They got home late that night or the next morning, around one o'clock. They kept on getting caught up in talking to people until eventually they were able to break away and make their way to Natasha's apartment. They were laughing at a joke Clint made on the way over as they stepped through the front door. As soon as the door was closed, Clint pressed Natasha against it, locked it, and kissed her hard.
Clint was just past buzzed, and Natasha was fully sober. She knew that at his current state, Clint tended to do what he wanted and not care about the consequences. Most of the time, he managed to stay out of trouble.
Natasha kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair as Clint pressed against her harder. She could feel every muscle in his chest, and everywhere their bare skin touched was on fire.
"Clint, hang on a second," Nat said breathlessly as he was kissing down her neck. He groaned but stepped away. "C'mon," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the bedroom.
The next morning, Natasha woke up alone. She panicked for a second before smelling breakfast through the open door. She got up off the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning before pulling Clint's t-shirt over her head.
Natasha walked over to Clint, who was standing in the kitchen in front of the griddle in his boxers, humming while flipping pancakes. She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug from behind.
"Morning, Tasha," Clint said, smiling.
"Morning," She mumbled back, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She padded to the other end of the counter where the coffee maker was. Clint saw her and immediately grabbed a mug next to him and offered it to her.
"Here you go babe. Just made it," he said, and she smiled her thanks at him. She took a sip (somehow he always made coffee better than her) and placed it on the island before hopping up to sit on the counter to watch her fiancé cook.
Natasha sipped her coffee silently, watching Clint's movements through the kitchen. He was humming as he cooked, going from pancakes to sausages to fruit and back again. She admired him as he moved, his muscles rippling each time he flipped a pancake. Who knew making breakfast could be so sexy? Natasha wondered, her eyes drifting up to the back of his head where his hair was sticking up in odd places from sleep. Her fingers ached to fix it, but she held herself back.
After a few minutes, Clint went to lean against the island in between Nat's legs, a lull in the frenzy of cooking. She put her coffee on the counter next to her, then put her hand on his shoulders. As she began to massage the knots of stress out of his shoulders, he leaned his head back onto her shoulder, his eyes closed. Her eyebrows furrowed at the amount of stress he held in his shoulders - almost twice as much as usual. Natasha kissed the top of his head, slowing her massaging.
"Aw, Tasha don't stop. It feels so good," he said, opening one eye to look at her. He opened the other when he saw her worried expression, them turned around to face her.
He took her face in his hands before he said "Tasha, what's wrong?"
"Are you okay?" She whispered.
"Yeah, I'm fine what do y-"
"I mean-" she took a deep breath "-are you okay. With the - with everything. We talked about me, but we never talked about you." She had a pleading, broken look in her eyes that made Clint's heart shatter.
"Well, Tasha, I'm as good as I'll ever be, I guess."
She smiled at him sadly. "I know you better than that, Clint. And please don't lie."
He sighed, watching her pleading look for a moment before responding. "Tasha, I-I'm-It's-" he groaned, frustrated by not being able to find the right words. He pushed his hand through his messy hair, making it stick up even more. "I got my hopes up, Tasha. I really thought that we would have a b- I just got my hopes up. That's all," Clint said, and Natasha's eyes flooded with empathy. She knew exactly how he felt. She put her hands on either side of his face before gently pulling him into her, allowing him to bury his head in her neck.
They stayed like that for a few moments, and when Clint lifted his head Natasha noticed a small, miniscule tear running down his cheek. She smiled weakly before wiping away the tear with her thumb before kissing him gently.
"I love you, Clint. More than anything. You know that right?" Natasha whispered after she pulled away. Clint gave his fiancé a half smile and a slightly confused look.
"Yeah, Tasha of co-"
"I know you know, Clint, but I don't feel like I say it enough out loud. I love you, Clint. I love you now, I loved you the moment I met you - the real you - , I'll love you when I die. And if anything comes after that, I'll love you then, too." Clint was grinning now, and his smile was contagious. "I love you, Clint. I love you, and we're getting married and I already cannot wait. I love you, Clint," Natasha said, grinning from ear to ear. "And we are going to have a baby."
