Clint awoke suddenly, unsure, at first, of his surroundings. His dreams were tinted with a bright haze that made him feel sick, and despite the fact that his mind was once again under his control, his mouth was dry and his heart was racing. It had felt too real. He took a moment to remind himself that he was safely in bed, surrounded by the warm plush of a hotel comforter. He turned his head and noticed that there was a gentle divot in the sheets beside him. The space Nat had left behind was still warm, and he smiled when he heard her moving in the washroom of their hotel bedroom. He shut his eyes a moment and breathed, silently grateful for their safety. He sat up slowly, hissing quietly in response to a rush of blood to his head. He must have sustained a pretty intense injury to his temple. In fact, he gradually came to realize upon standing that almost every inch of his body hurt. He groaned and forced himself to stand, smiling at how he was so helplessly compelled to see Nat.
He knocked on the cracked door of the washroom twice before pushing it open. There, his eyes fell upon Natasha was seated on the edge of the bathtub, and he froze, surprised at how much the scene effected him.
Her shiny hair was tousled around her shoulders, and her expression was entirely focused on her task. She wore nothing but simple black lingerie, and, even in their current state of disrepair, her milky skin looked strikingly beautiful against her crimson hair. Her careful fingers were busy bandaging her injured legs, which were peppered with bruises, scrapes and cuts. The previous night, they had barely made it into the room before stripping off their clothing and collapsing into much-needed, much-deserved sleep. She was gently wiping the dried blood from her wounds, apparently already having finished nursing the rest of her injuries. Her shoulder was wrapped and he could tell just from her movements that it hurt.
When he didn't say anything, she looked up at him, and when she saw his expression, which was so full of affection, she couldn't help but give him a smile. He returned it readily. He approached her, his fingers gently ghosting over her injured shoulder. She glanced down at it and looked back up at him. It no longer occurred to her that she was showing him signs of weakness, letting him in on such an intimate moment. At first, it had terrified her that she had finally found someone to trust. But, after time, after endless days and nights spent together, she no longer even remembered feeling unsafe in his presence. He watched as her hands moved from her bashed up leg to his chest. She gently pulled him down into a kiss, steady, unwavering, and hard.
He didn't need to ask her why.