Work Text:
The first time Clint slept over in Natasha's bed, he ended up with three cuts, ten bruises in various odd locations, and a bump on his head from the book that she woke him with trying to throw it at the alarm clock.
"You could at least warn a guy," he griped as she none too gently bandaged up the worst cut on his head. She'd genuinely seemed more concerned about the blood on her sheets than the fact that it was coming from an injury he'd gotten from the knife under her pillow.
Natasha gave him that sharp look that said he ought to know better. "You big baby. This is nothing."
For all that it was nothing, she swore the most creative blue streak in no fewer than twenty languages when she slept over in his bed two nights later and ended up with an arrowhead nick on her throat, several bruises from falling off the bed, and an only mildly repentant Clint on her hands after she threw a book at his head (again) and hadn't been expecting flashing lights to go with his alarm clock.
"I don't sleep with the hearing aids in," he reminded her as he checked her throat much more gently than she'd checked his head. "My apartment's fine for if I can't hear."
"You could at least warn a girl," she deadpanned.
He stared at her. She cracked a small half-smile.
"I'll make us breakfast."
It was anything but perfect, but it was nice anyway.
The next time they shared a bed, they made it out without any unintentional injuries and called it even. As for the intentional ones, well...
"That's not even an injury, Tash."
Natasha craned her neck to get a better look in the mirror and looked miffed. "I can see the imprint of your teeth."