#widoweye

Natasha Romanoff didn’t believe in miracles, but she did believe that sometimes she just got lucky. When she finally woke up and came downstairs on Sunday morning (closer really to afternoon) she found the Avengers Tower completely empty. Clint had gone on a mission without her the week before last and his return flight didn’t get in until much later that afternoon, making him the only one accounted for. Checking with JARVIS, the assassin discovered Steve and Bruce had taken off for their goodwill trip to Cambodia a day early. Meanwhile, Tony and Pepper had left for California on urgent company business.

Feeling almost giddy with having real time alone, the spy found a protein bar and plopped down in the center of the rec room sofa. Turning on the TV, she found reruns of an oddball New York cop show with a lead that reminded her an awful lot of her absent partner. Smiling to herself, Natasha finished the episode and decided to surprise Barton by picking him up from the airport instead of him just calling in a SHIELD ride or taking a cab.

Snagging her mp3 player from her duffle bag, the spy hooked it up to the little used sound system in her apartment.  Quickly scrolling to one of her favorite songs, she set it on repeat and placed it on the bathroom counter to start her shower. Enjoying the warm shower and confident in the emptiness of the Tower, Natasha started to sing along with the music. Unlike the archer, she kept her volume at a normal level even when alone.

Rinsing her hair one last time, the redhead shut off the water and pulled back the opaque curtain. There, leaning back against the counter with a grin on his face, stood Clint Barton. The Russian stared at him for a long moment before saying, quite calmly, “You’re back early.”

Smile broadening; the archer gave her a knowing look. “Were you singing ‘Dream On’?”

Ignoring his question and the water dripping down her body, Natasha kept her voice neutral. “I was planning on picking you up at the airport in two hours.”

“I picked up an earlier flight in to surprise you when I heard the rest of the team had taken off,” he glanced up at the speaker in the ceiling, “This isn’t the original, who covered it?”

The spy noticed her partner’s eyes come back down to her and then follow a particular droplet of water of the curves or her body. “It’s Neil-something from some show called ‘Glee’,” she chose to ignore his wince, “I can actually understand everything he says. Hand me towel?”

The sniper shook his head as he pushed himself off the counter. “Don’t think so.”

Perplexed, Natasha gave him an arched look. “And why not?”

Toeing his boots off, Clint glanced up at her. “Well, for one, you need a serious lesson in music. This, for example, should only ever be performed by Aerosmith.” Turning at the waist, he pulled out his own player and swapped the devices out. After a moment of fiddling the song in discussion started.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. Over the years the partners had gone through more than one conversation about ‘good’ music and the best way to experience it. “Fine, this is better, but that doesn’t explain why you won’t hand me a towel.”

“I’m getting to that,” he said, pulling his t-shirt off, “the other reason I won’t hand you a towel is no one’s home and, like the song says, ‘maybe tomorrow the good Lord’ll take you away’,” he shucked his jeans and boxers before stepping into the tub. “Oh, and you’re dripping wet, naked and I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”