Day 23

What's a Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here?

Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Sometimes Clint Barton felt like he was moving through life running on adrenaline alone.

He was always moving, always planning, always gearing up for the next mission. In his downtime he was always running drills, training, practicing his shooting, working on his bow and arrows. There was always something he needed to be doing, and it was difficult to turn his mind off most days. In fact, in his days at SHIELD with Phil Coulson as his handler, Phil was not above drugging him in order to force him to get some sleep during his downtime.

But now Phil was gone and Clint was working more than ever as an Avenger while also still doing some SHIELD work. He knew he was running himself ragged, he knew that he was only human, but every time he tried to sit still he was filled with the overwhelming feeling that there was something else he should be doing. His nightmares had become more frequent since Loki had violated his mind and murdered Phil, and he found himself most nights at the punching bag in the gym that Tony had set up in the Tower, as if he could simply punch his way out of his grief and trauma from what had happened.

All in all, it was only a matter of time before he just couldn't keep it up any longer.

He was returning to Avengers Tower after completing a particularly tough SHIELD mission. It had been an assassination mission, and the survailance needed in order to take the shot had been two days longer than anticipated. Clint had gone in without backup - it was just too difficult to imagine being out in the field with anyone other than Phil right now - and had barely slept over the course of the three days. Then he had flown himself back to SHIELD - catch a few catnaps with the autopilots - and had been dragged into hours worth of debriefing.

All this after almost nonstop Avengers and SHIELD missions over the course of almost three weeks now.

As Clint finally left the SHIELD building, he was dragging his feet and blinking heavy. There was no way he'd be able to make the drive back to the Tower. He had countless options to call for a ride, but he really didn't want to bother anyone.

So, with his bow case slung over one shoulder and a duffle bag full of knives and filthy clothes, the Avenger shuffled to the curb and put up a hand to hail a taxi cab.

"You know where Avengers Tower is?" Clint mumbled as he slid into the backseat.

The man driving the cab gave him a funny look in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, of course."

"Drop me there," Clint said as he leaned back heavily in the seat.

The driver stared at him quizzically for a moment, as if trying to place him. Clint was probably the least recognizable of all the Avengers, so he was used to the looks of people trying to figure out why he looked vaguely familiar. Finally the driver shook it off and pulled off the curb and into traffic.

"Sir? Excuse me… sir?"

Clint was suddenly blinking blearly, looking around confused. It took him a long moment to remember getting in the taxi cab. The driver was turned around in his seat and staring back at him with concern. Clint glanced around and realized they were outside of Avengers Tower. It should have been at least a twenty minute drive from the base, but he could have sworn he had just got in this cab.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Clint finally said as he realized that the driver was waiting for him to pay for the ride. He squinted at the fare box, but the numbers kept drifting out of focus. Finally, he pulled a wad of bills out of his wallet that he knew was likely way too much for the short ride, but he didn't have it in him to care. "Thanks," he mumbled as he grabbed his bags and slid out of the cab.

He shuffled across the sidewalk and went to shoulder his way into the building lobby… only to belatedly remember there was a handprint authorization process when the door didn't budge. He sighed heavily, annoyed as he put down a bag in order to place his hand on the reader.

"Welcome home, Agent Barton."

"Thanks, JARVIS," Clint mumbled as he shouldered his way into the lobby. And it was only after the door sealed shut behind him he remembered he hadn't picked his duffle bag back up. He turned around, glaring through the glass door at the bag still sitting on the sideway. "Shit, come on." He put down his bow case and retraced his steps, pulling open the door again in order to retrieve the bag.

"Do you require any aid, Agent Barton?"

Was it his imagination, or did the voice of the computer system that ran the building sound concerned about him?

"No, just tired," Clint said, suppressing a yawn as he headed back into the lobby of the building and started for the elevator. "Just need to make it up to my bed and I'll be fine."

He made it to the elevator and hit the up button… and then glanced down and realized that he was only holding one bag. He looked at his other hand, staring at it with confusion, wondering why it was empty… then he spun around and spotted his bow case still sitting on the floor next to the front door.

"Sonofabitch, seriously?" he sighed.

It was maybe ten feet away, but for a moment Clint could only stare dismally at those ten feet. When the elevator dinged behind him, he seriously considered just leaving the case there. But he knew that was a bad idea and reluctantly trudged back to the door, letting the elevator doors slide shut again. He stumbled a little bit as he leaned down and grabbed the case. Then he took a deep breath as he turned and shuffled back to the elevator. Without putting either bag down this time, he hit the elevator button with his knuckle… only to groan when the doors didn't immediately open again. Apparently the elevator cab had already been called away to another floor and it would likely be several minutes before it made it back down to the lobby.

Clint glanced around, spotting a grouping of waiting room-like chairs off to one side. He shuffled over, decided that he might as well rest his feet while he waited for the elevator to come back. He fell heavily into the closest chair, unceremoniously dropping his bags at his feet. He leaned his head back, letting it hang in midair since this chair didn't have much of a back to it. He was just gonna rest his eyes… just for a minute….

"Clint? Clint?"

Clint felt like he was trying to crawl up out of a pool of molasses as he slowly blinked his eyes open. People stood around him. He glanced around, confused. Where was he? What was going on?

"Clint?"

Clint was finally able to focus on the figure that was kneeling in front of him.

"Steve?" Clint mumbled.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Umm," Clint hummed, honestly having no idea how to answer the question. He glanced around again. "Where am I?" His words slurred together strangely.

"You're sleeping in the lobby of my Tower like a hobo who wandered in off the streets," Tony spoke up from where he stood behind Steve.

"Oh," Clint said as the events of the day slowly came back to him. "Sorry." Then he glanced around again, something donning on him slowly as he noticed that Bruce was also there, standing beside Tony. "How did you know I was down here?"

"JARVIS alerted Tony that you might need some assistance," Bruce said. "I was in the lab with him at the time, and we ran into Steve in the elevator when we were heading down here."

"Oh," Clint said again. "Sorry." He had just said that, hadn't he? "I must have nodded off for a minute."

"JARVIS said you'd been sitting here for twenty minutes," Tony countered.

Clint glared at nothing in particular. "Snitch."

"Clint, are you okay?" Steve asked again.

"I'm just a little tired, Cap," Clint said waving off the concern as he slowly pushed himself up out of the chair, wavering slightly as he did so. "I just need to get some sleep and I'll be fine."

"Yeah, but have you been sleeping?" Steve pressed.

Clint blinked at him. "I just came off a surveillance mission for SHIELD."

"We took the liberty of having JARVIS analyze your activities the last couple weeks," Tony said. "According to him, you're only in your apartment maybe four hours a night. And we can assume you don't sleep those whole four hours."

"You're spying on me?" Clint suddenly demanded.

"I can't see into your apartment, as I promised when you moved in," Tony quickly amended, putting his hands up placatingly. "But JARVIS can monitor you outside of the apartment. He's recorded your times in the range, in the gym… We know you've spent very little time in that apartment the last couple weeks."

Clint sighed, running a hand over his face. His head was pounding and he was wavering on his feet. He was not in the mood to have this discussion.

"I just… don't sleep well," Clint finally hedged. "I never have. But ever since Loki…" He let the thought trail off as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's okay to be struggling with this, Clint," Steve said gently.

"Would you like me to give you something to help you sleep?" Bruce asked. "Something mild, just to take the edge off?"

Clint stared at Bruce for a long time, blinking back emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. It was exactly the kind of thing that Phil would say at a time like this.

God, he missed Phil.

"Yeah," Clint finally mumbled, dropping his gaze down. "That'd be… that'd be okay, I guess."

"Okay," Bruce said. "Let's get you upstairs, okay?"

Clint only nodded. He felt Steve hand hovering just behind his back, guiding him as he shuffled back over to the elevator. The doors were already open, waiting for them, something Tony must have done. It was only when he was in the elevator that he suddenly remembered the bags he was supposed to be carrying.

"Wait-"

"I got the bags, Barton," Tony said, holding up the two bags pinched in one hand.

Clint instantly relaxed, leaning heavily up against the wall behind him as the doors slid shut. Bruce hit two numbers on the keypad for two different floors.

"I'll stop by the medical wing to get a sedative and meet you guys in Clint's apartment," Bruce said.

Clint was barely aware of Bruce stepping off the elevator just a minute later. Steve had to nudge him when they reached the floor where his apartment was located. Clint felt dizzy as he pushed himself off the wall, and Steve had to put a hand on his arm in order to steady him.

"I'm going to keep a closer eye on your mission schedule," Steve told him quietly as they made their way down the hall. "Make sure you don't get overworked like this again. Okay?"

"Hm," Clint hummed, not completely comprehending what Steve was trying to tell him.

Next thing Clint knew, he was collapsing into his bed. Tony stored his bags away, Steve tugged the boots off his feet. Just a few minutes later, Bruce appeared and coaxed him to swallow two pills with a glass of water before he lay back and curled up on the bed. A blanket was pulled over him.

And at long last, Clint finally drifted off into a deep, restful sleep.