It was true that Clint should've been practicing. He should've been. His body was used to it by now, the exercise, the acrobatics. The violence. He could almost like it, sometimes, if he turned his brain off enough. There was a certain grace in all of it, a sense of precision and control that he found comforting. And power. There was that, too. It had been days since he'd touched his weapon and he could feel it. He missed it. Or, some part of him did. And that was why he'd stayed away for this long, because even if it wasn't good for him, this excess of energy, it was better than than being the person who had to pick up the bow and start practicing with faster and faster targets. Things that felt real.
He could do that, in his little private range, the one that the contractors and specifically built into the apartment. State-of-the-art technology, upgraded every three months; everything a professional marksman could ask for. He hadn't asked for any of it, though absolutely insisted on the very best locks for it. Retinal scan, fingerprints. The works. It wasn't like the training center at the Capitol. It wasn't a place for showing off.
Natasha knew all of that. Hell, Natasha was one of the few people who even knew the damn thing was there. His eyes flicked up at her, studying the lines of her face. "Can't drink," he murmured. "Afraid I won't stop." A couple of days ago, he might've questioned this, how gentle she was being with him, the touches to his face, the concern in her voice. The world had come down, and now it didn't matter anymore. That must've been it. They were already all going to be hurt and all that was left was to save themselves. It wasn't worth it to keep building walls.
He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her to his chest, his hand brushing over her back. "Let me hold you," Clint said softly, and he wasn't thinking about how she kept saying we, like she was going to stay, because he didn't have to. It didn't matter about before. She was here now, she was here and both their hearts were beating, and that was all that mattered.