We risk our lives. Coulson fills out forms. Seems like a fair division of labour.

[She looks fragile, even though he knows it's an illusion. Even on her worst day, she's a match for him.

He licks his lips, not sure how to respond to that. The whole situation is fucked up. He can't imagine how he'd feel if Natasha had been brought here from before ever meeting him.]

Christ, I'm sorry sweetheart. I... what do you need me to do?