She was receptive to it, as much as she felt like she shouldn’t be. The connection they had felt old, worn in like those sandals that curve over time to the space of your foot, but whatever relationship they were building was still new. But whatever instinct in was that pulling them together was far more intoxicating than common sense.
“We saved the world,” She corrected with a gentle nudge back. Even when she did something alone she knew that at its core she still had Clint’s unwavering optimistic belief in her ability to do the right thing. He’d always been able to see past who she was and find who she wanted to be. It scared her, sometimes. She never wanted to disappoint him, but she didn’t always believe that she could be the person she wanted to be. “You’ve always had a knack for pointing me in the right direction; most of the time you’ve even got good aim.”
There was something weightless about being able to feel close to someone without it being hinged to the trauma and destruction that Thanos had wrought. When she spent time with Tony, their conversations were stitched to heavy anchors of longing, guilt, and regret. Even winning, they’d both died lost their lives; she didn’t forgive Steve for leaving. She knew Stark was still quietly seething over the fact Rogers had left Peter on his own. The fun she had had tonight was free from Avengers politics she’d been longing to escape.
“Destiny waits for no one and shows up in unexpected places.” She reached across the island to collect the bottle and refill his glass, “but I’ve never been happier that you’re a part of mine.”