Natasha had only just gotten back from her own mission when she’d been diverted to the medical floor of the Tower. She hadn’t even had a chance to get that stubborn bit of blood spatter from behind her right ear that had been there since Khabarovsk and apparently it was going to stay a bit longer because someone got hit by a magic spell.
“What has he done this time?” she asked, pitching her voice to exasperated indifference simply because that seemed the best option available at the moment.
Tony looked like he was about to say something but Bruce clapped a hand over his mouth and said instead, “He got hit by a knockout spell.”
Natasha plucked Clint’s chart from the foot of his bed (because Avengers’ medical charts had special sections for magical injuries) and speed-read through it.
“Sleeping Beauty?” she asked. Bruce and Tony nodded in unison.
“That’s why we needed you right away,” Tony said apologetically. “I mean, you’ve got a bit of entrails on your shoes so I’m assuming this is an awkward time and we’ve just–we needed you to–” he waved his hands awkwardly towards Clint, somehow encompassing all that mess you know “–you know. Do the thing.”
“The thing,” she said. She allowed a long silence.
“The kissing thing,” Tony helpfully supplied because he had no sense of self preservation.
“You’re assuming a lot of things there, Stark.”
Tony’s brow furrowed. Even Bruce looked confused.
“But you’re—with the—” more awkward flailing “–surely you should be the one–”
“Absolutely not. But lucky for you, I know who would fit the bill.”
She pulled out her phone and dialed quickly.
***
Forty-five minutes later, a cab pulled up outside the Tower and Natasha ushered the passengers up to Clint’s room. Tony and Bruce were arguing outside the door in hushed tones, like speaking too loudly might possibly disturb Clint’s sleep.
“Is Barton into teenag–” Tony started to ask but Natasha elbowed him in the ribs, making him gasp.
“No.”
Kate pushed open the door and waved the one-eyed, busted-to-hell-and-back mutt through.
“That’s not sanita–” Tony tried to protest but the doors swung shut behind them.
Kate snapped her fingers over Clint’s chest and said briskly, “Up, Lucky.” It was all the invitation the dog needed, jumping up with that deft agility that made his paws land harmlessly in the gaps around Clint’s body. His tail wagged vigorously back and forth and then he settled his haunches right onto Clint’s chest.
He was staring straight at Clint’s face, waiting for a sign or an order. He nudged forward slowly, scooting his whole torso across Clint. Gently, he slobbered his adoration across Clint’s face.
Clint’s eyes fluttered open.
“Aww dog,” he said.
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