The Avengers Whump & Bromance Anthology
The One Where Tony, Steve, and Clint Go Camping
Part 2
Whumptober 2020
PenPatronus
Clouds covered the stars and it started raining. Not just rain – a deluge. In minutes, the three Avengers were splashing through puddles on their way to the cabin. Each of them left drops of blood behind.
Initially, Tony was hopping along on his uninjured leg, arms across his teammates' shoulders, weight equalized. But as they went, as he lost his strength, he couldn't hop anymore and his grip on Steve and Clint's shoulders faltered. The other two men had to grasp his upper arm under his armpits and carry him between them, toes dragging in the dirty water. Steve's injured foot throbbed so hard that his eyes stung. Clint's shot arm was slowly going numb below and above his elbow. His wrist and fingers were swollen and red.
Tony started to topple to his left, but that put pressure on the bullet wound in his kidney and when it screamed at him, he shot right back up. For a minute he sat up straight, blinking, staring at nothing, and then he toppled to his right. Clint, who sat by his side, caught him and pushed him back up. He left his hands on Tony's shoulder and spine, holding him sturdy and still.
Cap took his busted boot off. He shook it, and out flowed rainwater and blood. After he took off his other boot he used that sock to cover his wounded foot, then laced up both boots again. "How much further?" Steve shouted to Clint. He had to shout because the sound the rain made was so loud.
"Two more miles, at least," Barton reported.
Unable to hold himself up any longer at all, Tony started to topple forward. Cap shuffled his way over and caught him by the chest and shoulder. "Tony, you have to hold on."
Stark nodded. He was staring at the ground with unfocused eyes. Water dripped down his face and he didn't even try to wipe it away. He was shaking, and Steve wasn't sure if it was from the cold wave the storm brought in, or if it was from pain. Both, he supposed.
Tony's eyes closed. His chin dropped to his chest.
Steve shook him. Clint shook him. Dazed, half conscious, Tony looked up at his friends. He spoke, but the rain was too loud, and neither of the other Avengers heard him. His eyes shut again, and his chin landed on his chest. This time, after he shook Tony back awake, Steve took his chin in one hand and forced Tony to meet his eyes. "Hang on," he ordered him. Tony nodded.
Clint got back up on his feet. He held his hand out and helped Steve up onto his feet. "I think I should carry him," Steve said. "We'll go faster."
Clint shook his head. "Not on that foot. Let me try."
"With that arm?"
The pair sighed and looked down at the trembling, waterlogged, bleeding Stark. He stared back. All he seemed able to do was blink.
Steve knelt beside Tony, on his right. Gently, Steve guided Tony to lean his head against his left shoulder. Carefully, Steve squeezed one arm under Tony's knees and the other behind his lower back. He counted to three and then, growling, stood up with Tony in a bridal carry. Tony pushed his nose against Cap's chest and clung to his t-shirt. With Clint in the lead, they started walking again.
They got another mile. That was when Steve tripped over a root. He fell forward, accidentally throwing Tony against the backs of Clint's knees. Clint fell backwards and landed with his legs on Tony's back and his upper half on Steve, who landed facedown in the dirt. The two men scrambled back up onto their feet and rushed to Tony. Gently, Clint rolled him onto his back and wiped muddy water off his face.
Tony was unconscious.
"Dammit!" Clint cursed.
"We're almost there!" Steve reminded him. Thunder rolled around them, echoing lightning strikes in the distance. "We have to keep going!"
The wind picked up. Steve scooped up Tony's limp but still shaking body and folded him close against his chest. He angled his face down and followed Clint's footsteps while he kept an eye out for more roots. They walked around the last mile of the river, and there it was. The cabin. Dark, but intact. Clint sprinted ahead. The door was locked, but Barton kicked it open. Huffing and puffing, Steve limped the final stretch through the door, into the cabin, and Clint shut the door behind him. The moment they were safe, Steve and Clint collapsed onto a braided rug in front of the door. Steve put Tony down on his back, then collapsed backwards onto his own back, gasping from his efforts. Clint sat with his back against the door. He shivered from the rain and cold. His arm throbbed and his legs were tired from maneuvering the puddles. Neither Clint nor Steve said anything for a good 20 minutes.
Steve looked around. It was a one room cabin. The bed space – with one bed – was on his right and a tiny kitchen with a fireplace was on his left. The rear of the cabin was a closet and a small bathroom. The place was overflowing with junk: pots and pans, piles of clothes, cans of food, kids' toys, fishing gear, blankets, swimsuits, half-deflated floaties, hunting gear, first aid kits, and shotguns. When he finally sat up, he found Clint staring at him – a soldier waiting for orders. "Tony first," Steve grunted. Clint nodded, reading his mind. While Clint prepared the bed and gathered blankets, Steve gently stripped the unconscious Tony's clothes off and dried him with towels. Clint tossed him a first aid kit and Cap cleaned Tony's wounds as best he could, and then bandaged him up. Then, with Clint's help, got Tony into the bed and piled half a dozen blankets on top of him.
Steve pulled himself up into a wooden chair and took his boots off. He cleaned and bandaged his own wounds. Meanwhile, Barton found clothes that were too big for both of them, but they were better than nothing. The two of them stripped, toweled off, and put on the clothes: jeans, long-sleeved t-shirts, and flannel button downs. Clint dragged another wooden chair over to Tony's bedside and Steve bandaged up his arm. After that Clint, silently, unpacked a pair of sleeping bags from a plastic box. He tossed one to Steve and spread his own out at the foot of Tony's bed. While Steve arranged his sleeping bag at Tony's bedside, Clint messed with the shotguns. They were already loaded. He handed one to Steve and kept the second for himself. Clint put the gun on the floor perpendicular to his sleeping bag, pointed at the door. He was asleep the second his head hit the pillow he'd found.
Steve sat with his back against the bedside table. His adrenaline was running so hot and his foot was throbbing so hard that he couldn't imagine falling asleep. He looked to his right, up at Tony. His blankets weren't quite to his chin, so Steve gently pulled them up. Outside, the rain continued to fall, and the wind continued to howl. Every time he heard thunder, he half-expected Thor to appear outside the window to rescue them.
No. They were on their own. And Tony was in trouble.
Hesitantly, Steve reached out with two fingers and gently positioned his knuckles against Tony's cheek. "I'll get you out of this, Tony," he whispered. "I promise."
To Be Continued
