18 year-old Clint Francis Barton was not having a good time.
It was his second night having just moved into his college dorm, forced living with three other guys he'd never met. Though the three boys, Tony, Steve and James (who oddly went by Bucky) had quickly fallen into place having been from New York, however Clint hadn't been so fortunate. The concept of moving several hundred miles to upstate New York had originally sounded intriguing, but was proving only marginally better than the children's home in bumfuck Iowa where he'd come from. Having obtained a hefty scholarship, Barton had chosen to attend the school and major in criminal justice aiming to be the "best damn cop" he could be. But if the rest of his college experience was going to be anything quite like this night was gearing up to be then he'd rather just drop out now, saving himself the pain.
The young man was sat on the raised dorm bed, which was harder then the practically brick bed at the children's home, head hung low into the trashcan sat in between his knees. His legs swung as he hummed a soft sound in a failed attempt to quell the crescendoing nausea. Clint had been sat in this same position for the last seven hours, and at this point anything that spewed past his lips wouldn't be more than bile and water. His hair was matted and slicked back with the cool sweat that dripped down his torso making his sensitive skin crawl.
He was alone. And very very sick.
Blinking after his most recent gag, he let his head rest on the wall behind him, turning to the window noticing that the sun was beginning to come up. In only a few hours he'd be forced out of bed and into the dining halls for day 3 of a mandatory week-long orientation, but he wanted nothing more than to curl up and bury himself beneath the covers, disappearing all together.
"God just kill me now." Clint whispered, as his body shuddered and involuntarily heaved once again. Spit dribbled and he coughed into the trash and clutched his aching stomach muscles.
He'd tried his best through the night to stay quite and avoid waking up the other guys. Tony had only shifted once in the night, which had caused Clint to pause and pray that he wouldn't wake up. The last thing he needed right now was three randos' hovering over him like mother hens.
Though honestly having someone help him out didn't sound like the worst idea in his current predicament.
Clint prided himself in his stoicism and hard facade but as he once again stared out the window, watching a small huddle of deer walk around the backwoods he couldn't help the soft sigh and the tears that began to form in his eyes. At least in his previous home when he was sick or hurt he'd had his social worker Phil Coulson around to lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on. But right now he was well and truly
Alone.
For a moment he considered calling his, essentially, surrogate father but decided against it not wanting to worry the man, because christ he'd promised him that he'd "be fine on my own Phil I've taken care of myself for years! It'll be great!"
Boy was he just outrageously wrong.
The light outside only proved to make the dull ache in his head up itself to at least a 5 on the pain scale, as he slammed his eyes shut and gagged into the trashcan.
After going back and forth for sometime (he'd lost track at this point) between hanging his head between his knees and laying it against the pillows stacked beside him an alarm rang out blaring and making the teen's twinging body recoil.
He knew he was in for it now, as the three other boys groaned and began to get up. Within seconds all eyes were on him, looking foreign and albeit, terrified, in the moment.
"Christ have mercy on you Clint what the fuck happened?" Bucky choked out, unsure of what to do.
From the outsider perspective, Clint's hair stuck out at odd angles. He was white as a sheet with a sheen of sweat covering him. His shirt clung to his thin frame in weird ways, as he trembled slightly. The bags under his eyes spoke for themselves as The boy threw his head forwards expelling the meager amount of water he'd tried to keep down previously.
Tony simply snorted and shot back to Bucky's question saying,
"Damn Clint didn't know you were such a party animal. Remind me to slam some shots with you bud." And chuckled.
Steve shot Tony a look that Clint didn't quite catch but assumed wasn't a kindly gesture.
"Hey, Clint. Are you okay? Is there anything you need?" Steve said, softly placing a hand on the young boys knee.
Clint replied with a shake of his head, then a shrug of his shoulders. The simple kind motion of Steve just placing a hand on him cracked something in him as he let out a soft sob, holding back tears as his head and stomach swam.
Steve sighed, turning to Bucky and Tony muttering something about "help" to the other two but once again Clint was rather focussed on keeping his internal organs inside his body and not lining the base of the trashcan. Steve ran a hand over ClintMs back, and the sick dirty-blonde didn't notice as Bucky left the dorm room and padded down the hallway to go get an RA.
"Just take it easy Clint we're here to help you." The older boy said, offering Clint the bottle of water which was quickly refused.
Not even five minutes later Bucky curved around the doorway as he softly announced,
"You're getting SHIELD bud."
"I-I'm getting what?" Clint sputtered out, letting out a breath he hadn't quite realized he was holding in.
"SHIELD's the on campus emergency response team." Tony replied, as he flipped through the day's orientation packet. "They work with the campus police department."
Oh great. So much for just toughing this out alone.
"No, no no I'm fine it's just...stress or somethin-" Clint couldn't finish his sentence as he was hit with a bad stomach gurgle that ended with him heaving once again. "Oh fuck this." He whispered after the bout ended.
"Hey it'll be okay. We'll stick around with you and keep you company." Bucky said, smiling and patting Clint on the shoulder reassuringly.
Clint squirmed around, and unstuck his back from the wall, as he slowly slid forwards until he dropped to the ground, however he didn't calculate for how dizzy he was and began to flak to the side. Steve and Bucky were quick to reach out and reorient him, as he helped him sit on his step stool, which was used to reach his bed.
"Thanks guys. I owe you." He chuckled out, half a grin painfully stretching his chapped lips.
Tony's reply of "yeah you do" was quickly covered up by the other two boys reassuring Clint that he owed them nothing.
"It really is Okay man. Stevie here used to get sick as a fuckin dog constantly." Bucky said jabbing at his friend's side. "It doesn't help that you're in a new place with nee people either. That'll screw up anyone's immune system."
Tony chuckled his approval adding, "man you shoulda seen the first time my parents sent me to camp. I was a goddamn mess!"
It wasn't long until two officers appeared at his door, with a group of three guys carrying a bag of medical equipment after them.
One far to chipper guy walked in and knelt in front of Clint as the rest of his crew began to pull out a multitude of devices and smaller bags from the equipment bag.
"Hey there. My name's Stephen. I'm an emt. What seems to be going on today?"
Clint quickly recapped them about the last eight hours, swallowing back the lump of presumably bile that was stuck in his throat. He made it resolutely clear that he had not been out drinking because frankly even he understood how this may look bad.
"Don't worry," the emt chuckled, "I believe you. My crew and I here are just gonna check you out okay?"
Clint nodded as another guy named Bruce tightened a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm.
"Can I get an ID or drivers license?"
Clint looked to Steve saying "Can you grab my wallet from my backpack? My Driver's license should be in there."
The other boy nodded and quickly did so, as the four medics continued to check him out.
Both Stephen and Bruce were calling out numbers and statements that were declarations of his vitals.
"Blood pressure is 110 over 65."
"Pupils and equal and reactive"
"Skin is pale and diaphoretic"
"Respirations are 16"
"Pulse is 104"
"SPO2 is 98"
Clint remained fairly oblivious to paying attention, trying to hold down the next gag but it was no use as he groaned and proceeded to lean forwards and vomit straight bile into the trashcan.
While they waited for him to sit back, The emt pulled out a small black pouch, grabbing the blood glucose monitor, an alcohol prep pad, a bandage and a small orange rectangular thing.
"I'm just gonna prick one of your fingers to check your glucose okay?"
Clint nodded, wincing as he heard the click and felt the needle pierce the delicate flesh of his pointer finger. He wasn't the biggest fan of needles but it was the least of his worried currently.
After calling out those results, Stephen kneeled back a bit. Somewhere in the mix of everything Clint had been handed a blue emesis bag. He wasn't sure of when but damn was he sure glad they had.
"Right well. We can't really do much else for you except check your vitals. It's your choice. You could sign off and we'll get outta your hair. Or we could get you a taxi or ambulance down to the hospital. What are you thinking?"
Clint hunched over and ran his hands through his hair. He was far too exhausted to do this right now. He just wanted to be home, with Phil taking care of him. He couldn't help the small whimper that passed his lips to which Bruce placated him whispering "Hey it's okay. You're okay bud."
"I don't know. I don't..." Steve, Bucky and even Tony knelt beside their new friend in show of their support.
"I think..maybe it's best to go down yeah? They can give you some meds and check you over more." Steve replied as Bucky hummed his approval.
"I can't...I don't have any money." Clint whispered out, but Tony and the other were quick to reassure him that wouldn't be a problem.
"If you even need I can get my mom to help pay the bill it's no biggie." Tony responded giving him a small smile.
The 2 emts agreed with the other boys as Stephen said,
"I think your friends are right. The hospital can run some tests and figure out how best to help you. At the least they can give you an IV to combat your dehydration."
The teen nodded slowly, pausing to contemplate before asking, "Can I make a call?"
Bruce gave a tight a smile and nodded, as Bucky grabbed Clint's phone which had been discarded on the nightstand. Quickly opening his phone and opening his contacts to the familiar number. He put it up to his ear, listening as it rung twice before someone picked up.
"Hello? Clint?"
He'd only been away from Phil for two days but he found himself crying to the man who treated him like a son.
"Clinton, hey, buddy what's going on?"
"I'm sick. 'M not feeling so good and I've been throwing up for hours. My roommates got the RA and they called the medical services on campus. They checked me out and said it'd be best to go down to the hospital. They have an option for a taxi but...but I'm really not good Phil and I don't. Know. What. To. Do. Because I donMt have the money. I just want you here."
Steve, Bucky and Tony's hearts broke a little to see this kid fall apart as tears fell down his pale cheeks. And that's just it. He was no more than a kid. They all were still just kids.
"Clint, buddy, kiddo. Do what you need. I think an ambulance would be best yeah? Let's not care about the money right now. They can help you out until you get to the hospital. Go ahead and go down and call me when you get there. I want you to be okay and feel better. I love you kid."
"Love you too." Clint mumbled as he wiped away the tears and hung up. Looking up at the emts he said, "I'll take the ambulance."
"If it's alright Clint I can come with you. Keep you company so you won't be alone." Steve said. He turned to Stephen, Bruce and the other emt and asked, "you think they'll let me ride with him?"
"Perhaps, it really depends on the crew working."
"Well if not I'll take a taxi and meet you down there. I know it sucks to spend your time alone in a hospital." Steve's affirmation eased Clint's stress.
As they walked him down to the lobby to wait for the ambulance Clint reminisced on the shit-show of a start to his next four years. But something in his mind reassured him this wouldn't be too bad. At least he's got some people to look out for him even if it was a new experience all together.