Clint coughed and spat the chlorine taste of pool water out of his throat, breathing as slowly and deeply as could manage. Steve rubbed his back, passed him a towel when he stuck out a hand for it, and continued apologizing. "Look," Clint cut him off hoarsely. "It's not your fault. Nobody thought to brief you on it. Don't worry. We'll sign you up for a Red Cross CPR and First Aid class and you'll ace it."

"I shouldn't have listened to Tony! I didn't think he'd actually tell me something dangerous," Steve fretted.

Clint patted him. "Chill. Seriously, I don't think he realized that the whole mouth-to-mouth rescue breathing thing wasn't exactly around back in the day. You got me out from under that shit before I got too much water in me," he nodded over at the rubble in the pool, "and I'm fine. Next time you'll know what to do."

Steve nodded, but his ears were still red and there was a crinkle between his eyebrows.

"Hey, c'mon, I'm serious. We're good, man. I'm not going to get pissy about a little making out with a teammate after a swim." Clint slung an arm around Steve's shoulders and dropped a quick peck on the worried crinkle. "We're good."