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“Babe, I’m home,” Bucky called as he finally dragged his tired body through the front door. Not only had the mission gone long, Steve had insisted on debriefing immediately. And yeah, fine, it would have sucked even more to go home just to return in a few hours but Bucky wanted eyes on his boyfriend.
It had been close to midnight when Bucky had finally been able to send a text message and Clint hadn’t responded. Bucky had tried to remind himself that most people would be asleep, but Clint’s insomnia tended to be worse when he was home alone so Bucky hadn’t been able to shake the niggling worry that sat in the back of his mind through the debrief and ride home.
Bucky didn’t hear Lucky moving about, or give his typical single ‘boof’ greeting when he felt the hour was inappropriate to leave the warmth of his dog bed. Given how often the other Hawkeye snagged the mutt that wasn’t a specific cause for concern; he did spy his favorite guy buried in a bundle of blankets on the couch and smiled to himself. Bucky was relieved Clint had apparently taken his aids out, since there was no response to his greeting from the lump. He always felt bad when Clint fell asleep wearing them when he waited up for him.
Bucky dropped his duffle and bent over to unlace his boots enough to toe them off beside the front door. He promised himself he’d deal with cleaning them the next day as he wandered through the apartment without turning on any lights. He didn’t need them and he didn’t see the point in waking Clint before he was ready to get in bed.
Bucky was drinking a glass of water in the kitchen when he heard Clint call his name out, voice low and anguished. Bucky tossed the glass into the sink and ignored the sound the tumbler made as it cracked against the far side of the basin.
Bucky was beside the couch in an instant, on his knees beside where Clint thrashed, tangled in the covers.
“Here, I’m here Clint,” Bucky said more to reassure himself given Clint’s deafness, as his hands hovered over Clint, torn on whether he should wake him from the obvious nightmare — according to the therapists it was better to let the nightmare work itself out, but in practice it felt miserable.
A dim light barely crested the lip of the loft - Bucky had placed a nightlight up there ostensibly to keep Clint from tripping and injuring himself again on midnight bathroom trip, the clumsy fucker. Not that they would admit it but both men had slept better since Bucky had insisted on buying it. It was just one of those things they accepted but didn’t discuss.
It provided just enough illumination for Bucky’s enhanced vision to make out Clint’s face; as Bucky continued to watch Clint battle the blankets, he realized Clint’s cheeks were flushed. Bucky rose to click on a lamp and verify his suspicion; his heart sank when he saw the chaotic spots of bright color in Clint’s cheeks. Snapshots of the many times he had held vigil for Steve, unsure if he would wake in the morning, cycled through his mind. Bucky gave himself a mental shake and firmly reminded himself that Clint was not Steve.
Bucky settled a hand where Clint’s forehead burned hot. “Jesus doll, why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” he muttered to himself. “Or anyone else?”
“Clint, Clint, wake up,” Bucky said, more for himself than anything, as he shook Clint’s shoulder. A moan escaped Clint’s lips before resumed begging for Bucky, but he didn’t rouse. Bucky shook him harder and Clint pulled away from the touch. His eyes flew open and it seemed like he registered Bucky for a second before his eyes refocused on the empty space to the left.
“No, no, no, no,” he moaned out, words dripping with anguish as he attempted to scrabble backwards, pressing himself into the couch cushions. “Not him too, I won’t, you can’t, I,” the words lapsed into incomprehensible muttering and Clint’s eyes slid shut again.
Bucky used the lull to fetch supplies, gathering liquid Tylenol, a drink, and the hearing aids quickly. He needed to get Clint’s fever down.
When he returned to Clint’s side he found him, aside from his heaving chest, lying still. Bucky, tentatively at first, but then more firmly pressed his palm on top of Clint’s sternum to hold him in place. He leaned up and manipulated one of Clint’s hearing aids into place. Bucky had never done this without permission before but he pushed aside the guilt in the hope that if Clint could hear him it would help cut through the delirium.
“Hurts,” Clint whimpered out and tried to paw at his ear but Bucky thwarted him.
“Clint, I need you to take some medicine for me, then we can take them back out.”
“No, hurts,” Clint whined.
“I know, baby. This’ll help. Come on, sit up for me and drink,” Bucky coaxed Clint into an upright position, only to get his own ear boxed as soon as Clint had his arms free. He supposed on some level he deserved it, and he’d happily take a dozen more punches if it made Clint feel better, but it was not helping the situation. He caught both of Clint’s fists in one of his.
“Come on, just drink this for me.” The pseudo-captivity seemed to settle Clint, who swallowed the contents of the medicine cup without complaint. Then Bucky offered a bottle of purple gatorade that Clint gulped down half of before he turned his face away. Bucky capped the bottle and set it to the side, letting go over Clint, unrestrained his hands immediately set to removing the hearing aid, which Bucky pocketed for safe keeping.
Clint sagged sideways on the couch and Bucky helped him get into a comfortable position once he removed the collection of blankets tangled around Clint’s lower half.
Bucky fetched a small basin of water and a rag, and dragged a chair over so he could more comfortably sit beside the couch. He wrung out the tag and used it to swab Clint’s face, tracing the features lovingly.
Within fifteen minutes Clint’s restless movement stilled and the color staining his cheeks had faded from the vivid redness to something approximating his usual skin tone. When Bucky rested his hand on Clint's forehead this time he could tell the fever had gone substantially down.
Bucky heaved a sigh of relief and made a token effort to wake Clint before hauling the sleeping man into his arms and up to bed. Bucky set an alarm to pour more fever medicine into Clint and finally went to sleep, curled tightly around his lover.