A/N: Oh God, how long i've been away from this site! But i was scrolling through my notes today and i found this chapter that i hadn't yet posted and it seems that it has been sitting in my phone for about a year or more now! So, here you go! (I promise, I'll be writing the end to this story this week, and begin writing current verse fics to this fandom again!) Enjoy!


When Natasha wakes up the next morning, with her back feeling stone sore and her feet cold, she's just on time to see the vainglorious Tony make an unusually early entrance in a dark down jacket and a pair of sunglasses. His hand carries a tray of coffee, and he almost spills it when he starts to grumble.

"He called me in the middle of the night! To bring coffee! And now he's asleep? Good Lord." Tony grunts, shoving the coffee tray in Natasha's face before collapsing onto the cot at the side of the room. He kicks off his completely soaked shoes messily and borrows a warmer to get circulation in his toes. What did he do to get here? Fall into a hole?

Natasha picks a cup from the tray and brings the lid to her chapped lips before pausing with a frown. "He called you?" The man lets out a groan and tosses himself in the cot. He tosses over again and takes off his glasses grumpily, staring at the quizzical red-head.

"Well, yeah! He called me at three thirty and was like 'Hey Tony - God!' So I was like, 'Dude, shouldn't you be in bed?' And he continued with a 'Could you come down in - ugh! - with coffee in two?' By two, he obviously meant hours. And I probably can conclude that he snuck out of his bed and threatened the nurse to use the phone because she was telling him 'Sir, you can't be out here!' and they were arguing about morphine or something." Tony throws his arms out in frustrated gestures, then settles them back over his head for the means of sleep.

He yawns loudly. "Morning, Legolas. Thanks for stealing away my sleep." Then, he slumps back onto the cot and retrieves his well-deserved extra hours of sleep. Clint groans too, retorting the man's snarky comment. "God, narcissistic. Keep it down! You're whining like a girl."

He brings his arms to his eyes and flinches at the snapping of the joints at both his shoulders. Tony, on the other hand, gasps with offence and flips himself over on the cot to have himself facing belly-down. "Oh, I'm not the one with the nickname Katniss!"

Clint then turns to Natasha and, with a seemingly tired smile, asks for the free cushion on one of the other chairs. She frowns at him for a fraction of a second before handing it over to him, and with much amusement, he props himself up painfully a little more and throws the pillow at the man. "I would've thrown you the coffee, Stark, but I think you'd appreciate it more when it's not drenching and scalding your skin."

"I swear, Barton." Tony starts with much annoyance in his grumpy voice. He rises up from the cot quickly with the cushion in hand and walks over to the side of his bed. "If you're not gonna have them up your morphine, I will. And I will give you such a lovely dosage that you'll either be seeing pink and purple floating elephant heads at every corner for the next five hours, or foaming from the mouth with an OD that mercies my sanity."

When he shoves the pillow into Clint's chest with a glare, and the bedded man flinches in the ribs, Tony earns an evil eye from Natasha. In the end, he throws his hands up in cocky, unsatisfied defeat and grabs the cup of coffee on the way back to the actually comfortable cot. He drains it noisily within seconds and aims it at a nearby bin before slouching back down into a comfortable position for sleep. Weird combination...

Clint chooses not to bother the man anymore, and turns his fullest painkiller-packed attention towards a half-smiling, half-frowning Natasha. "What?" He tries to contain his chuckle. Having eight broken ribs jolting bolts of pain to and fro isn't something he wants to have on his plate right now.

"I can't believe you didn't wake me up." She says.

"You were tired, Tasha. You needed your sleep." Clint still watches Natasha yawn and rub her fingers despite her argument that she wasn't.

He flashes a small but bright smile and scoots over the wide bed, taking the half nearer to the IV drips inserted into his arm. Clint pats the other empty half of his occupied bed, gesturing for Natasha to lie with him. It's been months, if he can count hell, since she has been so close to him.

Natasha climbs up and curls up beside him, his arms and blankets enveloping her with perfect warmth. With roughed fingers, Clint strokes her hair and plays with little strands, feeling her comforting breaths lull him back to sleep. He plants kisses that linger over her hairline, taking in whiffs of her sweet-smelling hair. God, he missed that. Suddenly, she gasps.

"So you've been lying in such comfort for months, and all I got was a chair that made my butt hurt! And I'm supposed to marry you."

For her, he chuckles into her ear, earning him a smile just as rare as love. Well, in their books. "I love you, Natasha. I love you so much. It feels so... foreign but real, to be able to say it again."

It feels so suited, the words he speak that leave his lips. It seems like forever since he's said it, but honestly, those words and Natasha are the only few things that make sense in this world. He went to sleep months ago, and suddenly half his world doesn't make sense anymore after waking up.


TBC