The Light in my Darkness

Chapter 13

You were the first to wake in the morning, Clint's warm body beneath you instantly reminding you of the night before. You smiled and tilted your head back to look up at him. His messy hair and light stubble only made him more attractive. Not fair. You would like nothing better than to lay where you were for the rest of the day. Or maybe snuggle in closer to him and bask in his warmth. Or even better, talk him into moving into the bedroom and staying there for a week.

The thought had you grinning as you eased out from under the blanket. Amazingly, the movement didn't wake him. You snatched your clothes from the floor and slipped back into your underwear and oversized shirt. You looked over your shoulder at your lover one more time before ducking out of sight into the kitchen.

Your immediate focus was on getting the coffee started, not only for yourself but Clint did not function without his morning dose of caffeine. That was apparent from the first time you spent the night at their house and ran into zombie Barton the next morning. Once you had the pot brewing, you pulled two of your favorite large mugs from the cabinet.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, the next task for you to tackle was breakfast. You hadn't picked up much in the way of groceries yet, but you had eggs, ham and cheese. Once you'd cracked all the eggs you glanced at the sofa to find Clint still sleeping but he'd shifted his position. It wouldn't be long until he woke.

You let out a long breath and turned your attention back to preparing the eggs. Wanda's words echoed in your head. Be happy but not too happy and don't let him know you're crazy for him. Play it cool. Sure. You could do that. No problem.

***

Clint felt your absence immediately. In fact, he was fairly certain that was what had awakened him in the first place. He wiped a hand down his face before taking a deep breath. His attention shifted from you to coffee in an instant as he inhaled the rich aroma. He'd need all the caffeine he could get to make it through the conversation the two of you needed to have.

He swung his legs off the couch and sat up. He raked his hands through his hair before linking his hands together behind his neck. Images of the night before ran through his head. God, you were so responsive. He'd known you would be but damn. And as soon as two of you had finished, he'd known it was a mistake.

Not necessarily the act itself, but there should have been a discussion beforehand. A restating of the terms so to speak. He never let himself get carried away like that. Not without assuring himself that the other party understood this changed nothing. And on top of everything else, you were so young. Which meant you were more likely to take the events of the night before as some sort of declaration.

He huffed out a long breath. He liked what the two of you had. It felt natural, easy. It would be a shame if it had to end so soon. So he simply needed to find a way to make sure that you understood that last night changed nothing.

"You shouldn't look so serious before you've had your coffee, Clint. Give your brain a chance to kick in."

His head jerked up with the words. You stood before him, one brow arched and a smirk on your face. He took the mug you offered him as his eyes darted the down the length of you. You wore the long t-shirt you'd had on the night before leaving the length of your legs exposed. He pulled more of the blanket into his lap to make sure he was covered then took a sip of his coffee.

He sighed and closed his eyes. as the hot liquid ran down his throat. You always had made a great cup of coffee. When he opened his eyes, you were already gone. He frowned. You reappeared moments later, clothes in hand and tossed them next to him on the couch.

"Thought you might want something to wear besides your tux. Your boxers are a bit of a mess." You crinkled your nose as you said the last and he smiled.

"Thanks," he grunted and lifted his mug slightly.

You nodded then turned to disappear back into the kitchen. "Breakfast will be done in two shakes."

He sat his mug on the table and grabbed the clothes you'd brought him. A quick inspection showed an oversized t-shirt similar to the one you wore and a pair of pajama pants. Men's pajama pants. He frowned and slid them on. Snatching his coffee up from the table, he wandered over to lean in the doorway. His eyes followed you as you dished up plates of scrambled eggs for the both of you.

He was seeing none of what he'd expected. Despite his fears to the contrary, you hadn't turned into an overly clingy, besotted female overnight. In fact, he'd be hard pressed to find anything out of the norm in your behavior. He smiled. Maybe this would work after all.

"Where'd you get the pants?" he couldn't help but ask. He took another sip of coffee as he waited for you to answer.

You glanced at him as you carried the plates to your little table and sat them down. There was that smirk and arched brow again. "They're mine."

He put his mug on the table and sat in one of the seats. "Yours?" His brows lifted "Seems as though they'd be a bit big for you, sweetheart. And they aren't exactly feminine if you catch my drift."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous, Clint Barton." You kept your eyes on your plate as you answered and ate your food. "In case you didn't notice, I like my sleep clothes loose. And I like pockets in my pants. Everyone thinks women don't like pockets. Why is that?" You pointed your fork at him as if he should have all the answers.

He chuckled and began to eat his own breakfast. "I don't know, sweetheart."

After a few minutes of silence passed, you spoke up again. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Clint leaned back in his chair and hummed in thought. Finally, he shook his head once. "I seem to have forgotten. Guess it wasn't that important."