Farmhouse Blues

Lila Barton may not be as smart as her brother, but she was far from stupid. Her intelligence didn't lie in math or science, but in observation and 'intuition,' as her mother called it. And her intuition, combined with what she saw, was telling her that something was wrong with Uncle Tony.

As per usual, Lila and her brother helped clean up after breakfast. Captain America helped until he was called away by Auntie Nat and Dr. Banner to discuss something outside. The two siblings gathered dishes for the sink and put up the syrup, jelly, and what was left of a gallon of orange juice. The other was emptied.

Once they were free of the chores, she followed her brother into the livingroom. He went to go and start up his game console, but she stopped him.

"What Lila?" Cooper asked with a twinge of annoyance as she stood there with his game controller. "Do you need me to play fairy princess again?"

"Not right now, but you will later," she responded, placing the controller on the coffee table. "I think something is wrong with Uncle Tony."

Cooper's eyebrows immeadiately came together. "What do you mean? He was fine earlier."

"Auntie Nat told him he looked pale, he excused himself early from breakfast, and he barely even touched his food. He didn't even use syrup, Cooper, the thing that completes pancakes!"

"Alright, alright, wharever you think," he held up his hands in surrender, "What do you think we should do?"

"We should tell Mom and Dad. They would know what to do. They know what to do when we're sick and Uncle Tony is obviously sick."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought adults didn't get sick."

Lila rolled her eyes with a huff. "Maybe there are adult sicknesses, but there is something wrong with him and that's what matters."

"Fine. Let's tell them." Lila knew he wasn't completely convinced and a small part of her wanted to follow his doubts. She didn't want anything to be wrong with their uncle, she wanted him to be happy and play fairy princess with her because Cooper, despite what she said, would try his best to get out of playing with her. But there was something wrong and she had long since learned not to ignore when something was off to her, no matter how ludacris it might seem.

_____

Tony knew he didn't have a hangover, but it felt close to it. At least, the vomiting was similar.

He wasn't aware of the passage of time as he leaned over the toilet bowl, body expelling everything he'd eaten that morning and the night before. When the dry wrenching stopped, he maneuvered himself to slump against the wall, staring at the closed door. The cold tiles around him clashed with his overly heated body, causing him to shake violently every few moments. He had kept the lights off since his eyes had became overly sensitive. Where were his sunglasses when he needed them?

A tremor wracked his body and he found himself leaned over the toilet bowl again, his mind in turmoil. He wanted help. He wanted to be cared for. He wanted to actually sleep without being haunted by something he did or saw. He was exhausted, and achy, and cold, and he couldn't think.

But on the other hand, he didn't want anyone to see him like this. He was a weakling, his mind told him. If he couldn't handle a little bit of sickness and a few nightmares, should he even be Ironman? Steve was already trying to recruit more people, the Falcon being one of them. Eventually, they wouldn't need a dried out, old, weak Tony Stark who was only part of the team because of his suit and ability to fund whatever they needed.

He dry heaved once more and a tear made its way down his cheek.

____

"Hey, mom?" Lila asked.

Laura Barton looked up from where she was putting up a plate Clint had just handed her. He cleaned them while she dried and put them up, like every day he was home. Whenever he wasn't, a piece of the line was missing. Her other half was missing. But he always came back to her.

"Yes sweetie?" She asked as she dried her hands on a dish towel, letting Clint take over with the dishes. Their two kids stood side by side and she placed a hand on her stomach, knowing there would be a third soon.

"We think something is wrong with Uncle Tony," Lila said confidently. Cooper raised an eyebrow.

"You think something is wrong with Uncle Tony," he said to his sister. "Not me. I think he just didn't want to eat."

"There's evidence!"

Laura glanced at her husband, who was now at full attention with the idea that one of his teammates might have something wrong with them. He cleared his throat lightly, hands figiting at his sides. "What's the evidence, Lila?" He asked calmly, but Laura could tell he wasn't by the tense line of his shoulders.

She counted off on her fingers. "One, he didn't eat but half his pancake. Two, he didn't put syrup on it. Three, he was pale and four, his hands were shaking. Five, he excused himself for the bathroom and still hasn't come back."

That was right. Laura thought back on it and realized that the symptoms of sickness were there, she had just been so wrapped up in what she needed to do that she hadn't noticed. She switched into Mamma Bear Mode, as her family called it, and headed for the bathroom on the first floor. Clint surpassed her, practically running. She couldn't run after him, but she went as quick as she could.

"Mom?" Cooper asked, sounding anxious now. "Is there something wrong with Uncle Tony?"

She looked over her shoulder at them. "We're just going to check on him, kids." And when did they start calling him Uncle Tony? If she weren't so worried about said man, she would take the time to coo at it.

Laura came to the bathroom doorway. The lights were off, but there was enough light for her to clearly see Clint kneeling in front of the famous Tony Stark, who was propped up against the wall beside the toilet. The brunette's eyes were half open and glazed, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and she could smell the telltale stench of throw up. He was definitely sick. How he got sick this fast, she didn't know. She just knew they had to help him.

Clint put one of Tony's arms over his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, one arm wrapping around his back to keep him steady. The genius was too incoherent to walk, it seemed, as Clint changed positions and just picked him up bridal style. Her husband was murmurring words she couldn't hear and Tony's head turned toward him, his mouth open to respond before his head dropped to rest on Clint's shoulder, eyes fluttering closed.

"I'll get some blankets," Laura said and went to the linen closet while Clint took Tony upstairs. A few minutes later, she found them in what was Steve's bedroom for the previous night. The genius was lying limp on the bed, already tucked under the duvet. In the brighter light, she could fully see all his symptoms. He was shaking constantly, pale as a sheet, and so obviously exhausted.

Clint took one of the blankets from the stack in her arms and spread it over him. "Put the others at the end of the bed. I don't want to overheat him." She nodded and did so.

"Dad? Mom? Is he going to be okay?" Lila asked. She and Cooper were peeking their heads into the room, faces lined with deep worry.

"Uncle Tony will be just fine, kiddos," Clint said, walking over to them. "I'll tell you both when he wakes up and you can talk to him, ey?" He asked. They nodded hesitantly. "Good. For now, we just need to let him sleep. He's tired."

"He woke up really weird last night," Lila said timidly. "He gasped and put his hands up to his chest like this." She demonstrated, placing her hands over the middle of her chest. "Is that how some people wake up?" She asked innocently.

"Why were you up?" Laura asked, trying to mask her ever increasing worry as Clint cursed under his breath. She saw him walk back over to Tony, but kept her focus on their children.

"I had a nightmare and Uncle Tony helped me. He told me that everyone, even him, has nightmares sometimes," she said.

"People do have nightmares sometimes," she agreed, looking at Tony and Clint in her peripheral vision. She knew Clint had nightmares of when he was mind controlled by Loki and she had no doubt that all the other Avengers had nightmares of their own, including the famous Tony Stark. "How about you two head downstairs? Doing something else will make time go faster until Uncle Tony wakes up."

The two begrudgingly agreed and left. Laura made her way over to the two men. Clint was looking down at Tony with such an earnest and sad expression that she felt her heart break a little. She took his hand in hers before leaning forward to check Tony's temperature with the back of her other hand. His skin was hot to the touch.

He had nightmares, and by the dark circles under his eyes that she could now so clearly see when he was asleep, they had been happening for a while. Tony Stark was a showman, she knew, and this proved it now more than ever. His excitement and enthusiasm had somehow hid the physical showings of sleep deprivation and she swore to herself to never let that get passed her again. The bags were so black she might have mistaken them for bruises, indicating multiple nights with little to no sleep.

How often did he have nightmares? He had plenty of fuel for them, by what she knew as a technically-retired SHIELD agent. He was captured by terrorists and tortured, betrayed by his godfather, went through palladium posioning, took a nuke into a wormhole, his house got blown up... there were so many things he could have nightmares about that it made an icy hand clench around her heart.

_____

Tony woke up not knowing which way was up. He pried his eyes open wearily, looking around the dark room he was in as he tried to recall what had happened. His head felt like there was cotton stuffed in it and he felt like he was freezing, but also too hot. He pulled himself up using his elbows, brain finally coherent enough to realize that he was in a bed that he didn't recognize.

For a moment, he panicked, but then he heard voices coming from far away. He listened, picking out the voices of Clint and his family. What had happened after sitting down for breakfast?

Slowly, his memories came back. He had excused himself from breakfast since his stomach was doing somersaults like it was in the circus, and he ended up throwing up in the toilet with the lights off. He had a very, very hazy recollection of other people being there, but only an idea of how he got to the bed. His last hazy memory was him being surrounded by voices, one of then being Clint's reassuring and soft tone - something that he was entirely unfamiliar with considering their friendship was built on snark and pranks.

He remembered the repeated murmur: "Hang on, Tones, I got ya. Hang on."

He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment at the thought of having been found in that way and he knew he had to do something. Curtains covered the windows so he knew not what time it was, but the aroma of chicken and steamed veggies floated in through the open door. Laura must have gotten more of the meat at some point.

Tony pushed the covers away from his body and slung his legs over the side of the bed. He shivered as his bare feet made contact with the cold hardwood floor. A small voice in his head pleaded with him to stay under the blankets where it was warm and let someone help, but it was drowned out by Tony's need to prove he wasn't weak and needed no one. Besides Pepper. His girlfriend and CEO had kept his life together for years.

He hauled himself up onto his feet and away from the soft material of the mattress. His body swayed, but he forced himself toward the door. Uncoordinated, he stumbled into the door frame and winced at both the sudden hit and the noise it created. There was no change in conversation below and Tony breathed a small sigh of relief.

Creeping his way down the stairs, he glanced in the kitchen to see Laura cooking with Cooper sitting on a stool at the counter, some grocery bags on the table. The front screen door shut with a rattling noise and he looked to see Clint and Lila headed out with quivers slung over their backs, the girl's a purple, junior version of her father's. Natasha and Bruce were occupied by the TV and from what he could see, the most dangerous assassin in America, possibly the entire world, was leaning against Bruce with her legs thrown over his.

Tony snuck out the back door as quickly and quietly as possible. He grabbed his shoes on the way out and slipped them on, not caring as the expensive material rubbed against the skin of his feet. Strength wavering, he stumbled out the back door and slowly closed it. His plan was to get to the barn and hide out there until he was inevitably found, but within seconds there was a hitch in his plan. That seemed to happen so much nowadays.

"Tony!" Steve's voice called from nearby. Tony had to wince before he turned around, blinding paparazzi grin in place. He hoped Steve's call hadn't been loud enough for Clint to hear. The archer would undoubtedly come running and Tony did not want to be chased.

"Yeah, cappy?" He asked, walking over with as much swagger he could muster in his tired and sickly state. He cleared his throat, trying to remove the tickle that meant coughing. There was nothing he could do about his shivers. Even in the warm summer evening air, he shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. Steve raised an eyebrow. It looked like he wanted to make a comment, but held his tongue. Tony was thankful for that.

"Help me with this," the captain said instead, guesturing to the small logs strewn about everywhere. The genius had to fight back a groan when Steve gestured to a second axe, one already in his hand.

"I thought we did this yesterday," he grumbled as he picked up the tool. It felt three times heavier than it was before and he struggled to lift it for a few moments. He grit his teeth and moved over to a second stump where a piece of log was placed.

"We did the ones in the front, not the back," the blonde supplied as he brought down his axe with a mighty chop. "Come on, Tony. I want to get this done before dinner."

His arms felt like jell-o, but the brunette gathered every little bit of strength he could and swung down on the wood. He cut it a fifth of the way down. Eyeing the block of tree with disdain, he swung again and managed to cut off the end in a jagged motion. He panted, trying to draw air into his overworked lungs as his hands shook with a new level of ferocity. Sweat dripped down his temples and forehead.

He really shouldn't be doing this, but backing out in front of his former idol was worse. He couldn't be seen weak by the person his dad had compared him to for years.

Steve had already gotten through eight logs in the time it took for Tony to get another one onto his stump. His arms and legs ached from the strain on his tired body, his mouth dried up, and the world started tilting as he watched the other man's axe swing down again and again. They were cut clean in half every time.

Finally, the super soldier paused in his dizzying show of strength. "Come on, Tony," he said, sounding exasperated and frustrated. "We need to help Laura and Clint. After all they've done for us, it's the least we can do. By what I've been told, you've been upstairs asleep all day. I'm glad you got more sleep because I know you didn't get much last night, but don't tell me you're tired already."

Tony flinched at the tone. Steve didn't seem to notice as he turned back to his logs with a sour expression. So Clint hadn't told him that Tony was ailed with sickness, which was both a con and pro to him. Con since he was now being forced to push his body over a mental cliff. Pro because, well, Steve wouldn't know he had been knocked out for most the daylight hours from a simple cold that should barely cause him to falter.

He tightened his grip on the axe with his suddenly shaky hands and raised it as much as he could, which only reached a little passed his waist. He let the blade fall, but his vision was tilted. He completely missed and the failure made him want to curl up with shame. He couldn't even hit a log right.

Steve furthered that shame. "Stop being petty, Stark." He flinched again. "Get to work. I've seen you lift more in the lab."

Tony wanted to shout that his body wasn't complying and that he felt like crap, but all that came out was a quiet, "Okay, Steve."

Somehow, that was the thing that got his teammate's attention. He felt baby blue eyes scan him as he tried to lift the axe from the ground again, yet was only able to raise it a few inches before dropping it. He clenched his fists to try and stop the shaking, but that only made it worse.

"Tony? Are you okay?" He asked, voice far more gentle than it had been earlier, worry edged in his tone. Tony nodded, but his heart wasn't in it. His whole body was shaking and everything threatened to tilt on its side. His clothes were too thick and irritating. It was far too cold outside.

That was when Clint rounded the corner of the house, eyes on a tree close to the building. It was tilted, or maybe that was just Tony. Lila wasn't in sight, so he figured that she had either gone back inside or was still shooting arrows.

"Hey, Steve? Could you help me chop down- Tony! What are you doing up?!" The archer broke into a sprint just as the genius's knees buckled beneath him. He felt himself be caught by muscled arms and saw a glimpse of blonde hair before completely blacking out.

[C]______

Once again, Tony woke up in a bed without knowing how long he'd been there. Except this time, he knew exactly what happened. "Crap," he forced out through his hoarse throat despite nobody being there to hear him. "I blacked out in front of Cap."

It turned out that he was not as alone as he thought in the dark room.

"You got that right. Scared the heck out of everyone, too. Including me."

He turned his head quickly to see his archer friend perched on the bedside table. He was dressed in sweats that he hadn't been wearing before, bare toes curled around the edge of the stand for purchase. He honestly looked a creepy kind of cool in the darkness. He stared down at him, face twisted in concern and eyes shining with worry.

"What're you doing here?" Tony asked, then coughed on his sore throat. He pulled the blankets closer to his body, trying to gather heat from them and, for once, not caring how pitiful he might look. "I was alone last time."

"That's exactly why I'm here. I'm not making the same mistake and leaving you unattended for even a few minutes." He hopped onto the ground and stood, somehow not knocking the entire table over, but that was Clint for you. Thankfully, he hadn't toppled the glass of water there.

"Can I...?" He asked before he could stop himself, waving a hand toward the glass.

"Let's get you propped up first," Clint said. Tony went to raise himself by his elbows, only for the man to place a hand on his chest to stop him. Once upon a time, he would have flinched at the contact there. He didn't. He trusted Clint with his life and knew that as one of his best friends, he would never intentionally hurt him.

He was gently maneuvered by calloused hands to sit up against multiple pillows. The genius' hands moved to grab the glass Clint soon held, but the archer placed the straw in Tony's mouth. He drank until the cup was gone and the ice clinked on the bottom.

"Why are you doing this?" Tony asked as he was once again moved to lay down. He coughed into his elbow a few times, turning away to avoid getting germs on his friend. "And what do I have? I could promise it wasn't this bad yesterday."

"Bruce said that you most likely had a cold, but due to your decreased lung capacity Bruce thinks it turned into bronchitis. You possibly have a hint of a bug, if throwing up indicates anything." Clint rattled off as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I want to talk to you."

"How long have I been out?" Tony asked instead. Whatever 'talk' Clint was referring too with such a heavy tone, he didn't want to do it.

"Seven hours and you bet someone was there all the time. I think Cap may have cried," he deadpanned. "Now stop dodging."

"Dodging what? I just want to know how long I've been laid up in bed," Tony sniffed. He crosses his arms, trying to look as dignified at possible. By the look he got, he failed.

"The talk."

"We're talking now."

"That's not what I- see, that's what you do. You deflect."

He bit his lip and ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm hungry," he lied. "Can we get something to eat?"

"Tony."

Said man paused and really took a look at his friend. His face was haggard and his eyes were full of worry as they studied him. He kept shifting around like he was nervous and he kept placing his bottom lip between his teeth. Tony didn't think he was faking or pulling some kind of spy trick on him. This was just too genuine to be faked.

"What?" He finally conceded, sighing. "What do you want to talk about?"

Clint took a breath through his nose. "I want to talk about Ultron."

Tony really hadn't been expecting that. Ultron. Clint wanted to talk about his worst creation, the one that destroyed his greatest creation and threatened mankind itself. He felt like he had just been upended from the world and he gripped the blankets between shaky fingers. "Why?" He croaked out, suddenly feeling incredibly small.

"Tony..." Clint reached out and took his hands, uncurling them from around the blankets and placing them in his own warm hands. That warmth grounded Tony back to the present. "Are you taking all the blame?"

That was another thing Tony didn't expect. "Of course I am," he spat, jerking his hands back and to the safety of his chest.

"Don't," his voice was stern and soft. The anger drained out of Tony, replaced with a thick layer of confusion. "Don't blame yourself. Tones, I know you. You're one of my best friends and the only person who shares my humor." A wry little smile spread across Clint's lips before it disappeared. "I also know how you work. You and Bruce disappeared down there for ages, and neither of you are stupid enough to do anything rash. Bruce couldn't hurt a fly and you know just how dangerous technology can be. You wouldnt..." He paused.

Tony cautiously placed his hands back down on the blankets. Clint took them again. It wasn't their usual friendly pats on the shoulder or a hair ruffling. This was something more personal. Not for the first time, Tony thought of Clint as his brother.

He was too scared to say it out loud to him. Only in the confines of his penthouse with Jarvis and Pepper did he share that he felt like the Avengers were more a piece of his family than just teammates or friends.

"You're calculated with your work, on and off the battle field. There was no way for you to know that Ultron would turn into who he became. You said it. There was no reason to think that a piece of code you hadn't even finished had become something like this."

Tony swallowed. "Ultron was far from done. He was a piece of code that wasn't even active. When we left, I told Jarvis to monitor him. He came to life when he wasn't supposed to. He saw things he wasn't ready for. Jarvis tried to talk to him, from what I can gather, but Ultron fought back. He nearly destroyed him. I don't know what happened..."

Clint squeezed his hands comfortingly, then his face lit up like he had an idea. "You two were experimenting with the scepter, right? Could that have done something?"

"I..." the genius blinked, data running over and over in his head of what he knew. The answer came out the same. Only outside interference could have brought Ultron to life. "It may have... oh gosh, it could have." The scepter was a marvel of magic and science. It was so powerful, so intricate... he started shaking, remembering everything it was capable of in the wrong hands. It was dangerous in the hands of an enemy, and on its own.

(He could remember the helicarrier. The words they spat at each other due to the scepter's influence. He could remember how Steve thought he was nothing without the suit.)

Clint got up, letting go of their joined hands and Tony felt a spike of fear. He didn't want him to leave. But then he was sitting down beside him and gathering him into a hug. A hug. It felt like he hadn't had one in so long... he wrapped his arms around his friend and buried his head into his shoulder. A hand settled in his hair and started moving through his tangled locks. Slowly, his shaking died down to a small, occasional tremble.

"I have another question, if you're okay with it," Clint said quietly, not moving from the hug. Tony pulled back a little so he could look up at him.

"What is it?" He sniffed again. His eyes stung with tears threatening to fall, but he hoped the air would dry them.

"What..." he hesitated. "Tony, you've never shown any interest in building another AI, at least, not to me. You also never showed interest in building one with such a goal of protecting the entire globe. What brought it on?"

Tony couldn't help it. The tears fell and he quickly hid his head away in Clint's shirt as he tried to suppress his sobs. The memory flashed to the forefront of his mind, replaying that horrific scene. He had been trying to suppress that vision for so long...

Clint's arms tightened around him and he began to rock back and forth. Tony had seen him do it to Lila when trying to get her to sleep and he found the motion strangely calming. He couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed as he whimpered with fear, clinging to Clint like he was his lifeline. "Shh...shh... I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, but Tony was grateful for it either way. He didn't get apologies much, especially when involved in the business world. People always tried to turn their mistakes onto him or insist he did it even with substantial evidence proving then wrong. This, this was nice.

Eventually, he was able to pull himself together enough to talk. He turned his head a little so the cotton of Clint's shirt wouldn't muffle him, and spoke. "Back at the base..."

"You don't have to answer," he said quietly. "Not if it's too painful."

"I want to. I want you to know. I want the team to know," he said and cleared his throat again, trying to get rid of the lump there. He continued: "Back at the base, I had just come across the scepter. I had no suit, no protection. I knew the Maximoffs were around, but I didn't see her. I didn't..."

Clint held him even tighter, almost too tightly for Tony to breathe. But he could, so he kept talking. It's what he did best.

"I was heading toward it when things started changing. An alien carcass that had hung above just...came to life and when I turned around... there was the portal. There was death, so much destruction. I was the last one standing. You all... you all were dead... except for Steve. He wasn't...He was almost dead. There wasn't any saving him."

His throat closed up and more tears trailed down his red cheeks. Clint moved his hand and wiped them away, the other hand still brushing through his curls. Minutes came and went in silence as Tony both dealt with his emotions and revelled in the feeling of safety. No one could get him here. There were no Chitauri or alien scepters. Ultron was still out there, surely plotting and planning, but right now he felt so far away.

"He told me, "you could have saved us," and then he..." Tony couldn't bring himself to say it. "Then it was all gone and the only idea I had was to build Ultron. I had scrapped him before because he was just too dangerous, but with that vision in my head it felt like the only thing I could do to protect all of you..." Tony finished. He turned his head back to where it had been, hiding himself in Clint's shirt.

"Tony, I promise you that this vision will not happen. She messed with your head and played on your fears; she can't tell the future. It didn't happen and it won't happen," Clint said determinedly. "Take this from someone who's had their head messed with before: I know it feels like you have nowhere to turn, that it's all on you, but you have people in your corner. Everyone in this house is your friend, your family, and we aren't leaving any time soon, no matter what happens. We'll get through this together."

Tony mulled over that. The team, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy. They hadn't left him behind when Ultron was built. They may be scattered around, but they were still a united front. He'd even gained some new friends in Laura, Cooper, and Lila. He was already wrapped around those kids' fingers. "Thanks, Clint," He mumbled, a small smile on his face.

"Anytime, Tones."

He felt a little lighter. Actually, a lot lighter. His thoughts were no longer swirling in his head, full of fear and confliction. His anxiety had lessened. A huge weight had rolled off his shoulders when telling Clint his internal troubles and now he allowed himself to feel tired, his reassurance playing over and over in his mind. Apparently, passing out twice wasn't enough to satisfy his body. He fell limp, letting Clint take his weight. His friend chuckled a little. "Someone's sleepy..." he joked playfully.

"Shove off," he mumbled even as he buried himself deeper into his shirt, fingers curled around the fabric. Both of them knew of the wet tear stain there, but neither said anything about it. His eyes drifted closed and he felt himself being lowered back onto the bed from his sitting position. He tightened his hands onto the shirt, not wanting his friend, his brother, to leave right now. He couldn't be alone. He didn't want to be alone.

Clint didn't leave. Instead, he continued to stroke his hand through Tony's curls as the genius drifted off. He was at complete peace for the first time in days.

No nightmares came out to play as he slept.