It was a good trade off; Clint hated paperwork almost as much as he hated the medical checkups. “Deal,” he agreed, and would have shaken on it but she was all curled against him again and seemed like too much work.

Looking down at her booted foot, he was about to sit up and try to deal with it when she instead shifted to stretch her leg up toward him instead, clearly not prepared to let him move very far. Even so, this was still going to take some finagling. “Tell you what. When we get back we’ll go get you some new ones and you can tell whoever gave you these where they can stick them.” He couldn't help but laugh at the whole thing, her seemingly absolute hatred of the footwear and how she was acting. He could feel that familiar twinge in his heart, the one that reminded him that he'd let himself get compromised to the point of no return when it came to her.

Grabbing the boot with his free hand, he wrapped his other arm up around her to try to get at the buckles. “You might have to squish in a bit,” he said, pressing her closer into his side as he worked. It was an awkward position but he still worked as gently as he could, aware of the fact that she was bruised and sore.