It’s Nothing

At the feeling of something bubbling and climbing within his throat, Clint was awakened from restless slumber. He barely managed to make it to the toilet and fall to his knees before all of the contents of his stomach were expelled into the bowl. He went on for an eternity, it seemed, all the way to the point where he was simply dry-heaving and coughing up saliva into the toilet.

“Agent Barton?”

Clint jumped slightly and glanced over his shoulder to see who was there. Nothing but empty space met his gaze. “Wha…?”

“Agent Barton?”

There it was again! Shaking miserably, Clint pushed himself onto unsteady feet. And, though he was forced to maintain a hunched position, he managed to keep himself upright with the counter. “Who’s there?”

“It’s JARVIS, Sir,”

With that notion, Clint practically collapsed back to the ground in relief when he realized that no one was actually here.

“You appear to be in distress. Would you like me to call Doctor Banner?”

Clint didn’t even need a second to think about it. “No,” he shook his head slightly. “No, No Banner… ‘m fine… it’s nothing…”

“Sir—!”

“I said no! N-No thank you!” Clint had never been one for being babied. Especially not by teammates who he knew had always looked down on him for being one of the least special. Being so sick that he was trembling pathetically by the toilet would definitely not help his case.

“Are you positive? My scans appear to say otherwise…”

“I’m okay… I’m alright… really, I am. It’ll be gone by morning, I’m sure of it.” After flushing the toilet, the archer pushed himself off the ground, using the counter again as heavy support. A pang of pain shot through his stomach, so he took a moment to gain himself and allowed his nausea to settle, before he began his journey back to his bed.

“Are you aware that you cannot hide this from your teammates, Agent Barton?”

“I’m aware.” Clint scoffed quietly as he climbed back under the covers. “I’ll figure something out by myself…. If they ask you anything about it, just say something like ‘it seems like nothing’, you know?”

“Agent Barton—“

“Please, JARVIS,” Clint begged quietly. “Please don’t say anything if they ask.”

The AI was silent as it processed this new information. It took Clint a count of 12 seconds before it clicked back on again.

“Of course, Agent Barton… I’ll see what I can do…”

“Thank you, ” Clint mumbled warmly into the pillow as he laid against it. However, he didn’t get to hear the AI’s reply before the exhaustion suddenly slammed into him.

The next thing he was aware of was sleep finally overtaking him.

His sleep, if it could even be considered that, was restless. Every so often he’d wake up to a stabbing pain in his body, mostly in his abdominal area. Not to mention, the mind numbing coldness of the air conditioning didn’t help.

He half-slept most of the day away, not bothering to notice who wouldveIt was around 4 in the afternoon when Clint finally wasn’t awoken by pain, but by somewhat of his own accord.

However, he awoke just as unpleasantly to the sight of flashing lights that burned his eyes and a ear-splitting voice alerting the thing he was dreading: A mission.   

Moving around definitely did not help his case though. In fact, it seemed to only make matters worse. His stomach was still acting out with nausea and blinding pain. No matter how fast he tried to be, he felt slow and lethargic as he got ready and headed downstairs.

“Ah!” Tony’s grating voice was first to reach his ears as he stepped onto the quinjet. “The flighty archer! He finally graces us with his presence! What’d you do? Stop for a Starbucks on the way here after your beauty sleep?”

“Yeah, speaking of which,” Steve cut in, “you feeling okay? You’ve been DNO all day.”  

“It’s nothing.” Clint murmured and moved in the direction of a seat as the entrance closed behind him. ”And, maybe I wouldn’t have to stop at Starbucks if the coffee here was actually any good…”

Tony turned in his chair, jaw mockingly dropped, and brought an offended hand to his chest. “Not any good— I’ll have you know it is personally ordered!”

“Maybe you should reconsider your options,” Clint shot back listlessly, then quickly covered the monotone with a flare. “Whoever is selling you this stuff is doing you dirty—!”

“Can’t we just get on with it?” Natasha cut in and took a seat beside Bruce. “We don’t have all day!”

Tony scoffed and turned back in his seat, hands raised in surrender. “It’s not my fault you people don’t know what real coffee tastes like.”

Clint rolled his eyes slightly and braced himself as the jet took off. The sudden movement did nothing well for his stomach and, the next thing he knew, he was fighting off the nausea and vomit rising in his throat. His hand curled around his abdomen protectively and he tried to ignore the pain. Hopefully no one noticed or cared.

“Friend Archer!”

Clint’s hand dropped and he lifted his head slowly. He forced a happy look on his face as he turned to greet Thor. “Hey, man, how's it going?”

“All is well with me, thank you!” Thor beamed and gestured slightly to the spot next to him. “I’ve come to claim the spot next to you, if it is all well with you?”

“No, no, of course!” Clint nodded and slid to the side gently. “It’s all yours!”

“Much thanks, Friend Barton,” Thor smiled and took the seat happily. “I don’t mean to pry, but you do not look well, my friend. I have also noticed your absence today in the usual festivities. May I ask if you are doing well?”

“What?” Clint blinked, shook his head. “No, I’m good! It’s nothing! Just, uh… just a little tired. It’s been a long day…” despite the fact that he hadn’t been up today…

“Ah!” Thor nodded in understanding. “Yes! All in a good day’s work, though, correct?”

“Mm-Hmm, Yeah…” Clint agreed and flinched as Thor punched his arm lightly. He bent his head to the ground again as Steve began debriefing and tried to focus on what was being said. However, headaches tended to make simple things like concentration very difficult.

First, Clint was sure Steve was talking about sponges and his original thought was ‘why sponges?’ Then, he’d realized he got sidetracked when Steve started talking about stolen tech.

There was also a warning of some kind in there, something about swinging and flying, but, by this point, the archer’s headache and stomachache was so bad, he was having trouble focusing on anything.

“Right. Thor, Iron Man, you two take the front and I’ll take the back, we’ll be the distractions. Barton, Romanoff, you’ll need to sneak in behind us and start the search while we occupy them. Banner, we may or may not need a Code Green today.”

“Per usual,” Bruce replied softly. “Just know I’ll be ready if you need him.”

“Will do. Everyone good?”

“Aye.”

Clint raised his head, nodding, and met Nat’s eye across the jet. When she raised an eyebrow expectantly, he cleared his throat. “Yep, yep… mm-Hmm.”

“Sounds good,” Tony glanced back over his shoulder and caught Clint’s eye. “Legolas, you and Romanoff good to drop us off close to the front and fly this thing ‘round back?”

“Sounds good,” he replied after a nod from Natasha. “We’ll be ready…”

“Just so you know,” Nat called across to him. “I’m flying.”

Clint bobbed his head, not really in the mood to argue, especially not with her. “I’ll enjoy my time as co-pilot.”

Tony nodded, turning around, and Steve went back to his conversation with Nat. Bruce moved across the plane to sit beside Thor, and Clint was finally granted some peace.

Tiredly, he pulled his slightly sore body into the corner and tried to relax.