Avengers Stories //Oneshots//

Farmhouse Blues (Part 3)

Uhm... I know I said there would only be three parts, but it looks like there will be four... I didn't anticipate that I would write this much, yet I still think I have 2,000-3,000 more words to knock out. I think I'm going to make this into a wattpad story because I have other ideas to add on to this. How does that sound?

Once again, Tony woke up in a bed without knowing how long he'd been there. But this time, he knew exactly what happened. "Crap," he forced out through his hoarse throat despite nobody being there to hear him. "I blacked out in front of Cap."

It turned out that he was not as alone as he thought in the dark room.

"You got that right. Scared the heck out of everyone, too. Including me."

He turned his head quickly to see his archer friend perched on the bedside table. He was dressed in sweats that he hadn't been wearing before, bare toes curled around the edge of the stand for purchase. He honestly looked a creepy kind of cool. He stared down at him, face twisted in concern and eyes shining with worry.

"What're you doing here?" He asked, trying to clear his sore throat. He pulled the blankets closer to his body, trying to gather heat from them and not caring how he looked. "I was alone last time."

"That's exactly why I'm here. I'm not making the same mistake as last time and leaving you unattended for even a few minutes." He hopped onto the ground and stood, somehow not knocking the entire table over, but that was Clint for you. Thankfully, he hadn't toppled the glass of water there.

"Gimmie," he said before he could stop himself, waving a hand toward the glass.

"Let's get you propped up first," Clint said. Tony went to raise himself by his elbows, but the man placed a hand on his chest to stop him. Once upon a time, he would have flinched at the contact there. He didn't. He trusted Clint with his life and knew that as one of his best friends, he would never intentionally hurt him.

He was gently maneuvered by calloused hands to sit up against multiple pillows. The genius' hands moved to grab the glass Clint soon held, but the archer placed the straw in Tony's mouth. He drank until the cup was gone and the ice clinked on the bottom.

"Why are you doing this?" Tony asked as he was once again moved to lay down. He coughed into his elbow a few times, turning away to avoid getting germs on his friend. "And what do I have? I could sweat it wasn't bad this morning."

"Bruce said that you most likely had a cold, but due to your decreased lung capacity it turned into bronchitis. You possibly have a hint of a bug, if throwing up indicates anything." Clint rattled off as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I want to talk to you."

"How long have I been out?" Tony asked instead. Whatever 'talk' Clint was referring too with such a heavy tone, he didn't want to do it.

"Seven hours and you bet someone was there all the time. I think Cap may have cried," he deadpanned. "Now stop dodging."

"Dodging what? I just want to know how long I've been laid up in bed," Tony sniffed. He crosses his arms, trying to look as dignified at possible. By the look he got, he failed.

"The talk."

"We're talking now."

"That's not what I- see, that's what you do. You deflect."

He bit his lip and ran a hand through his damp hair. "I'm hungry," he lied. "Can we get something to eat?"

"Tony."

Said man paused and really took a look at his friend. His face was haggard and his eyes were full of worry as they studied him. He kept shifting around like he was nervous and he kept placing his bottom lip between his teeth. Tony didn't think he was faking or pulling some kind of spy trick on him. This was just too genuine to be faked.