#widowbites

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Everything was swaying. There was something so distinctly off about the situation that didn't even click when he felt his skin peel achingly away from the warmed porcelain. Waking up in a bathtub on the roof on Stark tower, sprawled on top of the building's namesake hadn't been part of the plan.

But neither had the achingly blank gaps in his memory, or the taste of bile at the back of his throat, or the way his eyes stung at the glare of the sun.

Tony shifted underneath him and Clint groaned in response, forcing his strangely sore muscles into action. Every movement caused a roiling of his stomach in response and a dull throb began to pound directly behind his eyes, even as he raised a hand to try and deflect the painful rays of the sun.

The archer didn't even try to talk to Tony, there were no words to cover a situation like this, not while it felt like his head was about to burst or his stomach was going to empty its contents again all over the now ridiculously placed bath tub.

He stalked inside, clutching at his head and moaning softly at the sway of his body as he stepped into the elevator and punched the button for his floor. The only consolation in all of this was that none of the other members of the team were at the tower yet, so hopefully he and Tony could put this incident somewhere dark and secret and never speak of the shame again.