Avengers Sick-fics

The Nest - Clint/Avengers

For: robin_hoody
Set: soon after Avengers (2012) and all the Avengers are back at the Tower

Hi! I'm back! Sort of.

I'm a bit overwhelmed at the moment because of schoolwork but I haven't forgotten anyone - please don't pester me about your fic or I will make it less of a priority regardless of how much I like the request.

Enjoy this one ;)

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It was a hard training set. Steve was pushing them and Clint was working hard. That's why he was sweating and exhausted, and maybe just a little nauseated.

An hour later, Clint had to admit something was possibly wrong. The nausea wouldn't retreat, no matter how much water he sipped and he was very cold, despite being unable to stop sweating since training had finished. Actually, if he was honest, Clint had been cold and sweaty before he'd even started, but he had chalked it all up to being tired.

Despite his super-spy training, Clint didn't enjoy early mornings. He could manage them just fine, but it often took 10 or 20 minutes to fully wake himself up. His sense of humour slept for longer than the rest of him, it seemed. Despite the aura he gave off, Clint was always aware of his surroundings, just better at hiding how alert he was and a little more inclined to complain when he felt safe.

But back to the issue at hand, Clint was not feeling great and he really didn't want to have caught a cold. He was young, healthy and fit, so it wasn't as though he got sick often.

When he did though... it wasn't great.

With this in mind, Clint decided it was time to retreat to his 'nest,' recently christened by Tony Stark himself. He bundled up with blankets, boxes of various lozenges, pain killers, a box of tissues and a bin to carry it all in (and just in case because this nausea would not let up!). At the last minute, he also grabbed a bottle of water.

Using a combination of Jarvis and his own skills, Clint made it to the second, larger but unused gym and quickly brought everything up to the nest.

In reality, it was really more of a small loft, fitted with all sorts of trinkets he'd fashioned and a couple of shelves. Despite his outward appearance, Clint was actually exceptionally smart (honestly, you couldn't become a spy if you didn't have a brain) and would sit for hours, focus almost entirely on whatever new craft had caught his eye. Often, it was nothing more than arrow or bow designs (Lila deserved the perfect bow) but as he lurched up to the loft, Clint had no mind for his usual diversions as he was out of breath and much sweatier than was warranted for the 5m climb.

He was making his way down, mind on Natasha, who would probably appreciate knowing where he'd gone before he disappeared for a few days when the nausea became more. Saliva filled his mouth and an unpleasant tickle hit his throat.

He was going to vomit.

Clint darted into the nearest bathroom before allowing his body to relax. Immediately, he was tensing and foul-smelling liquid was pouring into the toilet. Well, this would be fun.

Clint grimaced as he stood and made to return to his hideout. He was feeling incredibly lightheaded and wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere warm.

Jarvis could tell Nat, he reasoned. It was an incredibly helpful robot. It? He? Clint had bigger things to worry about than a sentient and disembodied robot's gender.

Like Tony and Thor making their way towards him. Swearing inwardly, Clint steeled himself and forced himself to push off the wall which had been so conveniently been placed for him to lean on during his journey to the disused gym.