Work Text:
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Phil Coulson
Story type: angst and hurt/comfort
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The first thing Clint registered in his foggy brain was , the cold. Not only did his entire body feel cold but the floor was shockingly cold too. And so were the hands pressing down on his abdomen and the hands gently caressing his forehead.
Next he registered the pain, the pure unrelenting pain radiating from his whole body but most prominently in his abdomen where the cold hands were still pressing down.
As Clint became more aware and the fog in his brain began to clear he could start to piece together what had happened.
He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes but he could now discern the differences in the two sets of hands, the hands on his abdomen were slender but strong and very cold "Tasha" he thought.
The hands wiping the sweat from his brow were bigger , more callused but still cold he knew those must belong to Phil.
All Clint wanted to do was bat away the cold unrelenting hands but his arms wouldn't obey the simple command of moving. All Clint could do was let his body relax back onto the hard cold ground (rock or maybe concrete? Yeah it felt like concrete) and try to think of what happened.
It took many a moment but then it hit him or rather the memory of Natasha swearing angrily at him in Russian as he fell backwards muttering "aw, gunshot wound, no" hit him.
So that's why Nat was pressing down on his abdomen so hard and why it hurt so bad.
Sure, he'd been shot many times before but it didn't make him immune to the pain. (Not like Nat who never so much as flinched unless she believed she was truly safe). Clint however couldn't stop his stupid human body from making him pass out when such pains hit and certainly not when the bullet went into his abdomen and probably didn't come out again.
-0-
He couldn't hear so his hearing aids had probably come lose during the fall. He was rather glad of it, this way he didn't have to listen to Natasha's Russian curses or Phil's poor attempt at trying to keep the situation under control.
Phil was a great agent but when one of his own was down he took it as a personal failing. He believed it was his fault if Clint or Natasha got injured. It nearly never was his fault but neither Nat nor Clint could ever seem to convince him other wise. In the worst case scenario Phil would carry around the guilt until Clint or Nat were fully recovered which could sometimes be weeks or even months.
Clint hoped that this instance wasn't one of those cases. He really didn't want to deal with a guilt ridden Phil. But he would because that's what they do. Strike team delta look out for each other.
-0-
Clint was much more aware now and sluggishly opened his eyes to see Phil's lips moving, he couldn't tell what he was saying. He was speaking way too fast.
Clint may be a seasoned lip reader but sometimes even he found it too difficult to discern what someone was saying based on how their lips were moving. It probably didn't help that he had lost a lot of blood.
He could feel that now, blood pooled around his abdomen, sluggishly bleeding from the gunshot wound even though Natasha's cold hands were still pressed firmly down over it.
It didn't take long for Natasha to notice he was awake. She slowly tapped out a message for him.
-.- - - - - ..- .- - - -. .-. . / - - - -.- .- -.- - / .... . .-.. .- -. / .. .../ -.-. - - - - - .. -. - -. / .. -.. .. - - - -
She tapped out the message a few more times and he translated it.
"You're okay" "help is coming" and just because Nat loved to pick fun the last thing she tapped out was "idiot"
He didn't like to speak with his hearing aids out. Not being able to hear his voice held a certain air of fear for him even though he knew that his voice sounded just the same without hearing aids as with them. That fear wasn't as large when he was with Nat and Phil so he muttered a simple "good" and then " 'm not an idiot" for good measure.
Nat rolled her eyes at that, the hint of smile creeping onto her face.
-0-
Clint was beginning to feel lightheaded again and he was confident in Natasha's ability so he let his eyes close and the world faded back to the comforting warmth of darkness.
-0-
The next time he woke up he wasn't so cold, his brain was foggy again but he wasn't cold and so he let the abyss claim his consciousness once more.
-0-
When he awoke the third time, he wasn't cold, the fog in his brain had cleared and he could feel Natasha's slender hand grasping his own callused one.
He opened his eyes to see her asleep, with her head resting on the side of his bed in medical.
Clint stayed quiet not wanting to startle her from her slumber. He didn't know how long it had been since she slept properly from the look of her it could of been at least a couple of days.
He stayed silently watching her chest rise and fall until she began to stir. When she woke up a look of surprise graced her features before she returned her face to a neutral look not giving anything away.
Clint knew he was going to be in trouble with a capital T. Natasha was probably going to scream at him in Russian and then Phil was going to scream at him in English.
Next Clint would apologise to both of them and make a break from medical.
They had a pattern it worked for them, so that's what they did (Clint really should not get injured enough for them to have a pattern but what can you do I suppose).
-0-
That night when Clint drifted off to sleep cuddled up with Nat and Phil he was warm and at that precise moment in time, that was good enough for him.