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Clint gasped as he ducked behind a pile of rubble, breath coming in ragged gasps. He stole a glance down at his left leg where a knife was sticking out of his thigh. Sticky, crimson liquid was oozing from around it, spilling onto the ground. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins kept his attention off of the pain, though he wasn’t sure how long he could muster that.
“Clint!”
Clint glanced over to see Natasha coming toward him, but not before firing two rounds at those that had them pinned.
They returned fire briefly, but Natasha was able to fire away, this time leaving the sound of falling bodies in her wake. She then crouched over to Clint, immediately checking him over for injuries. Her hands traveled down and to his legs until she came to the hilt of a blade. Clint gasped in agony, eyes blazing in agony.
“Shit, sorry,” Natasha hissed, drawing her hands back from his leg. She looked down and frowned, head beginning to shake. “That’s deep, Clint. I can’t even see the blade.”
Clint’s neck stretched out hesitantly as he swallowed. “It’s not that bad. Barely even hurts.”
Natasha pressed one finger on top of the hilt and Clint jumped up, blood draining from his face. He swallowed the pangs of nausea that were already overwhelming him. He was a trained agent! He was not going to succumb to a little nausea because of a knife wound.
“We’re going to have to do some of that on the job field medicine crap you said we would never need,” Natasha told him, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Clint rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s what I get for dozing off in that class, huh?”
“Luckily I’m preforming this on you and not you on me.” She leaned back and tore off her belt, reaching around to loop it around Clint’s leg and tightening it.
Clint’s head jumped forward, a grimace clear on his face. He managed to breathe through it to the best of his ability—no way was he going to show that type of weakness in front of Natasha if he could help it.
“This is gonna hurt a good bit,” Natasha explained, leaning over him and continuing to tighten the belt one loop at a time. It had to be tight and cut off at least some of the circulation while also not causing a blood clot. It was difficult to determine, but she had been well trained for it.
Clint fought not to cast a glance down at the knife still jammed in his flesh. He wasn’t usually squeamish, but the blood loss combined with the pain was enough to make his stomach flop and his brain become clouded.
“Alright, I’m going to pull the knife off and you’re going to apply the pressure. Do you have anything you can use,” Natasha asked, fingers wriggling in turn as she contemplated her next move wisely.
Clint managed a timid nod and pulled the hoodie that he was wearing over his head. It revealed his vest that still offered plenty of protection, though it wasn’t the most conspicuous look he had. He bunched the sweatshirt into a ball and passed it between his two hands, waiting for the searing pain he was sure to feel in a couple moments.
Natasha grasped the hilt of the knife firmly in both hands and positioned her body hunched over Clint’s leg. This was something she had done numerous times, though not on Clint. It was the same no matter who she would deal with so long as Clint didn’t start moving.
“Okay, on three?”
Clint grimaced. “On three,” he agreed.
“One....two.....three!” Natasha yanked hard on the knife and brought the blade from Clint’s thigh. Blood spurted from the wound as Clint gasped and nearly doubled over in pain. His hands shook until he thrust them against the ground, coughing forcefully.
“Damn,” Clint choked out, eyes beginning to blink and become unfocused by the minute.
Natasha forced the sweatshirt firmly into Clint’s hand and forced it back onto the wound, using Clint’s hand to force against the gaping hole in his flesh. She applied as much pressure as she could momentarily before attempting to have Clint do the same. His strength was faltering and Natasha looked up to see Clint’s head dipping to the side.
“Clint!” Natasha reached out with a blood coated hand and tapped Clint’s cheek, streaks of blood left there. “Clint! You have to stay with me here. I can’t carry your heavy ass out of here. You need to stay awake!”
Growling, Natasha drew back and looked around until she found the discarded knife. She immediately grabbed it and wiped the blood off with her fingers. She then reached into the backpack and pulled out a bottle of alcohol that Clint had found partially for this reason. Well, not quite this reason, but right now Natasha wasn’t about to question it.
She unscrewed the top with her teeth and spat it on the ground. Holding the knife steady, Natasha tipped the bottle and watched the remainder of the blood wash off.
Suddenly, Clint slumped back with his head rolling, eyes unfocused and breathing growing shallow.
Natasha picked up the pace and pulled out a lighter and began to heat the tip, running the lighter up and down the blade as quickly yet thoroughly as possible. She continued until the blade was aglow red and orange, practically sizzling even to look at. She chucked the light into the bag with the knife poised over Clint’s leg. Her hand held firm over the wound, any trepidation that she felt vanishing before it could grab hold.
“You’ll thank me for this later,” Natasha explained, breathing heavily to calm herself. “Just not now.”
She pressed the knife against the wound once she had ripped his pants further to give her more access. It hissed and sizzled, flesh underneath bubbling and searing.
That certainly was enough to bring Clint back into he world of consciousness.
He suddenly let out a cry, body propelled forward and eyes wild in alarm. His arms came down beside his hips as he tried to force himself into a standing position.
Natasha reached out the hand that wasn’t still pressing the side of the burning knife against Clint’s skin, and set it on Clint’s shoulder, squeezing hard.
“I had to stop the bleeding,” Natasha confessed, pulling the knife away when it started to cool.
Clint’s eyes flashed in agony, body beginning to shake in place. “You couldn’t have done anything else,” he flashed.
Knowing that it was more the pain talking, Natasha gave him some leeway. “You know that this was the best way with the supplies that we have. We couldn’t leave it open.”
Clint fought to look down at his leg, the burning flesh and welts sprouting right in front of his vision. Nausea pooled inside his stomach until he turned to the side as much as possible and brought up a meager amount of water. He coughed in the aftermath, entire body shuddering with each tight exhale.
“Didn’t know you were such a lightweight,” Natasha joked, brining the half drank bottle of alcohol to her lips. Immediately she realized it was vodka, which wasn’t quite what she expected when she had poured it on Clint’s wound. It was much too late to go back, so she hoped it would still have the desired effect of cleaning that knife. That last thing that Clint needed was an infection.
Clint wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grimacing hard. “Next time you need something cauterized I’ll be first in line.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Natasha handed the bottle over to Clint, motioning for him to take a sip.
Clint didn’t hesitate to snatch it from her and downed more than Natasha had ever seen him drink before, let alone at one time. He set the bottle down until it rested on his good leg, still breathing heavily. “I’m drinking the rest of this,” he announced when Natasha’s eyes flickered down to it.
Natasha held her hands up in a show of surrender. “Alright, alright. I think you’ve earned it.”
Clint still kept the bottle close while he slumped even farther back against the slab of broken concrete that held him upright. It took too much effort for him to move his leg to the side even half an inch, a shadow of pain showing deep on his features. His teeth gritted together as Natasha came over and sat beside him, at least at the side that he hadn’t thrown up on.
“How long do you think we’ll have to wait here,” Natasha questioned, tucking herself against Clint.
Clint snorted in amusement. “Hell if I know. I’m sure Fury will make us wait. More pressing problems and all.” He shot a wiry smile at Natasha, mischief glimmering in his eyes. “All the more time for me to perfect my tic-tac-toe game. You’ll never be able to beat me eventually.”
“You let me win and you know it.”
“I can’t confirm or deny that.”
“Now you sound like Fury.”
Clint deadpanned back in her direction. “Now you’ve gone too far.”
She jostled his arm, careful not to hit his leg in the process. There was no one else in this world that could make her laugh as much as Clint did, at least not in situations that were as dire as this one. He made her feel like everything was going to be okay and safe in his presence. She couldn’t feel that with just anyone and it took a while for that trust to be built.
Suddenly, Natasha felt Clint’s heavy head fall on top of hers. She let out a short cry and wriggled free.
“Clint!”
“M’tired,” Clint mumbled with a yawn.
Natasha glanced down at Clint’s wound. Although it was closed up and no longer bleeding, she wouldn’t exactly say that he was out of danger. Infection, shock, and fever were all things that could happen at anytime and the last thing that she wanted was for him to go to sleep and not be able to wake up.
“Sorry, tough guy. You’re going to have to keep your eyes open for a little longer,” Natasha chided, frowning when she noticed that Clint still seemed somewhat out of focus.
She tapped his tight harshly until he glanced back up.
“How about you tell me a story?”
“A story,” Clint asked in confusion.
“Like how you were recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D or something.” Anything to keep Clint awake and talking.
Clint let out a low murmur, a haze coating over his eyes as he attempted to pull his memories, focus them, so he could formulate them into sentences.
“Now that is a fun story,” Clint chuckled. “A really fun story.”
Natasha leaned slightly over, her head rested on his shoulder.
“Hey, you can’t sleep either,” Clint protested. “That’s not fair!”
Natasha raised a hand and patted Clint’s chest a couple time. “Don’t worry; I’m just getting comfortable. I’ll be listening to your story to make sure you stay awake.”
“Is that so?”
“You know that is is.”
Clint slowly stretched out his ankles until they cracked before sighing heavily. “Alright, let us see. Where should I even start.....”