It wasn't like Clint wanted to push things forward or anything -- Bucky had a point: feel what you're feeling. It was a thing, and everyone deserved a chance to do it. Natasha deserved that chance. It was just that he was bad with stuff like this. Bad feelings were what pushed him into days long naps and rash decisions and it was hard getting a handle on other peoples' when he couldn't even his own. Particularly when tasteless jokes weren't working. Well. Maybe Bucky was just more his speed when it came to dealing with angst? They both let distractions go a long way for them.
Maybe that just wasn't how everything was meant to work though. It wasn't actually dealing so much as delaying.
"My place," he agreed, pushing himself back up to standing, a bit clumsy until he righted himself properly. Not wanting to push ahead or otherwise, he was glad to clear out of the House. Everything felt a little better when the looming impossibility of the Doors were behind them.
They were still navigating this thing. This -- them. The three of them. But Clint was certain that right now, it would be best if Nat was in the middle, his shoulder bumping up against hers.