"She's four, Tony, so I'd say you were the kind of idiot who worried about things like tetanus and missing digits," Natasha said, but that was it, that was all the flippancy she would give, because his eyes were overflowing and on the ground, they were of a height. Enough for her to put her arm around him, subtly but firmly guide his head down onto her shoulder. He didn't have to worry about pulling it together, not with her, but he also didn't have to feel as though she was watching him break; a kind of dueling impulse, really, to give him his privacy at the same moment as she was right here in it with him, as she would let him weep onto her shoulder. Still, if there was anyone in the world who understood perfectly how a thing could be two things at once, it was Natasha Romanoff.
She stroked the back of his neck with one hand, gently. It made her own chest feel heavy, too. Aunt Natasha, the last person left alive who had ever called her that, even when she had never been around for a lot of Morgan's life. Only sporadic visits now and then, but she'd always turned up with a gift for the little girl when she had, and it was how Tony and Pepper had introduced her, so it had stuck.
"Stop?" she murmured, her own voice aching. "Stop or keep going, Tony, it's okay. I've got you."