"You ate a pound of candy corn?" Natasha demanded. "You deserve to be sick."

Clint just groaned on the couch. "Had to."

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"My neighbor," he replied, one arm over his stomach and not sounding very good at all. "She was trying all these recipes and I promised to help her with the taste testing."

"But she somehow failed to mention how much she expected you to eat?"

"She made five dozen recipes!" Clint protested. He made a weak swipe for the glass of seltzer Natasha was holding. "I promised!"

"Blindly." But Natasha shook her head fondly.