"Are you okay?" The Widow asks, her eyes lightly staring at him in concern, putting down her hand.
He winces in pain, but his expression pulls into one of happiness. The corners of his lips pulled into a careful, but wide smile. His callused fingertips pressed themselves upon his cheek, tracing out the edges of the applied bandage.
His fingertips trace around further, until they leave his skin and he reached forward; knuckles grazing against her soft chin. "I'm in perfect condition... as long as I'm with you."
Natasha gives a sound akin to a sneer and a giggle; she jerks her head away. "That's cheesy, Clint." She laughs, eyes darting away at first, but then added;
"...Don't do it again." She warned with an accusing finger, mock seriousness in her tone. She brought up her eyes only to be locked in a stare with his.
Carefully, Clint brought his hand up towards her, subtly grasping her palm. "I can't help it..." he whispers with a smirk and the devil's eyes, bringing her hand up closer towards his mouth without breaking the lingering stare...
"You make it all feel better, Natasha." His lips were pressed against her smooth knuckles, sending butterflies in the assassin's stomach.
A rosy colored surfaced on Romanoff's face, "Clint..." She breathed, taken aback, "I-"
The booming sound of an explosion and breaking glass echoed through the hallways. The door flew open and Clint had dropped Natasha's hand when Stark had scrambled in the infirmary; suit-jacket smoking. He turned and pressed his back against the door with arms to his side stiffly.
"Okay..." Tony manages to drawl, "I..." He cleared his throat, standing straighter and brushing the debris off his shoulders,
"May or may not have accidentally unleashed 'The Other Guy' while fixing up Banner with Rogers." He deadpanned.
A monstrous roar followed, and the sound of a man's screaming and thud against what sounded like several walls of concrete. The couple of agents furrowed their eyebrows towards the billionaire in aggregation. Tony's lips shut...
"Hint: I have."