Clint's up early, as usual. A leftover from all the way back to his carny days: Once the sun peeks over the horizon, he can't usually manage more than an hour's sleep
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Jen, on the other hand, can easily sleep until noon if need be, when work or training doesn't impose itself.
Somewhere, distantly in her sleep state, she'd felt him leave. His quiet singing in the shower had penetrated her dream state, morphing a dream where she's taking a deposition from Wendell Vaughn while naked, frantically trying to cover herself with loose papers yanked from her evidence file, to one featuring Clint singing Cabaret sans clothing, which is a much better dream.
At the slight movement on the bed, she drifts into wakefulness, opening her eyes. The first thing she notices is him, the second thing she notices is that her long hair is spread out everywhere over the pillows, and the third thing she notices is that he's watching her. With coffee in his hand.
The coffee is strong, flavored with a hint of cinnamon, and liberally dosed with sugar. He just watches her, smiling, leaning back on one hand, eyes roaming over her lazily.
"You did a little cover-thievery, yeah. It's ok, though. Holding you kept me plenty warm."
"There should be bacon in there. You're not in some anti-meat phase, are you? I'll never forget Carol's vegetarian thing," he says, chuckling.
He takes the juice, helping himself to a big slurp of it, before setting the glass down next to the stove. "There're some bananas," he said, nodding. "Don't have a toaster, though."
****
"Well thank you, Iron Chef, for letting me be the Bacon Fryer. There must be another frying pan, unless I have to roast it over an open flame. Clint, your refrigerator is clean. Is there an X chromosome in you that I don't know about?" She extracts the bacon, opening cabinets until she finds a smaller pan, then opens the package and peels off six strips, laying them neatly in the pan, nudging him as she bends down to turn on the flame.
"Move over, you. When did I get to be such a big city girl? The last time I cooked something over an open fire outside of the city was in Genosha after lifting up pieces of buildings all day."
Clint chuckled, turning the omelets again before adding a liberal dose of the chopped onions. The kitchenette began to flood with the rich scent of frying bacon, and he leaned back against the counter, enjoying the smell for a moment.
"When were you ever not a big city girl, Jen?" He tilted his head to one side, curious. "My fridge is clean because I hardly ever use the damned thing. I eat a lot of takeout. Without someone else to cook for, I don't really go to the effort."
"I grew up in L.A. That doesn't count as big city when you're at the beach every day as a kid or huddled in the library with Cousin Bruce reading Nancy Drew and To Kill a Mockingbird. C'mon, my dad's a Sheriff. What kind of urbanite was I with a Sheriff for a dad? I didn't feel like a real big city girl until I moved here. Then I learned L.A. doesn't count as a big city in the same way New York or Chicago does. It doesn't, does it? Make the little woman some of that coffee? Please?"
She gives him her best impression of green puppy eyes. But she also pokes him playfully in the chest.
"You knew what a mousey thing I was when I was a teenager. You knew that, didn't you?"
"In what world could we call you 'the little woman'?" he asked playfully, reaching into an overhead cabinet, and coming out with some instant coffee. He spooned a generous portion into a mug, and filled it with bottled water, before popping it into the microwave.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her neck, just where it met her shoulder. "You? Mousey? I got some trouble buying that, honey. Sure, when you're not big and green, you're not porn-star type...but who wants that?" His hand slipped to rest on her hip for a moment, looking slightly up to meet her eyes. "Jennifer Walters is just as beautiful as the She-Hulk, honey. Anybody who says different is a liar."
Comments 46
Somewhere, distantly in her sleep state, she'd felt him leave. His quiet singing in the shower had penetrated her dream state, morphing a dream where she's taking a deposition from Wendell Vaughn while naked, frantically trying to cover herself with loose papers yanked from her evidence file, to one featuring Clint singing Cabaret sans clothing, which is a much better dream.
At the slight movement on the bed, she drifts into wakefulness, opening her eyes. The first thing she notices is him, the second thing she notices is that her long hair is spread out everywhere over the pillows, and the third thing she notices is that he's watching her. With coffee in his hand.
"Hi."
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"Like the very much satisfied. Did I steal the covers? Oooo, coffee."
She sits up, shedding the covers, and takes the cup, chancing a small sip.
The bed appears to be three feet further away from the wall than it was last night.
She looks at him, smiling quietly.
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"You did a little cover-thievery, yeah. It's ok, though. Holding you kept me plenty warm."
Reply
He takes the juice, helping himself to a big slurp of it, before setting the glass down next to the stove. "There're some bananas," he said, nodding. "Don't have a toaster, though."
****
"Well thank you, Iron Chef, for letting me be the Bacon Fryer. There must be another frying pan, unless I have to roast it over an open flame. Clint, your refrigerator is clean. Is there an X chromosome in you that I don't know about?" She extracts the bacon, opening cabinets until she finds a smaller pan, then opens the package and peels off six strips, laying them neatly in the pan, nudging him as she bends down to turn on the flame.
"Move over, you. When did I get to be such a big city girl? The last time I cooked something over an open fire outside of the city was in Genosha after lifting up pieces of buildings all day."
Reply
"When were you ever not a big city girl, Jen?" He tilted his head to one side, curious. "My fridge is clean because I hardly ever use the damned thing. I eat a lot of takeout. Without someone else to cook for, I don't really go to the effort."
Reply
She gives him her best impression of green puppy eyes. But she also pokes him playfully in the chest.
"You knew what a mousey thing I was when I was a teenager. You knew that, didn't you?"
Reply
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her neck, just where it met her shoulder. "You? Mousey? I got some trouble buying that, honey. Sure, when you're not big and green, you're not porn-star type...but who wants that?" His hand slipped to rest on her hip for a moment, looking slightly up to meet her eyes. "Jennifer Walters is just as beautiful as the She-Hulk, honey. Anybody who says different is a liar."
Reply
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