Hiding in a Safehouse while it Rains with Clint Barton || Marvel Ambience

-Story- (Written by me! Definitely one of my favorites so far! Check me out on Wattpad for more stories like this one: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Kaila_Fa...) Rain patters heavily against the windows of the safehouse you and your Partner, Clint Barton, had managed to reach after the fallout of whatever the hell happened at the airport in Berlin. It honestly had frightened you - seeing the Team split apart so easily and seeing just how dangerous Tony can be when he’s beyond angry. In fact, it had been his damned Iron Man repulsors that had nicked your right shoulder, leaving a decently sized wound there, your flesh still stinging from the heat of the blast. But, you’d somehow managed to make it where you are now - a former Avengers safehouse designed to suit two people comfortably. However, after a slight mishap that occurred when the two of you were attempting to disable any Stark Tech that could have been traced back to your current whereabouts, the second half of the building had been compromised - a tree crashing straight through the roof and allowing the cold wind and rain to swoop in. As Clint had finished up ensuring no one had followed the pair of you as well as scrounging around the kitchen for some sort of sustenance, you had kept yourself awake and slightly warm by attempting to bandage the rather evident gouge in your shoulder. “How’s your wounds?” A familiar voice asks as your Partner strolls into the room, shedding his jacket, bow, and quiver at the door before nearing you. “They’re fine,” You nod, voice breaking slightly, unable to mask the pain you’re in. You watch through a partly blurred gaze as the newcomer takes a seat on the edge of the double bed that is present in the part of the safehouse that hadn’t been previously water-logged. But your Partner doesn’t seem too satisfied with your answer, a frown of almost annoyance falling upon his features. “Aw, shit.” He grumbles, gesturing to your shoulder. “What?” “Did you clean it?” The question makes you frown, a look of disbelief tracing your own features. “Yeah, of course, I-” “You did it all wrong. Let me fix it.” Comes the interruption. And before you can even speak up to tell him otherwise, Clint is at your side, fingers beginning to work at the numerous layers of surgical tape you’d used to secure the bandage to your damp skin. “You’re taking it off? Really, Clint?” You force through gritted teeth, pain rippling through you. “Yeah, it’s on wrong,” He states matter-of-factly, passing you a look. “I’m just gonna take it off like a Band-Aid, okay? Ready, one, oh.” Yelping in protest at his aggressive motions, you throw a punch against his leg, once more earning a disapproving look, though he just carries on, talking aloud as he does so. “Alright, so we’ll clean it up…” And as you sit there, grimacing and occasionally swatting his leg again, you find yourself becoming thankful for his tone walking you through his process, almost as if he’s trying to keep your mind off of the pain the First Aid process is subjecting you to. “You don’t want this infected, it’ll ruin your week,” Clint jokes softly, drawing a soft chuckle from you. “That’s actually not so bad.” “Oh, that’s great,” You groan, wincing as the sting of the disinfectant meets your skin, along with the pressure of your Partner’s movements. “You want these,” Clint explains, holding up a roll of smaller, more sturdier looking bandages. “Perpendicular to it; you wanna close it.” “That’s what I did already, idiot! Ow!” You yelp for what seems to be the hundredth time, this time targeting the bedsheets beside Clint’s leg you’d been taking your pain out on. “This is helping it cinch, so it can mend to each other faster.” He continues, finally removing his touch from your shoulder and leaning back a tad to admire his handiwork. “Look at that, I just got a free First Aid lesson to finish off today,” You chuckle with a breathy chuckle and a shake of your head before carefully laying down back against the mattress beneath you, now tired gaze wandering the ceiling, ears finally picking up on the soft radio chatter that had been playing. And with a heavy sigh that almost matches your own thoughts, your Partner settles down beside you, hands folding absentmindedly across his chest. “You good?” He murmurs aloud, head turning to face you as you do the same, meeting his gaze. “Yeah…” You breathe. “I’ll be fine.” And with a genuine yet sleepy grin that carries an expression of ‘I know you will be,’ in his gaze, your voice can’t help but get caught in your throat as you whisper a soft “thank you,” your attention falling back upon the ceiling and focusing on all the soothing noises around you, including the soft music that whatever radio station Clint had managed to find earlier, finally beginning to play. And soon enough, you find yourself drifting away through a light sleep knowing that the man lying beside you always has your back, no matter what might come your way. -Info- ↓↓↓↓↓↓