Chapter 5
The first time Harry was sick under their care, it took days for anybody to notice because Harry worked so hard to hide it, and they only noticed because the kitten drew their attention. Despite the fact that Harry didn't need naps anymore, it wasn't unusual for him to disappear for the afternoon, dozing off in his room with a book or a movie and so nobody thought anything of it until the kitten caused a scene. Clint was alone with the boy since Natasha had to go into headquarters that day, and he'd been watching TV in the living room while Harry presumably did something similar in his bedroom, but that's when the kitten started. First it was just a soft tap of paws against a door, but soon the mewing started, and when it turned into soft cries, Clint stood, frown in place, heading for Harry's room. He scooped up the kitten when it looked up at him mournfully and pushed open the door after he knocked with no answer.
“Hey, Harry, you forgot Lily in the-” his sentence broke off when he saw the boy, pale and sticky with sweat, hair stuck to his forehead. He was buried under the blankets, sniffling, boxes of tissues piled on one side of him, a garbage bin next to his bed. From the looks of it, Harry had been hiding his cold for days until he couldn't any longer, but what it meant was it had turned into a full blown flu.
“Aw, kid, no.” Clint complained softly, knowing that Natasha would be pissed that he hadn't noticed sooner. Making sure not to be too loud, he approached the bed, reaching out a hand to check Harry's temperature. He had to resist the urge to yank his hand back with a hiss, but he still winced. “Jarvis, I need flu medicine for kids. And stat.” he sat on the bed, settling the kitten down at the end, and watched as Harry's eyes blinked open slowly, turning to look up at him miserably.
“Uncle Clint, my head hurts.”
“I'm not surprised, kid. Why didn't you tell anyone you weren't feeling well?”
“I didn't want to be a bother. And I wasn't feeling that bad. Just a little bad.” Clint just shook his head, standing up to head to the bathroom to get a cold cloth, but that's when Harry's hand snaked out to grab his, and when Clint looked down he saw fear in Harry's eyes. “I'm okay, it won't last long I promise. Please don't tell aunt Tasha. I didn't mean to get sick.” Clint dropped back down on the bed, making sure his touch was as gentle as possible as he pushed Harry's hair away from his face.
“It's okay that you're sick, Harry.” Clint said, and then he frowned. “Well, no, it's not good that you're sick because I'm sure it feels pretty awful, but it's okay to get sick sometimes. It happens to everybody.” then he smiled. “Well, everybody but Steve.” that had Harry cracking a tiny smile. “But we have to tell you're aunt or else she'll be worried. She won't be mad though, promise.” the smile dropped into a frown as Harry clearly thought it over, but then he finally nodded.
“Okay.” but he clearly had more to say so Clint waited. “Will you stay with me?” the request was whisper quiet, but Clint just offered his most comforting smile.
“Of course. I'm just going to go get some stuff to help you feel better, okay? I'll be right back.” Harry nodded, finally letting go of Clint's hand, and Clint ducked into the bathroom, filling up a cup with cold water and soaking a cloth at the same temperature.
“Jarvis?”
“Yes agent Barton?”
“Who else is in the building right now?”
“Miss Potts and Doctor Banner.”
“Are they busy?”
“Miss Potts is filing paperwork for the new building Master Stark wishes to acquire and doctor Banner is in his laboratory reading a book on astrophysics.”
“Great. Can you call Bruce for me? Let him know the kid's sick and I need help 'cause I can't leave him but I need some soup for him, and some ice and that medicine.”
“Right away Agent Barton.”
“Thanks Jarvis.” Clint returned to Harry's side then, and offered a smile when the relief was clear on Harry's features. He'd obviously been afraid that Clint wouldn't come back. “Alright come on let's sit you up. You need to drink some water.” the boy groaned but didn't fight Clint when Clint pushed back the covers and gently pulled the boy up, helping him sip at the water. When the glass was empty, he sat it down and reached for the cloth. “Alright, now I'm going to put this cloth on the back of your neck, okay? We need to get your temperature down. It's going to feel really cold. Are you ready?” Harry nodded, expression miserable, but he hardly even moved as the cloth lay against his skin, leaning fully against Clint. “You okay, Harry?” Harry nodded, but it was clear he didn't mean it so Clint gently eased him back so he could see his face again. “Hey, it's okay not to be okay, but you gotta tell me what's wrong, kid, or I can't help you and you'll be sick even longer.” He watched the tears well in Harry's eyes, but they didn't fall, he just nodded.
“My head hurts. And talking hurts. And breathing hurts. Coughing hurts. Everything hurts.” Harry admitted, and Clint winced in sympathy.
“Mr. Potter, Agent Barton, Doctor Banner wishes to inform you that he's on his way to your location with the requested supplies.”
“Great, thanks Jarvis.”
“Of course, Agent Barton.”
When the reply came, Clint lifted Harry off the bed despite his mild protest, sitting him on the small sofa a couple feet away.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, obviously confused as Clint started to strip his bed of all it's sheets.
“You can't keep laying in these sheets, Harry. They've got all your sick germs and stuff. We gotta wash them. We're gonna hang out in the living room.” Harry just frowned.
“But that will be in everyone's way.”
“Nobody will mind, isn't that right Bruce?” Harry's head whipped around in surprise and then he groaned, hands pressing to his temple. Both adults winced in sympathy.
“Clint's right, Harry. None of us mind. It's easier for us to keep an eye on you that way. Make sure you're getting better.”
“But why?” Harry finally asked, face pinched in confusion, and Bruce frowned at him.
“Why what?”
“Why do you need to keep an eye on me and make sure I'm getting better?” he repeated, and now both men were frowning at him.
“Why do you think we're doing it, Harry?” Bruce asked instead of answering, approaching with the soup and passing it to Harry. When his hands shook with the effort to hold it, the doctor gently helped lift it to his lips, watching as he drank it down as if he'd been starving. As soon as he was done, he curled in on himself, clothes sticking to his sweaty skin, face drawn and pale and eyes practically luminescent.
“Because if I'm sick for too long it'll cause you all trouble.” Harry said, and Bruce shook his head, looking at Clint who was staring, looking like Harry had just punched him right in the stomach.
“Kid, no.” Clint responded vehemently, “It's because we care about you. We want you to be better because you look miserable and none of us want that, we all just want you to be healthy and happy.” Harry shook his head but didn't respond. The only benefit being he didn't argue it either. “Now come on. We have to get you out of these clothes. You need some fresh pj's.” Harry just glanced at Bruce who was immediately on his feet.
“I'm going to go get some blankets set up in the common room. Ask Jarvis to queue some movies and make some more soup.” with that he left, and Clint approached Harry slowly, bringing new pyjamas.
“What's on your mind, kid.” Clint asked even as he helped shaky limbs out of his sweat soaked clothes and into the new ones.
“When I used to get sick aunt Petunia would leave medicine and soup next to my cupboard. It was usually cold and I hated the taste but it made me better very quickly. And she didn't let Dudley bother me for a day. That was always nice.” It was the most Clint had ever heard Harry say about his old family, and it bothered him that Harry was so grateful for such poor treatment.
“You know what else is nice, Harry?” Harry shook his head so Clint just crouched down in front of him, offering his back. “Piggy back rides. Come on. Time to get out of here while the windows are open to air it out.” Harry leaned forward, clinging to Clint's back, face pressed against the top of his spine and though the heat coming off him was nearly blistering, Clint didn't miss the feel of the cool tears against his skin.
“Uncle Clint?” Harry said softly as Clint carried him out of the room, arms hooked under Harry's scrawny legs.
“Yeah, Harry?”
“I love you.” Clint felt a lump in his throat but he just gave the boy's legs a gentle squeeze.
“Love you too, kid.”
Natasha came home to find Bruce puttering around in the kitchen, the smell of chicken noodle soup filling the air. Her eyes caught sight of the many bottles of water and extra hydrating juices and frowned.
“Who's sick?” she asked, and Bruce turned in surprise, frowning at her.
“I thought Clint called you.” he said, but before she could question that, Bruce waved towards the common room. “It's Harry. We finally got his temperature down, he's asleep with Clint on the couch.” she was moving before he'd even finished speaking, stopping in the doorway of the common room to see Harry bundled in blankets against Clint's side, head pillowed on Clint's chest and the archer in question fast asleep, arms wrapped carefully around the bundle that was Harry. She knew that if she left them like that Clint would wake with a sore neck, but the picture they made made her want to leave them be. Instead, she took a photo with her phone before slinking forward to wake Clint. The archer woke the moment her fingers brushed his shoulder and he blinked at her a moment before wincing.
“Aw man, sorry Nat. I meant to call you but I got a bit distracted.” Natasha shook her head, giving a smile.
“It's fine. How is he?”
“Well his fever's down but I think he's got the flu. I practically had to drag it out of him but he's all achy and he's only been able to keep liquids down. If it goes on too much longer we should probably call a doctor.”
When Harry woke up, he found himself with his head resting on his aunt Tasha's lap, his legs thrown over his uncle Clint's. His aunts fingers were combing through his hair and when he turned to look up at her she offered him a smile.
"How do you feel, Harry?" He blinked up at her again, feeling unsure, but a glance at his uncle who gave him an encouraging smile and he spoke up.
"Everything still hurts." He admitted, frowning at how his throat felt like sandpaper. Recognizing the expression, he found a bottle of water pressed into his hands and he gulped it down. "I feel a little better though." Rather than be upset like he expected, his aunt just smiled at him.
"Thank you for telling me." Harry just nodded. He still didn't understand why they were so worried - but he supposed aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had been worried when Dudley had been sick - he frowned at the thought, unsure how he felt about comparing himself to Dudley, but since his aunt Tasha and uncle Clint were nothing like the Dursleys he supposed it was alright.
"Will you stay with us?" He found himself asking, and his aunt leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead.
"Always." Harry smiled, and cuddling back in, fell right back to sleep.
The next time Harry woke up, he found the room a lot more full than it had been the last time. Tony, Bruce and uncle Steve were also all in the room and he found himself staring in surprise.
"I don't mean to be a bother." He said and found all eyes on him.
"Looks who's awake!" Tony exclaimed, and Harry realized he was still tapping away on a tablet despite the fact that he wasn't looking at it but at Harry. "How are you feeling, kiddo?" Harry blinked in surprise at the endearment.
"I feel much better, thank you Tony."
"That's uncle Tony to you," Tony corrected, and earned a bemused look from Harry. But before he could say anything Tony was speaking again. “I already had Jarvis order a whole box full of chicken noodle soup for you since your uncle Clint said you liked it. Once you're better, you can graduate from soup to rice.” Harry just blinked, perplexed, but seemed willing to go along with it.
“Thank you T- uncle Tony.” Harry corrected himself, and Tony beamed.
“If you're hungry now, we've already got some soup warmed up for you.” Harry hadn't realized how hungry he was until food was mentioned and immediately moved to sit up, struggling for barely even a second before both his aunt Tasha and uncle Clint had helped him up. He didn't even have to ask before a cup was being pressed into his hands, kept from spilling by his aunt Tasha's hands over his own. The soup was guided to his mouth and as he started to notice the room around them he realized that it was a children's movie on the television, and it was one he liked. The soup made his tummy feel very warm, but the warmth in his chest was for the people around him. For some reason they were choosing to take care of them just because they wanted to, and he loved them for it. He felt the tears before he could help it and felt his aunt Tasha's fingers brushing them from his cheek.
“What's wrong, Harry?”
“Nothing, I love you.”
“I love you too, Harry.” and Harry just smiled, settling in to watch the movie, the warm feeling never leaving.