Clint x Natasha FanFic's

Stay With Me by TashaBlackWidow

There was Steve's voice...Tony's...and then...

"Natasha..."

It wasn't his voice, she tried to tell hismelf as she sat on the ground. His voice was full of teasing, pride and unsaid inappropriate comments. His voice wasn't a harsh, coughing gag that struggled out her name.

"Romanoff's fine," she heard Steve tell him.

"No, she's hurt--"

"Barton, stop moving!" Steve snapped forcefully.

That confirmed it. The first gunshot hadn't been a retaliation from Clint. The repulsor rays that followed had killed the remaining captives, all of them, but she had been thrown to the ground for a reason. A bullet meant for her. It was supposed to hit her. But it hadn't. It had embedded itself in someone else, someone who didn't deserve it.

She turned her head over her shoulder somewhat, her leg useless unless she was going to drag herself along the ground, but it did nothing to prevent her seeing what had happened. Lying on the ground, squirming in pain, was Clint. Blood had already pooled around him even though Steve was knelt beside him trying to staunch the sickening flow with Clint's jacket. Tony was gone, clearly to make the emergency call team. She'd been pushed to the ground by Clint. Clint had taken her out of the bullet's path, placing himself directly in it. He had saved her life. Sacrificed himself. For her.

Damnit, Barton.

She wasn't sure if she had said it out loud or not, as the shock started to set in. She'd seen him in far too many situations, far too many injuries patched up in seedy hotel bathrooms, but he'd never stepped in the way of a bullet for her.

"Tasha..." he choked out, his voice already strained from pain.

"Clint, stay still!" Steve told him.

"Where is she?"

"She's right here...right, Natasha?"

Steve was looking at her now, but she was frozen in place, staring at her partner. This was her fault. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have a bullet in him. She couldn't see the wound clearly enough to figure out if it was deep, if it was life threatening, but she could see that it was in his chest all the multitude of damage that could be caused was choking her like his blood was choking him. It was more likely than not that the bullet had his something vital, and there was a high chance that the emergency response team wouldn't get there in time. What if he--?

"Natasha!" Steve called again to get her attention.

One of Clint's arms raised, grabbing hold of Steve's suit. "Cap..." he struggled, worryingly weak but still enough to use the designated team nickname for him.

"Don't talk, just stay still--"

"She's hurt," he coughed out. "She's hurt, she told me she was hurt--"

"She's fine," Steve assured him again.

"Where is she?" Clint asked.

"Right here," Steve assured.

Clint turned his head from side to side, looking around desperately for his own confirmation that Natasha wasn't hurt like he was, and his entire body seemed to settle when he saw her merely six feet away from him. He watched her with pained eyes, face screwed up against the agony he felt. She found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him, but at the same time she couldn't get up and move tohis side. She knew that he wanted her there, where Steve was, because he had released his hold on Steve's arm and extended it over to her, letting his hand fall onto the concrete ground when she didn't move. His eyes didn't leave hers. "Tasha...."