25 Unicorn Street, Thursday Evening

[so_hawkward]

The thing about living with Natasha was that she made Clint want to be a cleaner, more organized version of himself. Now that she wasn't here, it hadn't taken long for Clint to slip back into being, well, himself. What was left of his dinner was still sitting in the pot he'd cooked it in and eaten it out of, although to his credit it was positioned on the coffee table out of Lucky's reach. He was lying on the couch, with Lucky at his side on the floor and Rook perched on his chest while he tried to find something decent to watch on television. Surely, some channel was showing syndicated repeats of Dog Cops. If he had to settle for reality TV, he was going to be annoyed.

[Open!]