What Happened In Budapest *unedited*

Chapter 14: All Is Mostly Well

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I had Barton thrown over one shoulder and I was climbing up the building as fast as I could. “Come on, Clint, Clint sweetie, you can do it you can do it. Please don’t black out on me.”

The bullets were flying everywhere, burying themselves in the places I had just been, and I was almost at the top when I got hit in the leg.

“Ow,” I moaned. “Okay, Natasha. You can do it. Clint, are you okay?”

Nothing.

“Clint?”

Still nothing. I had less time than I thought.

With a grunt I started running, running as fast as I could with blood seeping out of my leg, staining the cloth around it with my warm red blood. And boy did it hurt.

I made it back to the apartment, half-conscious from the blood loss, and exhausted from carrying a dead-weight on my shoulders.

I let myself in and immediately went to the bedroom and pulled the sheets from the frame. With the sharpest kitchen knife I could find, I cut the white sheets into long strips, my homemade bandages.

“Clint, I know you’re unconscious, but this is going to hurt.” I told him. Thank goodness I’d thought of holding him in a way to not hurt him anymore. If I couldn’t save myself, at least Clint would live. I cut apart the area of the suit around where he had been shot, and I gasped. His stomach was red, and the wound was still open.

I tried to gently scrape the bullet out using the knife, but there is no gentle way to pull a bullet out of someone. I discovered this as Barton let out a moan of pain while I was getting it out.

“It’s okay,” I told him, my voice cracking. “It’s okay, I’m right here. It’s Nat. It’s Tasha.”

I didn’t say anything else for fear of crying, big, huge sobs that would interfere with my focus.

I fell asleep after cleaning the scraped and bruises on my leg, and cleaning out my own bullet wound. I was going to be okay. Barton, I wasn’t so sure of.

I woke up when I fell off the couch, and only then had I realized I’d been curled up next to Barton, my smaller hand in his. His hand was still clasped around mine, even though I’d fallen on the floor. That meant he’d been up too. This made my face break out in a smile.

He was definitely going to be okay.

Sorry, this was just a filler.

AND FYI I AM NOT MOFFAT.

IF I WERE MOFFAT EVERYONE YOU LOVE WOULD BE DEAD.

SO HA!

And I love Clint so much okay? I'm not going to kill him. Also, I'd never do that to Tasha.... yeah. Fun times.

nufflepuff