Darcy/Clint 3
Today could have gone better. Like, a lot better. Like, it was really starting to rank up there among Darcy’s worst days ever.
But… She’d gotten the entire Accounting department to safety, that had to count for something. Accounting… Count… Darcy let out a giggle that was bordering on hysterical before clapping both hands over her mouth.
Well, one hand. The other one… Was connecting to a shoulder that hurt. Like, really hurt. Like, If she could have just removed her entire arm and left it behind, she probably would have.
She was sitting behind a desk, a heavy nameplate clutched in her hand. She’d used her TASER a long time ago, and even though it seemed like the tower was just bristling with guns, she hadn’t actually been able to find one. So, nameplate it was.
Things seemed to have died down, though. She wasn’t personally being shot at anymore, and the entire building really just seemed a whole lot quieter. That was nice. It hadn’t taken long, all things considered. Seriously- who was stupid enough to attack a tower filled with superheroes and the world’s largest security-whatever-company?
She saw his feet first, and clutched the nameplate a little tighter until she realized that it was Clint walking towards her. He wasn’t all bent-knee slinking around like he was expecting attack, he actually seemed to be looking for her.
He crouched down beside her. “Hey.” Calloused fingertips ran along the line of her jaw as his blue eyes moved over her, assessing. “You got shot?”
Darcy nodded. “Yeah.”
“Doesn’t look too bad.” His gaze fixed on her shoulder. “Let me help you take off your shirt, we’ll have a look.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the most rational response, but it had been a rough day and her brain wasn’t exactly running on rational. They’d had a date, there was promise of more, and she didn’t want his first glimpse of the girls to be associated with bloody shoulder wounds.
“Darcy…” She shook her head again. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” He pulled out a knife from somewhere, holding it easily in one hand. “I’ll help if you can’t move it. But it looks like it’s starting to clot, and if you shirt gets stuck to it…” He shook his head. “That sucks. Just…”
Darcy let out a long sigh, and dropped the nameplate on the floor beside her to let him help her out of her shirt.
Clint was all professional as he gently peeled the the sleeve away from her arm. It caught and pulled and there may have been tears and things, and a thumb brushed the wetness away from her cheek. “We should get out of here after you get that stitched up. Pizza?”
She was smiling as she nodded.