Clint had been completely unprepared for the violent reaction that followed his joke. He had just been relaxing further into the pillow when Natasha suddenly slammed her head back into the wall. Sitting up with a start, he stared wide eyes when she crawled across him as if to escape, almost like her life depended on it. The dismount looked painful and he visibly winced.

“Jesus, Tasha, are you alright?” he asked, confused and shocked and concerned. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed to the floor, he was just reaching for her when it registered that she had answered before he had even asked the question. She had said yes first, before he had asked if she was okay. She had... she had answered the questions he hadn’t even meant to ask.

“No. No, no, I wasn’t really asking anything! I didn’t mean... I was just... wait... what?”

She had said yes, yes to both questions, yes she found him sexy and yes she wanted to... oh man. Cringing at the blood he tried to shake his head clear. He hadn’t meant to ask her anything else and now... he kept asking question. “You don’t have to answer,” he jumped in quickly, though he was pretty sure it didn’t work that way. “I mean... shit.”