For a long while Clint just held her like this and enjoyed that they could embrace and comfort each other like that again. It had been a few bad days and there would be more of them to come, but what they had, what they shared, always stayed the same. They would try and hold on and maybe... Maybe they had a shot at something they had never thought possible. Never even considered...

"Jesus."

Clint shook his head against her shoulder again and huffed out a quiet laugh, followed by a wince when he raised his head again to look at her. He would have loved to sit with her here all day, but then he probably couldn't move anymore at all by tomorrow. And tomorrow would most probably be another morning of Natasha feeling sick and needing his help.

"I should lay down for a while", he murmured, apologetically, but didn't let go off Natasha just yet, instead leaned in to capture her mouth with his. Because that was another thing he definitely had missed.

The last hours had taken their toll on both of them, though, her lips felt just as dry as his own, and she tasted of salt. The bad, sour, sad kind, not the fresh breeze of a good long swim in the ocean.

"You need to drink, red", he sighed but still made no move to let go off her. It felt just too fucking good to be in her arms right now, especially sincea part of him still felt like drowning in a shady bottomless ocean.