Yeah. He definitely wanted to hear that, but that didn't really make him feel better. Not at all actually. It just sort of made him doubt that other version of himself, for a second. Which was unfair, maybe, because in hand to hand combat they were close, he and Natasha, but she still won best out of seven most the time anyway.
"It's not," Clint said, although he well appreciated the fact that she was trying to excuse it, trying to make it okay with a promise of other things, a family and a life afterward, but that still meant a life after her. Which Clint - this Clint -- could not fathom and did not want to. "It's not," he said more firmly. "You're family, Nat. You've always been."
Would that other Clint be alright? Would he move on? It didn't seem right, especially if he'd been there, if he'd watched. It'd sit there on his shoulders forever, Clint was sure.
"Hey," he said, after a beat, but he couldn't think of what else to say, so he just pulled Natasha into a hug again. "I'm right here. With you. In the coffee shop." She smelled like Natasha did, even with all the adrenaline, and it was something of a relief.