It just so happened that Natasha liked typing up boring descriptions of their missions. Just not when she felt like her body was giving up. And not when she wanted to spend a whole week switching between her bed and the bathtub.

"I owe you? How do bad waffles sound?" She asked, not looking at him simply because it required too much effort to turn her head when her shoulders were already screaming at her. She took her anger out on the toaster, hitting it once. "Fury can bite me. I deserve to miss a debriefing. I've sat in front of that man with bullet wounds and managed to give a report, I miss one and he isn't pleased?" That did make her turn her head, instantly regretting the decision.

"He'll have a very detailed report, even if I will heavily doctor some of the details." She attempted a shrug but gave up, stretching to open the fridge and retrieve the butter. "I want waffles dripping in calories, you fancy it?"