She could tell that she had surprised him with her offer, and it forced her to reconsider it, at least silently, as she weighed out the invitation she’d made him vs. what he might’ve expected from her. Natasha knew that she was cool and distant, perhaps more out of instinct than any real culmination of desires, but cool all the same. She liked distance and solitude, she supposed in the same way he did, and they understood that about one another. There were no awkward angles there, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that nothing would come of a night with Clint in her room other than conversation, drinking, and then snoring. Whereas before she might’ve not felt driven to reach out to him simply because she knew nothing bad or awkward or detrimental to their friendship would come of it, it seemed reason enough then.

Natasha, quite simply, wanted his company.

“No, it’s fine,” she said with a shrug. “I mean you don’t have to if you’d rather just go somewhere and get some sleep, but if you’d like to hang out, I wouldn’t mind some company.” She pushed herself evenly to her feet, smoothing down her shirt and stretching a bit. “I’ll call someone about a pizza and see if they’ll do me a favor and run it up. You might get lucky. There are some cute girls that work in the bar.”