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Bruce doesn’t come out of his room for the entire day, and when Tony is asked about it, he just shakes his head. That’s when Clint decides it’s time for him to take matters into his own hands.
“Bruce?” Clint slips into Bruce’s room and finds his friend lying face down in the pillows, Lenny tucked under his arm. Clint slowly approaches the bed and sits on the edge, resting a gentle hand on Bruce’s shoulder.
“Tell me what you need, Bruce.”
“I need quiet. I need to be alone.”
Clint furrows his brow and huffs. Bruce hears him leave, and when he does, he sits up, looking worried. He didn’t mean to offend Clint the way he did Tony when he basically snapped at him for pushing the matter.
Bruce sighs and closes his eyes. This is why I can’t get close to people.
But Bruce doesn’t have much time to wallow, because as soon as he’s lying down again, Clint comes in, quilt, George, and hot tea in hand.
“I’m not gonna say anything. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. You don’t have to say a word, but I’m here for you.” Clint sets the tea on the nightstand by Bruce, crawls up on the other side, and spreads the quilt over the both of them.
“You took care of me, so I’m gonna take care of you,” Clint explains when he sees Bruce’s perplexed expression.
“You don’t have to. I’m volatile when depressed.”
“You’re volatile period, to be honest, and so am I. You’re hydrogen, and I’m chlorine. Separate, we’re nothing, but together we can get through anything.”
“Separate, we’re still pretty awful to be around.”
“Yeah, but that’s not our problem, is it?”
Bruce gives him a hesitant smile and reaches for the tea.
“Thank you.”
Clint shrugs and settles down, ready to take a nap. Instead of napping, however, he listens to Bruce explain his feelings, sometimes stopping for a few minutes to regain his composure. Clint says nothing, makes no faces, and doesn’t reach out to comfort him. Instead, he lets Bruce talk himself to sleep, and when he’s done that, Clint follows, but ready to wake up if Bruce needs anything.