( clint's not as caught up by thoughts of relationships — sure, he and sara are something, but they've both been quite determined to shy away from calling it anything in particular, partly because sara has her own issues with relationships, partly because clint's aware he's tanked every single relationship he's been in and his comfort with commitment divebombed after his divorce, and partly because expecting anything vaguely approaching monogamy in a place like duplicity is asking for trouble.
and so clint kisses lottie, and all he can think — well, not all, but it's there, present beyond the almost-relief that kissing lottie brings — is that ah, fuck, it's a city thing, comma, something in the non-existent aircon of the bus? that she doesn't let go of him when he pulls away says — well, it mostly just confirms his realisation, but it doesn't stop his fingers from toying with her shirt, from sliding underneath to rest against the small of her back.
the way she looks up at him tells him that she has no idea what just happened, is happening, and his gaze drops again to her mouth, pouty and unsure, and he takes a breath; tilts his head as she leans her forehead against his, hyperaware that all he wants to do is kiss her some more, (is that all?), and that it'd probably be intensely unflattering for her if he immediately tells her that it's okay, this is definitely not them, this is just how it is here.
the noise he makes when she tells him she wants a bagel is distracted, a short, sharp laugh. maybe whatever it is, is affecting just him. )
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and so clint kisses lottie, and all he can think — well, not all, but it's there, present beyond the almost-relief that kissing lottie brings — is that ah, fuck, it's a city thing, comma, something in the non-existent aircon of the bus? that she doesn't let go of him when he pulls away says — well, it mostly just confirms his realisation, but it doesn't stop his fingers from toying with her shirt, from sliding underneath to rest against the small of her back.
the way she looks up at him tells him that she has no idea what just happened, is happening, and his gaze drops again to her mouth, pouty and unsure, and he takes a breath; tilts his head as she leans her forehead against his, hyperaware that all he wants to do is kiss her some more, (is that all?), and that it'd probably be intensely unflattering for her if he immediately tells her that it's okay, this is definitely not them, this is just how it is here.
the noise he makes when she tells him she wants a bagel is distracted, a short, sharp laugh. maybe whatever it is, is affecting just him. )
—Bagel. Sure. I can eat.