Leaning back against Natasha, he just shrugs. Men are trash, and they both know it. At least she knows that he'll always be there for her. "Well, fuck him I guess," he says, "but I'm not gonna complain because it's worked out pretty well for me."

He turns in her arms to face her and cups her cheek with his hand. "Forget him." They both know where this is heading, so he leans in and presses their mouths together. Natasha needs someone to scratch an itch, and Clint is more than willing to be used for that purpose. She's his best friend, and he's more than happy to giver her anything she needs.