Bruises
You woke up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily (and annoyingly) next to you. You tried to groan but your mouth was so dry that it was barely audible. You peeled your eyes open a fraction and shut them again, automatically trying to block out the blinding white light that engulfed the room. You took a deep breath through your nose, noticing something plastic at the edge of your nostrils. Okay, one more time. You opened your eyes again, this time squinting to adjust to the light. You peered around the room. You were in what looked like a hospital bed. The room was gleaming with white tiles, white bed clothes, and white bedside lockers, but something stood out. The door had creaked open to reveal a woman walking in, dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, contrasting against the fiery red of her hair and the sterile room.
“Nat,” you mouthed, barely making a sound, and Natasha gave you a small smile.
“Hey sleepy head,” she said jokingly but you could see a hint of concern in her eyes. You tried to return a smile, but your dry, cracked lips wouldn’t co-operate. You noticed she had a glass of water in her hand and she strode towards you, placing it on the bedside locker and helping you sit up. You crinkled your eyes in affection and she lifted the glass to your lips. When the cool liquid slid down your throat, you thought you had gone to heaven and back, moisture finally returning to your mouth. Swallowing, you tried your hand at speech.
“What…what happened?” you murmured. Turns out talking hurt your head.
“People are saying it was some sort of earthquake, well that’s what the press is saying,” she said, looking like she was trying too hard to seem nonchalant and honest. You knew her poker face.
“And what are we saying?” you said, slightly louder, coughing. “We” meaning S.H.I.E.L.D. of course. Natasha sighed, dropping the act.
“An attack, well, a bombing to be precise, possibly from HYDRA,” she said, glancing around to make sure we weren’t bugged. You processed this information but only one question stood out in your mind.
“And…B-Bruce?” you whispered, staring intently into her emerald eyes, hoping to find some sort of information, just in case she assumed her poker face again. She hesitated slightly.
“He’s…recovering,” she said, breaking your gaze. You glared at her and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to see him?”
You couldn’t get out of the bed fast enough, pulling out the cannula attached to your nose, being able to breathe just fine and started unclipping things attached to your fingers and yanking an IV out of your forearm. You winced; it always looked so easy on television. You licked your thumb, pressing it against the bleeding incision that once held the thin needle. You clambered out of the bed only to stumble and fall back, looking down at your right knee, which was wrapped tightly in a bandage. You sighed, looking up at Natasha. She smirked and walked out the door, returning briefly with a wheelchair. Great, as if you didn’t feel helpless enough. You limped to the chair and she rolled it towards you. You dropped into the chair with a thud, groaning as every part of your body ached with pain.
“He mumbles your name every so often, but hasn’t woken up yet,” she said, you could hear the fondness in her voice. You gave a tiny smile. Natasha wheeled you out of the room, checking up and down the halls to see if a doctor was approaching. Your heartbeat picked up speed and sweat began to form on your brow as you saw her steering you towards a ward that said “Intensive Care”. We passed rows and rows of windowless doors, each with a number nailed to the outside, with a name on a piece of paper slipped into a metal grate underneath it. Your felt your breathing grow shallower and the lights seemed to dim, hearing your heart pounding loudly in your ears. We finally reached a door with the name “Banner, Bruce” printed in the grate and you took a deep breath. Natasha leaned forward and opened the door. Your breath hitched.
“Bruce…” you whispered softly. He lay in a room similar to yours, except this one had a lot more machines hooked up to him. Tears prickled in the inside of your eyes, but this time, you didn’t hold them back. They rolled, one by one, down your cheeks and soon your whole face was damp and you had to wipe them away. Natasha continued to push you in the wheelchair, right next to the bed.
“I’ll be outside, call if you need anything,” she said quietly, stepping away from the chair and shutting the door. You didn’t even look up, you just stared at Bruce. He looked so much worse than you felt, and you felt pretty terrible. His left arm was painted with blue, black, and purple bruises, with a bandage wrapped around his wrist. He had some dark bruises and cuts along his face and neck too. You leaned in, wiping the tears from your eyes and squinted at his forehead. There were a few stitches along his hairline but it didn’t look major. You grasped the wheels as firmly as you could, slowly inching the chair as close to the bed as possible.
You reached forward and stretched a small, pale and emaciated hand towards his right one, slipping your fingers into his. You sighed with relief; they were still as warm as ever. Even on the brink of death, not much had changed. You stared at him for quite a while, watching his eyes shifting back and forth underneath his eyelids. You rested your head on his hand and a wave of exhaustion washed over you. Before you even knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.
~
You woke to the sound of a door shutting and the rustling of loud material. You moaned and lifted your head, gripping the hand that you had been laying on. You realised the noise had been coming from the hospital bed sheets. You slowly raised your eyes, terrified what you might see. Your gaze met his beautiful, chocolate brown eyes and you felt a tear or two creep out from your eyes. Bruce gave you a goofy yet weary smile, looking battered and bruised but still as adorable as ever.
“Hey there, sleepy,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. You raised a hand to your head, dragging your hair back from your forehead. You looked a wreck but he seemed like he didn’t care.
“Why does everyone keep saying that,” you giggled. “Do I really look that bad?”
“You look beautiful all the time,” Bruce’s eyes widened as if he had stepped on a mine bomb. His cheeks would have blushed if the blood wasn’t already clotting all of his wounds.
“Well…even in your state, you still manage to look as handsome as ever, Bruce,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. He returned the pressure, sending a tingling sensation through your hand. “I was really worried about you.”
“(Y/N)…you know that I can’t…” he began to say, shifting his gaze from yours.
“That’s not the point, you almost did. I… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
His eyes flickered back to you but you were staring at the ground, blinking back the tears. This is ridiculous, you’re getting weak.
“I know the feeling,” he said sincerely, tugging your hand. You looked up, meeting his kind eyes. He stroked your hand in small circles absentmindedly with his thumb. “But, we’re both…relatively okay, safe and sound, so let’s put that worry behind us, for the moment at least.”
You smiled weakly and glanced back when you heard the door creak open. Tony Stark stuck his head in the door, sunglasses slightly askew on his face.
“Interrupting anything?” he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. Bruce chuckled and shook his head. Tony slunk into the room, followed by Steve Rogers and Clint Barton.
“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?” Clint said, ruffling your hair gently. You replied with a weary smile and blinked slowly. You were so tired that even blinking took effort. Steve patted your shoulder and you winced. “Take it easy, Cap, she’s got more bruises than normal coloured skin at this point!”
Steve gasped slightly when he noticed the pain in your eyes and quickly withdrew his hand.
“I’m so sorry (Y/N), I completely forgot!” Steve gushed, his face losing colour. You giggled and shook your head.
“Don’t worry about it Steve, it’s practically impossible to touch me without hitting something sore at this point, you never stood a chance,” you reassured him with a smile and he sighed. You felt Bruce’s fingers start to slip from yours and you looked back at him. His face wore a look of concern and he was looking at your hand as if he was going to break it.
“No Brucey, not you, I think my hands okay,” you whispered to him with a wink and his grip tightened on yours again. He smiled tiredly at you and he closed his eyes for a few moments.
“Gosh (Y/N), you’re taking up my Science Bro time and now he’s falling asleep,” Tony teased. He stood on the other side of Bruce’s bed and lightly flicked his cheek. “C’mon buddy!”
“Tony,” Steve warned with a disapproving look. Tony rolled his eyes and folded his arms.
“It’s getting late; you want me to wheel you back to your room?” Clint offered.
“Anyway I can stay here?” you asked hopefully, knowing what the answer would most likely be.
“Sorry bud, Nat said she snuck you out, you’re not even supposed to be here,” he said ruefully. You sighed, slightly crestfallen and gave Bruce’s hand a quick squeeze before twisting your chair around. Clint grasped the handles and started to push you out the door. You raised a shaky hand to wave goodbye to Tony and Steve, who both returned the salute with a head nod.
You threw your head back and stared up at Clint. He glanced down at you and gave a small smirk. He schooled his features into a mask of seriousness suddenly though and frowned.
“How are you really doing?” he pressed, poking you softly in the forehead with his finger. You and Clint had been through a lot together, he was like a brother to you (as cliché as that might sound).
“You know me a little too well, Legolas,” you said with a devilish grin. “I’ve got a great view up your nose from here, by the way.”
“Hey now, I’m trying to be serious!” he exclaimed with a small laugh.
“Fine. You know it only just happened right? I’m still kind of processing. I thought I was going to lose him,” your voice dropped to a whisper, only loud enough for Clint to hear. He started to open his mouth to say something but you cut across him. “I know, everyone knows, no matter how many times people, including him, have tried, he seems pretty indestructible because of the Other Guy. But Clint, he didn’t show up this time, it was just Bruce, and Bruce is as mortal as you and I.”
“We don’t exactly know that, this is as close as he’s gotten I’d say, but he’s recovering, and so are you, don’t get hung up on it okay?” he said with another hair tussle. You nodded and straightened up so that you faced forward. It didn’t take as much time to get back to your room as you thought and soon you were being lifted gently into your bed by Clint, just as a doctor strolled in.
“Did you get up?” the doctor said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Uh, she needed to go the bathroom, would you mind fixing her IV and stuff?” Clint said quickly, attempting to take the attention off of the fact that you had left the room.
“She could have used a bedpan,” the doctor said, shaking her head as you wiggled under your blankets and sticking out your left arm to allow her to return the drip back into its place.
“I think I’d rather pee on the street,” you said scornfully, rolling your eyes. “Bedpans are like the sterile and more obvious version of urinating in a bottle.”
Clint choked back a laugh and covered it with a cough, using his hand to cover his smile.
“Anyways, you don’t have to worry about that, you’ll be released in the morning, provided there’s someone responsible here to pick you up,” she said, shooting a death glare at Clint.
“That would be me!” Clint grinned, puffing out his chest.
“That would be Natasha actually, she’s down as my emergency contact,” you smirked as he deflated.
“Not Bruce?” he said with a wink and a raised eyebrow.
“Well what use would that be if he’s in here too?” you replied and Clint nodded, realising you were right. You turned to face the doctor as she was about to leave.
“Um, would it be possible to know when another patient, Bruce Banner, could be realised?” you asked hopefully.
“Sorry, I can disclose that information to family members and partners,” she said coldly. You obviously had gotten on her bad side but you couldn’t really care less at this point.
“She’s his girlfriend,” Clint piped up with a grin. You shot a glare at him as you blushed furiously.
“Well, he’s not my patient, but I will check and let you know in the morning. Visiting hours are closed now, so I suggest you leave soon,” the doctor said with a deadpanned expression before turning on her heal and marching out the door.
“Well, catch you later kiddo,” Clint said, leaning down to give you a gently hug, attempting to avoid your bruises.
“See ya, Katniss,” you smiled affectionately before closing your eyes, not realising how tired you were. You barely noticed Clint sneak out of your room and shut the door quietly before you drifted off into a deep sleep.