Natasha knew of Clint’s past, of the heartaches that had shaped him and the abnormal way he’d live his life. She knew how the past had the way of haunting people, knew better than many people ever would, but she also felt he had nothing to be ashamed of. A higher education meant little in their line of work, and she was sure he was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s top agents because of everything he had gone through, not despite of it. He had never had anything handed to him, he had earned every victory in his life, and that was something to admire.

Laughing with him, she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze to let him know that she understood, and that she was there, no matter what, even if she rarely ever spoke the words.

Fishing a few loose bills out of her pocket she threw them into the open guitar case before turning back to Clint again. They should probably continue on their way, but his words had gotten her to thinking. “You did a mission at a prom?” she couldn’t help but laugh. “Please tell me you wore an awful suit to it and that they had a terrible band playing.”

Moving in to stand close to him, she slid her hands up his arms to clasp loosely around behind his neck, waiting to see if he took the hint.