And Sarah, good mother that she was, had apparently had enough. "Here you are, Natasha," she said pointedly, scooping a square out of the cobbler pan and placing it on the redhead's plate. "Now you two don't have to fight over it."

Natasha got the hint, immediately releasing Barnes' fork with a little wink at the man - checkmate - and turned to pick up her own with a gracious thanks delivered in Sarah's direction. At the far end of the table, Sam just rolled his eyes and gave a soft snort, while the boys sniggered at the silliness of it, not quite understanding the current thrumming beneath all of the snark.

And even though it wasn't Natasha's habit to be the last one to leave any battlefield, she could, in this case, refrain from any further retaliation in light of being a guest in the Wilson's household. Which was why she demurely tucked in to her dessert, again asking Sarah and Sam leading questions about growing up down here, and pointedly ignoring the overgrown child to her left.