Who: Teddy and Natasha What: Lunch Where: Casa de Hawke-land When: Early afternoon
From the time he woke up it felt like it was going to be one of those days. One of those calm, comfortable mornings that felt too good to be true, and far too rare. The kind where Teddy felt like he could wander around in his pajamas for as long as he wanted, do anything or nothing at all. He'd been sorely tempted, lounging around in bed a little longer than normal, reading a bit before he finally mustered up the will to move. He'd settled for half of his little dream, hanging around in his pjs while he tidied up the living room a bit and prepared for lunch. Most of what he had planned could be prepped when Natasha showed up, but the guacamole he was intent on finishing beforehand. When he finally showered and got dressed he kept it casual, jeans and a t-shirt, barefoot and comfortable. Not quite as relaxed as pajamas, but close.
He'd done a bit of shopping after work the night before, getting all of the makings for lunch. As the time counted down he made sure a few of the items were already on the counter, The Heavy's "How You Like Me Now?" drawling out from the radio near the sink. His bare toes curling and tapped lightly against the cool floor as he peeled and cleaned shrimp, and every few lines he'd sing along before letting the words float out into nothing at a particularly stubborn prawn. His eyes drifted to the fridge, to the few post-it notes he'd left there to remind him of all the things he'd needed to get ready before Natasha arrived, and for the most part everything was done aside from the actual cooking.
He wasn't thinking about the contest that may-or-may-not have even been a thing. Thus far no spatulas had been harmed in the making, and he was really only focused on making sure everything tasted good. He was more than aware of how this was more than reminiscent of their first meal together in the house, but it all seemed different now. Good. Comfortable. Welcome. He'd been a little worried to be honest. The incident with Drake was...well...embarrassing wasn't really the right word. Maybe a little closer to being ashamed, but that wasn't a good fit either. It was a shame, the whole situation had been, but it wasn't either of their faults, really.
A reality check? Perhaps not as much for himself as it was for her, but the whole thing had been telling enough on its own. The aftermath even moreso. He'd wanted to give her whatever space she needed, and flowers aside, she'd been the one to reach out first. To call it a relief would have been an understatement. Despite the fact that it was inevitable that they'd have to interact again, the fact that she'd been so willing, so patient, and so understanding with it said a hell of a lot about her. It felt a little amazing. Then again, she was pretty damn amazing on her own.
Once the shrimp were clean, he washed his hands thoroughly and hunted around one of the side cupboards for the bottle of good tequila they'd been holding on to. He wasn't even sure if it had been used for anything other than cooking since they'd bought it, but that was hardly a waste.
He'd barely gotten the bottle onto the counter when he heard the door, turning on his heel to head toward the entrance and allow Natasha inside.