“Such talent wasted on inanimate objects,” Natasha replied, shaking her head in mock sadness. “And now you just spend your energy in less solitary ways.”

Maybe he couldn’t sing for two hours straight anymore, but he certainly had enough stamina to keep her satisfied every night. And day. Sometimes both, and multiple times.

Back in the living room Natasha reclaimed her own water and took a long drink, eyeing Clint curiously as he shifted around before coming up with a well worn book from between the sofa cushions.

“So I see,” she said, rounding the coffee table and setting her glass back down before taking a seat on the sofa. “And now here I am, cramping your style.” Pulling his feet onto her lap, she snatched up the book and flipped idly through it to the page he had left marked, her eyes skimming over the words.