occasionally-gives-a-damnā:
āThank youā¦ for coming for me.ā
Jessica watched as Clint gingerly made an effort to steady himself. The weight behind his every movement spoke of what had happened before heād been found. Something grave settled into Jessicaās expression as she categorised the severity of it all. He was such a mess it felt hard to know where to start. As little as the concept of babysitting appealed, the conclusion that Clint was in no state to manage entirely alone in the immediate aftermath was beginning to dawn on Jessica.
āIāve got it from here.ā
The hoarse attempt at saving face was enough to pull Jessica back to the present. In her haze, Clint had only managed a measly step ahead. Jessica was swift to close the distance again, this time shifting to block his path.
I see through your bullshit, Barton.
Jessica was no stranger to being in the uncomfortable position that Clint found himself in; home invasion via means of unwanted help. The number that sheād extend the courtesy to was remarkably small. Hopefully he knew that. Heād helped her in ways that felt impossible to repay. It was difficult not to feel at least a little indebted to him. An unwavering stare fought to hold Clintās attention from the uncomfortable proximity she had created.
āIāll go when youāre strong enough to push me out the damn door. You look like you couldnāt make it to the bathroom if you needed a piss.ā
It was a firm reminder. Part of Clint had to know that being alone and vulnerable at his home with Parker out on the prowl was asking for trouble. Heād been lucky to get out alive this time. If they got hold of him again, the outcome would likely be even worse.
They didnāt need to make it anything more than a practical arrangement. Jessica didnāt want it to be anything more than that. She had her own shit to be doing. Besides, Bartonās company had a way of grating after a while. Jessica had managed to extend her tolerance threshold to about twenty minutes, but it had taken work. Somehow, the concept of spending time with this near-mute version of Clint didnāt feel like much of an upgrade.
āIāll go when youāre strong enough to push me out the damn door. You look like you couldnāt make it to the bathroom if you needed a piss.ā
Eyes searched her face for a moment while he thought up any way that might get her out of there faster but holding himself together was taking far too much effort. In truth he didnāt want her to bear witness to just how vulnerable he felt. His gaze averted just as swiftly so that she hopefully wouldnāt see the tear that threatened to give him away.
Clint put one foot in front of the other and kept moving toward his bedroom. When he spoke again, his answer was not open for any kind of negotiation. āFine. Do what you want but youāre not coming in here with me.ā As cold as his tone was, he understood what it was she was doing. Had their situation been reversed, he would have done the same.
He managed to get through the threshold without any more assistance and pushed the door closed. There was a point on the way to the bathroom that he considered laying on the floor and calling it good but he could practically sense her on the other side of the door, just waiting to intervene and take over.Ā
Clint took a great deal of time to get out of his boots and stepped into the shower fully clothed, standing under the stream of ice cold water as it struck the cuts and bruises he had accumulated. The swirl of gross water circling the drain made his head spin and forced him to take a place on the floor in the corner where he eventually succumbed to the fatigue.Ā
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