"Tash?" His voice was like gravel, ripped raw.
Natasha studied the white binding around his eyes; the slightly discoloured by the seeping from his retina. Tony Sark didn't know a lot about acid in relation to the physical body, but he had assured her it wasn't good news.
"I'm here." She murmured.
"Smell your perfume." He murmured, and shifted on the hospital bed, hands flexing. "Shampoo. Your skin. Leather."
"I'm flattered."
"Should be."
One arm was totally wrapped from finger tip to shoulder- under the light sheet, the right side of his body was smothered in a thick mint green paste. She sat on his left, but she could still see the welts, the burns, thick scarring she wasn't sure could leave him.
"Time is it?"
"One a.m."
"No wonder I'm hungry. I missed lunch." He barely chuckled, dry lips unable to part.
Her silence clued him in that something was wrong - instead of rolling her eyes, instead of scoffing, she remained silent, something that was rather insensitive, considering how he was currently blind.
"Tasha...?"
"Yeah."
"What day is it?"
"Sunday."
"Three days. Hey, that isn't too bad. I've had worse run ins with Hulk worse'n that." But silence prevailed. "Shit, Tasha. How long have I been out?"
"Longer than three days."
"Longer than three weeks?"
"If you had've slept through tomorrow, yes."
"Huh." He tried to sit; she shushed him, put her forefinger on a relatively unmarked part of the shoulder closest to her to hold him down. He still winced - the skin that she had prodded had pulled taut, shiny, swollen.
He grunted, flopped back on the bed, mouth in a grimace.
"Do you need anything?" She asked him quietly.
"Asking to tuck me in?"
"I'm asking if I can make you more comfortable."
"Thought you never would."
"Don't get cute." she managed just a hint of a smile. "Can I get you anything, or not?"
"Can you get in here with me?" His mouth twitched, maybe to smirk in reply, but his lip cracked and he hissed at it, effectively baring bloodied teeth at the roof. She took a pitcher of water beside her, pinched the ice floating inside, and gently dripped it over the new wound.
His tongue flicked out to meet it, and recoiled like a spurred lover behind his teeth.
"Can you just give me the water?"
"No. The meds you're on... You're being hydrated by an I.V." She pressed the ice cube to the thickest part of his bottom lip, continuing to hold it as his mouth moved to suck on it. "This is the best I can do."
"Tell me what happened." He said around the cube. "Can't remember a damn thing."
She almost dropped it, almost let him lay there by himself. What had happened was that Clint Barton was too good a solider - and Captain America had out rightly exploited that. As far as the Black Widow was concerned, Steve Rogers should never call on her for a favour, she would stab him in the throat.
"Tasha?"
"Loki was rounding up the last of them, but he was playing with them, showing off, hitting hard enough to demonstrate his power, but not to actually hurt them..."
Big beetle things, some crazy experiment with gamma radiation gone bad. They spat acid, flew, and chomped things with mandibles as long as Thor stood tall. Clint had been the one to shoot up and under their armour, find the weak spot ,dictate to them where the hordes were heading, where one or two broke away from their masses.
"Cap told you to go take them down. Tony was first up, but you were closer. You told him no, told him you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than help him..."
"Ah. That's right." He lifted his hand, put his thumb on her cheek, swiping affectionately at tears that weren't there. It only vaguely irritated her that he knew she was upset without looking. "But I did what I was told. Then pain happened."
She took his hand away from her face, twined their fingers loosely.
"I'm okay." He told her. "I feel like I been put in a toaster. Crusty. But I'm okay. Am I gonna see again, or...?"
"Bruce is working on it. The compound in the acid is predominantly stimulated by gamma, so he thinks a radiation treatment might help. The rest of the chemicals are all natural, and there are already anti-dotes for them. Just on... smaller scales."
"Yeah, that's all well and good, but if he hasn't been able to fix himself-"
"He's working on it." She said sharply.
He squeezed her hand. She put her head down on the bed, would've put it on his chest if he weren't so grievously harmed.
"Tell me something." He murmured, hand settling carefully on top of her head. "If I don't get my eyes back-"
"You will."
"But if I don't-"
"You will."
"Tash."
"Clint."
He sighed, whole face twitching.
"Okay, ow, that hurt. Let's not breathe like that again."
"Would it be too much to ask you just don't breathe?" Loki's drawl was pronounced. Natasha had a gun aimed at his eyeball before she had turned around to confirm from whence he came - the villain cocked a smooth brow at her, then Clint, who was frowning as hard as he could without hurting himself. "I was informed by the JARVIS that you were awake. As per commands from both my brother and from your Captain, I am here to offer my healing ability. But if you'd rather not..."
Were it Natasha who lay in bed, so useless, she would've told him exactly where to go. Clint's eyes, however, had saved her life more than once, and as such, she kept her mouth shut.
"Do you know if you can do it?" Clint grumped at him.
"I will soon see." the man said simply. The lack of verbal finesse denoted the fact that he knew exactly how those words would cut- Clint growled, Natasha stood. The archer squeezed her hand again, so she stayed put. Loki's eyes darted to where they were connected, though he wisely chose not to comment. "If you would, little spider, unbind his eyes."
Natasha handled him as though he were a bomb made of glass.
She lifted his head in one hand, carefully unpicking the two pins on the side of his face. She rolled the bandage as she unwound it, twirling it around her fingers. She got to the final layers - where Clint's skin was raised, where it stunk of singed flesh - and the thick layers of padding pressed over the place where his eyes should have been.
"Wait." she murmured to him in Russian, holding the pads in place with careful fingers. "The light might hurt."
"I need to see what I am working with." Loki reminded her, stepping into her line of sight, beside Clint's bed. "Remove the swaddling."
"I'm good." Clint said, mostly for her benefit, partially to confirm it for himself.
Natasha had to peel the pads from the yellow gunk that stuck his eyes together like thick glue. He frowned slightly, but was in no more apparent pain that previously.
"Can you open your eyes?" Loki bent, inspecting them closer.
"No."
"I will have to do so. Hold still." before Natasha could protest, the mischief maker had a thumb braced on the dark circle beneath Clint's eye; had his forefinger lightly prodding the lid. He sectioned it open by a fraction, to which Clint convulsed into an arch, his back bending like his bow.
What Natasha had seen was red. Purely bloodshot. It looked as though he were wearing contacts that completely eclipsed the white of his eye... She hadn't seen his iris. She lifted the gun to Loki's temple but he had let go - Clint was growling, swearing, tensed on the bed.
"You know shooting me will not kill me." she was informed, amused.
"No, but I tell you that it will hurt." she leveled the barrel with his eye, as opposed to his temple. "If you can't fix him, get out."
"Your temper flares so easily, when he is involved. You are not romantically inclined with him - I don't understand why."
"I am going to make you bleed if you hurt him again." her brow pitched. "Do you understand that?"
"Oh, verily, my dear lady Widow." he looked back down at Clint, whose eyes were now screwed shut. Yellow tears, diluted with moisture, rolled over his cheeks - he honestly looked as if he were crying lard. His unbound hand lifted to his face, but any amount of frustrated swiping just made the tears roll thicker, faster.
Loki's head cocked, and he moved his hand back to Clint's face, slowly reaching for him.
"The hell's goin' on?" Clint spat through his teeth. He leaned his head away as far as physically possible - which in his state, was not at all far. "Tasha? What's he doing? Christ, man, your hands smell like-!"
"Shush." Loki said simply, and sharply poked both eyes.
Natasha was shooting, but the bullets whizzed through colored smoke - what had been his physical body was now just a trick, and image of his former self. Clint was cursing loudly, hand over his brow, one leg kicking. The Russian aimed her gun everywhere in the room, but Loki was long gone. She didn't lower the weapon, but she reached out for Clint's wrist with her free hand.
"I will gut him." she promised, with all due vehemence.
"Don't bother." red eyes, with a clear blue iris, cracked open. The yellow slime melted away, slipping in thick congealed chunks until it met his hair line. She had never been so happy to see his eyes go over her figure. "I'll do it myself."
Just a little something to celebrate the fact I am not on Archive of Our Own.
Much love!
Aude
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