"Just wait until I've lived off pizza and pasta for a month, red."

Clint peered down at her from under that pillow, and his teasing grin turned into something softer at once. It was a great relief that they were back to joking around, and that touches didn't feel so forced anymore, but even better was seeing that Natasha honestly seemed to get better. She didn't hide in these baggy, too hot clothes anymore, they were done with crying at least for the moment and her stomach seemed to be okay except for the mornings. That was good, right? That was normal...

And she could still kick his ass if he behaved like an idiot, thank God. There would be no time for beating himself up on a damn workout bench in the next months. He needed his body and mind fully functioning if he was to carry her through this. Natasha had her own very memorable ways of making him remember that.

But she had oil, and that made it so much more endurable. It was definitely wrong how much he enjoyed her hands on him, even when he had to grind his teeth and breathe through the only slowly ceasing cramps in his legs.

As soon as she was close enough, he placed his hand on her thigh and gave her a soft, just a little fuzzy smile.

"Thanks, red. Promise, I'll return the favor."