21 Days [A Hawkeye/ Clint Barton fic] [HEAVY EDITING]

Doctor's Disorder

"I need you to work with me, okay?" Natasha sighed as she knelt down in front of him, wincing because of her gunshot wound that was still healing. "Let me get your shirt and jacket off..." She offered a small smile as her friend allowed her to pull off his jacket and shirt and lie them on the toilet lid before turning back to him.

Clint remained huddled in the corner of the shower, still clothed in his dark jeans, belt, and boots. "You're making this a lot harder than it has to be, Barton." She didn't bother shifting his position because the shower head was detachable.

"You don't have to do this, Nat..." The archer was pale, exhausted, and feverish, reminding the Black Widow of the night Clint was kidnapped. Natasha turned on the water and held her hand under the spray to check and adjust the temperature.

"Are you scared?" She started by soaking the back of his head and letting the spray run down his back. Her fingers ran through his hair, just using the water to work out any dried blood. The water became a rust color whenever she found crusted blood on his scalp.

"What are they gonna do to me?" Clint turned his head away from the shower wall so he would look Natasha directly in the eye.

Natasha racked her brain for an answer as she ran more water through Clint's hair and around his shoulders. "We really need to hurry..."

"'Tasha..."

The red head went quiet as she turned the water off and sighed. "You're gonna get an injection and then you're going to surgery. There, I told you, are you happy?" She snapped at him toward the end, looking upset. Of course, why wouldn't she be upset? For about a month, she had assumed he was dead.

"I'm sorry, Nat..."

"Bottle." Natasha stated dryly as she held her palm open for the little bottle of antiseptic soap/ shampoo Clint had been holding for her. Her partner whined and handed it to her. As she reached out and took it, she noticed the surgical scars decorating Clint's arm. She'd never understand the entirety of what they had done to him in the facility. 

"What's sad is that you won't clean yourself up. Honestly, I don't think hygiene is something you think is important." Again, it was a dry statement. He watched as she poured some of the solution into her open palm, rubbed her hands together, then ran her hands through his hair and across the back of his neck. "Your hair's not blonde anymore...it's pretty much brown." Natasha knew exactly why it seemed that way to her; it was from lack of sunlight. She lathered it around on his scalp for a few seconds longer before letting him go again. 

"I'm not surprised. I was kept in a murder facility, forced to stay in the Avengers med bay for a while, and now I'm stuck in a SHIELD hospital with the psycho surgeon." Clint squeezes his eyes shut as Natasha turned the water back on and rinsed the solution out of his hair and off his skin.

"Yeah, and that surgeon is basically making me prep you for this goddamn treatment. You know how hospitals are...'they have to be sterile'..." she mocked as she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you stepped up and said you would do this..."

"Barton, the nurses would've stripped you naked for this. Feel lucky that I let you keep your pants on."

21 Days

Once Clint was back in his SHIELD standard scrub shirt and sweatpants, Natasha helped him get back into bed. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but the doctor had instructed the red head to keep him upright until they came back in with the treatment. 

When Ashlocke, Simmons, and the nurses came back into the room, they were dressed in protective blue gowns, latex gloves on, masks over their mouth and nose, and caps hiding their hair. Their appearance sent the archer into a panic attack because he immediately jumped out of bed and pinned himself in the far corner of the room.