Natasha grinned at him across the table, entirely too pleased with the pair of them and how easy it had been to just - fall naturally into rhythm, even if the only person they were going to work on had been a probably-underpaid hostess who seated people for a too-expensive lunch in a cafe full of dolls. "We should absolutely get them all, that was pretty good work back there, Hawkeye. You've earned a half dozen....Rebecca's Pink Lemonade Cupcakes." Everything was so pink. Natasha had never really had strong feelings about pink, positive or negative, but she was now, at least, of the belief that there could be too much of it in any given space.
"And do I? Thank you," she said, absurdly pleased by the compliment. Maybe because she really had tried to keep it casual, to take the pressure off, jeans and the hoodie he liked her in and once he'd mentioned he liked her hair braided, so she'd done that. She hadn't felt like she was bringing especially strong date-game to the table, not when he'd shown up in that blazer (for the record: she liked the blazer.) "You look good, too. You always do."
She was still smiling. This was absurd, it really was, this had been all her stupid idea, but here he was, showing up like a champ. He was here because he wanted to be here, with her, even if this was the destination, because she had asked, and she nudged her foot against his ankle since the table was so tiny that it wasn't much of a stretch. "You know, when I asked you out, I kind of just assumed we'd get a taco truck or something. Street food. Something casual. And we'd walk around holding hands and realize dating's not actually that hard with someone you like. But I'm not anti-giant dessert platter."