Clint always had a way of reassuring her without making her feel as though she were being silly or patronized. She supposed it was because she’d put her faith in him wholly, long before SHIELD had ever made its way into her life, and he’d yet to betray her of his own volition. The pat on her knee and the words he gave her – generous as always – made her smile a bit. Doing the right thing and being an upstanding citizen, would forever be a shoe that was too large for her foot, but it was bearable for friends like Clint and Steve, who had enough goodness in them for her and any other lost asshole they happened upon.

“You’d better not ever fake your death and not let me know right away, if not beforehand, that you’re alive,” she said, nudging at his shoulder with her knee as she scooted down in the couch a bit so that she could rest her head on the arm. She moved her drink to rest it on the flat of her tummy, leaving a cool, slightly damp ring to soak through her shirt. “I mean it, Barton. If you ever pull some shit on me like Fury did, I will punch you in the face. Probably more than once.”