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The Comfort of the Familiar

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Apparently, Clint has been on a real writing kick while Kate’s been gone. It’s ridiculous, because who even uses pen and paper these days?

She tells Bobbi it’s ridiculous, when Bobbi drops the unfinished letters that have been rescued from Clint’s apartment into Kate’s lap.

“There’s one for each of us. Jess, Natasha, you, and me,” Bobbi says, and she gives the kind of smile that doesn’t reach past her nose when she says, “If you ask me, I’m sure Steve’s letter was next on his list.”

“Letters. Because talking is too complicated,” Kate says, more at the sleeping and unconscious figure on the bed beside them than at Bobbi.

Bobbi just squeezes her shoulder and asks Kate if she wants anything from the vending machine.

Vending machine coffee is completely fucking ridiculous - even more ridiculous than Clint Barton’s entire existence - and Kate is in the middle of a rant about that when her voice gives out, and she has to turn away from the woman whose mask Kate once wore because cruddy coffee from a coffee vending machine is making Kate break down.

By the time that Kate has composed herself, Bobbi is no longer there, and Kate’s only company is a still unconscious Clint Barton. His breathing is steadier than hers, and Kate clings to that fact as she sits down beside him and begins to read the letter he never sent.