Natasha pursed her lips and considered what this meant, if she followed through with this plan. Honestly, once the thought occurred to her, she knew it had been a long time coming. While Phil was downright meticulous about hanging his suits over the bathroom door and Natasha's closet was her own (it was her apartment, after all), Clint had no such compunction about being orderly. The man had just gotten used to lining his shoes up next to theirs by the door.
She had no problem with waking in the morning after a night of fantastic sex and seeing the scattered clothes on her floor. But when the clothes were in piles simply because Clint was too lazy to fold them on the chair and Phil had passed out from exhaustion before doing it himself, Natasha knew what the answer would be. She sighed and set to work.
Three hours later and the purchase of a small bureau with delivery set for tomorrow, Natasha was happy with the arrangement. Just in time, as her two lovers came in the door, bickering quietly about the latest SHIELD rumor. The woman grabbed her crutch and limped out to the living room.
“Sit down,” Phil instructed in a no-nonsense tone. “I doubt you stayed off your foot as you were supposed to.” Clint gave her a wide grin as he began dishing out the takeout onto actual plates. At least he didn't bother to chime in, probably because they all knew he was the worst at following medical advice.
“I had things to do,” Natasha muttered, taking a seat on the couch and propping her foot on the coffee table. She waited until most of the food was gone before announcing that she had a surprise for both of them.
“Oh yeah? You go online shopping again?” Clint leered playfully and Natasha snorted, picking up the crutch from where it leaned against the armrest of the couch. Phil helped lever her to a standing position, his hand warm on her lower back.
“Yes, but not like that. Shut up and follow me.” The two men did as they were told and let Natasha's slow pace lead them to her walk-in closet.
Phil was the first to catch on and the woman wasn't surprised. “Thank you,” he said, looking around at the half-empty rod where her dresses hung.
“Seems a bit rude that you can only hang one suit at a time. I know you like your options.” Natasha shrugged as best she could. “The bureau for your terrible band t-shirts arrives tomorrow, it'll go over there,” she informed Clint, gesturing with the tip of her crutch.
“Twisted Sister isn't terrible.” Clint replied automatically; it was an old not-quite-argument between them. “Wait, what? I don't have enough things for multiple drawers.” Clint seemed dumbfounded by this nonverbal display of affection. Granted, it was a very large step forward in their relationship.
“You're not taking all of them,” Phil murmured, wrapping a strong arm around Natasha's waist. His shoulder piece pressed against her ribs and she remembered what else she had done before they arrived.
“Also gave you room here. And I can make more closet space if I need but this is as much room as I can allocate for both of you, so don't complain.” Natasha shot a look to Clint and took a step forward to press down on the heel of the Manolo Blahnik on the shelf. The force applied to the stiletto set off the pressure sensor underneath the tip and the shelf of shoes swung back with a quiet click.
Clint was the first one to peer into the small personal armory. “You are a beautiful creature and I do not deserve you.” he told her in a heartfelt tone when he looked away, kissing her deeply. Natasha laughed into his mouth as Phil poked his head in to look at the pegboard and thin drawers. It had been more difficult than she'd expected to rearrange her guns and knives to make room for one of Clint's extra bow, clean out a shelf underneath her display of throwing knives for arrow shafts and to find space for two of Phil's extra Glocks, but the reward was more than worth it.