Disclaimer: Not mine. I miss Clintasha. I miss my babies.


The air in the evac quinjet was tense to say the least; partly because medics were working on Natasha's abdominal gunshot wound and partly because they –Clint and Natasha- were screaming at each other, fighting. It was working well to keep her awake so far but it was taking every bit of energy she had left before falling into unconsciousness to fight Clint. Doctors had told him to back off a couple of times but they were being ignored by both spies.

'Jesus fucking Christ, Natasha, I'm sick of this, sick of you, why the hell do you keep doing that?' he yelled. 'If you don't care about your life enough it's your problem but who the hell gives you the right to go around compromising mine?' he had never been so angry at her.

Their mission had been a simple intel extraction. Clint had been on a rooftop as her backup, bow and arrow aimed at the big guy whose information she was supposed to steal from and his three bodyguards. She had stealthily taken the manila envelope containing the confidential documents and disappeared, only to remerge minutes later on the rooftop adjoining Clint's. He hadn't even seen her come. He had heard the gunshot and instantly, all hell broke loose. They were suddenly fighting four of five armed thugs. They managed, but she had been shot and was now fighting for he life.

'Are you kidding me? Why the fuck are you mad at me, you're an asshole! I'm sick of you too. I'm gonna request Coulson a mission on the other side of the globe so I don't have to see you again. ' her voice was weak but still showed an angry tone.

'Great. You do that.' He shook his head. 'I'm done with you, for real. I want a new partner.' He added seconds later.

He was facing the exit inside the jet. He turned around to look at her, she had been yelling back at him for the last ten minutes, so why was she suddenly so silent? She surely had something to say about that.

She was pale and her eyes were closed. 'What- what's going on?' he asked worriedly to a medic.

'She's unconscious.' The man replied. He spoke to his walkie next 'I need a surgical team ready and on stand by.' A confirmation came as a reply.

Clint went pale. 'Nat, come on, wake up.' He shook her. 'Come on, don't do this to me'.

They landed and he looked at the doctor, pointing an accusing finger. 'Don't you dare kill her, you hear me? You bring her back to me alive' The doctor nodded saying they'd do their best and left with his patient immediately.

Coulson arrived a second later. He saw Clint standing in the middle of the quinjet, his eyes lost and covered in blood.

'Clint, what the hell happened?' he approached him and looked from head to toe. 'Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?'

He shook his head. 'It's Natasha's. They took her to surgery.'

Clint Barton sounded like a child who had gotten lost in the middle of the supermarket. Coulson nodded and they both started walking to SHIELD's medical division.

As soon as they reached the waiting room they sat down, and Clint fell apart. He started rubbing his head with shaky hands and Coulson patted his back.

'I didn't even know what was happening until there was a gunshot, Phil.' He explained to his handler and friend. 'Everything was fine, the intel was secured and suddenly she's down and I've got three guys shooting at me from the ground and coming to my position.' He felt a tear falling down. 'Shot and all she took a guy down. I don't know where that one came from. I took the other three and called the evac team. I tried to keep her with me but she was falling in and out and-'

'Clint' Coulson interrupted. 'It's not your fault. You did everything you could, reacted the way you should have.'

'I started yelling at her, Coulson. I was so angry she got herself hurt. Angry that she'd risk her life like that, what if she… what if I lose her?... I said I was sick of her. I said I wanted another partner'. He covered his mouth in horror

'Do you?' Coulson asked

He looked at the man in the eyes. 'Of course not.' Then he whispered to himself 'I don't want anyone else.' He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever entity was out there to please, please, bring her back to him alive.

xx

Natasha was pretty sure she could smell his perfume. She was pretty sure Clint was there next to her, but her eyes were closed and even if her training demanded that she opened them and be alert, she couldn't. She was so warm and comfortable and drowsy even. But she was aware of her surroundings, she couldn't help it; it smelled of Clint and she could hear a beep from a monitor and feel a sharp pain in her abdomen. She remembered getting shot and then the rest came back: the rooftop, the evac and Clint yelling at her. She opened her eyes.

Clint was sitting in a chair next to her bed, pale and tired, purple bags under his eyes. He had changed clothes; he was no longer covered in her blood. In front of her, Phil Coulson was smiling sweetly and rushed to her other side when she awoke.

'Hey, how do you feel?' her handler asked.

She tried to smile a little but everything hurt. 'Like I've been shot, Coulson.' She managed to mumble and he laughed.

Clint, on the other hand, glared at her. His jaw clenched, switching demeanor from relieved to really angry again. 'Stupidest thing you've ever done, Natasha, engage into a fight like that. We were safe already, why would you-'

'Because he was aiming at your head, dumbass!' she yelled at him, tired of his ranting, followed by an also loudly 'ouch'. He froze. 'You're gonna make me open my stitches.' She accused.

'What-' he frowned, clearly not following what she was saying and worried about her complaint. He checked her wound to make sure he hadn't, indeed, made her reopen her stitches in expiration. She sighed once he made sure she was alright. He sat back down and took her hand with his own while she explained.

'You had your bow aiming the guys on the ground while I was coming back to you. You didn't see the sniper in the adjoining rooftop with your head in his crossbow. I engaged because he could've shot you, Clint.' She was looking down at her lap, almost ashamed.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. 'You got shot… because of me?' he whispered in both shame and admiration, and that was Coulson's cue to leave them alone.

She smiled a little. 'You're my partner.' Her eyes were much more relaxed and warming. She looked at her lap again. 'if you still want me…'

He chuckled. 'I wouldn't change you for the word, Tasha.' He sat on the bed next to her, resting her head in his lap and brushing her hair with his fingers sweetly. 'Sleep.' He said and kissed her forehead. 'I'll be right here when you wake up.'