Feverish

"How's your head?" She asked softly.

He shrugged. "They're sending me back to my own room so it can't be that bad."

She bent down to pick up his personal belongings which were sitting on the floor of the infirmary. "Do you want me to walk with you?"

"That would be nice."

She put an arm around his shoulders. "Okay. Come on."

He hopped down from the medic table and took his stuff from her. He nodded a thank you to the nurse on duty and turned to exit.

Once they were out in the hall, Natasha reached up to place a hand on his shoulder. "Clint."

He looked down at her warily. "Not now, Natasha."

"That blow was meant for me."

"We're partners. It's what we do. It's not like you've never taken a hit for me before."

She stopped when they reached his room and pushed open the door. He tried to hide his wince from her, but deep down he knew that nothing would get past her. She took his arm and let him lean on her as she led him to his bed. "You don't have to hide anything from me. I know it hurts."

He sat down heavily with a loud thump.

"Easy now," she soothed. "They couldn't give you any more painkillers?"

He shook his head slowly. "I've already had two max doses today." He sat with his back against the wall and motioned for her to join him. "Tell me the truth. None of this sugar-coated it's not that bad crap. How does it look?"

She knelt in front of him and raised her hands to his face. "May I?" she asked.

He nodded wordlessly and gave a soft sigh when he felt her fingers part his hair. He closed his eyes as she felt around his head for the bump and braced himself, but her gentle touch didn't hurt the affected area as much as he thought it would. Actually, it felt sort of… nice.

"It's swollen, but not terribly. Probably hurts worse than it looks," she assured him. "At least they didn't have to shave your head this time to fix you up," she joked.

He laughed weakly.

"Are you hungry? I could go get you something."

"No… are you?" He asked.

She brushed off the question with a little wave. "I ate before I came to see you." She frowned at the little beads of sweat that were starting to form on his brow. "I think you may have a fever."

She placed her hand on his cheek and felt his forehead, his neck…. He closed his eyes once more.

"Only a slight one. What can I do to make you more comfortable?"

He smiled at her concern. "I'm fine, really. Just exhausted is all."

She rose from her crouch on the floor in front of him. "Well, get some sleep then. I 'll check on you in the morning, okay?"

He took her hand and pulled it towards his chest. "Tasha, wait."

She turned around to face him. "What is it?" she asked gently.

"Stay."

She moved closer and crouched back down to look at him. "I suppose I could hang out here for a few more minutes."

He shook his head. "Stay the night." His eyes were pleading.

She swallowed hard, hoping he couldn't hear the sudden pounding of her heart. "Let me just grab a blanket from my room."

"No." He spoke firmly despite the fact that he was now struggling to keep his eyes open. He patted the space next to him. "Stay right here."

She debated internally for a moment. "Um.. okay." She nodded and shifted her position so she could sit on the bed next to him. "But you have to get some rest. Sleep now."

"You won't go?"

"I won't go," she promised, brushing her fingers across his forehead.

She settled back into his pillows and he rolled over to lean against her. She pursed her lips tightly.

His breathing started to grow heavier and he mumbled almost incoherently. "I wish…."

She pulled the blanket around his shoulders. "What do you wish?" she whispered.

"I wish… that I was awake enough to… enjoy this properly."

She allowed herself an amused smile, knowing it was the fever talking now. "Like you'd ever take advantage of me, Agent Barton. Even if I allowed you to."

He chuckled softly. "At least it's good to know…" He yawned.

She unconsciously tightened her hold on him, bringing his body closer to hers , and she struggled to hear him as her heartbeat raced noisily in her ears. "What's good to know, Clint?"

His eyelids were heavy, but there was no mistaking the realization in his eyes. "It's good to know that I have the same effect on you as you have on me," he said clearly, though his voice was barely a whisper.

"Ssshhh," she said, placing a finger on his lips. "Sleep now. You really need your rest."

He closed his eyes and it was only a few more moments before his breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head and stared at the ceiling until sleep came for her too.

XXXXXX

When he awoke the next morning, Natasha was sitting at the edge of his bed watching him.

"And I'm the one they call The Hawk," he murmured. "Jesus, Natasha. I could feel your stare even when I was out cold."

She treated him with a genuinely warm smile. "How are you feeling?"

He sat up slowly. "Much better. Fever's broken."

She reached out and placed a tentative hand on his neck. "So it is," she observed. She rose from the bed.

"Look, Tasha. About last night…" he started.

"I'm leaving today," she said quietly.

His brow furrowed as he stood up with her.

"Fury called me early this morning with a mission," she added.

"Ah," he nodded. "And why am I not included on this?"

She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "I'm assigned to Tony Stark."

His eyes widened. "Shit. For how long?"

She shrugged. "As long as it takes, I guess. Fury wants you on bed rest for a few days. I told him I wanted frequent updates on your progress."

"Alright," he murmured, still trying to wrap his injured head around all this. "Email me when you get there. We'll stay in touch."

She shook her head. "Stark's servers will be monitored. I don't know how much we'll able to communicate."

He tried not to show his disappointment, but was obviously unsuccessful.

She placed a hand under his chin. "I'll call you from my cellular in two weeks," she promised.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"This is why you shouldn't have said anything," she warned.

"When do you have to leave?"

"Right now, actually."

"Oh," he said because he didn't know what else to say.

Without warning, she flung herself into his arms and embraced him fiercely.

He eagerly returned her hug, the first one she'd ever given him in their years as partners, with just as much passion.

"Goodbye, Agent Barton," she said calmly, even though her eyes betrayed her.

"Take care, Agent Romanoff," he answered.

She smiled wryly. "I always do."