Natasha sat still and focused on her breathing as well as the sounds of Clint moving around in the house until he returned with some clothes for her which she accepted gratefully. Slipping the sweater from her shoulders, she was just unfolding the shirt when he grabbed her hand.

He was always so intuitive, and she should have known it wouldn’t fool him, but the question was why had she bothered to try? She didn’t have to put on a mask, not with him, and she knew this, but maybe it wasn’t him she was trying to fool. If she was honest with herself she was scared, and the act was just as much for herself as him, if not more. “Okay,” she agreed, giving his hand a squeeze back.

Letting him go to take care of the kitten, she pulled on the clothes that he had given her, almost managing to get fully dressed before another wave of nausea hit her. She didn’t have as much to bring up this time and was left dry heaving at the end, but it passed again, thankfully before Clint returned. By the time she heard him calling out to her she had finished dressing, combed out her hair and was carefully brushing her teeth. Not wanting to risk trying to talk with the mouthful of toothpaste, she remove her free hand from the sink where she was leaning heavily and stuck it out through the door to the hall to wave blindly in his general direction.