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To be fair to the baby currently sitting in her lap, Natasha's wedding ring is very sparkly; tiny diamonds on white-gold hearts alternating with tiny pink sapphires on black rhodium hearts that glitter in the sunlight as she moves her hands to put books into boxes. It's a ring she bought quite literally as a joke, and wears only as the whim takes her.
John is showing his appreciation by trying to eat it.
Given there is no chance of him actually getting the ring off her finger, and she can pack books one-handed for a little while, Natasha just lets him gum her finger and the metal.
A quiet laugh at the doorway makes her look up.
“Is he trying to eat you or your ring?” Clint asks, still laughing as he walks over to sit next to them on the floor.
“The ring has sparkles,” Natasha says gravely, and then her mouth curves a little. “You know, we probably should get normal wedding rings some point soon. I don't think hearts and basket-weaving blend in.”
“Are you insulting my ring, the one I specifically picked out just for our wedding?”
“Yes. Mine's still more obnoxious, though.”
“True,” he grants, grudgingly, “but mine wins the 'what the hell' awards.”
“I will concede you that point,” she says. His ring also hasn't been seen since their wedding in Vegas six years ago, and lives with his medals in a safe. “They still aren't exactly the rings for John's apparently normal parents.”
Clint's smile is a little crooked. “Apparently normal.”
“Yes. It is true that young John's mother travels a lot, and his father makes an unusual stay-at-home dad, what with his archery and his muscle car, but at least their rings are...classical.”
“Boring.”
“...yeah. Boring.” Then she laughs a little. “So, my dear, what do you say to some internet shopping for an engagement ring that you would have bought me had we been classical and boring?”
“It's good to see that we're keeping the romance alive,” Clint says, and grins at her.