Fears of the Widow

Bandaging Wounds

"Calm down would you?" Clint barked as Natasha silently cursed the day he was born.

Natasha stood up from his unkempt bed and stared at the wound he had revealed. It was rather gruesome. A large cut from her elbow up to her bicep. Blood dried around the womb- or what she could see of it since she was still in her catsuit- , but still a clear liquid seeped from the large gash. She stared at it only a minute before turning back to her partner.

Clint sighed, "it needs stitches." which Natasha twitched at and yelled, "no!"

Barton came and inspected the cut further, "you're gonna have to take off your top for me to get a better look at it and possibly bandage it."

There was a flicker of something behind Natasha's eyes for half a second before the always angry/ nonchalant state took back over, "in your dreams will I stand here in my underwear in front of you!"

"Don't you wear clothes under that thing?" He asked in question. He assumed at least spandex and a tank top for decency.

"No," Natasha poked a finger into his chest, "do you wear anything under yours?"

"Yes...but... Anyways. I have a T-shirt you can wear and just pull the suit down to your waist," Clint immediately turned away- rather perturbed Nat guessed- and rummaged through a drawer for a T-shirt. His hand emerged with a blue shirt that read 'southport' in all caps on the back.

Natasha suppressed a grin, knowing that he wore that shirt quite a bit, "fine, but I'll return it the minute I can change."

She changed in the bathroom before returning to sit on his bed with the over sized T-shirt draping over her body and both sleeves rolled over her shoulders. Clint was careful as he gently washed off the dried blood and sprayed antiseptic on the wound. Sort of in a fatherly way, he gently rubbed the antiseptic in.

"You having fun there?" Natasha awkwardly watched him from behind her eyelashes.

Clint coughed before answering, "yea, sorry, I just didn't want to hurt you." He pulled out a pack of gauze and tightly wove it around the length of her arm before securing it tightly.

She stood immediately, "thanks-"

"You should clean that regularly or I will tell Fury," he interrupted her without a second thought.

She barely nodded before turning on her heels and walking towards the door. Clint just couldn't stand to not know what was wrong with her though! Why was she so down and uneasy? Why did she falter in thought or become so stubborn about stitches or visiting the infirmary for a simple check up?

"Nat..." The Hawkeye bravely spoke.

She spun around slightly, "I'll take care of it, Clint. I can take care of myself."

"That's not what I was going to say," he grimaced for half a second, "I was just wondering if you were alright. Not the cut. You."

She stared at him blankly for a minute or two of pure silence. Her mouth was set into a thin line, and her eyes bounced back between his. After the uncomfortable wait she turned back towards the door and sighed, "I'm always fine, Clint. I'll get your shirt back to you later tonight." Then she was gone and he was left to silence and wonder.

Why was the blackwidow so off? What did she mean by 'I'm always fine'. Fine was a relative term that could mean 'I fell like hell' to 'I'm in love' and anything in between. Her tone told him that she was probably more in the negative range of emotions though. Was she sick? Sad? Angry? Scared? And if she was then why? Had he done something wrong?

Maybe he should go ask- although it killed him to do so- Stark, the one man who noticed everything about Natasha. He had once hired her without knowledge of SHIELD, but even now there is a sense of respect between them or perhaps fear on metal boy's part.