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Clint’s skin was on fire, he was burning up and restless and every shift of fabric against his skin was agony but he couldn’t stop squirming. It was like ants were crawling under his every inch of his skin but they still when he moved, but when he moved it was like the soft cotton sheets were made of sandpaper.
His moan shifted into a whine as shifted again, feeling like a raw, exposed nerve.
“You okay over there?” Jason called from the door. Clint responded with another whine and Jason came closer into the room but held his distance. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything hurts,” Clint pouted. “And I’m hot and this sucks and I hate being sick.”
“I know babe. Me too, which is why I’m not coming any closer.” Clint whined, feeling close to tears. The need to not touch anything ever warred with the need for a hug. “Sorry but I ain’t trying to get sick too. Bucky will be back soon. The meds should help.”
Clint huffed a breath out. Bucky had dropped him at the apartment after his appointment at the urgent care clinic so he wouldn’t have to deal with the pharmacy and he’d been holed up in the bed since, feeling worse by the minute. His throat also hurt, and he wasn’t looking forward to swallowing the pills.
“How long?” he asked, too miserable to care how pathetic he sounded.
Jason checked his phone. “Less than five minutes” Clint squirmed around again. He hated this. The sheets felt too heavy but as soon as he kicked the blankets off he started shaking with chills. “Drink some of your water,” Jason directed.
Clint glanced over and considered it, but his throat hurt too much to make the effort for plain water.
“Coffee?” he wheedled and Jason laughed.
“Okay, you’re not that sick then. I was starting to worry, but if you want coffee…” he laughed again. “But absolutely not. Bucky’d kick my ass.”
“Bucky’d kick your ass for what?” Bucky asked as he came up behind Jason. Jason shifted to let him into the sick room and Bucky beelined for Clint, one hand caressing his forehead to check his fever. “I think you got hotter,” he said.
“I don’t feel good,” Clint whined instead of going for the obvious joke.
“I know, doll. I’ve got some stuff to help.”
“He wants coffee to wash the meds down,” Jason informed him and Clint pouted, knowing it wasn’t going to happen, so what did Jason need to narc on him for a simple request for?
“Maybe later,” Bucky placated, slowly unloading his bag onto the nightstand. There were two orange medicine bottles, a bottle of generic fever reducers, a brand new thermometer, a large bag of cough drops, a box of tissue, and then finally a bottle of purple sports drink emerged.
Bucky cajoled Clint into sitting up and loaded his hand with the pills before cracking the seal on the drink.
“You need me to do anything?” Jason asked, starting to feel a little awkward just standing there. He’d come into the relationship last, and sometimes was still a little unsure about his position in it.
“Do you mind seeing to dinner? I’m going to sit with Clint a bit, see if I can get him to take a nap.”
“Clint is right here and not a baby,” he grumbled before a jaw cracking yawn split his face.
“I know, doll. It’ll still feel better to sleep through how shitty you feel,” Bucky pointed out calmly.
“I can handle that. Give me a holler if you need anything.” He scooted out and wondered how Clint would like the soup Alfred had always made him when he’d been sick at the manor. Pizza probably wasn’t the best pick, even if Jason was positive that’s what he’d say if asked.
With a mental shrug he dialed Alfred’s number to ask for the recipe. He had plenty of time to hit the store for ingredients if he needed to as long as he headed out soon. He could pick up more of that awful purple drink while he was out too.