Natasha could pinpoint the exact moment when her relationship with Clint turned from a dubious partnership to a real, trusting friendship.
It was after a particularly brutal mission when, against her better judgement, Natasha fell asleep in the jet on the way home. When she woke up, she was covered in a blanket and Clint was sitting ten feet away from her, silently inspecting an arrow. She froze, a little disturbed that she had allowed herself to be so vulnerable, but he heard the change in her breathing and spoke up before she could bolt.
“Everything’s fine; we’re back at headquarters,” he said conversationally, like it was perfectly normal for the two of them to be loitering in the cargo hold of a small aircraft.
“What time is it?”
“3 AM. We landed about two hours ago. I would have carried you inside, but…” But she was a feather-light sleeper, and if she woken up to him touching her she might have broken a limb before realizing what was going on.
“Why didn’t you just wake me up?”
He shrugged. “You looked exhausted. Come on, let’s go inside.”
The realization that Clint really cared about her hit Natasha like a bolt of lightning. Not only had he let her sleep when he thought she needed it, but he had sat awake inside a parked jet for hours instead of going to sleep himself. Guarding her.
Against all odds, it seemed, she had made a friend.