"I wouldn't dream of it, wife," he said while he still had her over her shoulder. He knew he shouldn't find amusement in his wife's annoyance, but... he did. She was cute when she was like this and after being away for so long, this was exactly what he needed - a little levity, albeit at Bobbi's expense. He knew when to push her button, when to back off and when to toe the line, like now. "Quit squawking," Clint said prior to dumping his wife unto the bed, unceremoniously at that.
Before climbing in himself, Cling towed off his boots and stripped himself of his t-shirt, snagging it by the neck. And in doing so revealed a collection of mottled bruises along his body - it wasn't the worst shape he had ever been in, but they did look fresh. They were both aware what he did for a living although it was rarely discussed, so long as he made it back home at the end of the day.
Clint flopped onto the bed next to his wife and pulled her her close, so that she was laying on top of him, one hand stroking her shoulder. Sylvester the cat took this to mean it was actually bed time and hopped up as well, strutted around for two seconds before curling up next to them. Clint didn't seem to notice too much because all of his attention was on Bobbi.
"So, miss me?" He asked, grinning and not missing a beat.