Holly and the Archer

FIVE

"Come on, Beaumont!" Clint leans out of the window of his car, watching her exit the complex with his purple sunglasses  on the bridge of her nose. She rolls her eyes and puts her bag on the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat.

"What do you think?"

"They're my glasses." She pushes them up her nose as he begins to drive.

"You left them on the table at the bar. Finders keepers, Barton. I was the finder, therefore I am also the keeper." She smirks up at him. He shakes his head and fidgets in his seat. The car speeds up.

For the most part of the journey they sat in silence, listening to the morning radio hosts talking in the monotonous voices. Sometimes the occasional listener would call in and the conversation varied from civil political agreements to passionate arguments over ridiculous subjects. Presently, a caller seemed far too energised for three o'clock in the morning.

"Why should we sit idly by and wait for some guy to come along and save us. I trained to become a police officer, so I could uphold the law, not to wait for someone to come and do the fighting for me." Holly's fingers tapped against her head as she rested her elbow on the door. "The world is still strung up on Captain America. HELLO this isn't the forties, people, times change!" Clint yawned.

"You know, I think I saved this guy once," Holly turns to look at him, "or maybe it was someone else. All the incompetent officers sound the same." She smiles weakly. Clint yawned into his fist and began to turn into the parking lot of the first motel he came to. "We should get some rest. I don't know about you but I haven't slept in 76 hours." Holly's eyes widen, following as he carries their bags towards the building.

"76? I haven't slept in 24 hours, how are you even functioning?" He shrugs, digs his wallet out from his trousers and addresses the woman behind the counter.

"How much for a room?" She glances at the two of them and hands over a key, mumbling the price. Clint squints, having not heard her. The woman looks up at him, thrusting her hand out and repeating the price much louder. Clint smiled and gave her the appropriate cash before taking the key and guiding Holly away. The two of them soon discovered the room was a double bed, alike to the one in the hotel room a few hours before. It was almost identical except for the absence of a television and the greying wallpaper was peeling and the ceiling was covered in damp in one corner. "Charming."

Accepting her bag from him, Holly soon remembered her only set of pyjamas and now, sizing up the bed in front of her, it seemed the two would be sleeping in a closer proximity than she imagined. A breeze filtered around the room from the window. It wouldn't close despite how much they tried and could only be thankful that they were on the second floor. Holly claimed the bathroom first to get changed and brush her teeth. She brushed her teeth twice, with the knowledge that she'd probably be cuddling with Clint tonight.

Her heart fluttered. She might be cuddling Clint tonight.

While her red shirt was relatively baggy, the silhouette of Winnie the Pooh sitting on her left breast, the mustard yellow shorts were hardly visible beneath the shirt's hem. They were shorter than she remembered and the wind coming from under the door made her legs tingle. She pulled on a pair of ankle socks in hopes of warding off the bite a little longer. Leaving her clothes folded on top of her bag, she exits the bathroom and rubs her hands over her arms.

"That window's going to be the death of me." Clint looks up from reading his book, the quilt around his waist, revealing his grey tank top and softening the shadows around his biceps. He did a double take as he watched her walk across the room to try and close the window again.

"It's useless," he said, making no attempt to look away from her when she turned around, "I tried to close it while you were getting ready." Her face was red, the line between the blush and biting cold hazy in their current situation. She climbed onto the bed, sliding under the covers until they reached her neck. "Those pyjamas hardly seem practical." She smiled crookedly.

"I thought they were something else... my bad." She stared forward, finding his abdomen in front of her face. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, suddenly she wasn't as exhausted anymore.

The light on Clint's bedside table turned off and the two of them were plunged into darkness aside from the street light filtering through the window. The mattress jiggled for a moment as they both shifted their position. As she turned her back to him, she sensed his arm, wrapping around her waist and pulling her against his chest.

"What are you doing, Barton?" She pressed her face into the pillow, unwilling to fight it yet still feeling the need to question him. His warm breath hit the back of her head and sent a chill through her body.

"I can't have you freezing to death on my watch, Beaumont."