Everything hurt, mostly his neck from where had slipped awkwardly half off that damn bench. Clint blinked a few times and realized dully that the plan of catching his breath with closed eyes had somehow lead to passing out in the middle of his workout. Probably should be glad he hadn't thrown up and choked on his own breakfast.
He came up with a few colorful insults for his own stupid ass while he waited for his brains to catch up and then very slowly, carefully reached out for the barbell-pole to pull himself in a less contorted position. His throat was as dry as an Egyptian dune and only produced something between a gargle and an "Oomph", when his muscles reminded him of every single sin of the last hours. Finally he was on his back again and tried to stretch very carefully but rather let it be for the moment. There was a very high possibility of one or two vertebra slipping out of place if he tried.
Well, that had been fun.
With a little strain he could reach one of his water bottles at least and emptied half of it over his head which helped at least not feeling like passing out immediately again. He managed to get some down his throat too, but shit, that hurt too. He needed a shower and a professional Chinese torturer to beat his body parts back where they belonged.
Through the half open door he couldn't hear much so he hoped at least that Natasha was as alright as could be. And that she had spent her time wiser than him. He got to his feet somehow, like an old man, or like just having been punched out of some mess by an extraction team. It became a challenge, just trying to climb the stairs as graceful as possible, with his head tilted aside in an awkward angle.
He wasn't much surprised to find Natasha crying, and his first impulse was going there at once, but he probably smelled the way he felt. And the whole point of this had been alone for a while, even if it hurt, right?
"Can I do anything, red? Just need... Gonna take a shower, then I'm with you, okay?" At least his voice sounded half-normal again.
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He came up with a few colorful insults for his own stupid ass while he waited for his brains to catch up and then very slowly, carefully reached out for the barbell-pole to pull himself in a less contorted position. His throat was as dry as an Egyptian dune and only produced something between a gargle and an "Oomph", when his muscles reminded him of every single sin of the last hours. Finally he was on his back again and tried to stretch very carefully but rather let it be for the moment. There was a very high possibility of one or two vertebra slipping out of place if he tried.
Well, that had been fun.
With a little strain he could reach one of his water bottles at least and emptied half of it over his head which helped at least not feeling like passing out immediately again. He managed to get some down his throat too, but shit, that hurt too. He needed a shower and a professional Chinese torturer to beat his body parts back where they belonged.
Through the half open door he couldn't hear much so he hoped at least that Natasha was as alright as could be. And that she had spent her time wiser than him. He got to his feet somehow, like an old man, or like just having been punched out of some mess by an extraction team. It became a challenge, just trying to climb the stairs as graceful as possible, with his head tilted aside in an awkward angle.
He wasn't much surprised to find Natasha crying, and his first impulse was going there at once, but he probably smelled the way he felt. And the whole point of this had been alone for a while, even if it hurt, right?
"Can I do anything, red? Just need... Gonna take a shower, then I'm with you, okay?" At least his voice sounded half-normal again.