Natasha practically collapsed onto the toilet when she reached it, all the muscles in her body feeling overworked, and her legs in particular. It wasn’t an entirely bad feeling, not with the memory of why she felt this way still fresh in her mind.
Once she’d finished she took her time washing up, cleaning the oils and both of their fluids from her skin. Toweling off, she took a moment to look at her reflection and smiled at the disheveled image staring back. She had never thought she could feel this way, never thought she could trust someone and love them so much that she was willing to do anything for them, willing to put her own life on the line to protect them. Some days she had her doubts about S.H.I.E.L.D. but she didn’t want to walk away; if it came down to it, though, and she had to choose between her career and Clint there simply wasn’t any question. If he wanted to leave she would follow; she would follow him anywhere, and she knew he would do the same for her.
Shaking herself, she finished up in the bathroom and stole away to his bedroom to rifle through his bureau, coming up with an old pair of sweatpants that she had to roll the waist and cuffs on. Pulling the sleeves of the sweater down over her hands and the hood up over her head (not that she was particularly cold, but it was cozy), she moved back to the living room to find Clint waiting with food and water at the ready.
“You know, we could always move to the bedroom,” she said, noting how he’d actually made to cover the sofa this time. Not that she wasn’t enjoying how close they had to lay to both fit on the couch, nor the smell that still lingered from their recent escapades. Even so she approached and took a seat beside him on the couch, drawing her feet up under her to keep them warm and reaching for the water, taking a few long gulps.
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Once she’d finished she took her time washing up, cleaning the oils and both of their fluids from her skin. Toweling off, she took a moment to look at her reflection and smiled at the disheveled image staring back. She had never thought she could feel this way, never thought she could trust someone and love them so much that she was willing to do anything for them, willing to put her own life on the line to protect them. Some days she had her doubts about S.H.I.E.L.D. but she didn’t want to walk away; if it came down to it, though, and she had to choose between her career and Clint there simply wasn’t any question. If he wanted to leave she would follow; she would follow him anywhere, and she knew he would do the same for her.
Shaking herself, she finished up in the bathroom and stole away to his bedroom to rifle through his bureau, coming up with an old pair of sweatpants that she had to roll the waist and cuffs on. Pulling the sleeves of the sweater down over her hands and the hood up over her head (not that she was particularly cold, but it was cozy), she moved back to the living room to find Clint waiting with food and water at the ready.
“You know, we could always move to the bedroom,” she said, noting how he’d actually made to cover the sofa this time. Not that she wasn’t enjoying how close they had to lay to both fit on the couch, nor the smell that still lingered from their recent escapades. Even so she approached and took a seat beside him on the couch, drawing her feet up under her to keep them warm and reaching for the water, taking a few long gulps.