Special Touch Part: Three

Chapter One

"WIFE!"

"I'm coming!"

You smirked to yourself at that, images of last night flooding your mind as you sit up in bed going over some documents your lovely wife left on the nightstand last night while you heard Ollie trotting after her in the kitchen. You had a feeling these papers connected to the reason why your usually grumpy in the morning spouse was up before you puttering around the kitchen probably attempting to make you both breakfast, but you'd like to hear it from her first.

So, you stack the file and few papers back on the nightstand neatly like she had it and sat back against the headboard with your hands folded in your lap. You knew your bed head was probably insane and sticking up around to cling to the headboard, but you hoped the accusatory mischief you were currently sporting over your face distracted from it.

Soon, the tippy taps of Ollie's paws were heard much closer and even though Natasha Romanoff makes very little noise moving around the house even when she's not in assassin mode, you knew she was leading the way towards you.

No matter how suspicious or accusatory you wanted to act – count on a nonserious guilt trip to accompany that – the sight of your redhead in the morning (or literally ever) will never fail to make you smile. You could be bleeding out on the side of the road while she points and laughs at you and you'd probably end up laughing with her until your last breath. It was just the dynamic as wives the two of you held. So, maybe you were grinning a bit fondly at your wife as she maneuvered her way to open the door with her hip, easily balancing the tray in both hands even with the too tall glasses of orange juice it was hold while Ollie danced around her legs, practically herding her into the room and closer to you. She kicked it closed once they were both inside and smiled widely at you, so brightly that her eyes nearly disappeared as the crinkles by her eyes made a rare appearance.

She still looked sleep soft, but much more awake than you expected with a tray of burnt toast, very crispy bacon, and runny eggs. But you've always looked to the effort when it came to cooking because let's be real, girly was surviving on peanut butter sandwiches until you came along with your coffee and tacos.

"Good morning, baby."

You hummed, accepting a sweet kiss from her, and then scooted over as she nudged onto the bed and settled the tray in front of you both as Ollie drooled off to the side of the bed.

"Morning, love," You greeted with a small smirk as she offered you a glass of juice – the most edible thing on this tray, but you were far from complaining, plus, you had other things on your mind, "What's all this then? Last time you cooked me breakfast this early it was my...birthday? Our anniversary?" You tried to think back, pretending you weren't watching her out of the side of your eye because she tensed a little being caught out so quickly, "Did I forget a special occasion?"

"No." She muttered, quickly going for the bacon and tearing into a piece, but she chewed slowly, desperate for the excuse not to explain further.

You hummed again, taking another few sips as she rested her hand on your thigh, and you looked to Ollie, giving him a little eyebrow wiggle in warning before you blurted, "Good, because either way, I'm just happy to have you to myself today. Selfishly, of course."

"Selfishly?" She furrowed her eyebrows, ceasing her finger movements on your leg as she had begun to draw random shapes, and then she turned to eye you curiously, "Why's it selfish this time?"

You narrowed your eyes at her for a moment, half teasingly, and then you flicked your attention to her nightstand for only a quick second before they met green again. It was pretty funny how quickly realization seemed to wash over your assassin.

"It's just one meeting."

"Babe, I would never keep you from your work." You huffed, a bit offended, because you've been nothing but supportive of her avengering, and just because you don't want to be involved with the whole thing doesn't mean she can't.

"I know," She immediately waved it off like it wasn't a concern and you internally sighed in relief before you continued, "It's more that I just wanted to ask you something about it."

"Ooookayyy," You were back to narrowing your eyes at her, nudging her side when she looked a little apprehensive, "Ask away, it's just me for fuck sake – not like I'm some-"

"Will you go to the tower with me?"

You raised your eyebrows and then shook your head, "Yeah, of course, didn't have to make me – whatever it is you think this is." You smirked, poking the clearly undercooked egg and then wondering how she managed to burn the other one to be the texture of a mother fucking rock – your wife has so many talents.