Sickly Sweet
"How long did Bruce and Hank say this'd last?"
On the opposite bed, Bucky sneezed harshly, sniffing before mumbling "Five days," his metal arm thrown across his eyes.
Clint groaned, his stomach rolling. "Five days stuck in quarantine? Really?" He was already going stir-crazy, and they'd only been in here for… "How long's it been already?"
"Three hours."
"Great."
"Stark did tell you not to explode the globby green thing."
"No, he said that he wouldn't if he were me." Bucky's laugh was interrupted by another forceful sneeze, and as he dropped his head back on his pillows with a mournful sigh, Clint turned to look at him. "Hey."
"Hm?"
"Least we got five days of more-or-less uninterrupted time together."
Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. "We're both gross, ill, and cranky. Five days together doesn't sound as good in that light."
"Yeah, well there's no-one I'd rather be gross, ill and cranky with."
He opened his eyes, locking gazes with Clint across the small distance between them. Sure, they were both beaten down by some God-knows-what illness, feeling like the inside of a toilet and hardly looking any better, but there was some blessing in the fact that it was just the two of them (Bucky briefly imagined being quarantined with Stark, which suddenly made things seem a whole lot better). He and Clint hadn't had much time alone recently, so maybe now - between puking and sneezing - they could finally catch up. So despite feeling like crap, Bucky grinned, and replied with: "You say the sweetest things, kid."
Clint chuckled at the sarcasm. "Shut up, gramps," he groused; and as Bucky was taken over by another deafening bout of sneezing, he found himself reaching for the metal bowl left by his bedside. Oh yeah - five days of this was going to be swell.
AN: Prompt: "have you done a fic where both of them are sick at the same time yet? Because if not… that :)"