Natasha let him go off to the kitchen alone. She knew he needed to feel useful right now, and if waiting on her, taking care of her, gave him that then she wouldn’t try to take it away.

By the time he joined her in the bedroom she had traded her towel for a pair of panties and one of his t-shirts and was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, the sheet pulled up over her legs. “You could have just brought the box,” she said, smiling softly at him.