Marvel Oneshots

Sick (Clint Barton)

Clint's POV

Something was off.

I could feel it in the way Y/N moved—slower, more deliberate, like she was trying to hide the strain. She wasn't one to complain. In fact, she was too damn stubborn for her own good. But I'd known her long enough to recognize the signs. The way she rubbed her temples when she thought I wasn't looking, the faintest wince when she turned her head too quickly—it all added up.

Y/N was sick, and she was trying to keep it from me.

I tried not to push. I gave her space, figuring she'd tell me when she was ready. But as the hours passed, my gut told me I was wrong to wait. She wasn't just a little under the weather; something was really wrong.

We were training together in the gym today—something we did all the time—but I kept catching her faltering. Just small things at first. Her punches didn't have their usual force. Her breathing was a little too shallow. She was pale, way paler than usual, and I could see beads of sweat forming at her hairline even though we'd barely started.

"Y/N, you okay?" I asked casually, throwing a jab at the punching bag.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied quickly, giving me a half-smile. "Just a little tired, that's all."

I wasn't buying it. But I didn't press... not yet. I knew if I pushed too hard, she'd just get defensive, maybe even shut down entirely.

Still, something in my chest tightened as I watched her continue. I stayed close, keeping an eye on her without being obvious, but the tension in me was building. She wasn't fine. Not by a long shot.

It happened fast.

One moment she was on her feet, throwing a kick at the bag, and the next, she staggered. Her hand went to her head, and before I could react, she crumpled to the ground.

"Y/N!" I was at her side in an instant, my heart slamming against my ribs. I knelt beside her, gently lifting her head into my lap, her skin cold and clammy to the touch.

"Hey, hey, come on, Y/N, wake up." My voice wavered as I tapped her cheek lightly, trying to keep my own panic in check.

For what felt like an eternity, she didn't respond. Then, finally, her eyelids fluttered, and she groaned softly, her eyes slowly opening.

"There you are," I whispered, relief flooding my chest as her gaze found mine. "You scared the hell out of me."

She blinked up at me, confusion clouding her features. "Clint...?"

"Yeah, it's me." I gave her a small smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "Mind telling me what the hell's going on? And don't even think about lying to me."

She swallowed, looking like she was about to protest, but the weakness in her body betrayed her. She knew she couldn't hide it anymore.

"I... I didn't want to worry you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Too late for that," I muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You've been sick, haven't you?"

She nodded weakly, her eyes closing again for a moment. "I thought it was just a cold... but it got worse. I didn't want to bother you with it."

"Bother me?" I shook my head, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. "Y/N, you fainted in front of me. You should have told me. I could've helped."

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. "Didn't want to slow you down."

I exhaled sharply, my frustration melting into concern. "You're more important than anything I've got going on. Don't ever think you're slowing me down."

She sighed softly, her body going limp against me, and I could see how much energy she had burned trying to hide this from me.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I thought I could push through it."

"Well, clearly, you were wrong," I said, my voice softening. "No more hiding. If something's wrong, you tell me. Deal?"

She nodded weakly, and I gently helped her sit up, my hand still cradling her back. She leaned into me, her head resting against my chest, and for a moment, we just sat there in silence.

"I've got you," I whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "From now on, we handle this together. No more trying to do it on your own."

"Okay," she whispered back, her voice soft but filled with trust.

We stayed like that for a while, and I could feel her breathing even out as she leaned against me. She was stubborn as hell, but she was mine. And from now on, I'd make sure she knew she didn't have to carry the weight alone.

4o