#*jack verse tba

Natasha doesn’t really hesitate before her hand wraps around Jack’s thigh. It’s easy enough for her to keep an aloof attitude as her fingers search higher and higher, facial expression neutral, before a devilish smile lights her face. “ Keep drinking, ” she murmurs, quiet enough that not even the bar tender can hear them. The din in the bar is loud enough to mask any noises that escape Jack, but it’s his face she’s more focused on. “ Get though this without us getting caught, and I’ll make it worth your while when we get home. ”

Natasha feels like shit.

It’s not the first time she’s knocked Jack out, but normally it’s in the middle of training. It’s a misplaced hit or a wall that appears out of nowhere, or it’s even on a mission and friendly fire. This, though? This was her own damn fault. Couldn’t exactly use safe words when Natasha’s hands were choking the life out of him.

She drops her forehead against the wall near the bathroom door a little too hard. In her haste to follow him, she’s just got the blanket wrapped around herself- enough to take off the chill, but still too little to not feel exposed. “ You passed out cold, Jack, ” she shouts at her, turning her head, “ Don’t lie to me. ”

Natasha didn’t mean to snap so hard at Jack, but there’s a dangerous cocktail of shame of panic coursing through her. It’s been years since she really had any reactions to the honeypot missions, decades even. But that was because the men tended to not get their hands on her without express permission. Which wasn’t exactly what had happened earlier. Her thighs still feel like they’ve had acid dropped on them from where he’d touched her and all of her skin feels like fire.

Her brain is screaming for comfort, but having another man touch her seems like the worst idea. “ Just... stay there. ” Her voice is cracked and shaky from the more visceral reaction. She can’t be alone right now.