I was originally going to write a second part to the last chapter, but i every single draft I did was rather stupid and i didn't like it XD so I sorta gave up on this for a while. but i am not dead! XD okay, so this prompt was fun, and to be honest it turned out much differnt than i thought it would- Natasha? Sick? this'll be a funny chapter to write! lol nope, it ended up being more fluff than humor, so don't kill me for it! unless you like fluff? tell me i guess! would you prefer fluff or humor? or some sort of crazy mixture of both?

anyways, enough of my blabbing! XD big thanks to the person who wrote this chapter's prompt!

enjoy!

Prompt from nsane1

Followed you here from your other story :) Very nice. How about Natasha sick, Clint caring for her? Can't imagine she would like that too much.

Chapter 3

Clint had known Natasha for a long time and he had never seen the red head as sick as she was Christmas Eve the year of the battle in New York.

She had avoided the day of decorating and all around cheer, holed up in her room without any explanation as to why she refused to participate. The others considered it to be her lack social skills, but Clint knew that she really had been trying to find a common ground with the rest of the team. She tried to contribute to conversation, voice her opinion once in a while, or maybe on a rare occasion accept Pepper's offer of a shopping spree and girl's night out.

Clint had then decided to find her reasons behind being left out.

He knocks lightly on her door, calling softly, "Tasha?"

She doesn't answer, and that worries him.

"Jarvis?" He speaks a little louder to get the AI's attention.

"Yes Mr. Barton?" Jarvis answers instantly.

"Tasha is in her room, right?" Clint never really had reason to use Jarvis and his all knowing robot eyes.

"Indeed. However, she seems to have a rather high fever, but she refused to let me alert anyone."

Hawkeye sighs, shaking his head. Natasha's sense of independence was one of the only things about her that really got on his nerves.

"Can you unlock the door for me?"

Clint hears a faint click as the AI does so without a word.

The archer lets himself in, opening the door slowly.

Her room is rather blank, with barely anything that one might call personal. She had no picture of her family, or trinkets from her previous life.

She only had what small home warming gifts the rest of the team had given her.

Clint's gift was much simpler than everyone else's, but he would like to think Natasha favored it over the rest. It was just a picture frame with a very old worn picture. The quality had never been very good, but Clint had gotten Tony to clear the image up.

It was just a quick snapshot that Coulson had taken after their return from Budapest. Clint was grinning wildly, looking at down at his partner with bright eyes as she stared back up at him, a genuine smile on her face despite how bruised the pair were. Tasha had come out of it better than Clint had, with only a concussion and a cut under her left eye. Clint had been forced to use crutches after fracturing his ankle from crashing into the side of a glass building. He was covered in cuts from the shattered glass and had a bandage over his right eye.

But despite all these wounds, Natasha still wore the most brilliant of smiles and Clint had the only picture of it in the world. He decided it to be the perfect gift after she said she had no good pictures of them together.

All of these items, minus the red blanket given to her by Steve, sat on her nightstand beside the bed.

Natasha is sprawled across the entire bed, tangled in the red blanket and several quilts. For a second Clint almost can't find her beneath the mountain of fabric.

"Tasha…" He says, walking as quietly as he can.

The redhead mumbles something in Russian, and Clint again curses at himself for not learning the language. For all he knows it could be a death threat she's mumbling.

"Nat." He says again, a little louder. He sits on the side of her bed, a frown pulling at his expression. Clint reaches out and touches her shoulder.

The redhead is in motion like a shot, producing a dagger out from under her pillow and practically tackling Hawkeye. The blade is at his throat and she's now got herself tied around him so he can't move.

"Tasha… it's me." He gulps.

The blade falls away from his neck, and Natasha shrinks away, lying back down.

"Go away…" She says weakly.

Clint ignores her plea and rests the back of his hand on her forehead, feeling just how hot she is.

The first thing he does is try and take a few of her blankets away. She fights him, holding them with a death grip. "Noooo…" She says, sounding so miserable that Clint's heart breaks a little inside. But she needs to cool off, so he takes two of the three away.

"You have to cool off a bit." He explains as she glares. "Do you want something? I can make some soup."

Natasha loves his cooking and he knows it, so he's surprised when she just shakes her head no into her pillow, again telling him to go away.

"How about some tea then?" Nat can never pass up a cup of tea.

She doesn't answer for a while and then she turns to look back. As soon as she goes to say something here face goes pale, and she scrambles to her feet, running to the bathroom.

Clint knows she hates being weak and pretends not to hear her horrible retching in the next room, starting to make her a cup of ginger tea.

When she stumbles back into the kitchen, he shoos her off to bed again and has her sit up so she can drink her tea.

"I hate being sick." She mutters to herself.

"I can tell," Clint says, rather amused by her disgruntled tone and expression.

"Why won't you leeaaaaaaave?" She moans, throwing a pillow at him.

"You're sick," He tells her. "You need someone to take care of you and make sure you don't die or something." Clint chuckles nervously, now thinking he might be the one to die. Natasha never liked being coddled. Why would she be all right with it now?

"I don't want to be treated like a child." She says stubbornly.

"Too late." Clint says with a grin. "Now how about we watch a movie?"

Natasha groans again. "I swear, if you try to make me watch the entire series of Lord of the Rings movies in a row again I'll throttle you."

"No, you can pick this time." He says simply, checking her temperature again. It hadn't decreased, but she hadn't gotten hotter either. And she seemed to be holding the tea down rather well.

"What do you have?" She asks, sinking down in the bed amongst her lonely blanket.

Clint notes how delicate she looks there, with her pale skin contrasting harshly against her red hair.

Natasha was always beautiful, especially when she was fighting and or just being her normal emotionaless self. Barton had never seen her so vulnerable, like a dainty sparrow that had fallen from the nest.

It just makes him want to curl up next to her and make her feel better.

"Anything really." He says, after realizing he had paused a few seconds too long.

"Do you have the dragon movie?" She asks.

Clint struggles to figure out which one she's talking about. "Which one?"

"The one with the boy trying to keep his pet dragon a secret… it was based off a book."

That narrowed it down between two. "Eragon, or How to Train You Dragon?"

"The second one…" She mumbles, too lazy to repeat the long title.

"Yeah, I think Pepper got it sometime ago."

Natasha manages a small smile. "I want to see it. It looks like fun…"

Clint nearly makes a comment on her idea of fun being very much so different but holds his tongue. He was rather fond of living, so he would be quiet and enjoy a simple movie with her. She was sick, so she probably wasn't in her right mind.

Barton retrieved the movie from the top floor without any of the other's seeing him, and was back within five minutes, only to hear that Natasha was once again unable to keep anything down.

He set everything up for the movie and she slumps back on the bed without a word, shivering weakly.

"You still wanna watch this, or do you want to sleep?" He asks, knowing she's probably exhausted.

"No, I'm not really tired." She says holding back a yawn.

"If you say so…"

Clint and Natasha sit together on the bed in front of the flatscreen. They start out with two feet of space separating them, but Natasha gradually slides to her right, until her head rest on the archer's shoulder. She falls asleep maybe half way through, but Clint doesn't turn it off, rather intrigued by the similarities between the movie and how he met Natasha. The kid tried to kill the dragon, but gives it a second chance and they become best friends. Clint had orders to kill Nat, but he offers her a job and now they're the best the agency has.

As the movie ends, Natasha stirs, lifting her head from his shoulder. "It's over?" She says sleepily as the .

"Yeah."

"I missed most of it." She admits sadly. "Was it good?"

Clint thinks about it for a second and finally answers truthfully, "One of the best things I've ever watched in my life."

Natasha doesn't try to hide her surprise as she scoots closer to his warm body. "Really? Why?"

"Because." He says thoughtfully. "It's a story I've seen in real life too, and it made me remember a lot of things and choices I had."

"Ones you regret?"

He shakes his head. "No. The best ones I ever made."

Natasha blinks at him, her green eyes looking deep into his soul. "You're going soft, Barton." She tells him as she once again nestles into his shoulder. Natasha doesn't tell him, but she's glad he came to take care of her.

He doesn't reply, but smiles, glancing back at the picture frame sitting on the bedside table.

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing." She murmurs, pulling her self up just enough to give him a kiss. Natasha would never admit just how much she loves Clint's soft side, but this was as close as it would get.

Clint gives her an amused look before kissing her back, not really caring that he might get sick too now. "Maybe not." He agrees.

Natasha proclaims that night to be the best Christmas Eve of her life.

tell me what you think, and be sure to leave a prompt on your way out! much appreciated and have an awesome day!