This is what Natasha does when she wakes up: she glances at the time, and reminds herself that she doesn't have to do anything. She doesn't have to drag herself out of bed and dress up to her temporary employer's specifications, she doesn't have to wait on the people who are fucking her country over. She can roll over, and curl back up against Clint's warm, solid body, and she can go back to sleep.

So, she does.

The next time she wakes up, it's to the sound of the shower running. She briefly contemplates joining Clint in the shower, but there is a comfortable bed, and the morning sun, and it's not all that long before the water switches off.

"Morning, pretty lady."

Natasha turns, and smiles at him. "Hey you. No unexpected wormholes outside?"

"No wormholes, but rabbits."

"Rabbits."

"With polka dots," Clint adds, and he's enjoying the look on her face if she goes by his expression.

"With polka dots," she repeats.

"I saw a few tartan ones, too."

"...I think I need food before you tell more," Natasha says, and he huffs a laugh.

"Our glamorous bagels," he says, and moves over to kiss her lightly. She curls her hand around his upper-arm, and kisses him back.

"I'm pretty sure, Clint Barton," Natasha says, faux-solemn as she can, "that you mentioned something last night about taking care of us."

"I remember that," Clint says with a bit of a smile, and kisses her again. "Do you want breakfast first?"

"Breakfast later."

The bagels, after all, aren't going anywhere.