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It had been two months. Two months since the car crash. Two months since Natasha had dragged a half-conscious Clint from the smoldering wreckage, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and feet dragging across the ground as they moved towards safety. Two months since they had put him under for surgery to patch his lung and he hadn’t woken up, since he had been alive but unresponsive, cut off from the Avengers, from his friends…from Natasha.
Natasha perched quietly in the chair by Clint’s bed, her fingers worrying at the hem of her shirt as she chewed at her bottom lip, her eyes trained on Clint’s expressionless face. Could he hear what was going on around him? Did he know where he was? Would he remember her and the others when he woke up? Would he wake up? The questions had been on near constant repeat in her mind since she first heard Clint was in a coma. These last two months had been the most stressful months she’d had in a long while. She had refused to leave his side for the first week and a half until Pepper had stalked into the hospital room, took one look at Natasha, at her dirty, messy hair, the dark circles under her eyes, the blank, emotionless look on her face, shoved coffee at her, and led her out of the room and back to the Tower where she practically shoved Nat in the shower and handed her clean clothes when she was done. During the entire process the only words Pepper said were, “Tony was worried.”
Natasha had nodded and smiled, taking the clothes, the shower, and the foo but going right back to Clint afterwards, determined to be there in case he woke up. Every now and then Pepper would walk in and force Natasha to take care of herself, giving her a sad look every time she left the Tower because Pepper knew she was going back to the hospital to sit and wait.
At the one month mark Tony, Thor, Steve, Pepper, and Bruce had entered the small hospital room, crowding around Natasha and coaxing her to leave and go to lunch with them. Reluctantly she had agreed, leaning over to give Clint a small kiss on the temple before uncurling from her position in the chair and letting Steve take her hand and gently pull her out of the room.
"Natasha…,"
"Yes, Steve?" Natasha asked, putting her forkful of salad back on the plate.
"I-we-are concerned about you." Steve said, leaning his forearms on the diner table and giving her his best "concerned papa bear" face, "We don’t think it’s healthy for you to spend this much time at the hospital, physically or mentally. Now, I understand you’re worried-"
"Worried?"Natasha asked, voice dangerously calm, "My boyfriend, my partner, my goddamn soulmate is in a coma, has been for an entire month. I’m not sure "worried" describes just how scared I am." Her voice shook slightly on the last words and she gripped her fork so hard her knuckles turned white. Pepper pulled her into a hug and after a moment her shoulders started to shake and she tucked her face into the crook of Pepper’s neck so her teammates wouldn’t see her tears.Pepper cooed and stroked her hair, glaring at Steve when he opened his mouth to speak again.
Tony’s hand on her shoulder brought Natasha back to the present, sitting in a hospital room with an unconscious partner at her side and long cold coffee clutched in her hand.
"How are you doing?" Tony asked quietly, replacing her cold coffee with fresh Starbucks.
"I’m doing fine, Clint’s still asleep, obviously," Natasha said bitterly, hands moving back to the hem of her shirt to pick at a loose thread. Tony nodded and patted her shoulder again.
"I just wanted to check up on you, and I know that hospital coffee is shit so I brought you some good stuff, figured you might need it." Natasha smiled up at him in thanks, and sipped the coffee, eyes going straight back to the sleeping Clint. Tony sighed and left the room, presumably going back to where Pepper was waiting with some paperwork.
After a few hours Natasha drifted off, curling around her coffee cup, hair falling in a curtain around her face, her eyes slipping closed.
"…..Natasha?" whispered a hoarse voice, waking her instantly and almost making her spill her coffee.
"Clint? Oh my god Clint!" she said, placing her coffee to the side and nearly throwing herself on Clint, remembering about his lung surgery just in time and stopping, choosing instead to wrap her arms around his neck and press her face to the side of his head, kissing his cheek and crying into the pillow. He pulled his hand up and pressed it to the back of her head, the other wrapping around her waist and he buried his face in her hair.
"It’s okay Tasha, it’s okay I’m here."
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