It was as simple moment, fleeting, and then gone. Natasha gently slipped back into unconsciousness and Clint was left to wonder if what he heard actually came from her beautiful lips.
She woke again a few hours later, the remnants of a dream still burning in her mind. Was it real? Had Clint said the words she dreads the most? And even more importantly, did she return them whole-heartedly? Natasha's head reeled and as her brow furrowed Clint stepped through the bathroom door, wiping his wet hands off and tossing the towel onto the edge of the sink.
"What's wrong?"
Baffled, Natasha stared at him, trying to piece together her memories.
"I… uh, nothing," she responded slowly. Clint had never seen her like this before, but he shrugged it off, blaming the medication and the fact she had lost most of her blood. Before he could get another word out though, Natasha had composed herself and decided not to think about it, but try and push it out of her mind all together.
"How long have I been out?" she asked, discreetly changing the subject.
"A few days…listen, do you know if this was the first time you woke up since you passed out on the jet?" the archer slightly fidgeted, revealing how nervous he was to bring up the subject and how eager he was to know the answer.
Recognition flashed in Natasha's eyes, but it passed so quickly that Clint barely caught it. He couldn't even be sure if he saw it.
Natasha answered coldly and calmly, "No, this is the first."
Dejection set over Clint. He had imagined it. In many ways, he knew it was too good to be true. Natasha was never one to show emotions or weakness, and surely she considered "love" to be for the weak. Love is, after all, for children.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" a voice entered through the hospital room door. Both of the assassin's heads snapped up. Steve strode over to the bed with a bouquet of pink and yellow flowers.
"I'd be better if I wasn't wearing this flimsy hospital gown," she responded, letting a slight smirk pull up the corners of her mouth, "Those for me?"
The Captain smiled brightly and began to open his mouth when another man interrupted him.
"I think it suits you, Red," Tony's voice boomed.
"What? No flowers?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, "Rogers brought me some."
"Well that's just 'cause he's an old man. Haven't you heard? Chivalry is dead." Tony said matter-of-factly.
"That's nice Tony!" Pepper stormed in, chastising her boyfriend and smiling at Natasha. "Here you go," She said as she placed a vase full of daisies on her injured friend's night stand, "don't listen to Tony, these are from us."
"No they aren't, they're fro…" the billionaire started, but Pepper quickly cut him off and they continued to talk over with wild hand gestures to one other even until after Bruce quietly entered the room and silently waved to Natasha, Clint and Steve. They only stopped arguing when Fury walked in and in a stern voice informed them that if they didn't all shut up and get out and stop bothering his agents that he would make them all very sorry.
Natasha swung her legs over the side of the bed, "It doesn't matter, Director, I'm leaving anyway," she said as she yanked out her IV, causing Bruce to flinch at her callous approach on medical equipment.
"I brought you some clothes," Clint said softly, holding out a duffle bag.
"Thanks," Natasha answered, barely making eye contact. She pinched the cloth of the hospital gown behind her, holding the seams so that her behind wouldn't be out there for every one to see, and strode into the bathroom.
A few moments later, she came out, fully dressed in a pair of boot leg jeans and a loose t-shirt that didn't irritate her half-healed wound. By the time she was done, Tony and Pepper had left, no doubt a result of Fury's threats, Steve and Bruce were awkwardly standing in the corner making small talk, and Fury was leaning against the wall.
Clint bent down to take the bag from Natasha's hand. Normally, she wouldn't have accepted his offer, but she didn't feel like putting up much of a fight. Even though they had both silently agreed to let that moment—that neither of them was sure even happened—go, they were both walking on egg shells.
"When can you be ready?" Fury inquired, keeping his eye directed at Natasha.
"It should be fine in a few more days. I heal quicker than most." She stood up a little straighter as she spoke the last sentence.
"I'm giving you two weeks off." And with that, the director walked out the door, not open to any protest from his eager agent.
Okay so, I'm thinking that I might finish with the next chapter after, ya know, the dirty has been done? But I don't know. I would love to hear all of your lovely opinions and I want to thank you all for the reviews that I have already received. They make me so happy:)