Natasha figured it was impossible to not stare at his arms when he flexed, though she was pretty sure he knew that. They were definitely one of his best features, not just for their strength, but how deceptively gentle they could be as well.

“Maybe I will,” she said, tilting her head slightly at his touch. She could feel it in his gaze, a certain weight that meant he was searching for something, worried even. She hated being so sick and vulnerable. They were supposed to be here for him, taking care of him, but now he was so focused on her, just one step away from treating her like fragile glass, that he wasn’t focusing on himself like he should be. At least today she had thought she was doing a good job of banishing his worries.

“You can get a better look with me here,” she said. “Or a closer one, at least.”