"Are we even supposed to be here?" Natasha asked.
"No." Clint shrugged.
"Sweet."
Clint just smiled at her as he ushered her into Lady Liberty's torch. "May I present, Dîner de la Liberté de Chez Barton."
"This is one hell of a nest Clint," Natasha said, looking around, "How long have you had this here?"
"Four years, more or less."
The term 'nest' was used lightly. Somehow, Clint had smuggled a full dining set, a recliner, coffee table, woodstove, and bed in there over time. The meal he was now presenting was a full three-course dinner comprised of bean and lintel soup, lobster, and Baba Romovaya for dessert.
"You did all of this?" Natasha asked, looking over the spread with ever widening eyes.
"I did," Clint agreed, with no small amount of pride. "Nothing is too good for my queen."
"Empress," Natasha corrected.
"My empress." He said without missing a beat.
She turned away from him and began inspecting the space. On the recliner was a heart pillow, shot through with one of Clint's arrows.
"Oh my god, Clint. Really?" asked Natasha.
"Wasn't me. Must have been Cupid."
"Cupid uses the same type of arrows as you?"
"What can I say? They're awesome arrows."
"I never pegged you for a sap." Natasha told him, but her eyes were gentle. She obviously liked it more than she was willing to say.
"You never gave me the chance to show you. But now I can, so get used to it." He beamed. Natasha smiled as she rolled her eyes.
"Come on then," he said, "Let's eat. I didn't learn how to bake a cake for nothing."