Clint's wasn't quite sure how it happened, but one day he woke up and they were living together. The first hint wasn't exactly subtle. Fury called the house phone at 3 o'clock in the morning and ordered him to hand it to Natasha.
Clint blinked, wondering when the h— did that happen, and pointed out, "She has a cell."
"Which she isn't answering," Fury growled back. "Put her on."
Natasha curled up tighter in the covers, nearly yanking Clint over with them, and muttered something rather derogatory in Russian. Clint glanced over at the side table and saw her cell phone plugged into its charger and definitely turned off. Just beyond it was the purple alarm clock he'd gotten her as a housewarming gift when she'd been issued her first set of SHIELD quarters on the Helicarrier.
In fact, the more he looked around, the more he realized that her books and makeup had taken up occupation among his more familiar things scattered throughout the room. Her keys were in the bowl with his. Her music had evicted several of his favorite CDs from the shelves, and Liho had curled up purring on his cat bed in the corner where Clint used to keep… something. Didn't he used to have a spare chair in here?
"Barton. I need to speak to Agent Romanoff," Fury's clipped voice reminded Clint of why he was suddenly noticing all of this.
"I think I do too." Clint blinked in the direction of his closet and the shoe rack hanging over the door that housed over thirty pairs of high heels. "I'll have her call you back." He hung up the phone on his sputtering boss and stole back the blankets.
Angry sputtering accompanied her tightening grip on the covers.
"Hey," Clint said softly.
Natasha glared at him.
"What's your official address with HR?"
She blinked at him, then groaned. "I know you like my apartment," she commented, "but you've had yours longer." Then she rolled out of bed and used the house phone to call Fury.
Well. Clint leaned back in bed and realized his household of one had somehow become a household of three. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he liked it.
FIC: When Did That Happen? (G, no warnings)
Clint's wasn't quite sure how it happened, but one day he woke up and they were living together. The first hint wasn't exactly subtle. Fury called the house phone at 3 o'clock in the morning and ordered him to hand it to Natasha.
Clint blinked, wondering when the h— did that happen, and pointed out, "She has a cell."
"Which she isn't answering," Fury growled back. "Put her on."
Natasha curled up tighter in the covers, nearly yanking Clint over with them, and muttered something rather derogatory in Russian. Clint glanced over at the side table and saw her cell phone plugged into its charger and definitely turned off. Just beyond it was the purple alarm clock he'd gotten her as a housewarming gift when she'd been issued her first set of SHIELD quarters on the Helicarrier.
In fact, the more he looked around, the more he realized that her books and makeup had taken up occupation among his more familiar things scattered throughout the room. Her keys were in the bowl with his. Her music had evicted several of his favorite CDs from the shelves, and Liho had curled up purring on his cat bed in the corner where Clint used to keep… something. Didn't he used to have a spare chair in here?
"Barton. I need to speak to Agent Romanoff," Fury's clipped voice reminded Clint of why he was suddenly noticing all of this.
"I think I do too." Clint blinked in the direction of his closet and the shoe rack hanging over the door that housed over thirty pairs of high heels. "I'll have her call you back." He hung up the phone on his sputtering boss and stole back the blankets.
Angry sputtering accompanied her tightening grip on the covers.
"Hey," Clint said softly.
Natasha glared at him.
"What's your official address with HR?"
She blinked at him, then groaned. "I know you like my apartment," she commented, "but you've had yours longer." Then she rolled out of bed and used the house phone to call Fury.
Well. Clint leaned back in bed and realized his household of one had somehow become a household of three. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he liked it.