"Nat, what are you making?" Clint asked warily, for the tenth time, then dodged the egg she threw at his head. She stared into the bowl, musing over whether to just throw it around the kitchen, give up, and go out to buy a bloody birthday cake for Clint. The archer's arms slipped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, and she sighed, still giving the mixture in the bowl her deadliest glare. "Are you going to tell me?" Clint murmured into her ear, her lips tickled by her hair. Natasha huffed, leaning back into him. "It was supposed to be your birthday cake, but my complete lack of any culinary skills got in the way." A snort of laughter next to her head made her slap Clint's leg,but a reluctant smile was already spreading over her face. "Shut up. It's not funny."Clint's body shook helplessly with silent laughter. "It's not!" she protested weakly. A small giggle escaped her lips and she stopped in confusion. When had she ever giggled?
Clint gently nosed her ear, still laughing, and she turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, but I'd like to see you do a better job." Clint arched an eyebrow at her, trying to hold the laughter back. "Who do you think made your birthday cake?" Natasha narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Well, that's no excuse for laughing at me," she argued lamely, sensing that she was losing this battle. Clint grinned, and leaned forwards to plant a gentle kiss on the tip of her floury nose. "I think you need a shower, my love." Natasha nodded, sighing and leaning into him. "I just wanted to do something nice for you." Clint rested his cheek on the top of her head, smiling softly. "I know. Thank you for trying." A rueful smile spread across the redhead's face and she snuggled against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I failed, didn't I?" The archer thought for a moment, then nodded slowly and grinned.