Tony's funeral was a small affair. Quiet. Avengers only. There was no press coverage, no flashing cameras, microphones shoved in faces. Just the Avengers, and everybody who had fought with Tony on his final mission for world peace. To put a suit of armor around the world.
Call him selfish, but as the proof that Tony had a heart drifted downstream and turned the bend, all Clint could think of was Natasha.
It had been two weeks since Natasha launched herself off that cliff in Vormir, and nobody had thought to give her a funeral.
In some twisted way, Clint was glad. Glad that Natasha had died on her own terms, that there was no body to be recovered. Glad that Natasha had died a spy's death: quick and unnoticed. There would be no need to hide her body if there was no body to begin with.
A case could be made that Natasha didn't need a funeral because she was a spy, and spies were disposable. Spies fell like trees in a forest. If no one was around to see it, did it really even happen?
But Clint. Clint was there to see it. Clint witnessed first hand as Natasha, that goddamn stubborn woman, refused to let him die for the crimes he committed, and killed herself instead. He had watched, tears flowing freely, as the woman he called an ally, a partner, and a friend performed the ultimate sacrifice to clear the red only she believed was left in her ledger. Red that she had cleared years ago, many times over. But only he knew that.
So maybe a case could be made that Natasha the spy, the ex-KGB agent, the assassin didn't need a funeral. But Natasha the Avenger, the friend, the confident, the aunt, the partner, the hero- that Natasha deserved rememberance. That Natasha deserved a monument in her name, or at least a star named after her. So that Clint could take comfort the fact that his friend was in the skies somewhere, watching down on him. But if this whole time travel ordeal taught him anything, it's that the skies could be vicious, dangerous. So maybe he should just make do with a funeral. It's the least he could do to pay back the debt he owed her. To clear the red in his own ledger.
- - -
He waits three days before he brings it up to the rest of the Avengers.
Gives them a few days to mourn Tony before he starts getting antsy.
They had glossed over Natasha's death like it was nothing, because at the time, there was a world to save. But now that the world-saving was said and done, they were left a team without it's heart and soul, and Clint was left with a gaping hole where his best friend should be.
So when they sit down for dinner three days later, in the slowly rebuilding ruins of the late Avenger's facility, Clint drops the bomb.
"We should give Natasha a funeral".
Silence is heavy in the air as the remains of the Avengers swivel to face him, eyes reflecting various degrees of concern tinged with sadness. Scott scratches behind his ear nervously, uneasy with the tension in the room.
"A funeral. For Natasha", Steve tries the words out on his tongue, "We don't have a body to bury."
"But she deserves a funeral! Natasha is as much a hero as Tony. Just because there isn't a body to bury doesn't mean that we shouldn't honor her death! We're her family. We owe her that much." Clint is surprised at the anger in Bruce's tone. He knows that they were an item, at some point in time, but he didn't realize how deeply Bruce felt towards her. The exclaimation jerks Clint out of his selfish mourning- he isn't the only one who had lost a friend.
Rhodey nods his assent. "Natasha deserves as much. She was the only one keeping us together after the first Snap. We owe it to her."
"Yes, Natasha is-" Thor's booming voice falters with emotion,"-was a fierce warrior who fought nobly to her last breath. We should at least honor her as we do fallen warriors."
"We owe it to her", Bucky chimes in from a corner of the room. He shifts uncomfortably as all gazes are turned upon him, and relaxes in relief when someone else takes the spotlight.
"We owe it to her", Wanda repeats.
"All in favor of Natasha's funeral, rise!" Sam commands attention as the gravity of Natasha's death seeps into his usually teasing tone. Years at the VA have prepared him to deal with an onslought of grief. But not like this. Not for Natasha.
The remains of the Avengers make their way to their feet, some immediately, others hindered by injuries and by sadness. But in the end, every single Avenger is standing out of respect for Natasha.
Clint swallows down the ball of grief threatening to choke him to death.
"To Natasha", Steve raises his glass.
"To Natasha", the Avengers echo, some solemnly, some miserably, all with glasses sloshing with water and soda and various alcoholic drinks as they clink. "To Natasha."
- - -
Natasha's funeral is planned for a Saturday.
Steve wants to hold it in a cathedral, but Bruce wants to hold it outdoors. Clint just wants both of them to shut up.
He lets them know as much.
"Guys, shut up. Why don't we just hold it here? Bury the casket under the Avengers Facility. Nat would like that."
That serves to quiet them both, as they nod their assent and move away to bicker about something else.
- - -
Natasha's funeral is a small affair. Quiet. Avengers only. There is no press coverage, no flashing cameras, microphones shoved in faces. Just the Avengers, and everybody who cared enough to show up. To give a final goodbye to the woman who gave so much to the world, but took so little in return.
The casket is empty. Placed on a pedestal in front of the gathered Avengers, where one by one, everybody in attendence places something of Natasha's on the crushed velvet lining.
Maria Hill goes first.
"I, um", Maria's steely voice wavers, "Natasha asks- used to ask me to catsit Liho whenever she had long missions." Maria softly chuckled to herself. "She wouldn't ask me or anything, she'd just leave coffee and a spare key on my desk and go." Maria steps forward and gently places a SHIELD mug and a spare key at the edge of the crushed velvet casket, next to where Natasha's head would be. "Kick ass in Heaven, Nat, or where ever you'll be. Don't worry about Liho," Maria whispers, before stepping down.
Melinda May is next. Then Sharon Carter. Darcy Lewis. Jemma Simmons. Leo Fitz. Jane Foster. Bucky Barnes. Pepper Potts. Nick Fury. One by one, SHIELD agents, Avengers, and friends lay items they associate with Natasha down to rest in her casket. An unopend bottle of expensive Russian vodka. A Glock 26. A taser. Stun batons. A smoothbore Soviet rifle. A pair of widow's bites, prototypes in the making. Natalie Rushman's favorite hard candy. A pair of pointe shoes, toe box soft with wear. Blonde box dye. A heavily redacted file of a young, redhead KGB assassin.
Bruce donates a box of Natasha's favorite tea. Thor contributes a bag of popcorn, a reminder of years of movie watching on sleepless nights. Steve parts with a stick of bubblegum, the same brand as the type stocked in the SHIELD medical vending machines.
Lila balances an old drawing of her and Auntie Nat on the precarious piles of knick knacks. Cooper drops a burner phone into the mix, and a few tears to go with it. Laura folds Natasha's favorite blanket by the foot of the casket, eyes distant with memory of better times.
When it comes time for Clint to close the ceremony with his item of Natasha's, he hesitates. He doesn't want this celebration of Natasha's life to end, because once it does, Clint will have to accept the fact that his partner is indeed dead. That Natasha's dead.
With trembling hands, he places the final item into Natasha's velvet lined casket.
A postcard, printed with cheery letters.
"From Budapest, With Love".