Though perhaps, the question surfaced - was the problem you ? She had finally let herself be soft - sleeping on your shoulder, holding your arm, wearing your jumper. Which she was still sporting, despite her ignorance. Had you ruined it ? Had you misread the one opportunity the widow gave you to mend the mutual dislike ?

There was no time to meditate on this possibility. You pulled your luggage from the boot of the car and thanked the driver as Natasha walked to reception. By the time you had caught up, she was holding a single key in her hand, inspecting you from head to toe with a twinge of nuisance in her look.
"I guess I'll see you later then ? I'll get my key and-"
"This is your key, Y/N."
A look of confusion drowns your face.
"Wait, I don't-"
"We're sharing a fucking room Y/N, don't you get it." Natasha interrupts, again.
You don't have much to say to this revelation. If you hadn't irked her so much on the flight, maybe she wouldn't be so resentful of this idea.

As you stand side by side in the elevator, you consider trying to apologise for your comment earlier. Though you decide against it, as it seems that Natasha's ill emotions are not shifting.
Together, you reach your room and Natasha heads in before you. Slowly you follow, taking in the surroundings of the overly lavish, Tony Stark style suite. Natasha laughs in the other room.
"Y/N come look at this shit."
You join her in the room.

One double bed.

You look at Natasha who is biting her lip and staring inquisitively at the bed. It's difficult to read her expression.
"I'll sleep on the couch" you finally suggest.
"Don't be stupid Y/N."
"You're clearly not okay with the sleeping arrangement. Let me sleep on the couch. It's not as if you care anyways, Natasha."
She took in your words for a moment. It seemed as if she was about to dispute your claims. But before she could, you left to go set up your new 'bed'.
A few moments later, she joined you in the front room.
"Any plans for dinner ?" she inquired.
"I was thinking we could ask Wanda or Vision. They probably know somewhere."
She takes your hint and leaves the room to disrupt Wanda and Vision's peace.

Not long after, she returns to the front room where you are fixing yourself a drink at the makeshift hotel bar. You feel her presence in the room but pay no due to turn and face her. Suddenly, you feel her hands on you waist. As you swivel round, you notice that she has had an outfit change. Instead of your huge borrowed jumper and straight leg trousers, she is now flashing a rather ill fitting burgundy dress which sits tight at her waist and falls rather short on her thighs. It's strapless, and you thought to yourself that if she were to ever be yours, this would be the first item of clothing you'd burn. She held your jumper in her hand.
"I thought you might want this back..."
As you go to remove it from her, she pulls it away.
"...but can I have it for a bit longer ?"
Before you question this, you answer.
"Yeah. Whatever."
She's displeased by your persisting blunt tone.
"While you're at it, can you fix me something ?"
"Sure, what."
She gestures to your vodka tonic.
"Whatever dangerously boring concoction you've decided to create."
You laugh at her poor quip while replicating your beverage.
"I don't drink because it tastes nice, Nat."
She looks up at you, and you soften at her amiable mood. Holding her phone to your face, she flashes you a dinner reservation Wanda had made for you both before arriving.
"She says it's great. Vision's favourite."
You smile and hand her the drink.
"Well, Nat. Do you wanna take your drink elsewhere while I change ? I cant accompany you tonight looking like this."
A look of despondency crosses her face at your request for her to leave.
"Or at least turn around." you compromise.
She raises her glass to you and turns away. You walk to your now arranged luggage and pull out a tight, busty black dress - similar to Natasha's but with lacy straps and a sheer middle piece that exposed some tattoos you have on your ribs. You pull your top over your head and hold the dress against you in the mirror. In you reflection, you catch Natasha, struggling in her attempts not turn round. You laugh at her frustration, which she takes as an excuse to swivel.
"So much for keeping turned round."
She bites her bottom lip, hard, as you slip your cargo's off leaving you skimpily clad in your underwear with only the dress covering your frontal reflection in the mirror. Without hesitation, you slip into the dress, the back undone.
"You gonna help me zip this ? Or you just gonna stand there and stare at me as if I can't see you in the mirror."
She gave no verbal reply, slowly stepping towards you to pull the zipper up. She placed her drink on the bedside table and stood mischievously close to you, to the point that her hot breath stroked your neck. Slowly, she pulled the zip up your back, closing the dress around your waist. Pulling upwards, the dress cupped your breasts pushing them together, requiring a little extra might from Natasha - who let out a long breath as the dress closed.
You lifted your hand to pull down your hair, Natasha beating you to it. She ran her hands slowly through your hair, down your back and stopped as she held your waist in front of her. Natasha then pulled you back into her, whispering in your ear,
"Ready to go ?"
You made eye contact with her in the mirror.
You couldn't deny that you found her attractive. More than attractive. But her evident disdain for you had forced you to suppress the appeal. Her hands on you now, however, had reintroduced whatever magnetism you had for the woman. Just as quickly as she had touched you, her hands left your body and returned to her glass. She downed the drink and turned back to you.
"We're going to be late."