A/N – Posting this chapter a day early cause I made straight A's this semester! And that hasn't happened in an ungodly long about of time. So here you go!
Warning – Implied child abuse (if you tilt your head and stand on one leg).
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The disconcerting 'thump' told Natasha that Clint was awake. The groan that followed told her he was still alive.
"If you didn't sleep all the way up there, you wouldn't fall out of bed every morning."
A grunt was her only reply as her partner made his way to the counter. More importantly, to him, made his way to the coffee machine. Once he'd poured a mug and taken a nice long pull, he sighed in happy satisfaction. Then he sat down on the couch next to Nat, who had her feet tucked up beneath her and a steaming cup of tea balanced on her knee. The newspaper and the dossiers for their next mission spread on the table in front of her.
"Should I even ask how you got into my apartment this time?"
"Nope."
He eyed the table. "We have a new assignment from Coulson?"
"Yep."
"Where? When?"
"Budapest. Twelve hours."
"Night flying? Ugh. No sleep."
"As much as you sleep, I figure you can stay up for days." Surprisingly, he seemed to actually give her comment some serious thought.
"I can if I need to. I just don't like to. And I can sleep wherever, whenever. The circus saw to that."
They sat in silence a little bit longer. Nat was about to get up and let him shower, let him read over the files when he spoke again.
"As for the elevated bed, I make a point of never being where I aught to. Someone were to ever, say, break into my apartment to kill me and just open fire in the bedroom without looking, they'd miss." He nodded a concession. "Also a hangover from the circus. Can't hurt what you can't find."
Natasha nodded. She understood. Then her brows twitched.
"And the pile of pillows in a ring?"
He smirked. "Sometimes you just have to live up to the stereotype. Shoulda seen Phil's face the first time he saw it."
Natasha couldn't help it; she giggled. Now Clint really smiled.
"Wow. The world must be ending. Natasha Romanoff, giggling."
That sobered her quick enough.
"I wonder what you would do if I ever switched your coffee to decaf one morning."
He looked horrified. "You wouldn't dare."
"Tell anyone, ANYONE I giggled, and you'll find out, birdbrain."
"Oh, bite me, Tasha."
"Happy to, Barton. Just be prepared to die afterwards. Black widows are poisonous, you know."