When his leg is tied off he grits his teeth before feeling that gloved hand on his chest. It hurt like hell but he was trying not to show it. Smile through the pain like his training taught him.
"Jarvis wouldn't mutiny on you. Just on the rest of the Avengers. Just get out there, Stark."
Being told he's going get the shit kicked out of him causes another laugh that ends in another coughing fit. Then those lips are on his and he can't help but smile a bit more. He's not worried about the facial hair.
So when Tony goes back out the window he grabs his bow with the hand that feels like it's gone numb and tries to stay awake. Unfortunately that's harder than he thought and he's going in and out of consciousness by the time Tony gets back. Almost slipping into that darkness.
Tony's not alone so there can't be any Sleeping Beauty kiss for Clint. Not in front of the others. He almost protests when Thor is the one to do the air lifting out of the place and glances between Natasha and Steve. Bruce is getting his rage out of the way so he's not in line for Air Tony.
"Which one of you ladies wants a lift?"
He ends up with both and nearly kills himself and them crash landing into Stark Tower. Jarvis is quick getting off the suit, but not quick enough and Tony's the last to arrive to see Clint rushed into surgery.
"Is he--"
"Too soon to tell, Tony Stark."
Fuck.
((OOC: He's just a tough nut on the outside and full of delicious nougat on the inside. Now I want nougat. Clint's just awesome!!!))
Somewhere in the 'air lift' Clint passes out. He'd tried to stay awake as much as possible but in the end... the darkness had taken over. So he's not even aware that he's in surgery. Nor is he aware when he's out of it.
All he knows is that his body doesn't ache as bad and that damn beeping noise is going to drive him crazy. So whoever they'd allowed in there would hear a slight groan out of the archer.
"I was back in eight," Tony says when he sees Barton stir. "Eight minutes, you couldn't even wait that long. I'm not sure what that says about your stamina." He stays in his seat in the corner. He's not been there the entire time. Natasha's knowing looks make him nervous so he's gotten a lot of coffee. A glance in the trash basket would prove just how long Clint's been out and just how often Tony's kept coming back.
"I stayed awake until the big guy had a hold of me," he mutters, his voice hoarse. "My stamina is just fine." Though he goes quiet for a moment not yet wanting to open his eyes. "What'd the doc say?"
Might as well get that out of the way. Because if he couldn't use his bow... then what good was he?
Tony makes an exaggerated shrug. "Slight brain damage but I hear that happened before the crash. They wanted to amputate both of your thumbs but I said that it was an unnecessary precaution, you'd just learn to shoot things with your feet." When he gets up from his chair, it's obvious that he hasn't slept in two days. None of them have, save for Bruce, but that's not something he could help. When Hulk is done tantruming, it gives him the curtsey of letting him sleep.
In all seriousness, Tony's half dead on his feet. His lips press into a thin line.
"You've got a fracture to your left femur and cracked your ribs. Nearly tore your damned leg off, but they got some glue and reattached it."
"Be serious for once, Tony," he murmurs before opening his eyes to stare at the other man. That had been a mistake and he has to close his eyes again. The room was too damn bright and he moves to get more comfortable. Sit up... something. Because laying down just...
Tony's hand presses down on Clint's sternum which isn't going to be too thrilled and he can almost see the ache in his eyes from the rib fractures. Serves the idiot right, Tony thinks and gestures to the corner of the room by the window. "One bow and quiver. I need to fix your quiver, the turning mechanism is shot to shit but I know a work around that might actually quicken the trigger and I was thinking that if I--"
Oh. Geek talk.
"Everyone else is fine. Thor ripped his cape. Evidently it's made out of goat fur. Did you know?" He takes a moment to perch on the edge of Clint's bed after glancing around for invisible intruders.
The moment that hand presses down on his sternum, he reaches out grabbing Tony's wrist. The grip is weak and Clint doesn't like it. But the grip is there. It takes a few moments but he eventually lets go and lays back down.
Geek talk... that he could handle. "Might have to actually make a few of those arrows you were talking about too. In case of emergencies for us lowly humans."
"Huh..." he murmurs with a pained chuckle. "Didn't know that."
He actually doesn't mind the grip. It's a reminder that Clint is alive and kicking. With one leg. A little bit of therapy he probably won't do in favor of his own brand of training will suffice. Or Tony can make him a flying swing to zip around in and shoot stuff in the eye.
He lightly strokes a hand down Clint's chest. The action is...not like him. He knows that. He doesn't care.
"What do you see?" Pleasantries are over. Clint could have died. It puts things in perspective.
There's no way in hell that Clint will allow an injury to stop him from doing his job. Only way that would happen is if Fury decided that he wasn't on active duty. He'd find some way to get around that.
The feeling of that hand stroking down his chest is... different. "That would require my eyes being open and it's really too bright for me to open them."
[ooc: No, evil brain, you can NOT make the archer blind even if only temporary...]
Tony glances at the window, at the blinds drawn, and frowns, but lets it go. "I wasn't asking about now, but fine. Inside of eyelids. Check." He removes his hand all together. It's a little too much effort, all of this, playing well meaning man in a hospital. It's not Tony but--
This is why he doesn't get involved. People can get hurt. People can die. Clint almost--
"You should sleep then. Actual sleep. Not medically induced sedative sleep."
((OOC: Blindness would be...terrible! And awesome! Temporarily of course.))
Those eyes do open at the feel of that hand being removed. Something akin to panic rising in him for some reason. Though when he stares at Tony, he frowns reaching out grabbing his wrist in a tight grip when he doesn't actually 'see' him. Just his outline.
"I'm not sleeping in a damn hospital." That carefully hidden panic is probably showing itself a little.
Who would have thought... Clinton Barton, scared of hospitals. Tony frowns at the grip on his wrist and shakes his head. "No one's going to stab you in your sleep. One of us will always be here."
In other words, stop being a baby. He's not going anywhere.
Well. Not for the moment. He really does want to go back into that chair in case Natasha comes back... "Clint, Jesus, save my bones for the next time you want to do a death grip."
He doesn't let go of Tony's wrist. Hell, he doesn't care what Tasha or the others see. Even if Tony will think differently. However, none of that mattered right now.
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When his leg is tied off he grits his teeth before feeling that gloved hand on his chest. It hurt like hell but he was trying not to show it. Smile through the pain like his training taught him.
"Jarvis wouldn't mutiny on you. Just on the rest of the Avengers. Just get out there, Stark."
Being told he's going get the shit kicked out of him causes another laugh that ends in another coughing fit. Then those lips are on his and he can't help but smile a bit more. He's not worried about the facial hair.
So when Tony goes back out the window he grabs his bow with the hand that feels like it's gone numb and tries to stay awake. Unfortunately that's harder than he thought and he's going in and out of consciousness by the time Tony gets back. Almost slipping into that darkness.
[ooc: *hugs and squishes your Tony*]
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"Which one of you ladies wants a lift?"
He ends up with both and nearly kills himself and them crash landing into Stark Tower. Jarvis is quick getting off the suit, but not quick enough and Tony's the last to arrive to see Clint rushed into surgery.
"Is he--"
"Too soon to tell, Tony Stark."
Fuck.
((OOC: He's just a tough nut on the outside and full of delicious nougat on the inside. Now I want nougat. Clint's just awesome!!!))
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All he knows is that his body doesn't ache as bad and that damn beeping noise is going to drive him crazy. So whoever they'd allowed in there would hear a slight groan out of the archer.
[ooc: Aww. Thank you! Tony's awesome too!]
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Might as well get that out of the way. Because if he couldn't use his bow... then what good was he?
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In all seriousness, Tony's half dead on his feet. His lips press into a thin line.
"You've got a fracture to your left femur and cracked your ribs. Nearly tore your damned leg off, but they got some glue and reattached it."
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"Everyone else get out okay?" Then... "My bow?"
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Oh. Geek talk.
"Everyone else is fine. Thor ripped his cape. Evidently it's made out of goat fur. Did you know?" He takes a moment to perch on the edge of Clint's bed after glancing around for invisible intruders.
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Geek talk... that he could handle. "Might have to actually make a few of those arrows you were talking about too. In case of emergencies for us lowly humans."
"Huh..." he murmurs with a pained chuckle. "Didn't know that."
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He lightly strokes a hand down Clint's chest. The action is...not like him. He knows that. He doesn't care.
"What do you see?" Pleasantries are over. Clint could have died. It puts things in perspective.
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The feeling of that hand stroking down his chest is... different. "That would require my eyes being open and it's really too bright for me to open them."
[ooc: No, evil brain, you can NOT make the archer blind even if only temporary...]
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This is why he doesn't get involved. People can get hurt. People can die. Clint almost--
"You should sleep then. Actual sleep. Not medically induced sedative sleep."
((OOC: Blindness would be...terrible! And awesome! Temporarily of course.))
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"I'm not sleeping in a damn hospital." That carefully hidden panic is probably showing itself a little.
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In other words, stop being a baby. He's not going anywhere.
Well. Not for the moment. He really does want to go back into that chair in case Natasha comes back... "Clint, Jesus, save my bones for the next time you want to do a death grip."
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"I can't see you."
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