"I'll have to ask Angelina how to do this, then we can have an Italian evening once in a while. You know, before we do all that fulfil-every-wish and orgasm all time record stuff."

Clint's smile deepened when he saw Natasha ponder about his remark and how she didn't seem averse to it at all. Balance, finding a new, healthier way of living for both of them, that suddenly seemed so close. Here was to hoping, it would last.

When he wasn't close to falling into a food coma anymore, he started bringing the dishes back to the kitchen to fill the dishwasher. Long year trained senses and paranoia had him startle for a moment when he saw a silhouette moving behind the mosquito net, but of course it was only their little visitor who seemed to enjoy the last of evening sun, sitting on the window sill. When Clint pushed the net aside to look down on the kitten, it got to its little feet immediately and lifted its head, obviously smelling the remains of the food.

"You've had your diner, fur ball. Gotta hunt a mouse if you need more."

But because he could be nice sometimes, Clint reached through the tilted window down and shook his head, grinning, when the kitten started to lick a few drops of tomato sauce of his fingertips immediately.

"Maybe we should just let you clean the dishes, huh?"