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Best Served Cold

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"On your six," Natasha whispered, lips brushing Maria's ear. "Two mercs. Ex-special ops judging by the stance."

Maria whined, grumbling, "Really? Here? I love this place. It makes the best Manhattans this side of 5th."

"You and your cocktails." Natasha sounded so fond.

"Yeah, yeah. You're still a vodka kind of girl." Maria giggled when Natasha's lips brushed her neck.

"It's delicious chilled." Natasha's hand caressed Maria's side and slipped up under her skirt to unsnap the gun from the holster on Maria's thigh.

"And I really like the decor of this place. It's got a real ambiance. It's clean and not like that dive Clint likes."

"I am going to regret breaking a few of these chairs." Tasha actually sounded a bit sorry.

"Wouldn't you rather use the throwing knives in my purse?" Natasha's hand was still on the gun. Her thumb stroking slow circles on Maria's thigh that was going to drive her crazy.

"Why? Am I not applying enough pressure to the right place?" Natasha smirked.

"You are a complete menace and we are going to that restaurant you like for our next date night. I'm sorry that I got my way tonight."

"And have my restaurant destroyed?" Natasha frowned.

"Good point. Not being able to have that sorbet again would be a real crime."

"So, do you want the one on your left or my left?"

"Can't I just watch you kill them both with your thighs?"

"You could, but I'll be breaking a lot more furniture here just for fun."

"You are colder than that vodka you like,” Maria winked. “Now lean forward so I can get that throwing knife from your back holster.”