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Clint leans against the brick wall.

"Natasha..." He says into his comm. "Tasha... I'm down... meet me at... the place." He continues his path, holding his side in pain. His bow is dangling off his shoulder, trailing behind him.

"I'll be there." Natasha says.

Clint sits in the chair, breathing heavy. He lost a lot of blood.

"What happened this time?" Natasha asks, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

"A few bullets, a cut, and the concussion doesn't help." He answers, being the serious one in the pair, at the moment.

"Let's see." She takes the first aid kit out of the cabinet. He tries to chuckle, but winces in pain.

"You think that will help? That little thing?" She rolls her eyes and takes the needle out. Barton backs up. "Oh no, you aren't sticking that in me." Natasha looks at the little needle.

"What? This little thing? You aren't afraid of needles are you?" He shakes his head, but backs up more when she moves closer. She grabs his arm and keeps him from moving more. "Face your fear, you big baby, or you'll bleed out."

"Fine." He sits at the table and let's her dig the bullets out of his side and shoulder.

"How did you get hit?" She asks.

"I wasn't prepared." Natasha shows a shocked face.

"What? You?" Clint lightly punches her in the arm, or tries. He can't lift his.

"There goes archery. I can't lift my arm." He flexes his fingers. They had all gone numb.

"Don't worry baby, you'll get there."

"I'm not a baby." He defends. She finishes the last stitch. "I'm not."

"Yes you are." She fingers the torn part of his uniform. "You're my baby. I have to take care of you."

"Same to you Ms. No Bikinis." He retorts. She flips her hair out of the way.

"Well, you could have done a better job."

"I bet you hated them anyway."

"You didn't." She says slyly. He puts his one hand up in defense.

"I never saw you in one."

"And you never will." She puts the kit away and sets Clint's bow on the table.

"What am I again?" He asks. She smiles and sits next to him again.

"You are my big, baby, Barton."

"Is that so?" He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. "Babe?"

So, I'm assuming Clint was the one who stitched up her shot from the Winter Soldier. He did a terrible job. I made him a little afraid of needles.

Ms. Hawkeye suggested a 'Clint hurt' story. I merely wrote it out.

To:

Ms. Hawkeye: Here ya go!