Clint sighed a short breath of relief at her offer. Sure, they could have taken a cab. But then he still would have had to get that car back at some point and leave her alone when she wasn't feeling well already. Also, it wasn't like he didn't trust his fellow citizens, really, but he certainly wasn't in a mood to deal with a stolen, leased car at the moment. And even more, it was good to hear that Natasha felt at least good enough to drive again.
They would go home and then they could talk and... Talk about what? There was still nothing he could tell her, should tell her because he didn't have the right to, even if he would have a clue what he felt. Or would have allowed himself to find out.
Before he could fall into brooding mode again, he just nodded shortly and forced himself to stand up. He was too lost in thought to remember that he wasn't exactly running on a sugar high and the shock from the hospital had pretty much drained what fluid he had had in his body. He growled at himself shortly, when he stumbled for a moment and went on like nothing happened, with Natasha's hand still in his.
Together, she had said. They always fought through everything together that was in their way. And they had always come out on top. Why should it be different this time?
Because they were not fighting this time, that unnerving nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him. This wasn't something he could shoot or a bullet he could take for her and Natasha couldn't punch their way free this time. This... they had to decide, to build and to keep. To protect, forever, and how could Natasha expect from a train wreck like him to be ready for that? He would fuck up, he always fucked up eventually...
His heart was already beating unhealthily fast again, too loud in his ears, and from the way the sun burned on his skin he knew, he should probably remember how to breathe again. But his mind had taken another of these leaps off into nowhere while he just followed Natasha without even looking where they were going. It would be okay, she had said that they would do this together, she would stay with him... But whatever it was that she would want to do, Clint had no idea what to be more afraid of.
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They would go home and then they could talk and... Talk about what? There was still nothing he could tell her, should tell her because he didn't have the right to, even if he would have a clue what he felt. Or would have allowed himself to find out.
Before he could fall into brooding mode again, he just nodded shortly and forced himself to stand up. He was too lost in thought to remember that he wasn't exactly running on a sugar high and the shock from the hospital had pretty much drained what fluid he had had in his body. He growled at himself shortly, when he stumbled for a moment and went on like nothing happened, with Natasha's hand still in his.
Together, she had said. They always fought through everything together that was in their way. And they had always come out on top. Why should it be different this time?
Because they were not fighting this time, that unnerving nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him. This wasn't something he could shoot or a bullet he could take for her and Natasha couldn't punch their way free this time. This... they had to decide, to build and to keep. To protect, forever, and how could Natasha expect from a train wreck like him to be ready for that? He would fuck up, he always fucked up eventually...
His heart was already beating unhealthily fast again, too loud in his ears, and from the way the sun burned on his skin he knew, he should probably remember how to breathe again. But his mind had taken another of these leaps off into nowhere while he just followed Natasha without even looking where they were going. It would be okay, she had said that they would do this together, she would stay with him... But whatever it was that she would want to do, Clint had no idea what to be more afraid of.