Her expression while she watched him was one of pure happiness and affection. After last night it was so nice to see him so playful and seemingly carefree that she didn’t even try to put on a mask.

“Do you do only breakfasts?” she queried with a raised brow. Propping her pillow up behind her, Natasha scooted back a bit so she could lean against the headboard. She supposed she should probably put on a shirt, but all that was in the immediate vicinity was Clint’s sweater from last night, and with the heater running again it was far too warm for that.

“If you please, good sir,” she said, putting on airs, but it didn’t last long. “I did actually mean to help,” she admitted.