this one directly follows chapter 5 ("Don't Be So Flippant About It).

enjoy!

"Remind me to never eat that much again," Phil says as he leans back against the back of the booth, eyeing the few slices of pizza that remained from their meal.

"You've lost your touch, Phil," Clint scolds playfully while looking for a clean napkin to use to wipe his still greasy fingers. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said this place ticked all the boxes for Clint's request of so-greasy-it-is-the-foundation-of-instant-regrets pizza.

Phil rolls his eyes and shares a smile with Natasha. They used to do that a lot, back in the days of Strike team Delta. "Like old times, huh?"

Nat smiles warmly and Clint can see in her eyes that she's thinking back fondly to those days too. "Yeah, kinda is."

"Back together again," Clint adds with a grin while reaching up to wrap his arm around Nat, who dodges it easily as she slides away.

"Be that as it may, I am going to go home and try to head off this pizza hangover," Phil says as he steps out of the booth and stands up. "I'll leave you two kids to it."

"Party pooper," Clint says even as he follows suit in exiting the booth. He sees Nat do the same on the other side.

"Good to see you again, Clint," Phil says as he steps forward and gives him a quick hug.

"Likewise," he replies as they break their embrace and head toward the door.

Maybe it was because Phil's death had been so long ago, but Clint hadn't realized just how good it was to see his former handler and good friend again. Even after he'd learned Fury had hidden Phil's revival from them all, he hadn't had a chance to connect with him. At the time he'd been bitter and hadn't reached out, and when he'd learned of Phil's actual death, he'd grieved all over again.

"Don't let him keep you up too late," Phil instructs Natasha with a grin and a hug for her too once they're outside.

She chuckles. "I won't."

"We still on for brunch this week?"

Clint's brow furrows a touch. Brunch? Since when did they do brunch?

"Sure," she agrees. "Other than showing this guy the ropes, I'm free," she says while gesturing at Clint.

"Great."

"I like brunch," Clint interjects.

"Good for you," Nat replies dryly.

"Hey, c'mon now," he protests.

"Bye, Clint," Phil says with a smile as he gets into his car. He doesn't wait for an answer, immediately turning the engine to life and pulling out of the parking spot.

"Bye," Clint calls out futilely as Phil drives away. He turns to face Nat again and feels his heart clench lightly at the sight of her. Ecstatic to be with her again as he may be, he's still not quite used to having her around again. "So, where to?"

She shrugs in that carefree way she'd always had about her. "You tell me."

"Back to the farm? Unless...is your place closer?"

"Distance is a construct that you'll find has varying meaning here. Time too."

He frowns as he puzzles that thought in his mind for a moment before opting to ignore it and figure it out later. "So... either is fine?"

She chuckles. "Let's go. I can show you my place and you can critique my work."

"Your work?" he echoes as he realizes she's already started walking. He jogs a few steps before he falls into step beside her.

"I stayed at the Compound for a bit while I got my head on straight. Then I found this old house that was perfect."

"Well, everything here is suited to your whims and desires, right? Isn't that the whole schtick of the afterlife?"

"No, this place gives you what you need, not necessarily what you want."

Huh. Interesting. "Okay. So your place wasn't a good fit?"

"No, it was a perfect fit for what I needed. A project."

"You picked an unfinished house?"

"You could say it picked me," she offers with a shrug.

"Oh God, please no more philosophical stuff. I've had enough magical mumbo jumbo for a lifetime."

"Good thing this is the afterlife then isn't it?"

He tries to shove her, but she's just as agile as she had been while alive and easily dodges it. "That's enough outta you, you little shit," he warns, but she just laughs deeply. He can't help but smile warmly at the sound.

"Tony called my place a dump," she says, getting them back on topic.

"Well, anything beneath five-star accommodations is a dump to him, so that doesn't mean much."

"Steve was worried too. Asked me about a half dozen times if I was sure that it was what I wanted."

He quickly does the math in his head and realizes she had apparently spent longer at the afterlife Avengers Compound than he'd thought. If she'd only moved there after Cap died, that meant she'd been there for quite a few years. "So it was in rough shape?"

"Well, the structure was mostly intact."

" Mostly intact?"

She ignores him and continues. "But the electrical had to be done, plus all the plumbing, and of course the drywalling, and-"

"You leave out the part where you became a contractor after you died?"

"I learned a few things," she answers vaguely.

Clint takes it to mean that yes, she had, in effect, become a contractor. Go figure. Nat doing renovations by herself was not something he ever considered to be a possibility. Though he supposed maybe some of it was his fault for roping her into his projects at the farmhouse. "Are you telling me I could've gotten you to be more productive on my renovations?"

"Wait until you see the work before you start regretting anything," she warns playfully with a chuckle.

He arches an eyebrow and shifts his expression to one of skepticism, but he cracks under her amused stare and grins.

"Tony helped with the electrical," she continues, "and Steve and Phil helped with the drywalling."

"And the plumbing?"

She shrugs. "I watched a lot of videos."

"You did your own plumbing?" he says incredulously. "Unbelievable. There really isn't anything you're not good at, is there?" he mutters.

"Well, I wasn't great at therapy," she says casually with a shrug.

His eyebrows rise in surprise. A callback to her early days at SHIELD is a more serious answer than he'd been expecting. "Yeah, well I don't think we can really put that one on you. You had just defected and your brain was pretty scrambled then," he points out.

"True, but I was actually referring to the therapy I've done here. It was probably a lot longer than it needed to be because I was so stubborn at first."

He blinks twice as he absorbs that. She'd hated the therapy SHIELD had mandated for her. As far as he knew she'd never done another session unless it was for an evaluation after time off or a particularly gruesome mission, and even then she was all too familiar with what answers to give to be cleared, so it had never been more than doing what was necessary for following protocol. "They have therapy here?"

Nat's expression tells him she knows his question was really "You went to therapy? Willingly?" and he smiles a little sheepishly at being caught.

"Yes, they do," she replies swiftly, "and with security clearance no longer an issue, I was free to discuss everything from the Red Room, SHIELD, and the Avengers."

He's quiet for what he realizes is probably too long before he manages to reply. "How was that?"

"It was hell at times," she replies simply and honestly, "but it was necessary, and I'm glad I did it."

He swallows the lump of emotion as his mind wanders a bit and he wonders if she'd discussed what happened in her final moments alive. "That's, uh, that's good."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic," she quips dryly, adding a roll of her eyes for good measure.

"I just can't picture it," he says with a shake of his head. This openly vulnerable version of Natasha was at odds with the woman he'd known who had held in everything. Sure, she hadn't been the ice queen her reputation dictated, but she had never been this open and honest about things like her well-being. He can't help thinking how different her life might've been if she'd been this open while she'd been alive. "Can't imagine it was fun."

"No," she shook her head in agreement, "it definitely wasn't. Had a lot to unpack and to work through, but it was worth it." She stops and gestures to a house with a smile. "Well, this is it."

He looks up at the house and lets his gaze drift over it. It was older, almost historical looking, but he could see some modern finishes through the window in the front. Old and yet new, he muses. Yeah, that feels like Nat.

"So?" she prompts.

"Pssh. Like I'm going to judge your work from the outside."

She snorts in amusement and then heads up the walkway to the front door which she unlocks and holds open for him to enter.

He can see there's elements of more cozy touches that would have been at home in her room at the farmhouse, but there's also a lot of modern and minimalist finishes that she had preferred on her floor at the Avengers Tower. He tries to think back of what her office and room had been like at the Compound, but he can't piece together anything of note.

There's a knitted blanket on the couch that looks like it was done by hand, and suspiciously very much resembles the pattern of one that Phil had gifted her one year early on into her time after defecting. She had treasured it dearly, even if she had denied it flatly then. Phil had been delighted when he'd spotted it in her place when they'd had to pick her up for an emergency mission once.

He spots a myriad of framed photos, some of her and Laura and the kids, some of the Avengers, and some of Phil, Nick, Maria, Pepper and Morgan, and a few people he doesn't recognize. He's a little surprised, because she had never been one to keep a ton of mementos. Then again, he supposes dying and leaving nearly everyone behind would do that to a person.

There's tastefully framed art on the walls, and beautiful exposed wood that is a decoration all its own. He can see an impressive home theatre setup, and her words from earlier about Tony helping with the electrical ring through his mind. He had no doubt had a hand in that setup, and Clint wonders if the two of them had enjoyed movie nights here. They'd always enjoyed the impromptu ones at the Tower from what he remembered.

He nods as he takes in the rest of the area at the front of the house. "Nice place," he says.

She smiles from where she's leaning against a door frame. "I'm glad you approve. Kitchen's through there," she says while gesturing to the back of the house. "That's what I'm really proud of."

He nods again and immediately heads toward the kitchen. He's floored when he gets there, finding a beautiful, functional kitchen fitted with impressive looking appliances. He whistles in appreciation. "Laura would love this kitchen."

"You think?"

"Definitely," he says as he runs a hand over the smooth surface of the cabinets. "You do these yourself?"

She nods. "Steve and I made a project of it. Took a while to find a style I liked."

"It's good work," he agrees with a nod.

"Thanks."

"So, this is home?" he asks, the question teeming with deeper meaning that he knows she understands. He'd wondered over the years working together if she had ever really felt like she had a home. He and Laura had tried to make the farmhouse that for her, but he understood it could never be in the way he wanted.

"Yeah," she confirms with a serious nod, "it's home."

He hesitates for a second, the question he's wanted to ask since he got to the afterlife sitting on the tip of his tongue. She tilts her head and offers a knowing smile. She always did know how to read me.

"Have you been happy, Nat?" he asks softly. Everything about her seems settled and peaceful in a way he's never seen before, but they both know better than anyone how looks could be deceiving. He had never really believed in an afterlife of any kind, but still he had hoped wherever she had ended up would let her find the peace and happiness she deserved.

"Yes," she answers after a few beats of thoughtful silence. "I had a lot of shit to unpack and deal with, and it took me a long time to address it all, but eventually I found peace. And of course I missed you and Laura and the kids, and everyone else, but...I was content knowing you'd gotten them back, that everyone had gotten their loved ones back. I was content knowing that my life had meant something good in the end."

"Nat," Clint croaks, "your life was always worth something. God, you saved me so many times over the years, not to mention everything with the Avengers… Your life meant a hell of a lot of good even without-"

"It's alright," she interrupts softly, reaching a hand out and slipping it into his.

"No, Nat, you don't get it," he argues stubbornly.

She shakes her head vehemently. "I made peace with the inevitability of my death a long time before we ever stepped foot on Vormir."

"I saw your expression, Nat. You were scared," he counters. She'd looked petrified as she swayed in the wind, gravity pulling her down and away from him while he fought as hard as he could to hold onto the last person he had left in the world from his family.

"Of course I was scared. I was terrified ."

His expression falls. He'd known she was scared, but hearing her admit it still hurt.

"But I was terrified because I had a family and people who cared about me and who I cared about. And that was because you took a chance on me all those years ago and showed me a new life. Because you let me be a part of your family, and showed me that love wasn't just for children."

He felt tears escaping but didn't care. Time had changed them both, and they were both now more open and more vulnerable than they had been back then.

"Clint, I was terrified because I had a family. Because I had people to leave behind."

"Nat," he croaks, emotion choking off any other words he might've wanted to say.

"I was terrified to die, to leave everyone behind, to not be there for everyone when they came back. But it also felt right for me to do it."

He shakes his head because a part of him would always argue it should have been him.

"I spent years trying to find my place in the world after they spent so long convincing me that I didn't have one."

"It was never about your ledger," he counters firmly.

"No, it was more than that. They raised me to be ruthless and to have no attachments because it would make me weak. But in the end, I gave my life out of love." Her lips curl into a smile before she continues. "And if that isn't the biggest 'fuck you' to those assholes, I don't know what is."

He can't stop the laugh from escaping, and he grins because it's so Nat . "I guess you won in the end then, huh?"

"You bet your ass I did."

He lets out a heavy exhale that allows tension to release that he hadn't realized had been there in the first place. "I was proud of you, Nat. It was hell living after you having done that, but I was so damn proud of you."

She smiles again, this time a touch apologetically. "I'm sorry," she offers, "I know it was a dirty play to-"

"Don't," he interrupts, shaking his head. "Don't you dare apologize for saving my life. I got to grow old with Laura, watched my kids grow up, became a grandfather, mentored a new Hawkeye...all because I had the fortune to cross paths with you the way we did." It had taken him a long time to let the anger go. To appreciate, really appreciate , the gift that she'd given him.

"Well, I happened to get some good out of us crossing paths too, so let's call it even?"

He chuckles. "Yeah. But all bets are off when Laura gets here, because she's got some strong opinions on this." She grins at the mention of his wife and her friend. "So, do I get to see upstairs too?"

Her eyes twinkle with mischief. "All our years together and now you hit me with the flirty banter?"

He bursts out laughing, unable to even try to contain it.

I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last wrote from Clint's perspective for this story, and thankfully when I sat down to write it was a steady flow of writing.

as always, any and all thoughts, comments, feedback, and suggestions are welcome. always nice to see what y'all think.

(and in case the Wanda Nat friendship is your jam, I posted a one-shot a couple weeks back that follows the ending of WandaVision. It's called "Destination Unknown")

thanks for your patience with my sporadic updating schedule, and hope you all are staying safe.

more to come!