4 chapters to go. I'm so sad! But I promise I might be working on something else. I've got two plot bunnies floppin' around my head, making it hard to think. Maybe if I extermi- I mean get rid of them, I'll be able to think clearly.
Also, they do sell Batman shirts in pink. Just thought y'all should know. It's kinda cool, actually.
I couldn't be getting sick. One of the most unenjoyable things for me was getting sick. While most women would be all for sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, sipping meatless chicken noodle soup and watching stupid chick flicks while their husband waited on them. I wasn't one for that. Now I was seated on the couch in one of Clint's sweaters with a bucket near my feet. I had been sleeping in his bed when I suddenly ran out into his bathroom and vomited and he took it upon himself to make me feel better. Being sick with the added bonus of feeling like I've forgotten something made my day worse.
"How's your stomach?"
"A bit better. I feel like I'm forgetting something important though." Clint sat beside me, and I instincively cuddled into his side. I was wondering where the others were, especially Bruce. He probably knew what was wrong with me. But Clint was convinced this was just a little cold, but in my gut I almost knew it was more. My stomach grumbled.
"I'll go make you a sandwich." Clint ran off to the stomach, and when he returned he was holding a peanut butter sandwich. Hungrily, I took a large bite into it. It tasted foul.
"This peanut butter tastes weird."
"Thor always uses it though." Taking another bite of it, the sandwich still tasted odd. I held it out to Clint, and he took a bite. "It's perfectly fine. If you want, I'll go make you some soup and I'll finish the sandwich." Soup sounded really good right now.
Eventually, Clint returned with a mug full of soup for me. While I was waiting, I counted the holes in his sweater. This old purple sweater had a few holes, but each one of them had a story. Like the one in the pocket, that had come from the time he kept a pair of scissors in there and was playing with them. A little tiny hole from the time he accidentally poked himself with a roasting stick when we were making s'mores at one of the SHIELD get togethers.
"Darling, why are you crying?" A very worried Clint asked. We were watching the second season finale of My Little Pony, and it was heartbreaking. I hugged Clint, burying my face into his shoulder.
"It's just so sad!"
"Nat, do you want Tony to see you crying over ponies?" I shook my head, and realized he was right. I was blowing this whole situation out of proportion. I was a grown adult watching a child's show and crying over the fact that two ponies might not be getting married.
When we finished watching the episode, I was fine again. I guess I had fallen asleep, so Clint went to his room and got his action figures and was sprawled on the floor, playing. It was quite comical to listen to, so I tried to make him think I was asleep. But eventually I would have to get up, because I really needed to pee.
"Clint, can you help me up? Both my legs fell asleep."
"Sure!" He looked excited to be doing things again. When I stood up, my head spun. After steadying myself, I wandered down the hall to the bathroom. Back in the living room, Clint was cleaning up my mess. I felt rather bad about making him clean up my mess, but I was just so dazed and confused. Trying to be helpful though, I carried my mug to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher.
"You know you didn't need to do that, right? I want you to get better." Clint said when I stumbled back into the living room. Back on the couch, I put my head on his shoulder. He lightly kissed my forehead.
"Maybe you should go talk with Bruce. He is a doctor."
"It's probably nothing. I'll wake up tomorrow and it will be gone, and I can go kick your but in sparring again." I laughed. Clint chuckled lightly.
"I hope you do. I miss getting my but kicked. Besides, you're going to need to practice so that we can get some really cool costumes and patrol some other city pretending to be Batgirl and Merida. I'm working on the Merida thing though, because she's a girl and I'm not." Only Clint would say such a thing.
"I love you."
"Love you too." We kissed, but I broke away early. I remembered what I had forgotten. "What's wrong?" I wasn't quite sure about what was wrong at the moment either, so I didn't give him the real answer.
"Nothing. But you shouldn't be kissing me, because I'm sick. Wouldn't want that to catch onto you."
Later that night, after Clint had tucked me in, I laid awake debating if I should go see Bruce or not. I padded down the hallway to the lab, still wearing Clint's sweater. Sure enough, the doctor was in, poking around some statistics on one of Tony's screens. Steve was in the lab as well, sitting on one of the counters, shirt off with a bunch of things stuck on him. I walked into the lab just as Bruce was explaining to Steve what all the colors and percentages meant.
"Hello Natasha." Steve blushed, and I felt bad for the soldier.
"Hello boys. Bruce, can I talk to you for a second?" Bruce put his glasses down on the counter, next to Steve's shirt.
"Sure." He followed me into the hall. I told him about how I was sick today, and about what I had remembered.
"I think you and I both know what this means."