Title: morning, his place
Ships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none apply
Length: 470 words
Summary: The morning after crossing the line from friends to lovers.
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Natasha wakes up alone, the other side of the bed still warm. She pulls Clint's soft worn t-shirt over her head and breathes in his lingering scent. She's not ready to talk about this, them, or last night. Even though she knows it needs to be talked about. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, she stops just inside the doorway. Clint looks up from his cup of coffee, giving her a small smile. "Morning."
For a moment, she takes in the sight of him, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, shirtless, and barefoot. He looks good. He looks relaxed. Tentatively, Natasha returns the smile. "Good Morning." She feels a little raw. A little vulnerable. There's a part of her that wants - no. She needs to bolt out the door and never look back lest she risk the safety of her heart. But this is Clint. He's her best friend. Her partner. She knows and trusts him more than she has anyone else. Ever.
She takes a step forward. His face turns serious and she has to fight the urge to turn around and walk away. He sets his mug down on the counter."There's something I need to talk to you about."
She feels the tension within her begin to uncoil. She knows his serious voice and this isn't it. He's about to make a joke or something along those lines. He knows she needs time to process this. She crosses the room until she's standing less than a foot away from him and tilts her head ever so slightly. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." Clint brushes her hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear. "I was gonna make breakfast but I used up the last of the bread for toast - and I accidentally burned it." He gives her a sheepish look. "In my defense, the coffee machine startled me - gurgling's getting a little funky sounding." He shrugs. "Might need to spring for a new one sooner than later."
She takes another step closer, reaches out, and toys with the ties to Clint's pajama bottoms. "You're saying there is coffee, though?"
He nods. "Would you like me to pour you a cup?"
She tugs on the ties, pulling him closer. "If you wouldn't mind." She gives him a quick kiss and lets him go.
Clint grabs a mug from the cabinet and fills it with coffee. "I think there's some leftover pizza in the fridge if you want. Pepperoni," he says, handing her the mug.
"I'm fine with just coffee." She blows across the liquid but it's still too hot to drink.
"Just coffee?"
Natasha puts her mug down, pulls Clint in a little closer, and wraps her arms around him. "Well, coffee and you, if that's alright."
"Right now, I can't think of a single thing better."
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