"Better From A Distance" - The Avengers (Clint/Natasha)

[Anonymouse]

I love Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff's relationship and I wanted to explore it a little more in depth. I've also wanted to write another Clint sneezefic for ages. So. Killing two birds with one stone. V-warning - I mention it briefly in this chapter, but no actual throwing up. Lots of fevery goodness in this first chapter, with a couple sneezes towards the end. But there will be more, probably four parts total.

---

Natasha didn't have any children, nor did she want any, but she felt very much like a mother the minute she stepped off the jet into Agadir, Morroco. She was scheduled to be gone for a full week - five days if she got the job done quickly, which she always did - and like a new mom out to dinner for the first time without her baby she was already tempted to call and check up on Barton. Except Barton didn't have a babysitter - in fact, he was probably just coming back, hopefully alive, from his own solo mission, having left three days before her.

Natasha felt uneasy without her partner. She counted on him to be there like she counted on her own shadow. More than once she found herself beginning to say something to Barton, only to remember that Barton wasn't there. That was part of why Fury insisted on these one-man missions, to sever their symbiosis for a while and see if they could fare just as well as individuals, to prove to him that they had their own backs and not just each others. Natasha hated it, but she understood the reasoning behind it. At the end of the day, you weren't guaranteed your partner - this she knew all too well.

It was a sentiment that had affected her deeply since she came as close as she ever had to losing Clint. She fought differently now, made decisions she might not have otherwise made. She progressed mechanically through the next five days, disposing of anyone who threatened to prolong her mission beyond its expected deadline. It was more difficult to do the job when Natasha felt like she was missing a significant portion of herself, like she was trying to work without the use of her right arm. But ever since Natasha got that call from Coulson so many months ago, when that whole fiasco in Manhatten was just getting started - Barton's been compromised - she found herself fighting every battle that followed with a fervent passion that could not be quelled. She fought as if Barton's life depended on it.

And that's what got her through the ordeal in Morroco.

She had called for the jet about half an hour before she brought down her target, so she could board and get the fuck out of there as soon as the Councillor's

heart stopped beating. After the debriefing, a quick supper of granola bars, headache medication and tap water, and the longest flight of her life, Natasha was home.

This time, home was the S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters in New York. It was where what little family she had could usually be found, but this time there was nobody there to welcome her back, no Barton waiting with a vente chai latte from Starbucks to question her eagerly on the details of her mission. Her eyes went to the makeshift sixth floor Barton had constructed for himself, but the rafters were empty, with no signs of recent habitation. One of the newer agents told her that Barton hadn't been in for a few days, not since he returned from his mission, but was unable to articulate why.

Finding it increasingly impossible to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Natasha took a cab to Barton's place in Brooklyn, calling his cell on her way over. When he didn't answer she left a curt voicemail. "Clint. It's Natasha. I just got back. I'm on my way over. Have coffee ready."

She hung up and stared out the window, hoping there was someone home to even make the coffee. Cars shifted through the street like Tetris blocks, taxis and tourists stupid enough to take a car into the city trying to squeeze into every available space. It was too long before Natasha was finally deposited out in front of a faded brick building. She buzzed up - "Natasha." - and after a moment the main door clicked open, a sound that, normally jarring when her nerves were frayed like this, put her at ease.

Climbing the graffitied stairs to the top floor, she opened Barton's apartment door using the spare key he'd given her. She called out his name as she entered, frowning when she did not receive a reply. There was definitely a presence, but tired as she was from her mission and the nine hour flight that followed, she was having difficulty identifying and locating it. She felt instinctively for her gun, her eyes scanning the seemingly empty flat for signs of life, Clint's or otherwise.

"Clint?" she said again, more softly as she made her way towards his bedroom.

Everything looked to be in order. And by order, she was referring to Barton's own special brand of chaos. It was dark, but she could see that Barton's body was not among the piles of tangled sheets strewn across his bed. Though it looked like a struggle had taken place on the bed, the mess of sheets did not cause Natasha too much concern - Barton wasn't a very good sleeper, and his bed always looked like that after a night of tossing and turning. His scent lingered in the room, indicating that he'd been home recently, if not currently. She peered back out into the kitchen and the small living room area. The TV was on, but muted, flashing silent images to an empty couch and an empty glass on the coffee table. Natasha was just about to call her partner's name again when she heard someone cough in the bathroom.

She knew it was Barton, but she still exercised great caution in opening the bathroom door. "Clint," she hissed, annoyed now that he didn't answer the first couple times, but when she saw him curled up in the empty bathtub in his boxers and a white t-shirt her irritation melted away instantly.

"Tasha," he said, and she could see him smiling faintly, his cheek pressed against the porcelain. He kept his eyes closed and spoke softly, as if he were still asleep and trying not to wake himself up.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, taking a moment to appreciate the way he'd scrunched his body up to fit neatly in the tub. She'd seen him in tighter spaces, but this was particularly amusing. She recognized the sudden rush of giddiness as relief at finding her partner safe and sound, albeit sounding and acting a bit drunk. "I think you forgot a few steps."

With some effort Barton managed to force an eye open and peer at her questioningly.

Natasha recognized his confusion and frowned. Usually Barton could keep up with her wit, drunk or sober, but he looked a bit fuzzy - she could definitely see it in his eyes. "First you get undressed, then you turn on the water..." she said, sliding off her jacket and letting it fall to the floor. She pushed it aside with her foot, then glanced slyly back up at Barton. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Heh." It was part cough, part chuckle. He shook his head weakly and closed his eyes again, his voice a bit shaky. "Nah... just... too hot."

"Too hot for what?"

"In the bedroom." He swallowed hard, with some difficulty. "S'too hot."

"If you'd speak in full sentences it might help-"

"It was too hot... in the bedroom... so I came in here to lay down..." He broke off to cough dryly, wheezing as he caught his breath. "Think I picked up some kind of bug at the airport."

"Ah."

She always wondered if Barton was cold-blooded. It wasn't enough for him to have the heat on in the winter - he had to stretch out in a square of sunlight on the carpet like a lizard basking on a rock before he could really warm up. Similarly he sought out cold places and objects when he needed to cool down, especially when he had a fever, which Natasha only had the pleasure of experiencing once before. She had walked into his kitchen to find him with his head in the freezer and a temperature of 102 degrees. It was a little scary, seeing her partner so incredibly out of it. Barton didn't seem that bad yet, and hopefully it wouldn't get to that point.

"Well, I'd like to shower," she continued, hoping she could sucker him into joining her. "I didn't have access to hot water for days."

"Don't mind me," Barton grunted, throwing an arm over his eyes and rolling over, as if he expected Natasha to strip right there and start showering over him.

"I can lift you, you know."

"True. I'm still extremely impressed, by the way."

Natasha stood over the tub, arms folded across her chest to let him know she wasn't playing around. He gave her one of those grins that made her feel the closest thing to happiness her body was capable of processing. When she began undressing his smile shifted from sweet to devious, but she pretended not to notice.

"Here's the deal," she said, dropping her shirt, then her bra, then her pants and panties onto the tiled floor. "You get up..." She put her left foot, then her right foot, into the tub, her legs forming the Eiffle Tower over Barton's body. "... and I won't blast you in the face with cold water."

"Bring it. That would feel amazing."

As tempted as she was to take him up on his challenge, she couldn't help but wonder if Barton was feeling worse than he was letting on. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw two empty bottles of NyQuil in the garbage can.

"Shit, did you take all of that?"

"Over time, yes... though most of that one bottle was just this afternoon."

"Clint..."

"You know I have a really high tolerance."

"There's more in there than alcohol, svoloch..." She shook her head. "You can't even take care of yourself when I'm gone. You should have called-"

"Tasha."

That one word, that stupid little nickname she let him get away with using, stopped her would-be tirade in its tracks. He grinned, fully aware of the effect it had on her, then continued in a somewhat apologetic tone. "You know I wouldn't have taken all that if I wasn't feeling really shitty."

She gave him a small, sympathetic smile, a superficial gesture too inadequate to properly convey her growing sense of worry. "Should I call the vet?"

Barton laughed, and Natasha smiled at the welcome sound. The coughing fit that followed was another story. Barton smothered it with some effort against his arm, then sighed, his chest rattling as he tried to take a more controlled breath. "See?" He sniffled wetly to emphasize his point. "I wasn't lyi'hg."

"No, you weren't," Natasha observed, perching on the edge of the toilet seat and looking down at Clint. "Maybe you should get back into bed."

Clint shook his head and began the shaky process of sitting up. "Nah, I actually was planning on showering... eventually... I had a bit of a, um..."

He forced himself fully upright and squinted guiltily at the sweater crumpled in the corner of the room. Natasha hadn't noticed it before, but from the looks of it it was covered in some bodily fluid or other, most likely vomit. That would explain why Barton seemed to have lost some weight since she last saw him a week ago.

"Let's get to it then. I'll help."

"No." Barton had managed to make it to his feet and he stood before her shakily. His eyes were glassy, his face pale, and Natasha could sense the drastic shift in his mood. "No, don't... I'll be fine. Really."

"I'll just join you then," she said, shrugging indifferently, but when she stepped into the tub it was with a sense of urgency. Barton looked unsteady, and she wanted to be near him in case he fell. "Get undressed. The water's coming on in five seconds whether you're naked or not."

He looked at her for a moment with an expression she couldn't figure out, then reluctantly began removing his clothing, bracing himself against the tiled wall for support. Natasha turned the water on before glancing back to Barton, almost gasping when she saw the slashed skin he'd been hiding under his shirt. Several cuts stretched across his chest and torso, jagged and slightly raised, like mountain ranges on a map. Natasha's first instinct was to let out a low whistle, an uncharacteristic and somewhat flippant reaction to an image that, in all actuality, terrified her. It looked like Barton had had a close call.

"How did this happen?" she almost whispered, oblivious now to the hot water that washed over her sore, tired body as she hovered her finger above the wound. She didn't even make an effort to hide her concern this time, the rush of emotions were so sudden and raw at seeing Barton's normally unscathed flesh so torn up.

"Katana," Barton said brusquely, clearly wishing the subject could have been avoided. He moved Natasha gently aside with his nimble but trembling hands and ducked his head under the water.

Natasha was trying to figure out how she could tactfully press for more detail when Barton drew in a sudden, sharp breath. At first she thought he was reacting to the sting of the water pelting his cuts, but then she caught his profile, his expression tensing and twisting from something that wasn't pain, though it looked quite similar.

"hh'... AHSCHHuu!"

"Bless you," Natasha said, trying to avoid letting her eyes drop below Barton's shoulders. She rarely blessed people, but in this particular situation it felt more awkward keeping quiet than parroting the traditional response to a sneeze.

"Thaa-hh'HIHIFSCHHHHuu! - fuck... thangk you..."

They finished showering quickly, and Natasha decided not to ask any further questions about her partner's injuries. Barton finished up first, stepping out of the tub to wrap himself in a towel. He grabbed another and dried his hair vigorously, filled a glass with water from the sink, and then left Natasha to rinse the conditioner from her hair alone, a state she was quite tired of being in.

Edited June 12, 2013 by AnonyMouse

[curliecatlover]

Aww I like this story. It's sweet!

[alias]

Wonderful story! Your writing is very lovely. And I'm so glad to see another Avengers story. I can't get enough of these.

[silversnake]

I very rarely post or comment on this board - but I'm climbing out of my lurker hole to comment on this AMAZING piece of writing! The characterization is great. Please continue!

[hiyou9]

I LOVE this! Right in the Clintasha feels, but in the best possible way. Continue?

[Anonymouse]

Thanks guys. This next part almost made it to the Adult Board. I didn't intend to have any 18+ chapters, but no matter how I wrote it they just kept trying to fuck each other. Hopefully I can get the next part up without another month passing.

---

"Can I borrow some clothes?"

There was a hint of a smirk on Barton's lips when he saw Natasha standing naked in the doorway. Somehow the sight of her bare breasts never failed to turn him into a simpering adolescent. "What if I say no?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Perve," Natasha teased, just glad to see him in a better mood.

There was an open box of bandages on the bedside table beside a tube of Neosporin. Barton was wearing his pajamas now, a plain black shirt and blue boxers, but Natasha could tell from the chemical smell in the air that he tended to the wound before getting dressed. She decided not to pressure him to divulge the details of his katana incident right now. Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, and Barton was notoriously stubborn, even with her. For now, the only thing that mattered was that he was okay.

Well, mostly okay. As she helped herself to the contents of his dresser he sneezed explosively into cupped hands, making her twitch slightly, her nerves still worn thin from the past week.

"ASCHHHuu!"

"Bless you," she said softly, watching his reflection in the mirror as he straightened up.

"Thag you." He sniffled, but it did little to clear the congestion that was blocking his nose. "And yes, feel free to have a look around in by udderwear drawer, I'be sure you'll find the contents quite titillating."

Natasha snorted and resumed her rummaging, intent on doing so whether she was granted permission or not. There was no way she was putting back on what she was wearing before. After wearing that outfit for the past three days she wasn't even sure if she wanted to look at it ever again, let alone wear it. She managed to put up with it for just a little bit longer on the plane ride home, even though a fresh set of clothing was laid out for her. She saw no point in putting on clean clothes when she felt so dirty.

She dug out an old t-shirt that Barton used to wear to bed all the time. It had some holes in it and the gray fabric was thinning, but it was still as soft as ever. It reminded her of colder nights, sharing body heat with Barton under a fleece blanket, or with nothing but each other to keep them warm. She realized now that Barton rarely slept naked, even in his own apartment, and wondered if he always did this to hide his cuts and bruises from her.

"Is this-" she began, but when she turned around to show him the shirt she found Barton preoccupied with the beginnings of another sneeze.

"hehh... h'AHSCHHuh!"

"Bless y-"

"AESHHHue! ... h'EHTxscht!-ahh..."

He pinched the last one off between his thumb and forefinger, his chest deflating with the abrupt sigh that followed. "Fuck, sorry." Sniffling, he tore a tissue out of the box on the bedside table. "Codtid'ue?"

Unfazed, Natasha held up the shirt.

"Oh, yeah, go ahead."

She pulled it on over her head and felt her wet hair settle against it, leaving a damp spot all down the back of the shirt. That was the thing that annoyed her about showering before bed, but she didn't have the patience to stand there for thirty minutes and blowdry it, so she would have to deal with wet hair for now. After some more digging she found that pair of panties she'd accidentally left at Barton's place months ago. He swore he had no idea he still had them, that they just showed up in his laundry basket one day, but Natasha remained suspicious to this day.

"I like those," Barton commented, gazing at Natasha with a sleepy and almost adoring smile.

"That's why you've kept them for so long."

"Nah, you just never bothered to get them back."

"You never reminded me."

She slipped on the panties and sat on the edge of the bed, her bare thigh touching Barton's. He leaned into her almost automatically, nuzzling her neck with his nose. "I missed you," he murmured, trailing lazy kisses across her jaw.

Though she wasn't much of a kisser herself - it reminded her too much of work - Natasha let out a genuine shudder as Barton's lips brushed across her skin. His breath was warm, and when he pressed himself against her she realized how high his temperature had climbed. As much as her body missed his she had to remind herself that he wasn't well. "This isn't a good idea," she said decisively, cupping her hand against his burning cheek and turning his face away from her neck.

"This is always a good idea," he said, pawing impatiently at her borrowed shirt.

"You're burning up."

"Since when do you..." He interrupted himself with a gasp and twisted away from her, shivering from head to toe with a powerful sneeze. "hih!... AH'TSCHHHHeuu!"

This time he caught it in the crook of his arm, keeping himself turned away and waving his free hand at her. She understood the gesture immediately and grabbed the box of tissues off the bedside table, pulling out the last two tissues and passing them over. Barton bent over, hunching his shoulders, and gave a nice productive blow. Natasha was happy to hear air moving through his nostrils when he sniffled and asked "Were those the last ones?"

"As far as I know."

"There might be another box in the kitchen... if you don't mind--"

Natasha was up and out of the room before he could finish his sentence. There were a couple of plastic bags on the sleek granite countertop, some groceries he'd never gotten around to putting away. Luckily they were all non-perishables -- soup, Saltines, ginger ale, tea. She found two extra boxes of tissues and then put on some water to boil, hoping she could convince Barton to drink some tea.

When she returned to his room he had his head tilted back and the tissues pressed against his nostrils, as if he were trying to prevent a nosebleed. She opened one of the boxes and handed it to him, sensing the desperation in his movements as he grabbed it from her and tore a tissue out, not a moment too soon. "HFFSCHH! Hh'KSCHHH!" During the brief, quivering interlude he grabbed a few more, bunching them against his nose as he drew in one final breath. "Huhh... hh'AHSCHHHHu!"

At this point Natasha was sitting beside him again, rubbing his back gently as he let out another exhausted blow into the tissues. He grimaced as he gave his nose one last rub, and she almost found herself wincing in sympathy at the sight of his red, sore-looking nostrils. "Does that hurt?"

"Yeah," he said, though when he spoke he was pressing the tips of his fingers lightly against his chest.

After a moment he glanced at her sheepishly and gave a half-hearted laugh that turned into a rattling cough. "Ugh. Man, I really know how to kill the mood, huh?"

"If it makes you feel any better, the mood wasn't really alive to begin with."

"Oh, that's much better."

"Relax, Clint. I just can't think about sex when you're like this. Not because I think you're gross. I'm just... concerned, is all."

"Yeah, you're right," Barton conceded reluctantly, lying down where he was, his legs still hanging off the edge of the bed. "I honestly think sex would kill me right now. Having sex with you is dangerous enough when I'm healthy."

"Why do you think they call me the Black Widow?"

"Because you kill all the bad guys," Barton mumbled, sounding very sleepy all of the sudden. Maybe the NyQuil was finally kicking in.

Yawning, he tipped his head backwards to look at the clock. Natasha took the opportunity to feel his forehead, his skin uncomfortably hot against the back of her hand. She wondered how he could even stand being in his own skin right now. "Is it time for more NyQuil yet?" he asked hopefully.

"No, but I'm making tea."

He groaned, just as she predicted. "I don't drink tea."

"I didn't say I was making it for you," she snapped, teasing. Then, realizing something, she added, "But why did you buy it if you don't like it?"

Barton's face, already flushed with fever, became even redder, but before he could answer the teapot was demanding Natasha's attention. "Sure you don't want any?" she asked and he made a face, shaking his head.

She went to the kitchen to silence the whistling, sliding the teapot over to an inactive burner and grabbing a cup from the overhead cabinet. She put away the soup and the crackers, stored the ginger ale in the nearly empty fridge, and took the box of green tea out of the plastic bag. A small piece of paper, torn from a lined notebook, fell out of the bag as she removed this last item. She picked it up, her eyes skimming over Barton's neat handwriting.

Chicken noodle

Medicine

Tissues (lots)

Saltines

Ginger ale

Tea for Tasha

Smiling, she read through the list again before folding the paper up and placed it on the counter. Natasha was far from sentimental, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to throw the list away. She told herself she was saving it so she could tease Barton, and whether or not this was her true motivation it was something she fully intended on doing once he felt better.

When she returned to the bedroom she was surprised to find Barton out cold and snoring softly, his legs still dangling off the bed. She put her mug down on the bedside table and easily hoisted him up the rest of the way, laying his head gently against the pillows. He woke up for a few seconds, mumbling her name and something else she couldn't quite make out before falling back asleep. Natasha settled down beside him, sipping her tea and watching his chest rise and fall with each noisy breath.

Edited July 28, 2013 by AnonyMouse

[silversnake]

I'm so glad to see an update!! Again, this is incredibly well-written! Can't wait for more

[ichixshiro14]

I love this! The characterization is stellar!