A/N: More fluff. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Marvel's Avengers Assemble. I wish I did.
The first time he says it, it just slips out of his mouth. They have just finished their tenth mission together and he's insisted on celebrating getting to that number without either of them dying or having a near fatal injury. They're sitting in his apartment, bottles lying all around the table from how much he's drank. He had become drunk about an hour into their small celebration, while Natasha maintained a steady pace with her drinks.
One empty bottle of vodka is sitting by her feet, but she is nowhere near as drunk as Clint. She is easily moving through the second one when she decides that he's had enough to drink, after he starts using the bottle in his hand as a microphone, singing to her. The words to the song are difficult to make out, so she gives up and instead pries the bottle from him, placing it on the table with the rest.
This is a state that Natasha has never seen him in – of course she has his fun nature at SHIELD sometimes, but never like this. His natural behaviour was something that she had learnt to tolerate and even enjoy, over the two years that they had been working together. At first she didn't want to tolerate him or even have him around her, but as time went on she accepted his friendship and grew more comfortable with him, letting him in a little and in return, having him let her in.
His words are slurred as she helps him off the sofa, pulling one of his arms around her shoulders to support him as she leads him to his bedroom. She forces him to sit down when they get there, ignoring the laughter that's spilling out of his mouth along with broken pieces of a joke. A roll of her eyes and then she has left the room, retrieving a glass of water for him.
By the time she comes back, he has slipped into the bed, pulling the sheets up to his shoulders. She puts the glass on the set of draws next to his bed, telling him that she's going to leave. A flash of movement and he has grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her closer to him. She sighs softly and looks down at him, seeing a wide smile decorate his face.
"What, Barton?"
"I love you, Tasha. Do you know that?"
His voice is barely above a whisper, like they're in a room full of people and he's sharing information with her that was to be something only he knew. She stiffened at his words, but brushes them off as if they are nothing, because he's drunk. This isn't the man she knows, this is someone else who has taken over for the night in celebration. Her eyes travelled to his face to find his own closed, having begun to lightly snore. She wraps a hand around his shoulder and pulls him onto his side before she leaves, shrugging off his words as the apartment door shuts behind her.
The following day she doesn't mention the moment and Clint doesn't seem to recall anything from that night other than singing into the beer bottle.