"Fucking Melbourne, nothing ever goes right in this city," Clint mutters as he watches the extraction team haul the prisoners away. "Always a fucking shitshow."
"We're alive," Natasha says, in a clipped tone. "We got the information, no one necessary died, and we are alive."
"And we're looking so well on it," Clint says pointedly, looking at the arm she's cradling, and the cut on her temple, then at his three broken fingers and ballooning foot.
"You've looked worse," Natasha says, smiling wickedly. "And they definitely look worse." She turns her head towards the three men tied to stretchers. One of them doesn't have many teeth left, and Clint thinks he can see a rib through his shirt. The second is crying, big gasping tears, and he can't get anywhere near enough breath. The third ... well, the third is a mess of muscle and blood, and Clint thinks he might be missing an eye.
"I didn't take his eye," Natasha says. "He was missing that before. But I do now have a a nice marble to add to the collection."
Clint high-fives her, gently, being careful of his wrist and her shoulder. "Fury will be so proud."
She huffs a laugh in response, and then stiffly stands up. "Come on, arrow boy. We both need showers."
--
It isn't until later in the bathroom that Clint really begins to believe they may escape Melbourne with their life. Natasha has confirmed she can't find any bugs in the room, and if she can't find them then he trusts there aren't any, and Coulson has made contact saying he's fine, and they got the intel. Clint feels some of the tension leave his spine, and he carefully strips out of his gear, and goes to join Natasha in the shower. They've done this for years. It started as a quicker way of getting in and out of the bathroom and only having one set of blood to clean away, but now Clint stands, bracketed against the shower wall by Natasha, and lets her kiss him gently along the jawline.
"Safe, we're safe, it's okay," she mutters, and he runs his hands up her sides to check that she is really there, really is right in front of him, and sinks to his knees, kissing his way down her stomach. He keeps his hands running up and down her sides, and then her thighs, until he feels some of the stress and strain leave them and her muttering turns from a message she thinks she's giving him, but that she needs to hear as well, and then does his best to make sure she isn't coherent at all.
Beware: gory imagery.
"We're alive," Natasha says, in a clipped tone. "We got the information, no one necessary died, and we are alive."
"And we're looking so well on it," Clint says pointedly, looking at the arm she's cradling, and the cut on her temple, then at his three broken fingers and ballooning foot.
"You've looked worse," Natasha says, smiling wickedly. "And they definitely look worse." She turns her head towards the three men tied to stretchers. One of them doesn't have many teeth left, and Clint thinks he can see a rib through his shirt. The second is crying, big gasping tears, and he can't get anywhere near enough breath. The third ... well, the third is a mess of muscle and blood, and Clint thinks he might be missing an eye.
"I didn't take his eye," Natasha says. "He was missing that before. But I do now have a a nice marble to add to the collection."
Clint high-fives her, gently, being careful of his wrist and her shoulder. "Fury will be so proud."
She huffs a laugh in response, and then stiffly stands up. "Come on, arrow boy. We both need showers."
--
It isn't until later in the bathroom that Clint really begins to believe they may escape Melbourne with their life. Natasha has confirmed she can't find any bugs in the room, and if she can't find them then he trusts there aren't any, and Coulson has made contact saying he's fine, and they got the intel. Clint feels some of the tension leave his spine, and he carefully strips out of his gear, and goes to join Natasha in the shower. They've done this for years. It started as a quicker way of getting in and out of the bathroom and only having one set of blood to clean away, but now Clint stands, bracketed against the shower wall by Natasha, and lets her kiss him gently along the jawline.
"Safe, we're safe, it's okay," she mutters, and he runs his hands up her sides to check that she is really there, really is right in front of him, and sinks to his knees, kissing his way down her stomach. He keeps his hands running up and down her sides, and then her thighs, until he feels some of the stress and strain leave them and her muttering turns from a message she thinks she's giving him, but that she needs to hear as well, and then does his best to make sure she isn't coherent at all.