ever marching as to war

"Yeah," he murmurs, taking the care to drop the plush toy to the ground as to free up his hands. In reality, he should be taking care to get a better read of their area, but he hasn't picked up on anything suspicious yet, and his attention is otherwise occupied now, the thought of tactics and exit strategies not seeming quite as important as proving himself to Natasha, even if he knows, without a doubt, that she was just teasing him. The look on her face, carefree as it is, makes the point moot. They're doing this.

Pressing in close, he guides her backwards until she's leaning against a tree, the shade from the ride giving them enough cover that he feels only a thrill of excitement as he ducks in for a kiss driven by unmistakable intent.