There is a warm tickle collecting into heat at the base of his stomach, which really only leads to one thing. It would be easy to drowse, it's so nice to feel safe, and so odd, but then the little patterns her fingers draw against the back of his neck and head pause, and he wishes he hadn't asked that question. He reaches back to put his hand over hers, at least keeping the contact in place.

"Natasha," he says, but that is not really an explanation, or rather it's half of a very good explanation. "We were running, and she kissed me to hide our faces from the people who were after us - and then she made it sound like...." Vague motions with his free hand. "Well. Like I could use work. Practice, is what she said. You don't practice kissing."