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𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚'𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

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Natasha ended up going to bed at 4am the night Truth took her shopping.


Doing what? Well...


After many debates regarding the storage of edible foods—


"Natasha, cold syrup is a must. What happens if you need to eat your breakfast in a hurry and you can't because it's too hot and you only have warm syrup?"


"Next thing you're going to tell me is that honey should go in the freezer."


—they eventually managed to start prepping dinner, and Truth insisted that Natasha take note of the recipe so that she could make it herself in the future.


"Why do I have to take notes if you're just going to make it for me?" Natasha had questioned.


Truth had given her a look.


"Is this how you get Clint to cook for you every day? Subtle but not-so-subtle hints?"


"...Is that a 'yes, you have to take notes' or...?"


"That was a very subtle hint to 'pick up a pen and start writing', anóiti alepoú (silly fox)."


By the time they made it to the training room, it had been close to midnight.


And, by the time they had left the training room, it had been a little past 3am.


"I would've beat you, you know," Natasha had told Truth with a yawn as they walked up to her door. The redhead had frowned at the fact that their unofficial score was now to three to four with Truth's badminton win. "I bet you cheated."


"I don't think you would win that bet, gata atigrada (tabby cat)."


Natasha's frown had deepened with the nickname, and Truth fought to hold back her smile.


"Don't think I forgot about the reading," she'd told her sternly.


"How could I ever think such a thing? I made a promise and I intend to keep it."


Natasha had nodded firmly.


"Good."


Truth had been extremely amused. She'd never seen Natasha be so...adorable.


"Spokojnoj noči, Nataša."
Goodnight, Natasha.


Natasha had smiled sweetly.


"Thank you. For everything."


"You're welcome for everything." Then she had pushed off the wall. "Don't stay up too late. We have a long day tomorrow."


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