Senses [Clint/Natasha]

Cracks

They shut the closet door behind them. Their lips met. Her hands held his face, and his hands gripped her hips. He reached up and felt her curls in this hands. Her hair was soft and amazing, and her body was pressed against his and she felt so amazing. And they kissed and they kissed and they kissed. 

Clint never thought he'd be making out in a closet like a teenager with anyone, least of all the ice-cold great assassin. 

She wasn't ice cold anymore, she was warm, so warm. He couldn't stop the gasps that escaped his lips and she nibbled at them. Was this what love felt like?

The door was flung open, and there stood Coulson. Clint quickly unlatched himself from Natasha. They must have been a sight to see. The emotionless Black Widow making out with the never-loves-anybody Hawkeye— what a sight. And he knew her lipstick was smeared across his face and he saw her hair was a tangled mess. He'd never seen her blush until then.

"What is this?" asked Coulson. 

Clint saw the hurt in Natasha eyes. "Nothing," she said. "It's nothing."

Surprisingly— Clint believed her. Love? Of course not.

Author's note: Hey! I fixed the one contradiction, so now everything goes in order and makes sense. Just to let you know, this was an isolated incident. In the next chapters you'll see that they are not romantically involved... yet. Thanks for reading!