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"Scoot over."
Clint lifted the comforter to climb under, and Natasha slapped it down and glared at him for the blast of cold air that swept underneath.
He just rolled his eyes at her as if her ire was a trivial thing. "I come bearing cocoa and the remote control, so scoot over or it's all mine."
She hesitated for a moment, weighing the pros and cons.
Clint shamelessly took advantage and yanked while her guard was down, drawing a most unRomanovian shriek of protest, to scramble underneath. He shivered and snuggled her under his arm.
He was a warm body. That was the only reason she didn't protest. But she did glare at him. "You promised cocoa. And that." She snatched the remote control while he was trying to hand her a mug without spilling.
"Cheat," he griped without heat and kissed the side of her face.
"Your mouth is cold." Her fingers fumbled on the buttons for a moment before she settled on her chosen movie and queued it up.
Clint groaned. "Not another sappy romance."
"That's for letting the cold air in," Natasha countered. She sipped her hot chocolate and let him burrow into her side like a cat.
If the entire unlikely scene was as peaceful as a Christmas card, Natasha knew better than to complain.