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hot-with-fever · 2 years

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This is my @softsnzstuff Secret Santa contribution for @perfectpaperbluebirds 😊

This is a Clint and Natasha story. I’m not super familiar with their dynamic, so apologies if it’s a bit ooc.

Oh and importantly, don’t put too much (any) thought into the mission and whether or not it makes sense. I sure didn’t! It’s not about the mission, it’s about the sickness 😄

Contains: Fevers, some spelled out sneezes, basically no coherent story, a hint of contagion

Word count: ~3k

Thanks to @oh-no-my-hand-slipped for your snz spelling posts, they helped a great deal as that’s been new to me!

Clint looked down over the snow-covered valley from his hiding place up in the mountain. He huddled down into his makeshift hidey-hole between two trees and a boulder, trying to get more comfortable. Sitting in the same position for too long out in the cold had made his back and hips ache.

Well, he told himself that was why anyway.

He pulled out a tissue and blew his nose. Then he took a deep breath and tried his best not to reflexively swallow, as doing so made his already sore throat hurt even more.

The sun had offered some warmth at around mid-day. But as the afternoon came around, clouds had rolled in. The sun disappeared, and small snowflakes started floating down from the sky. Clint watched as one came closer and closer until he could feel it land on his cheek, melting instantly. He shivered. More snowflakes came his way. This was going to be a long day.

Suddenly an itchy sensation materialised in his throat. He cleared his throat harshly. It didn’t help, and he fell into a coughing fit which he stifled as best he could into his shoulder. Not for the first time in the past 24 hours.

A gust of wind came through the trees in the forest behind him. It set off a wave of shivers down his spine and he pulled his coat closer around him. As the coughing fit subsided he sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“You okay there, champ?” Natasha’s voice came through his earpiece.

“Never better,” he replied dryly.

“I told you to take the day off, get some rest.” The disappointment was clear in her voice. “I can handle a few shifts on my own, you know.”

“And let you have all the fun? Hardly.”

Before Natasha had time to respond, Clint had fallen into another coughing fit.

As far as missions went, this was a very uneventful one. The orders were clear: do surveillance but do not engage. Which meant endless hours of sitting in bushes, peeking out behind trees and rocks; basically seeing without being seen.

“We’re no more than glorified cameras,” Clint whined as he walked inside the cabin.

“You know they need people in the area,” Natasha said pointedly. “Just be glad we have backup on the other side of the valley. At least this way we can take turns and everyone gets some sleep.”

Normally Clint might have argued that it was too boring. He had to admit that he usually enjoyed the action. But this time he was secretly relieved that the mission didn’t require too much physical exertion, because as much as he wanted to deny it, it was clear that he was coming down with something.

It had started with a tickle in the throat. The tickle brought on coughing fits, and the coughing had caused both a raw throat and a headache. And while he wasn’t sure if it was a symptom of illness or just being out in the cold, his nose had started running like nobody’s business.

Natasha had obviously picked up on it but was as of yet unsuccessful in persuading him to stay inside.

“Go sit down for a bit,” Natasha indicated the armchair in front of the fireplace. “I’ll take care of dinner.”

Clint felt Natasha’s eyes on him as he shuffled towards the recliner. He knew she’d noticed that he hadn’t taken his jacket off. So what? They’d been out all day, sitting still in the freezing cold. He was a little chilled. That’s allowed, surely.

He rummaged around in his pocket for a tissue and forcefully blew his nose as he slumped into the armchair. Then suddenly he was thrown into another coughing fit. This one kept on going for quite some time. He squeezed his eyes shut at the unpleasantness, a hand splayed on his chest for support. By the time the fit subsided his lungs were burning.

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he was catching his breath and looked up. Natasha stood next to him, holding out a glass of water.

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the glass and taking a few tentative sips.

“I really don’t like the sound of that cough,” she said. For the first time since this had started he could both see the worry in her face and hear it in her voice.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to sound convincing.

Natasha shot him a look.

“Really, ‘Tash. It sounds worse than it is,” he lied.

Bringing a tissue to his nostrils he wiped his upper lip and then blew his nose before leaning back in the recliner. He hugged his arms around his torso as he closed his eyes, shivering.

“Just gotta get warm, s’all.”

Suddenly he felt something cool on his face. He opened his eyes to find Natasha standing over him, palm resting on his forehead. Then she slid it down to cup his cheek.

“You are warm,” she said, frowning. “And you’re looking a bit flushed,” she added, scrutinising his face. “I think you have a fever.”

“It’s fine. I just need some sleep,” he protested. “I’ll be all good tomorrow morning.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, just shook her head. She picked up a blanket and draped over him, covering him from shoulders to toes. Clint was thankful for the gesture as he was still shivering.

He saw Natasha swiftly get a fire going, then walk over to the small kitchen area. As the warmth of the fire finally reached him he was able to relax a little. Before he knew what happened, he was drifting off to sleep.

Some time later he was woken by Natasha who held out a bowl. “Made you some soup.”

He reluctantly shrugged down the blanket and accepted the bowl. The warmth of the bowl against his still-cold hands was heavenly. He sat a moment just trying to absorb as much heat from it as possible.

Eventually he held the bowl up to his face, blowing gently at the surface before taking the first sip. It felt very soothing against his raw throat.

Natasha put another log on the fire before settling down in the opposite armchair with her bowl. Clint could sense her eyes on him. He tried to ignore her, focusing on the soup instead.

He wasn’t sure if it was the steam from the soup, but suddenly his nose started running even more than before. With it came a persistent itch that no amount of nose-scrunching could fix. Eventually he could feel that a sneeze was imminent, and all attempts to stifle were futile. With a hitching breath and with eyelids and nostrils fluttering, Clint sneezed into the crook of his arm.

”h-heh…heh’TCHOO! htch’TCHIEW!”

“Bless you.”

Clint sniffled wetly. “Snxxt. Thangs.”

He rummaged around in his pockets for a tissue. But all he could find were sodden, useless pieces of already drenched pieces of paper.

Natasha disappeared and was back in a flash, offering him a toilet paper roll. “Here, keep this close by. Looks like you might need it.”

He accepted the roll, quickly tearing off a piece and blew his nose.”Thank you.”

“No problem.”

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded at the bowl balanced delicately on his lap. “Now finish your soup so you can go to sleep.”

Clint had to pause many times to sneeze and blow his nose while consuming the remaining soup. While the soup did feel soothing against his throat, he found that it did little to warm him up. Though he had stopped shivering, even with the blanket and fire and soup he still felt a little chilled.

By the time he drained his bowl he could barely keep his eyes open. Natasha took the bowl from him and put it in the sink. She returned and laid a hand on his forehead again. She frowned. “You’re getting really warm, Hawk. I’m not sure you should have this many layers on.”

“No, it’s fine,” Clint said and sniffled, bringing a hand up to rub his nose. He tried not to sound too desperate, but the last thing he wanted right now was having to take something off or move.

She stared at him.

“I’m alright, I promise. Just wanna sleep. I’m sure it’ll be better tomorrow.”

Natasha sighed. She didn’t feel like arguing right now. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay? For now I think you should get some sleep.”

She nodded towards the small bedroom.

Clint shook his head. “I don’t want you to catch whatever this is. I’ll sleep out here.”

“Come on, don’t be stubborn. You need sleep. And you can’t possibly get a full night in that thing,” she said, indicating the armchair.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes and turned towards the fire, huddling down under the blanket. He still felt so cold!

Natasha sighed. “Fine. But when the fire’s out and you wake up freezing and your back hurts from sleeping in that chair, you’re welcome to join me.”

He was vaguely aware of her moving around him. She made sure he had tissues and a glass of water nearby. Then she disappeared for a moment, and when she returned she was carrying the duvet from the bed.

“I know you’re comfy now, but you’re not gonna be comfortable sleeping in that coat.”

Clint was barely able to peel his eyes open to look at her. And was she expecting him to leave this cocoon, relinquishing the small amount of warmth he’d been able to build up?

“Come on, the sooner we get this done, the faster you can go to sleep.”

Reluctantly, Clint pulled the blanket off him and stood and shrugged out of his jacket. In seconds his shivering started up again, almost to the point of his teeth shattering. Natasha took his coat and motioned for him to sit down again. She put the covers over him and made sure to tuck in the sides and under his feet.

She leaned over him, frowning at his shivering form. Reaching out a hand she cupped his cheek.

“Oh, Hawk,” she said under her breath. She disappeared and returned a few moments later with their medicine bag.

In their line of work, a well stocked first aid kit was vital. But for these stakeout missions they would always bring painkillers, of which many fortunately came with the added bonus of being antipyretic.

“Here.” She held out a pill and a glass of water. “Hopefully you can sleep better with this. Plus you need fluids.”

Clint accepted it gratefully, not having the energy to think of a witty reply. If there was any chance the pill would ease the ache in his body or make him stop feeling so cold, he was glad. He swallowed it down and instantly relaxed more deeply into the armchair, even though he knew the pill wouldn’t take effect for a while yet.

He closed his eyes and between small coughs and sniffles, he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke himself up with a coughing fit a while later he had no idea how long he’d been asleep. Long, harsh coughs that took all the air from his lungs.

As the fit subsided and he recovered his breath, he felt how dry his mouth and throat was. Desperate for water he picked up the glass Natasha had put out for him and drank it quickly down, wincing every time he swallowed. His throat was stinging worse than ever.

As he emptied the glass he felt his skin prickle, goosebumps spreading on his arms and torso. He put the glass down and pulled the covers up over his shoulders again, trying to regain some warmth before he began shivering again.

Just then, Natasha stepped out of the bedroom. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, s’alrighd,” Clint croaked, already half asleep. “Jusd a bi- aah, bid co-, hh’TCH!” He tried and failed to stifle, looking away and sneezing into his shoulder. “HYE’SHIEEEW!”

Natasha picked up a tissue and held it out to him.

Clint pulled out one hand from its warm confines to accept the tissue and blew his nose. It was a relief being able to breathe from his nose again. Then suddenly he realised something.

“Oh no. Was I snoring, keeping you up?”

“A bit,” Natasha admitted.

Clint’s face fell. “Sorry, I-“

She cut him off quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re getting sleep. You need it to recover.”

She walked up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Better, I think. Maybe. ‘Cept my throat, it really hurts.” His voice was hoarse and throat raw from the coughing.

“You’re so congested. I doubt that’s helping.” She let her hand slide down and rested her palm on the back of his neck. She frowned at the warmth she felt.

“Your fever went down after you fell asleep, but I think the medicine’s are wearing off.” She glanced at her watch. “I think it’s best you top up.” She got out another pill for him and refilled his glass.

She watched him start to shiver as he quickly swallowed the pill and downed the glass of water. Looking out of the window and checking her watch again, she walked over to the fireplace. “I think we can keep it going for a little while longer.”

The small cabin just had two rooms. The main kitchen/living area, and a tiny bedroom. There was a small space heater but the main source of heat came from the fireplace. The cabin was well hidden deep within the forest so the risk of being seen there was minimal. But to avoid alerting anyone to their presence they were only able to light fires at night, when the smoke wouldn’t be so easily spotted.

It hadn’t been much of an issue as the nights were long, and they were both outside on surveillance missions during the days anyway. But it was becoming increasingly clear that Clint would be going nowhere the following morning. Even if he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

When Clint woke up it took a moment for him to realise where he was. He was cold. He could see that he was still under the covers, and he actually felt himself sweating a little, but nonetheless he was freezing. As chills raced down his back he felt a tickle in one of his nostrils.

He rubbed his hands together for warmth under the covers. The tickling sensation grew and grew until his reflexes took over. Slack-jawed and breath hitching, his eyelids fluttered until…

“Hh-..heh..h’TCHOO! htch’TCHIEW!…guh…”

As he reached for a tissue he heard Natasha’s sympathetic voice. “Oh you poor thing. You look absolutely miserable.”

“I don’d feel gread,” he replied, then blew his nose. “I’m all shivery again,” he complained, burrowing down further under the covers.

Natasha went up to him and stroked a few strands of hair off of his damp forehead, then rested her hand there a moment. “Mm,” Clint breathed. “That feels nice.” She cupped his fiery cheek and he let out a sigh of relief.

He closed his eyes and when she removed her hand he fought the urge to call out and ask her to come back. But a short while later she returned and put something cool and wet on his forehead. It was bliss.

Soon he felt a similar cooling sensation on the back of his neck. Despite feeling cold it was very soothing, and already helping with the headache he’d only just realised he had.

Chills were still running down his spine but he began feeling a little better.

Natasha brought him something to eat, and once she made sure he’d had enough to eat and drink and taken more medicine and was falling back asleep, she left for the day’s mission.

When he woke up around midday, having slept so much he initially found it a bit difficult to fall back asleep. Once the fever reducer had started to take effect he almost became a little bored, opting to get up and walk back and forth in the small cabin for a moment to stretch his legs. Despite occasional sneezes and sniffling he wasn’t feeling so bad, now that the painkillers dampened his aches and fever. For a moment he even considered going out and joining Natasha, until a sudden and prolonged coughing fit made him think better of it.

After curling up in the recliner again he eventually managed to fall back asleep.

He awoke with a start to the cabin doors closing, but relaxed when he saw it was Natasha.

“Welcome ba-” he tried until his voice gave out and he had to clear his throat. This made him cough, and cough and cough until he turned red and tears were streaming down his face. When it wouldn’t stop, Natasha fetched a glass of water and knelt beside him, rubbing his back in great big circles with her free hand until it finally stopped.

“Here, small sips,” she said as she held out the glass.

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the glass.

“You okay?” she asked as he took a few sips.

He nodded. But then as he looked at her he froze. He could see the dark circles under her eyes. Shit he thought. He’d exposed her to his germs, kept her up in the night, and then she’d been out in the cold all day. In that moment he just knew that she was going to catch whatever it was he had, and he felt awful.

During the afternoon he’d felt a bit better, but as the night rolled around the shivers returned as his temperature soared once more. He became adamant that Natasha should stay away and not come near him as he declared himself a biohazard.

Natasha gently but firmly ignored him, making sure he had everything he needed, including comforting touches as his fever rose and coughing fits came and went.

He didn’t realise until afterwards, but he knew she must have stayed with him for most of the night, as every time he’d woken up freezing after throwing off his covers and blankets, she’d been there to put them back on him again.

In the early hours of the morning, Clint’s fever finally broke. Natasha wouldn’t hear of letting him go out the following day, arguing that he was in no fit state. He was still coughing and sneezing enough to echo across the valley, she claimed. And what would Fury say if that’s how they were discovered?

Clint realised this wasn’t one he was going to win. He was fairly certain he’d be crawling on the walls by the end of the day. But at the moment he still felt a bit exhausted, and decided there was no point in putting up a fight.

Besides, he was convinced he would be the one playing caretaker soon, and decided it was best to build up his strength until then.

#I’M SO SORRY IT’S LATE #sickfic #fever checking #sickret santa #sneecret santa #to be continued…?#hot with fever

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bloobydabloob · 2 months

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Holy shit I love your Dirk interpretations, it's so true and I could talk about this shit forever. I feel like another part of his character that people seem to forget (along with Roxy for some reason) is that he's from the future in solitude in an apocalyptic wasteland. I just see that part of his character always removed which is disappointing because I feel like that's a pretty big part, especially regarding his themes around technology, his brother's theme of Time, his own isolation, and how he plays in the vastness of the universe and spacetime.

Art I drew related to the subject because I like to respond to asks with art.

But absolutely. I certainly understand where the lack of discussion over his isolation + upbringing comes from, considering a majority of the fanbase that I have seen builds their ideas based on their own version of postcanon. I’m not entirely sure how that would be fixed, but certainly even in the somewhat recent past I would see a lot more content regarding his upbringing both literally and symbolically. I don’t have much to add regarding the things you’ve mentioned, because they just are what they are. Dirk being confined to a singular room left to him by a father figure he never met, in a future where the only other person left on the planet is someone he cannot pursue a relationship of because of himself, with purely 3 robots to keep him companion, one being an exact replica of his own brain who is *also* trapped inside a pair of glasses, is about as literal as it gets to me.

The contrast to me involving the flooded, organic world in comparison to the little speckle of Dirk’s apartment packed with the dude and his technics is not only a representation of his isolation and entrapment within himself, but also of his lack of control. I think his obsession with & themes of control are a direct product in the case of Dirk specifically *of* this kind of upbringing. His themes of technology are also related to his themes around control. So much of his character is actually revolved around this to me like so much. Dirk is so deeply disconnected from humanity in every way and so much of his character + symbolism is based around that.

It doesn’t even have to be about the symbolism or anything though. It’s just pretty *interesting* in the literal sense that he lives in the middle of the ocean in the future. There’s not only a lot to theorise on to do with his young life there, but on how it might affect him in the way he acts for the rest of his life. The latter part is probably what I see mentioned the most by people talking about Dirk regarding this, I’m surprised I don’t see more discussion on the former too though. I really ought to actually talk more about Homestuck stuff on here. I will do it myself.

Roxy & Dirk’s relationship is largely ignored though because there is a narrative a certain demographic spreads that Dirk resented and blamed Roxy for her interest in him, and thus too many people believe that their relationship was or would continue to be an abusive one. Realistically, I believe it’s important to acknowledge that the way Roxy treated Dirk regarding his homosexuality wasn’t right while still acknowledging the obvious amount of respect and admiration Dirk had for Roxy. I mean we have a huge piece of dialogue from their post trickster mode conversations on the quest beds from Dirk purely stating how he feels about Roxy that people completely ignore somehow. I think this usually happens to characters that are women though. I know everyone says it, but it is true. Jane gets the exact same treatment of boiling her down to solely her negative aspects. The things I see completely mischaracterising both of them are horrific.

I mean how much more explicit can it get that their relationship is obviously very important to Dirk? But I digress. I think the best or I should say “most interesting” interpretations of their relationship usually come from DirkRoxy shippers actually.

I would be interested to hear about Dirk’s relation to his brother’s theme of time though. I don’t have any thoughts on this and I don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about it before. If you or anyone else would be willing to enlighten me I’d be thrilled.

#homestuck #homestuck fanart #hs fanart #dirk strider #blooby posting #ask #Sorry for taking so long to reply to you on this. I’ve been in more of a drawing than a speaking mood lately #which is very unusual for me. This is definitely not as much of a post as it could be but I’m still not back on my thought and speech game #I know the Roxy mention was in brackets but good lord the treatment Roxy gets from fanbase is insane. Couldn’t help myself #Sorry if anything is worded badly. I’m tired per usual #I think (with no malice in my heart) people just tend to leave out what they don’t like about characters though.#I was very briefly talking with Pomme johnegbertirl #and it got me thinking about how far a lot of people’s interpretations of characters stray from what would be realistic to canon #based on their own biases. Which I guess I probably do too to a certain degree.#I’m not one to judge people for their characterisations at all #I tend to be very forgiving when it comes to reads #but… I admit that is indeed a little disappointing to see how completely ignored some parts of his characters are.#Sorry for tangent that is tenuously related. It is relevant enough to shove haphazardly into tags #I’m glad you like my Dirk ramblings though. Thanks brother #We live on

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