Sta.sh
He holds his body over hers, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted against the pain as the ceiling breaks apart above them. He can't see it but he can picture her wide-eyed stare, anger simmering beneath the fear, as she bites her lip to keep from giving them away. He thinks she's handling this admirably well and he regrets not being able to say so right away; regrets her being in this situation at all.
There's a crunching noise from above, barely distinguishable from the other sounds of destruction assaulting them, and a chunk of ceiling crashes against him, forcing him to drop to his elbow. Pain shoots along his bruised back and grasps his ribs and he hisses through his teeth, eyes open and looking into hers. He doesn't expect the determined set to her mouth or for her to slide out from under him, grab his hand and pull him to his feet. He tries to protest but she doesn't let him.
"They're not here," she says and he suspects she's just decided on this but she's right too. The building is falling down around them: they wouldn't have stayed.
He glances around, free hand curled against his broken ribs; fire gleams across the room and the ceiling looks ready to give. There are shouts from the street and Sam closes her fingers tight around his. He thinks it might be from renewed fear but one look at her tells him otherwise. She pulls him along, navigating the debris with only the slightest hesitation, until they're miraculously outside in the biting cold and greeted by cheers and flashing lights. Paramedics swoop down on them and he doesn't see her again until they're at the hospital.
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*whirled away in a tornado of spies, cops, and near-death experiences*