Chapter Text
Natasha has never and will never use the phrase "my better half." Not out of ego, the phrase "my other half" is just as bad. It implies she cannot be whole on her own. She is after all, though jagged and sharp at the edges perhaps, whole. So are Bobbi, Clint, and James.
They are each their own person far before they are each others'.They depend on each other yes but they are not dependent and that makes all the difference. They bear scars that match and fit together in a way that makes them better, stronger. None of them want to go back to how they were before this but they could and would if they must.
Even if she wanted an "other half" (she doesn't) you can't have four halves of one thing anyway and no one would understand "one of my three other quarters" if that was how they worked. They are each too much to be halves and doubly so for quarters.
They would likely laugh if she voiced these thoughts allowed, not mockingly but in fond amusement. Her lips quirk and she shakes her head at the thought. She thinks she is entitled to the convoluted train of thoughts as she parks in front of Clint's building. She has been away on a mission for a month and she is just so very tired. She lets herself in silently and heads straight for the bedroom where she strips out of her catsuit. James is the only one who stirs and only long enough to shift over and pull her into his arms.
She'll wake in the morning entangled with the three of them and so very glad to be home.