Clint & Natasha
He'd told her he was going to enjoy it, and he did. "Thanks," he said with a lopsided grin, because he was having a good time. He was glad this was a thing -- not only for himself but for other people. It was easy to feel alone here, he suspected, if you didn't have anyone else or weren't part of a core group. The Avengers had it easy, no matter which world they were from. Not everyone else had it so easy. So having a thing. A low key group thing. It was good.
"Oh," he said after a beat, because it hadn't even really occurred to him that there might be a difference in their ages and he didn't know why because now that the thought was there, he felt silly. "Jeez. Come on now. Fifty-two. That's rude. I'm obviously twenty-one. I can now officially drink." And as if to prove his point, he took a swig of beer. "Kidding. I'm thirty-five." And he was looking good for it too, he though, considering how many times he tended to break his nose and every other bone on a yearly basis.