Alright, I've got another random story for you guys. This whole collection really isn't going to have a plot to connect all of them but things will be mentioned from other one-shots (ex. Natasha wanting to go to Paris). There's really no storyline to say the least haha. Anyways, in this random story, Natasha catches pneumonia and things take a turn for the worse. Enjoy!
In the middle of October during their first year of marriage, Natasha had caught a cold. It had been unusually chilly and windy in the city for the month of October so a lot of people had been getting sick. Working in the admissions office didn't help Natasha. She sat at the reception desk which was right in front of the door. Every time someone walked through the door, a cold gust of air whipped through the office and Natasha was the first person to get hit by the cool gust of air.
At first, Natasha thought it was a cold. She had been coughing a lot and it never sounded pretty every time she hacked. A lot of the people she worked with in the admissions office had been calling out sick, one of them even calling out claiming they had pneumonia. Natasha didn't think anything of it, until the symptoms started to get worse and weaken her body.
She wasn't quite sure why she never said anything to Clint. Every time she coughed or said she had a headache, she just brushed it off as if it was nothing. He constantly told her she should go see a doctor but she denied him and told him it would pass within a couple days.
Then, one weekend, Clint woke up next to Natasha, who felt like she was boiling. He touched his hand to her skin and it almost felt like he was sticking his hand in a campfire. He carefully rolled out of bed and searched for a thermometer in the bathroom. When he found it, he made his way back into the bedroom and stuck it in her ear. When the thermometer beeped, he removed it from her ear to find out her temperature. It read 104 degrees Fahrenheit and he instinctively flinched at the sight of the number.
He knelt down at the side of the bed and brushed a stray curl out of her face. Even by doing this small action, he could feel the heat radiating off of her body. "Tasha," he whispered her name and she stirred. She didn't open her eyes but she rolled onto her back, the covers pulled up to her chin.
"Tasha, how long have you had this fever?" he asked calmly.
"What?" she croaked, her eyes still closed.
"How long have you had this fever?" he asked more firmly this time.
"I don't know. A couple days, I guess," she muttered.
"A couple days?" Clint asked in shock. "And the fever still hasn't broke?"
Natasha shook her head, her eyes still closed.
"Jesus Christ Tasha," Clint groaned as he pushed himself off of the floor. He knew that fevers weren't something they could just leave alone. If a fever didn't break, then there was definitely something wrong.
"Clint," Clint heard Natasha moan. He'd walked away from the bed in anger so his back was facing her but the moment he heard her voice, he turned around to look at her. She had pushed herself up into a sitting position in bed, but she looked extremely weak. Her complexion was pale and from the looks of it, she was having difficulty breathing. Her breaths were shallow and every time she took a deep breath, it looked like it hurt her.
"I think have pneumonia," she croaked nonchalantly.
"Pneumonia?" Clint asked, raising his eyebrows in contempt. "Fuck! And why do you think you have pneumonia?"
"Because one of the other girls I work with in the admissions office had it. Or maybe she still has it. I don't know."
"Fuck Nat! Did you just plan on letting this slide by me?"
"No," she said in a small voice. Clint was fuming but he stopped just a second to see the sadness in Natasha's eyes as she bowed her head. Yes, he was angry at her for just brushing it off as if it was nothing but he was being extremely harsh with her right now. She was extremely weak right now and the last thing she needed was for Clint to get pissed off at her.
Clint walked across the room and climbed onto the bed, crawling over to her to feel her forehead. "Tasha, this is bad," he said. "If this fever doesn't break by tomorrow morning, or hell even by tonight, I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No, don't take me there!" she cried. "You know I don't like hospitals!"
"I don't think I have any other choice."
"Could you…will you just lay in bed with me?" she asked weakly.
Clint sighed. "Of course," he said. He carefully pulled the covers out from under him and burrowed underneath them. Natasha carefully lowered herself down underneath the covers as Clint rolled over to stretch his arm over her overheated body. She was still burning up but he knew that if he let go even for a second, she might slip away from him for good.
Natasha slept for the majority of the day. Every so often, she would squirm in bed and moan out of discomfort. Clint felt helpless. There really wasn't anything he could do for her. He wanted to take her to a doctor because that was the only thing he knew he could do for her, but he knew she didn't want to do that.
He felt his heart break every time she tried to take in air but failed. This was worse than that time she had that cold. A cold was just a sore throat, a stuffy nose, and coughing. This was much worse than just a cold. Yes, she was probably right that she had pneumonia but Clint had no knowledge as to how to treat it. No one in his family had ever gotten it so he had no way of knowing how to approach this.
Later that night, Clint shoved the thermometer in Natasha's ear again and was appalled when he read the screen. Her temperature had risen to 106. Despite what she wanted, he was taking her to the hospital. The last thing he wanted was to lose his wife only a few short months after they had gotten married.
He called Natasha's grandparents to see if they could loan them a town car to get them to the nearest hospital. He knew it probably would've been smarter to just call 911 but if he had done that, Natasha probably would've ripped his head off. Natasha's grandparents said they would send a town car to their house in The Village, but they would also meet Clint at the hospital as soon as possible.
When the town car had arrived, Clint told the driver that they needed to go to the nearest hospital and then sprinted back into the house to grab Natasha. She was still asleep but every so often, she still squirmed in bed out of discomfort. As he went to feel her forehead once again, he could feel the heat radiating off of her body before his hand made contact with her skin.
He pushed the covers off of her and then gently scooped her up in his arms to carry her downstairs to the car.
"Where are we going?" she muttered weakly as Clint stepped down their front steps. The driver opened the car door for Clint and he slid into the back seat. When he was settled in the back seat with Natasha still in his arms, he brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face and touched his hand to her forehead.
"I'm taking you to the hospital. Your temperature went up to 106 and I'm not going to sit around and watch you suffer," he said calmly.
They sat in silence during the car ride to the hospital. Clint had expected Natasha to protest and order the driver to take them back home, but she just sat in silence. She coughed every so often and had difficulty taking in breaths but that was about it. Clint always placed his hand on her forehead to constantly check how hot she felt. Secretly, Clint had hoped that the fever would go away like magic and they wouldn't have to take her to the hospital. But every single time he was disappointed when he touched his hand to her skin and felt the burning sensation.
Clint tried to stay as calm as possible when he carried Natasha into the ER. His voice was cracking as he spoke and he could feel his heart racing in nervousness. He frantically told the doctors that he didn't know what else to do after her fever had spiked to 106. Before the doctors rolled her away, Clint quickly slipped the wedding rings off of her fingers. He knew that she would panic if the doctors removed them and didn't give them to Clint. When the doctors had begun to roll Natasha further into the ER to work on her, he felt someone grab the hood of his sweatshirt. He whipped around to see Natasha's grandparents.
"You have to wait here, Clint," Natasha's grandmother said calmly. Clint looked back at the doors they had taken Natasha through but unfortunately, she was already long gone. The only thing he could do now is wait.
It was a few hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, when a doctor had finally delivered news to Clint and Natasha's grandparents. They had managed to stabilize her, bringing her fever down to 103. They had hooked her up with an IV that injected her with morphine that would ease the pain of breathing. In all, the doctor told Clint she was going to be fine.
"Can I see her?" he asked in a panic.
"Only direct family can see her right now. I'm assuming you're her grandparents?" the doctor said turning his attention to Natasha's grandparents.
"I'm her husband," Clint snapped.
"Her husband?" the doctor asked, confused.
"Yeah, her husband. The guy she's married to. Last I checked that made me direct family." Clint narrowed his eyes to slits as he glared at the doctor. When the doctor became too uncomfortable with Clint glaring at him, he turned to Natasha's grandparents for reinforcements.
"He really is her husband," Natasha's grandfather said with a nod. The doctor shook his head in disbelief but turned his attention back to Clint. He didn't say anything but he just motioned for Clint to follow him. Clint followed the doctor, leaving Natasha's grandparents in the waiting room. He knew it was probably selfish to see Natasha by himself. They were her grandparents after all so they were probably equally as worried about her as Clint was.
The doctor led Clint down an eerily silent hall. All of the rooms were dark and Clint finally understood why Natasha didn't like hospitals. He couldn't imagine what was going through her mind when he had been in that accident a few years back. The silence and the looming presence of death must have scared the hell out of her. Now, he could sympathize.
The doctor stopped outside of a dimly lit room that Clint could only guess was Natasha's. The doctor took a deep breath as he looked at Clint. "She's sleeping now and we wouldn't advise you to wake her. She needs her rest but you can stay with her."
Clint relaxed and then expressed his gratitude with the doctor for taking care of her and for letting him see her. The doctor clapped him on the shoulder before walking away to tend to more patients. As Clint quietly made his way into the dimly lit room, he focused his eyes on Natasha's sleeping form on the bed. He hesitated so he could make out the rise and fall of her chest before he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to her bedside.
All he wanted to do now more than ever was to hold her. He wanted to feel her heart beating against his. He wanted to feel her lips against his. But most importantly, he just wanted her in his arms. Due to the wires and tubes that were stuck in her arms, he couldn't do that so he just gently took her delicate hand in his and watched her sleep.
He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he felt Natasha's hand slip from his. The sudden movement made Clint open his eyes in a panic, only to see Natasha's beautiful green eyes staring back at him. She was lying on her side facing him. There was some color back in her face but she still looked exhausted.
"Tasha," he breathed as he leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled back, he grabbed her hand and put it between both of his. He rested his head on top of his hands and let out a breath of relief.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Natasha asked weakly. Clint raised his head to look into Natasha's sad green eyes. He could tell that she was genuinely sorry for letting her illness get out of hand and making him suffer by watching her suffer. However, he was still mad at her for not letting him interfere with it until it had gotten to the point where she could have died.
"You could have died on me, Tasha. Your temperature was at 106. If it had gotten one degree higher, the cells in your body would've started to shut down, then your organs, and you just…you could've died on me!"
"I'm sorry," she croaked. He could see the rims of her eyes getting red as the tears started to well up. He didn't want to make her cry. He just wanted her to understand how serious the situation was. She let out a whimper and bit her lip as she tried to stop the tears from overflowing.
"Nat, I'm sorry. Please don't cry," he said, cupping the side of her face with his hand. "Please just understand that I didn't want you to leave me this soon. I haven't taken you to Paris yet, but most importantly, I haven't stopped loving you yet. And I never will stop loving you so please just understand that I'm mad at you because I thought you'd pretty much given up on me."
Natasha rolled onto her back and wiped the tears that had escaped. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, repeating it over and over again as if it was a mantra. Clint got up from the chair and climbed into bed with her. He pulled her close with her head and one of her hands resting on his chest.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, not that Clint cared. It felt good to have her in his arms and in a better condition. Clint didn't say anything more to her as she let herself cry it out but once she was calm, he brushed the pieces of hair that had matted to the side of her face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Just let it be known for the future that even though we didn't say it directly when we got married, I will be there for you in sickness and in health. And I swear to God if you don't mention to me if you get sick again, I will kick your ass," Clint demanded. Clint's threat garnered a small laugh from Natasha as she got a tighter grip on Clint. She sighed into his chest as she got comfortable but it didn't last long.
As she stared at her left hand she realized her rings were missing. She let out a gasp as she came to the sudden realization. "What the hell did those sons of bitches do with my rings?" she snapped.
Clint let out a chuckle as he dug into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out her wedding rings. "You mean these rings?" he said, holding them up for her to see.
"Yes," she breathed, relaxing against Clint's chest again. Clint shifted his position so that he could slip the rings back onto her ring finger and she sighed in relief as soon as they were back in their rightful place.
"Don't worry. I wouldn't let anything happen to them," Clint said as he laced his fingers through hers on her left hand. "Just like I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
How about that? Somewhat romantic? haha. I have a couple more ideas for more random stories, including Clint and Natasha cooking Thanksgiving dinner and it goes horribly awry, Clint and Natasha finally meeting Mr. Osborn (which is where Harry and Peter Parker would make a reappearance), and Clint and Natasha's first Christmas together as a married couple. The rest of their group of friends (Thor, Steve, Peggy, etc.) will make a reappearance again too. I just haven't decided on a story yet. Once again, if there is something you would like me to write for them, let me know and I'll try to work it out!
As always, thank you so much for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Therefore, review away! Let me know what you think of Natasha's illness and Clint coming to the rescue.