It was five days after the alien invasion and the entire team of Avengers were temporarily residing in one of Tony Stark's many mansions. It was a lazy Thursday night and all of them were in the living room. Bruce was on an armchair, listening to one of Tony's many life stories. Cap and Thor were arm wrestling whilst Clint kept score. Natasha had fallen asleep after dinner, curled up on Clint's lap like a cat.

'I'm bored, let's watch a movie!' Tony stated cheerily.

'What is this movie creature that you referred to, my friend?' Thor questioned in his usual booming voice.

'You don't know what a movie is?' Tony stared at Thor incredulously, 'The bunch of you on Asgardians are missing out on so much.'

'What should we watch?' Bruce asked mildly.

'Snow White, maybe?' Steve stated, flipping through his notebook of things to catch up with.

Tony raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. Bruce tugged at Tony's sleeve, almost as if he was warning him to play nice, 'Sure, why not?' he said.

And that was how Earth's Mightiest Heroes ended up watching Snow White of all things one Thursday night.

It was when Snow White first entered the seven dwarves' home when Clint felt Natasha tense up in his lap. Pain seared through him as something sharp ripped into his arm and all of a sudden she was off his lap. Natasha crouched at the other end of the room in a defensive position, her eyes glazed and filled with a feral sort of fear. Everyone had sprung up then and were staring at her in surprise, unable to comprehend what exactly it was that had just happened.

'Nat? Nat.' Clint was careful to keep his distance as he attempted to get Natasha to snap out of it.

Her eyes focused then as what was left of the sleep and fear leaked out of her. She looked around, noting her shocked circle of teammates, Clint, and her eyes slowly ran down to his bleeding arm. Her eyes darkened.

'Oh, fuck.' She turned and left the room before anyone could respond.

There was a long period of silence between all of them before Tony became the one to break the ice, 'What the hell just happened?'

'Tony,' Bruce chastised as he strode over to examine the gash on Clint's arm. 'Good. This isn't deep. Steve, get me the first aid kit. Just hold still, Clint, I'll be done in a moment.'

Clint was about to open his mouth to protest, to say that he should go make sure that Natasha was okay first, when Tony pushed him down, 'Believe me, Little Miss Deadly would probably take it better if you walk in with a bandaged arm rather than one that's still dripping with blood.'

And so Clint stayed put and let them be.

True to his word, Bruce was done with him within five minutes and Clint immediately chose to leave the room to get to Natasha after telling the others to continue with the movie and reassuring them (or more specifically Tony) that he was going to be fine, that Natasha was not going to bite his head off for whatever reason.

Natasha was in her room, and she sprung to her feet as soon as he entered. Her eyes roamed down to his bandaged arm, 'Clint.'

'Nat-' he stepped forward.

'Please don't,' she murmured, backing up against the wall like a cornered animal. It pained him to see her like that.

'Flashback?' he asked directly.

'Yeah,' she murmured. She hesitated for a moment and added, 'That was how the Red Room taught me English. With Snow White. We'd watch it again and again and again until we could speak with a clear American accent. I woke up to it and... I just got scared.' Throughout the years, she had grown to be more and more accustomed to directly talking to Clint about her past. For she knew that he would never judge, that he would always understand.

'It happens to all of us, Tasha, it wasn't your fault.'

He could see something loosen within her as she plopped down onto the bed, 'I thought I'd managed to leave it all behind after so many years but guess what.' She laughed bitterly.

'Nat, our past will always be a part of us. Its what made us who we are today. We'll just have to live it down. Its going to be hard, I know, but you'll survive. You've always been a survivor.'

She stood up from the bed, walked towards him and buried her face in his chest, 'I'm so tired, Clint.'

'I know, I know,' he thought of Loki and the mind control he had been under, how he fought against Natasha, aiming to kill, how the guilt he had felt ever since then had been burning a searing hole in him.

She looked up at him then and he realized that she knew. She knew how Loki had broke him, how hard he had been holding on to this facade of normality, of how he just wasn't ready to talk about it just yet. And she was fine with it. She was willing to let him take his time, to tell her how he felt only when he was ready for it. She tore her eyes away from him, pressed her cheek against his shoulder as she murmured, 'Yeah, but we'll manage to pull through, the way we've always been able to. Together.'