One thing Natasha couldn’t stand was that look of sympathy. But from him, she’d let it slide. Reaching back, she adjusted the pillows behind her so she could sit up comfortably and sighed as she sank back a bit. “I mean, I know I probably don’t look all that great considering. But you look like shit. Did you stay out there all night?” She already knew the answer to that question. It was comforting to know that he’d been with her throughout the night, even if he wasn’t by her side. But she didn’t want him to forget to take care of himself.
“I think I scared the shit out of the nurse. She tried to help me and I refused to do anything until I saw you. That’s why she ran out like that.” She laughed softly and reached up to run her fingers through her hair in attempt to tame her wild bedhead. “I can’t believe you’re seeing me like this.”
He shrugged, running his hands through his messy hair. “They wouldn’t let me inside. And…considering…you actually look fine.” he said earnestly. “Better than you did, at least.” He wasn’t sure what to do, he wanted to take care of her, but at the same time, he felt more than certain she might really hate if he tried. He sat back in the chair, arms crossed, not able to look away from her. He chuckled quietly and shook his head. “Yes, I’m shocked and appalled to learn you aren’t actually bulletproof.” He smiled for a moment before it seemed to slip off his face. If she had died in that hallway, he didn’t know what would have happened from there and if he would have been able to control himself. He doubted it.
“How are you feeling?” She certainly seemed to recover quickly. But it wasn’t comforting to see her like this, he hated it. He didn’t want to admit it, but her strength was something he’d come to rely on, as a constant and a comfort. “Anything I can do for you, just name it, okay?”