Author's notes: Short little drabble that my friends and I talked about over Skype earlier. This was the result. Enjoy!
The mission had been rough. A bomb in Budapest, Hungary had been set off and Natasha had been too close. Clint didn't think he had ever run faster to her. The bomb had gone off so suddenly that he hadn't even ever been aware that there was a bomb in the first place.
An arrow flew from his bow string towards the direction of the enemy and without waiting to check to make sure it had hit its mark, he was off running towards Natasha who was lying about a hundred feet from the blast site. She had been investigating something suspicious and Clint had her back, evidently not enough though.
As Clint neared her, her crumpled body came into view with her red locks matted with the blood on her face. "Natasha!" He knew by shouting he would just bring attention to himself, but his blood had turned to ice at the sight of his partner. His pace quickened and he slid down next to Natasha.
The first thing he felt for were her vitals. A breath he wasn't aware he was holding in escaped as Natasha's fingers twitched. He sorted through the hair on her face until he could see her eyes. A medium sized gash was open on her hairline and she had a gash across her cheek. There were several slices in the fabric of her uniform as he took the sight of her in.
Gently, Clint lifted Natasha into his arms bridal style, and tried his best to get out of the current area without being noticed. The police would be here soon with the explosion of the bomb and the farther away they were the better.
About a mile and several backstreets and populated alleys later, Clint came across a seemingly deserted warehouse. He kicked open the door and found a spot on the floor free of clutter. As gently as he could, he placed Natasha down and quickly took off his jacket and propped her head up with it. He unzipped his vest and took his shirt off in one swift motion ready to tear it up for use of makeshift bandages.
Whenever something like this happened there was always that minute part of his brain that thought of the possibility: 'What if she doesn't make it out of this? What if I'm left here alone?' As always though, he gulped and pushed the thought to the very back of his brain away from his current train of thoughts.
He ripped the shirt into bandages and then looked down at the rest of Natasha. Her right hand was bent at an awkward angle. Taking advantage of her unconsciousness, he felt it and determined that it must have been at least fractured, maybe broken. Fishing over to his left he brought over a piece of old drywall. It was small enough that Clint figured he could use it as a splint. Careful as to not wake her, he took the splint and the excess shirt strips and wrapped her wrist up.
It was about two hours later that Natasha's eyes fluttered open. With difficulty, she registered where she was and who she was with. She turned her head over towards Clint causing him to start. "Clint…?" Clint moved over to her from his spot at the window three feet away. "Where…where are we?"
"A warehouse about a mile from the mission site. A bomb went off; you were too close and got hit. You're okay now though. You probably have a broken right wrist though." Natasha made to sit up and was quickly helped by Clint. He helped her prop herself up against a pile of dry rotted crates behind her.
"Are you okay though? I have a feeling that during the all the commotion you didn't help yourself." Natasha beckoned him to help her up, and after some persuading he helped her off of the floor. She swayed a little and was quickly steadied by Clint. "I need some fresh air; this ware house is too musty."
Clint helped her through the service door they had come through earlier. It was now pouring outside as they walked into the monsoon. Natasha gasped as the ice-cold water hit her head. Clint's bare chest was quickly changed to a sea of goose bumps. Natasha staggered and Clint caught her in his arms. "This is why you should be lying down. Not out in the rain being soaked to the bone." He playfully tugged at the matted curls that clung to Natasha's head.
She looked up at him and the rain drops dripping off of his nose and eyelashes. His hair still looked perfect despite being drenched by rain. She placed her head on his chest where his heart was stood there feeling the steady and familiar sound. "Tasha…" The sound of his gruff voice rumbled through his chest making it sound hollow through Natasha's ears.
She looked up at him. "Yeah?" His eyes look bluer in the gray backdrop of the sky and rain.
"You really scared me earlier…" Natasha let's his words sink in as she stood there looking up at the man—who without she would certainly be dead many times over. She took her good hand and rubbed it over his chest resting on his heart.
"You're too selfless Clint Barton." She tried, changing the subject. She was never one to talk about feelings, and even if it was just Clint telling her the truth, if it had a shred of feeling and emotions behind it she steered clear.
"How do you mean?" Clint sighed; knowing Natasha's games almost as well as she did herself.
"You rescue me," she ran her hand over to his right shoulder. "But you pay no attention to your own health. You've been shot." Clint took his eyes off of Natasha and looked down at his shoulder. Indeed, it seemed he had been shot. With all of the adrenaline that had been pumping through his system he must not have registered it in his mind.
"I'll be fine. S.H.I.E.L.D. will be here in the morning to pick us up. I'll get help then; and so will you for that matter."
Natasha looked up at him away from his shoulder. "Morning?" he nodded slightly.
A strand of hair moved into her eyes as she moved her head causing Clint to chuckle. "Are you ever going to get tired of this long hair of yours?"
Natasha shrugged looking up at him with a smile on her face. "What can I say? I'm attached I guess." Clint gently moved the hair out of her face. He brought his hand to Natasha's face which made her tense. "Clint—"
Before Natasha could ask any questions though, Clint bent his head and planted his lips onto her smaller ones. She had tensed up, but within the second she had relaxed into his embrace. For once it didn't seem like they were two master assassins taking refuge in an old warehouse kissing for the first time in the freezing Hungarian rain. Natasha's good hand combed Clint's hair until she had no air left in her lungs. She pulled back, out of breath.
Natasha didn't associate well with emotions, but now that Clint had kissed her she felt like countless barriers had been knocked down. She stared at him with a mixture of longing, want, and even a little scared showing in her eyes. Clint looked at her apologetically. "Nat—I'm sorry…I—'' Instead of pulling away for good and closing herself in though, she pulled into Clint closer.
"Thank you." Clint felt surprised.
'For—for what?" Clint pulled back a little and looked at her in the eyes.
"For believing in me all those years ago." Clint smiled and relaxed into her. "Can we get out of the rain now? I'm starting to get really cold." Clint laughed and led her back through the service door to the dry insides for the next twelve hours.