Scars and Origins

Chapter 8: Defining the Relationship

Chapter 8: Defining the Relationship

At about 1800, they finally woke up to the sound of Natasha's phone ringing in her pocket. Making Clint jump since her ringtone volume was maxed out, Natasha put a calming hand on the center of his chest as she reached for her cell. 'Agent C' flashed across the screen.

"Hello," she said groggily, stretching her spare arm. Clint got up to start the microwave for her.

On the other end of the line, Coulson asked, "Hey Romanoff, are you taking it easy? Fury asked me to check in on you."

Natasha rolled her eyes and replied, "Well I'm trying to nap, but you woke me up." The Black Widow did not like being unnecessarily woken up.

"Oh, sorry... Where are you, anyways," Coulson gently prodded.

Clint came up next to Natasha and took the phone from her. "Great, Coulson, you managed to piss her off. Now I gotta deal with the fallout. She's with me, we're fine," he responded indignantly. Slightly unnerved by Fury supposedly asking for a welfare check, he decided to hang up the phone.

"That was weird," Natasha remarked, and Clint couldn't help but agree. He turned on his computer sitting on the kitchen counter to display his multitude of security cameras, quickly flipping through them. When no sign of danger was found, he brought Natasha her plate of food and set it on a TV tray in front of her.

"It was. Don't worry, if anyone approaches the building, we'll know," Barton reassured her, pointing to his computer screen.

"Thanks for the meal," she said as she inhaled the pleasant fumes of the chicken, pilaf, and roasted veggies in front of her. She took a minute to observe her surroundings while waiting for the food to stop steaming.

The front door led to the kitchen, a coat closet on the right side as you entered, and double doors to the left. Natasha hadn't been in there yet. The kitchen had black granite countertops that sparkled. Top of the line chrome appliances lined the outer wall, and a large island with a sink sat in the middle. Four bar stools sat tucked under the outermost edge of the island. The light fixtures throughout the space were made of white-tinged glass, in a wavy design that was very unique. The cabinets pulled it all together in an off-white, the handles a swirling gray. Everything in there seemed to have its place, and nothing was cluttering the room. The computer screen was a bit strangely placed next to the refrigerator in the corner, but Natasha could look past that.

Then she looked around the small living room she was currently sitting in. The sofa was luxuriously cushiony, but the fabric was a little coarse. It was black and simplistic, something that could fit well in nearly any room you place it in. An ivory throw blanket sat draped over the side, close to a floor to ceiling window. They must be at least on the 12th floor, because she could see the entire city from where she was sitting. That was so like Clint, to be high up and observing everything. The TV that was directly in front of the couch was about 42", and sat on a black TV stand. 'Everything certainly matches in this house,' she thought. And then she looked at the two canvas paintings hung on the wall. One, above the couch behind her head, depicted two finches flying around each other, in light gray, lavender, and baby blue tones. It was very large, probably 4x4 feet (1.25x1.25 m). The other was smaller and oblong, hung across from the kitchen. Three pastel green hummingbirds with orange beaks flew around a patch of cactus with yellow blossoms. It was beautiful, but not as strikingly simple as the finches. Those took Natasha's breath away.

"Wow, Clint, I love these paintings. They're beautiful and ironic, bird boy," she laughed as he sat down next to her with a smile. She carved at her chicken and took a taste. "And this chicken is amazing!"