There's really no good way to be comfortable when his chest is on fire, his back is on fire, his everything is on fire. When Steve gets in the bed, it's clear Clint can't hog the space on his back. Which is fine. His shoulders were begging for a release from the pressure. He scoots to the edge of the bed on his side and rolls to face Steve.

Just seems polite to have a conversation face to face. It's also simply just what his brain wanted him to do, rather than have someone in a vulnerable blind spot. He can argue with that part of his brain later. He keeps his arms lightly crossed over his chest to keep the packs there.

"No," Clint agrees, "that was both of us trying to exorcise some demons for a bit."