A/N: Two more chapters after this!
Chapter 13
Bruce and Tony's fingers were twined together, as they energetically discussed the environmental possibilities of a fully waterproof Iron Man suit.
"But breathing–"
"Air tanks?"
"But that makes nothing more than an expensive SCUBA suit–"
"Unless you can breathe underwater, Tony, there's no other…" Bruce met Tony's eyes. Suddenly, both of their faces lit up. "Wait–"
"Yes!"
"Water splitting?"
"Instantaneous filtration water splitting. That way, I can use ocean water or whatever to breathe and not worry about tanks–""
"Not just that. Tony, do you realize, on a larger scale this could actually make hydrogen power a possibility?"
"Only name in clean energy, bitches!"
Coulson smirked ruefully; he wished he had the foresight to have joined that office betting pool.
"Mr. Stark, Doctor Banner."
The scientists looked up from their seats in the hotel lobby.
"Director Fury has asked to see you in order to finalize some reports of damage to the hotel."
Tony rolled his eyes, "Yeah, fine. Is he here now?"
"Yes. I'll get him." Coulson nodded and turned. He heard Stark and Banner return to a conversation he couldn't understand if he tried. Then, he heard them cut off with a very familiar voice.
"Oh my god, Tony! Why do I need to worry about you even when you're on VACATION?"
"Pepper, come on, this was in no way my fault–"
"I don't care."
After a few seconds to collect him from the shock, Coulson turned to look at the strawberry blonde, with arms wrapped around Tony's neck. He saw what could possibly have been jealousy in Bruce's eyes for a moment, before Pepper let go of Tony and turned to the other man.
"Dr. Banner, I am thrilled that you're going to be living in the Tower with him."
"I–you know? What?" Bruce looked lost.
Tony rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I may or may not have told her you were moving in about two minutes after you agreed…"
"Tony, we've hardly been apart since then." Bruce exclaimed incredulously.
"You were in the bathroom changing…I was excited." Tony shrugged.
Bruce grinned and shook his head, "You're ridiculous."
"You love it." Tony took Bruce's hand again and lightly kissed him.
Suddenly, Coulson blurted out, "I–um–Pepper…"
When she saw him, her mouth fell open, "You…"
"Hi." He whispered.
She marched up to him and promptly slapped him hard across the face. "What–the–HELL?"
Coulson did his best to ignore Tony's sniggers behind her.
"I–"
"You're alive? You're okay?"
"Yeah, I–"
"Why the hell didn't I know about this?"
"Well, you–"
"It has been months, Phil–"
"Agent…" Tony muttered quietly. Bruce hit him fondly upside the head.
"I have been in mourning for at longer than we were even together, and you don't even hint that you might be okay?"
"I didn't–"
"Do you know how that makes me feel? That I don't get a phone call?"
"Pepper, please–"
"Phil–"
"Listen!" Pepper closed her mouth quickly, and Coulson went on, "I wanted to tell you, honest. Ask Fury; he'll give you an entire rant about how I wouldn't stop asking if I could tell you yet–"
"Asking? For crying o–"
"It was a security measure, Pep. I swear." He gently took her hands in his.
"Security?" She arched an eyebrow.
"At the end of the battle, Loki was a prisoner of Asgard."
"Loki's a good guy, now, by the way." Tony interjected.
"What?" Pepper nearly screamed, turning her head to Tony.
"Long story," Bruce answered, "We'll explain later."
"Anyway, we didn't know how secure he would be, or if my life or death would mean anything to him. To be safe, the Counsel asked that we keep my survival under wraps, and Fury didn't want to risk going against them again. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. These guys found out by mistake." Coulson waved his hand vaguely at Tony and Bruce.
Pepper regarded Phil carefully, "I really don't like being kept in the dark about people I love, Phil. Ask Tony."
"She doesn't."
Coulson looked down and softly pulled her a little closer. "I wish with everything that I could have told you. It was killing me that I couldn't see you."
Pepper leaned her forehead against Coulson's. "Don't do it again."
"You know, if we're married, it's actually illegal to keep that information from a spouse."
Tony's eyes became comically wide.
Pepper giggled, "Maybe, we'll talk about that later."
Coulson smiled slightly. "Until then, I promise you'll be the first to know, once I am allowed to say anything."
"I guess that'll have to do." She kissed him softly, and Coulson wrapped his arms around her waist.
After a moment, Bruce nudged Tony and mouthed, We should leave them alone.
Are you kidding? This is hysterical. Tony mouthed back.
Bruce gave him a pointed look, and Tony grinned, pecked Bruce on the mouth and let Bruce pull him out of the lobby.
When they separated Pepper quietly said, "Well, that explains a couple things at least."
Coulson's brow furrowed. "What things?"
"The visitor with Fury."
"She's here?" Coulson jumped back.
"Mhmm." Pepper nodded.
"Oh wow, let's go."
He didn't let go of Pepper's hand, as they went to find the Director.
After the third day, Natasha drank the coffee that Steve set by her. He had brought her coffee each morning. He would leave it for her on the stand by Clint's bed, and the nurses would clear the styrofoam cups each night.
On day three, Natasha still waited until Steve left her, but once the door shut, she took the coffee from the stand with shaking hands. As she sipped it, she grimaced. It was cold and bitter and tasted very little like actual coffee.
Clint made remarkably good coffee in an old soup can with a hot plate once on a mission. She blinked and then looked up at the monitors steadily beeping.
They were still making noises. That was good.
"Afternoon, Ms. Romanoff." The pretty afternoon nurse strode through the door.
Curvy, curly hair, smart…would be Clint's type…though he had really stopped looking at other women, since they had been sleeping together. Natasha took another sip of the god-awful beverage.
The nurse pulled out a hypodermic needle. "We're hoping this injection will neutralize the toxins from the alien weapons. It's taken us these past couple days to analyze his blood."
The nurse injected the serum into Clint's vein with a practiced efficiency. "Have a good evening, Ms. Romanoff," and she was gone.
Natasha's lip twitched almost imperceptibly. Clint could deal with knives, guns, arrows, maces, and brass knuckles, but needles terrified him.
"Clint–" she whispered suddenly, and her hand darted out and covered his. The hand was cold, not deadly cold, just running a little colder than usual. Gently, she squeezed his unmoving hand.
She swallowed hard, clenching her jaw in attempt to slow her breathing, and let her hand rest on his for a couple minutes longer.
After a few more clicks from the clock on the wall, he moved her hand off of his.
His hand twitched.
She inhaled sharply, and then held her breath. Her eyes grew wide, as she watched the slight stretch of reaching fingers. It means nothing. She thought furiously, Muscles sometimes spasm for no reason, when a person is in a coma. It doesn't mean he's coming out of it. It's just a twitch. Just a missed connection of wires. Nothing serious. Nothing important. Nothingnothingnothing–
A soft groan came from the man prone on the bed.
Her eyes snapped to his face, which was scrunching, his eyebrows furrowed. Hazily, his eyes flickered half-open, then closed again. Natasha half stood from her chair and froze.
Several seconds later Clint's bleary eyes opened again, "Tash?" His voice was low and rough from sleep and disuse.
Instinctively, she placed her hand in his, and this time he lightly squeezed it back. His fingers were still weak and tired, but she could feel his pulse through his palm, and his hand was slowly warming.
"God…we kill the aliens?" Clint asked gruffly, craning his neck to see her.
She nodded, unable to form words.
"Good…" He let his head fall back onto the pillow, "How…how long was I out?"
Natasha just stared at him.
"Tasha? How long has it b–" He froze as he propped himself up again and saw tears streaming down her face. His foggy mind was quickly clearing. "Tash…"
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her voice cracking. "I am so sorry." She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the sheet next to their hands and talking into the bed, "I–I–when I was four, my parents were killed–when I defected, I lost my foster father…" She twisted her free hand into Clint's blanket, "Half of my relationships have ended up marks…"
With his left arm, he pushed himself higher on the bed, "Tasha–" He gently tugged her arm, making her look at him.
"Most of the people I love die, Clint," she whispered, "And I killed at least half of them…" Her eyes were glistening with tears, as she looked at him. "I have been too afraid of losing you to let myself love you, and oh god, Clint, I love you. I do. I love you and trust you more than anyone I've known. And, I am so so sorry for everythi–"
Clint finally pulled her up to sit on the bed, keeping a firm grip on her wrist, and kissed her softly. "Just breathe, Tasha. We're fine." He whispered against her lips.
"I love you."
"I know." He smirked weakly, "I've always known."
She let out a somewhat broken laugh, "No, you haven't."
"No, I haven't." He agreed quickly, "But I've always hoped, anyhow."
For the first time, in what felt like ages, Natasha smiled. Clint grinned back at her for a moment, before he shivered.
"Jesus, it's cold, isn't it?"
"The alien weapons had a kind of poison. You've been running cold the last three days. It'll probably take a while for whatever the nurse gave you to completely flush out the stuff completely." Natasha wiped the tears from her face.
"Then, come here and keep me warm, babe." He patted the bed next to him.
She smiled and gingerly moved into the space he made for her. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around him, avoiding wires that attached him to machines.
He draped an arm around her shoulder and stared intently at the dark circles under her eyes, "Christ, you look awful."
She barked a laugh. "I was fighting an army of aliens, and then didn't sleep for three days worrying about you. Give me a break!"
"Okay. Just this once." He squeezed her shoulder before settling down.
"I love you, Clint." She murmured, tightly holding the front of his hospital gown.
As he drifted off, he answered, "Love you, Tasha."