Signs of Recovery
A Word: Because it doesn't matter what you got going through your head. You would stare at that ass if it was in front of you, even if you weren't really conscious of doing it.
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Clint's head is still ringing as he falls in behind Captain America —and he blames Coulson for the internal musical flourish that comes from thinking that name— and his mind is an absolute mess that he doesn't want to think about yet. He pushes all of it aside. Repressing everything because he has a goddamn job to do now. He can't afford to be a damaged wreck of a man until he's sure he'll live through the day.
He's stating straight ahead. Running through the supplies he'd managed to grab and planning out how best to use them when he realizes Natasha is trying not to laugh.
It's a laugh that only shows in her eyes and the lines beside her mouth, and is only ever meant to be turned on Clint. He tilts his head in question and gets an eyebrow in return. Nat's lips purse as she turns her head forward and pointedly stares straight ahead with the tense look she takes on when shes imitating him. She's also staring a good foot South of where she had been before. Clint follows her gaze and-
Oh. Whoops?
Clint meets Nat's laughing gaze again and grins. Pretending not to read the absolute relief hiding behind her laugh, because to her everything is going to be alright. Clint wouldn't be staring at Captain America's ass otherwise.
He lets her have her relief as they enter the hangar, and keeps his gaze under the other man's belt as long as possible just to see how far he can push that not-smile on her face.
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