Work Text:
Natasha and the Cap make a good team and something painful lances through him every time he sees them together. Strike Team Delta was legendary. Without the Black Widow, Clint feels like he's fighting blinded in one eye.
He doesn't complain, understands the need to prove he's still one of the deadliest, strongest weapons in SHIELD's arsenal, with or without a partner. They've done it before, split their work and their missions, each doing what they did best, but this feels different because there's Cap and he's settling into Nat as his partner in a way no one else has had the privilege.
"He's cute," Natasha tells Clint from the shower. "I don't think he understands the concept of having a social life."
There's a smile in her voice, that faint undertone of pleasure in finding the soft spots she can armor for her partner, in finding the strengths she can use for her own.
Clint leans against the open bathroom door and watches her clamber out, dry herself, and dress.
She pauses, reading him like an open book, then steps forward into the open space he's left for her in his arms. "It's not like Delta," she says seriously.
He studies her for a while, deciding whether she wants him to believe it or if she's stating reality. Finally, he tucks her close and breathes relief. "I know."