Inell's Fanfiction Archive

There are some universal truths in the world. The sky is blue, grass is supposed to be green, water is wet, and Clint Barton is a terrible patient. Steve hasn’t known the latter until the past few days, but he supposes he should have guessed after the whole cold denial experience several months ago. In the four days since Clint regained consciousness, though, he’s seen just how much truth there is in those rumors he’d heard around base about Clint and medical.

Clint is obstinate, disobedient, and underhanded when he’s injured. They kept him at base for two days to make sure the toxins were out of his system, and he’d been trying to sneak out by the morning of day two. Dr. Cane had just given Steve a long-suffering look when she warned him to keep an eye on the ceiling. He’s pretty sure Clint would have tried leaving that way if he’d been up to his normal strength. Fortunately, they hadn’t kept him any longer, so he’d been released yesterday with strict instructions to take it easy and give his body time to heal.

In the last thirty-six hours, Clint’s been caught hopping around the bedroom, trying to sneak downstairs with an excuse of needing to get food, and even attempting to get his bow and arrows from the range. Steve’s been with him most of the time, trying to be there to take care of him, but he doesn’t want to hover too much for fear Clint will resent it. It’s complicated since all he really wants to do is hold Clint close and not let go, but he does know Clint well enough to know that’s not really the best option right now.

Still, he can’t risk Clint hurting himself or making his injuries worse every time Steve goes to the bathroom, hits the gym, or goes to the kitchen. If JARVIS weren’t also keeping an eye on him, Steve’s sure Clint would have already messed his ribs or ankle up more than they already are. He’s tired, worried, trying not to dwell on the whole mess happening in the world outside the tower, and helpless in how to make any of this better for Clint, so having to wrangle him like he’s a naughty toddler is just making him more frustrated.

“When Dr. Cane said you need to lie down and get rest, she meant it,” Steve says, trying to be as patient as he’s ever been before. Clint is lying on the bed and sulking, because, really, that’s the only word that describes his current behavior. Normally, it would make Steve relent and he’d probably find it adorable. Right now, it’s just a little irritating.

“I can’t believe you ratted me out, JARVIS.” Clint makes a face. “I feel better, so I don’t see any reason why I can’t go to the range.”

“Master Clint, you are supposed to be resting. I merely informed Captain that you were attempting to defy his request that you follow the doctor’s orders,” JARVIS says, sounding as put upon as Steve’s feeling. Of course, compared to Tony’s antics, Clint might not be as bad as he’s used to anyway.

“Your ribs aren’t healed, your ankle isn’t healed, you’re still suffering from the aftereffects of the toxin in your system, and you haven’t regained your full strength yet.” Steve sits on the side of the bed and runs his hand over his face.

“I’m not weak, Steve. I can get through this and get back to the range so I can be ready by the time we get another mission. I won’t fuck it up this way again,” Clint says, worrying his bottom lip as he looks at Steve.

“No one has said you’re weak. Anyone with the injuries you’ve received would need to rest and recover, sweetheart. And stop talking about what you’ve fucked up. You haven’t done anything wrong, except for not listening to the doctor.”

“I should have been more alert. I knew something was off about that warehouse, but I listened to Hill instead of trusting my gut. The whole operation felt off, and I didn’t trust myself to know when to ignore orders.”

“As team leader, I should have had you investigate it instead of just assuming the compound was where Collier and the hostages were. I didn’t have enough intel to properly lead the mission, but it isn’t my fault any more than it’s yours,” Steve says, knowing full well that Clint ending up in that situation was his responsibility. He isn’t exactly lying, though he knows it’s definitely his fault and not Clint’s at all. He’d been so focused on the timeline and freeing the hostages that he hadn’t followed his own mission procedure when it came to analyzing the situation.

“I tried to fight them all, but they had the element of surprise and numbers. Has anyone found out what they were or how they knew the general MO to arrange that decoy with the bomb?” Clint tugs on the sheet and frowns. “I keep thinking about it, and I know they planned it. It was definitely a set-up, and I knew that when I was on the roof watching.”

Steve reaches over to put his hand on Clint’s so he’ll stop fidgeting with the sheet. “There’s not a lot of information available, since they all died on the scene. They’re still doing investigations, though, according to Sitwell. You think it was meant as a trap for us specifically or for whoever arrived to get the hostages?”

“I don’t know. I want to review the case file, if we can, and see what pieces are missing. I’ve been trying to put them together since my head stopped being so fuzzy, but there are still things not there.” Clint shrugs a shoulder. “It might have been sneaky planning, but it might have been a more focused attack on us, specifically, so I’d like to make sure we have everything controlled if it’s the latter.”

“Whether Collier was working alone or not,” Steve says, frowning as he strokes his fingers against Clint’s. “Some high-powered people got Fury involved, from what I heard, so you think one of them might have been working with Collier?”

“Maybe. He had a pretty large army, you know? For some guy who turned out to not be human, that is. Maybe I’m just bored from being stuck in bed so I’m imagining conspiracies where they aren’t.” Clint looks up at him. “I wouldn’t be risking insanity if I could get up and go to the range.”

“No range access until Dr. Cane approves it.” Steve leans down to kiss Clint’s nose. “If you keep getting up, you’re never going to get better, and we’ll never be able to go back to dance class or have another date that doesn’t happen here.”

Clint groans. “You’re playing dirty, Captain. I hate being restricted, and I don’t like being forced to remain in one place unless it’s a mission or by choice.”

“Then choose to follow the doctor’s orders so you’ll get better.” Steve arches a brow. “You’ve got a pile of mystery novels to read, a remote control for the television and DVD player, and I’ll get you anything else you want or need.”

“What if I need to get up and move?” Clint smiles sweetly. “Or you could suck my dick. I always feel relaxed after I come down your throat.”

“Not while you’re healing.” Steve is so tempted, though, because he’s missed connecting with Clint physically, but he also knows the risks when Clint’s got broken ribs and is still sore from everything. This time, he’s going to have to be the one who resolves to take things slow. “If you need to go anywhere, just ask me and I’ll carry you. You don’t want to risk that sprain becoming worse.”

“Then you can sit down and jerk off for me. I can watch and touch myself while you’re coming for me.” Clint leers at him. “It’s been over a week since I’ve been able to see you naked, babe. Give me a show?”

Steve arches a brow. “Will you start following Dr. Cane’s instructions and stop being a rebellious pain in the ass that won’t stay in bed?”

Clint leans his head against his pillows and sticks his tongue out. “You know I don’t want to lie to you, so I can’t say yes to that. Besides, you know that rebellious pain in the ass is my default setting.”

“And I like that setting, but not when I’m trying to take care of you and you’re making it difficult to keep my patience,” Steve says. When Clint’s expression shifts into something worried and vulnerable, he leans down to kiss him. “It’s worth it, though, because you’re here and you’re mine. Don’t ever doubt that, understood? Even if I end up snapping at you again because I find you collapsed on the floor trying to reach the range.”

“You’re just lucky that you’re sexy when you get pissed off and call me a stubborn ass,” Clint mutters, tilting his head so he can kiss Steve. When they pull apart, Clint stifles a yawn, and Steve can tell he’s used up his latest burst of energy with the sneaking out and defiant attitude.

“I’ll make a deal with you, sweetheart. I’m going to go downstairs to get us some food. After you eat, I’ll give you a show while you get some rest.”

“Would rather have the show now, babe. Not that hungry.” Clint makes a face.

Steve kisses his forehead. “I know you’re not, but you still need to eat. I’ll just get some soup, okay? Something light and easier on your stomach.”

“I just don’t…” Clint closes his eyes and Steve can see the dark purple shadows under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion in his face.

Sleeping hasn’t been easy since the mission, not even sleeping wrapped up together, and he hates that he can’t fix the nightmares or the stomach issues that are a lingering side-effect of the toxin or the weakened immune system that Dr. Cane thinks might last several more weeks. All he can do is try to be there and support him during the recovery. “I won’t get much,” he promises. “Is it a deal?”

“A deal with a devil is what it is. You might have everyone fooled with that innocent face but I know you’re wicked,” Clint says. “Promising me naked shows in exchange for eating lunch isn’t something an all-American hero does.”

“No one else gets to see the wicked,” Steve points out, which makes Clint smile. “Now be good and turn on the television. I’ll be right back.”

“Fine. But we’re watching Top Shot if there’s another marathon playing.”

“You can choose whatever you want, okay? Just don’t get too exasperated from yelling at the T.V. if there’s a marathon going.”

“That’s only been a few times. And they were just being stupid. I could have made those shots with my eyes closed, but, no, Fury won’t let me even try to get on the show.”

“You don’t need a reality program to tell you that you’re the best marksman in the world.” Steve kisses him lightly before getting up. He grabs Buddy off the top of the dresser and tosses him to Clint. “Buddy’s going to keep you company while I’m gone. Don’t get out of bed.”

“I already said I won’t. Now hurry up. I want to get lunch done so I can watch you get off after.” Clint waves a hand towards the door before reaching for the remote control. Buddy’s tucked up against his chest, which makes Steve feel better for some reason.

He leaves Clint’s suite and goes downstairs to the kitchen. Bruce is sitting at the table drinking tea and reading a newspaper. “Any interesting news?” he asks, nodding towards the paper before going to the pantry.

“Not particularly. What’s that saying, no news is good news?” Bruce closes the paper and looks at him. “How’s he doing?”

“Going stir crazy already. Driving me crazy with the sneaking and inability to stay in place.” Steve shrugs. “He’s feeling better, I think, but not as good as he’s trying to pretend.”

“It’s going to take him a couple of weeks to feel better, I’d suspect. The toxin didn’t do any permanent damage, but it’s causing some lingering side-effects that aren’t pleasant.” Bruce rubs the bridge of his nose. “You look tired, too, Steve.”

“It’s been a long eight days,” he says. He’d rather make homemade soup, but a can’s going to have to do it right now. He uses the can opener to take off the lid before dumping it into a pan. “I’m just glad to be out of the hospital and back home.”

Bruce nods. “That’s understandable. Hospitals are never comfortable. Have you both had the opportunity to discuss your plans yet regarding the interest in your personal lives? I had hoped that the plan Tony and Thor came up with might work, if only because no one else had any viable suggestions at the time, but the diversion isn’t completely working.”

“It’s no one’s business, you know? I don’t understand why people feel they have a right to demand answers or hold us to some personal standard they have. I never signed on to be a symbol that remains chaste and untouched just to satisfy the public,” Steve says. “I want to help people and save them from wishing them harm. My loving Clint doesn’t affect my ability to do that.”

“I know. It’s one of the drawbacks to being in the public eye,” Bruce says. “You shouldn’t have to justify yourself or respond to their demands for information, and you don’t have to. Whatever choice you make, it needs to be based on what you really want. We support you both regardless.”

Steve nods. “We appreciate that support, and I know we’ll have to figure out what we want, but my priority is getting Clint back on his feet. The public can wait until we’re ready to deal with them.”

“If you need anything, just ask.” Bruce stands up and starts to make another pot of tea. “I’m going to make Clint some chamomile tea. It’s good for tummy aches, better than peppermint in my opinion, so it might be a good accompaniment for the soup.”

“Thanks, Bruce. For everything.” Steve finishes the soup and pours it into two bowls before grabbing a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet. Bruce has a tray already waiting for him with a cup of tea and bottle of water on it. After he adds the bowls of soup, he gets the tray and heads back upstairs.

Clint’s got the television playing, and Steve glances at the screen curiously. It’s Chopped, which is one of the shows that makes him yell at the television. Clint smiles at him, the smile sleepy yet happy. “Buddy wanted to watch Food Network. It’s this or some disaster show on History. I chose the non-disaster.”

“You just like hearing me yell at the contestants to hurry up when the time runs out.” Steve sits down and puts the tray on the bed between them. “Bruce made you some tea. He thinks it should help your stomach.”

“It probably will then.” Clint moves Buddy to the floor. “We don’t need him seeing the show later. It might be awkward for him.”

“It’s just soup from a can.” Steve feels a need to apologize because he knows how much Clint likes his homemade soups. Looking at the screen, he sees that they’re working with a brain of some kind. Maybe he should suggest changing the channel so it doesn’t make Clint feel even worse about eating. Fortunately, it seems like the show’s nearly over, so maybe something else will be on next that isn’t so gross for people with upset stomachs.

“I’m glad. Nothing really tastes that good right now, so I’d rather not end up disliking one of your dishes,” Clint says. He takes one of the bowls and begins to sip the soup. They eat quietly, watching as a chef is eliminated and they move to a dessert round that has to include the most random ingredients ever.

“Maybe we should watch a movie instead.” Steve gets a nod of approval from Clint before he says, “JARVIS, can you please play whatever’s next in our movie queue?”

“Yes, Captain. It is Master Clint’s choice of ‘Bringing Up Baby’, and he asked me to tell you that it’s perfectly acceptable to have a crush on Cary Grant,” JARVIS says.

“I did tell him to say that,” Clint says. “Did you ever see this one?”

Steve nods. “Bucky liked Hepburn and I liked Grant. We saved up to see it after it came out,” he remembers. “I don’t remember that much about it, but it’s funny and silly. I think you’ll like it.”

Clint smiles and settles back against the pillows with his bowl while the movie starts. Steve relaxes with his own soup. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started to eat. It’s not bad, especially for something out of a tin, and he soon finishes his bowl. After glancing at Clint, he sees that he’s just holding the bowl and not eating.

“Finished?” he asks, reaching out to take the bowl from Clint. He didn’t eat much, but at least some of the soup’s gone.

“Not feeling so great,” Clint admits, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I hate this. I want to eat but it makes me feel so awful that I don’t try. God, I think I’m gonna be sick, babe.” He starts to scramble off the bed, so Steve moves swiftly and helps him to the bathroom.

Every noise that Clint makes as he vomits is a reminder that Steve shouldn’t push him to eat because it just makes him feel worse. He knows that eating is necessary, but he feels guilty for nagging Clint about it because this can’t possibly be good for him. He needs to ask Bruce what to do, if he should be encouraging eating if it’s just going to make Clint throw up and get sore from doing so.

While Clint’s leaning over the toilet, Steve gets a washcloth and soaks it in water. He kneels on the floor beside Clint, stroking his back soothingly as he finishes. When he’s done, Steve wipes his face and flushes the toilet. “Feel better?”

“No,” Clint whispers, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder. “Hate you seeing me like this. Love you for being here, though.”

“I’m not going anywhere, so you need to get over the hating.” Steve brushes a kiss against the top of his head before settling back onto the floor. Once he’s sitting, he pulls Clint onto his lap and wraps his arms around him, just holding him as he shivers and gets through this bout of sickness. Steve hates feeling so helpless and not being able to fix Clint so he doesn’t have to go through this. All he can do is hold him and let him know he’s not alone. “Love you, sweetheart.”