Well, it had been worth a try. Only his oversensitive protective instincts going crazy again, Clint shouldn't let her feel that. Fortunately, whenever Natasha kissed him, most burdening thoughts went right out of the window anyway. He took a moment to straighten her messed up hair and let her go to deal with her stuff then.
The bedroom cabinet wasn't all that large and most of his stuff didn't need clothes hangers anyway, so he could just store it in the living room dresser.
To make the dull work more fun, he plugged in the slightly outdated stereo lodged on said furniture. He just started the last CD he hadn't bothered taking out when he had last left, and rolled his eyes. Gianna Nannini, Al Bano Carrisi, Eros Ramazotti, for God's sake... Yeah, this had been a melancholic years alright. Or maybe the farmboy in him just never quite escaped that secret, deeply hidden streak for sappy country music, no matter the language.
In fact he still liked it a big deal and found himself first whistling and soon singing along with the music while he sorted his clothes in the three large drawers as tidily as his natural laziness allowed. It probably sounded ridiculous - his own voice always sounded to him a lot like what the furballs outside sometimes did at midnight - but he couldn't bring himself to care.
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Well, it had been worth a try. Only his oversensitive protective instincts going crazy again, Clint shouldn't let her feel that. Fortunately, whenever Natasha kissed him, most burdening thoughts went right out of the window anyway. He took a moment to straighten her messed up hair and let her go to deal with her stuff then.
The bedroom cabinet wasn't all that large and most of his stuff didn't need clothes hangers anyway, so he could just store it in the living room dresser.
To make the dull work more fun, he plugged in the slightly outdated stereo lodged on said furniture. He just started the last CD he hadn't bothered taking out when he had last left, and rolled his eyes. Gianna Nannini, Al Bano Carrisi, Eros Ramazotti, for God's sake... Yeah, this had been a melancholic years alright. Or maybe the farmboy in him just never quite escaped that secret, deeply hidden streak for sappy country music, no matter the language.
In fact he still liked it a big deal and found himself first whistling and soon singing along with the music while he sorted his clothes in the three large drawers as tidily as his natural laziness allowed. It probably sounded ridiculous - his own voice always sounded to him a lot like what the furballs outside sometimes did at midnight - but he couldn't bring himself to care.
It was a good day.