The Avengers Collaborative Drabble Thread

[Jorm]

I'd frame that picture and put it on my wall too

[Parksborn]

Why is the idea of Tony sneezing on somebody so hot?

And then rubbing his nose into Bruce's shoulder so cute?

WHOKNOWSIDON'TCAREANYMOREWHOOPS~

[Garnet]

Huuu thank you both <3

Today I felt like some Clintasha so I wrote a bunch of it at work. Have three drabbles, first two are female and go in order, last one is male and is more of a flashback piece for them, pre-Avengers. Also, I will happily take drabble requests for certain situations/characters. They seem to be the perfect amount of writing for my limited attention span.

Enjoy!

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73 - Don't

For the first time in days, Clint awoke to neither a stuffed nose nor the desire to sneeze. Christ, finally. Three going on four days being in the thick of a truly hideous headcold had about sapped both his stamina and patience. He'd been through some gruesome situations that would tear a lesser man apart, but even some of those hadn't been quite so annoying.

Trying a sniffle, he enjoyed a fair measure of airflow with only a bit of lingering congestion. Good. Sickness aside, he'd been getting a little stir crazy laying in bed, even if only for a day and even if Natasha had been keeping him good company. He would still have to run about twelve miles and spend the rest of the day on the firing range to feel up to par again.

Later, though. For now, he was still relaxed and content enough to roll over and slide a hand through the covers, seeking out his bed partner's form. She was still there, that was both pleasant and a little surprising but he didn't think much over it as he slipped a forearm over her stomach and buried his face back into the covers. Mmhn.

He might have drifted back off to sleep, if not for the sudden tremble of her abdomen against him, accompanied by a watery but unmistakeable 'ksscht!' of sound.

Clint picked his head up warily, limb withdrawing. Natasha sat up beside him, teary-eyed and scrubbing the back of a wrist beneath her nose. She paused long enough to fix him with a glare, though it was cut short as she turned aside into a cupped palm with another ticklish, "hp-ksscht!"

It was a horrible sound that she was obviously putting some effort into suppressing. Clint's brow crumpled in sympathy.

"Oh, Tasha..."

"Don't. Say it," she growled around a tissue folded to her nose.

"But you caught my col--"

"Don't."

He wisely held his tongue for as long as she held him in her death stare, impressive even with her nose flushed and hair in a disarray. Natasha broke first, though not by choice. Brows steepling, she caught an audibly shivering breath and turned away to sneeze.

"Hih--! xsschu!"

Clint tensed like a man preparing to take a bullet. He'd had the 'pleasure' of seeing Natasha sick only a few times in their years together. She was prickly enough to make rabid porcupines look huggable, but usually came around after a while and wanted some measure of company.

"Bless you," he tried, then scrambled quickly off the bed to dodge the pillow she hurled at him. He grinned. "Tea?"

"And toast," she grumbled, sniffling hard and yanking the covers back up over her head. Clint sidled close enough to bend and kiss her shoulder through the sheets, then skirted nimbly away before she could swat him.

"Sure thing, pretty girl."

--------

33 - Cry

When Natasha made it very clear that she was both taking over his apartment for the day and ousting him from his own bedroom, Clint opted to put in an appearance at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters instead. It was enough to satisfy Fury's fury, even if Clint was firm that two of his best agents were still going to be out of commission for a few more days. The director's lecturing was interrupted when Stark phoned in with their analysis of the data Clint had delivered a few days ago. Good timing. Clint used it as an excuse to slip discreetly off to the range for a few hours, texting Natasha every so often to ensure that she hadn't died in his absence.

She was asleep by the time he got back, so he picked up around the living room a little, and made stir fry with ingredients bought on the way home. Nice. Domestic. Weird, though. He shrugged the sensation off as he chased chicken and water chestnuts around a large pan.

"Clint?" Natasha's voice was hoarse from the bedroom, but he didn't look up from cooking dinner just yet.

"Yeah?" He called back.

"Clint..."

That time she sounded lost enough that he put down the spoon and took the pan off the heat, padding into the bedroom as he dried his hands on his jeans. Natasha was sitting upright in the same t-shirt she'd borrowed from him, looking sick and confused. He knew that look of dazed frustration well, and crossed immediately to her side.

"Hey, you live."

Ignoring his jest, she extended an arm towards his shoulder. "Help me to the shower," she muttered, distracted. "I'm dizzy."

"Okay." He bent slightly so she could get a grip around him, her skin uncomfortably warm against his, but when he went to hoist her to her feet, she wobbled and sagged against him. "Jeez."

She looked so temporarily distraught that he kissed her brow hastily and slipped his other arm beneath her legs, lifting her into an effortless princess carry. "C'mon, it's okay. You're just a little woozy."

She pressed a hand to her face and trembled in his arms with a weak sneeze. "Hept'ksshhH!"

"Bless." He carried her sniffling and teary to the bathroom, trying not to think about how odd the entire situation was.

Clint sat her on the closed lid of the toilet, then leaned in to start the water for her, wishing he had a full tub so he could draw a bath instead. It was probably safer. When the water was warm enough to cure her chills but not hot enough to raise her temperature, he turned back to retrieve his partner, and found her in tears.

He blinked, ignoring the record scratch skip of his brain.

"...Tasha?"

If he'd been disconcerted before, his skin was downright crawling with unease at the sight. He'd seen her cry plenty of times, of course, but always on command. Natasha had all but patented the injured fawn appeal, with eyes big and mouth crimped, but genuine displays of emotion were markedly rare. And right now she looked just as bewildered as him as she turned her face up.

"I don't... why am I..."

Clint sank down into a crouch in front of her, gathering her back into his shoulder. Her posture was stiff for a moment, resisting, then unraveled all at once with a silent sob.

"Hey, hey, shhh," he soothed as best he knew how. Not one of his strong points. "It's just the fever, you feel really warm. I had one too."

"And were you sobbing like an infant?" She huffed in frustration against his rapidly-dampening shirt, hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt. She was just coherent enough to be annoyed with herself, but too unbalanced to rein it back in. A little of her accent even crept into her voice, and Clint tried to ignore the sudden curl of heat in his stomach because it had been a long, long time since he'd heard that.

Instead, he rubbed an open palm in circles along her back and smiled as she cried herself out. "Well I'm sure not telling you, even if I was."

That got a rough, choked laugh in response, half-swallowed by a fresh onset of tears.

Natasha got a grip on herself a few minutes later, picking herself back up wiping a hand over both cheeks in a gesture that made her look painfully young. "Sorry, that was..." She trailed off, dazed, then clasped a hand tightly over her mouth and shook in place. "Heh-kxshhuu!"

"Bless you." Clint shrugged. "Bad dream?"

"Mhn." She sniffled and passed a forefinger beneath her nose. "Phil."

"Oh." His shoulders rounded in a slump. They hadn't talked about it all that much, between them, but he understood perfectly well. He'd felt the pang of his absence for weeks, creeping up on the edge of subconscious where he wasn't expecting it to ruin him. "Yeah." He slouched forward and touched his brow to hers. "Me too."

She put her hand under the spray just long enough to rinse it clean, then wiped it dry on her (his) pants and cradled his jaw between her palms. They stayed like that for several long moments, not speaking and not needing. The only sound was the rush of the water, her sniffling and Clint occasionally echoing it until she at last broke away and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you."

He stirred from their reverie with a blink. "For what?"

She stood, and drew his shirt up and over her head in a smooth movement. "Taking care of me."

He pressed his mouth to the tautness of her stomach as she shunted the pants to the floor next. "You're my partner," he said simply.

"Mm-hm," she agreed, composed again even with a tear-streaked face to betray their interlude. Her fingers scritched through his hair. "Your partner feels disgusting and needs a shower. Out." She braced a hand against the wall and pushed him away with a foot to his chest. Clint smirked and stood.

"So no patented cold remedy, then?" He chuckled, recalling their last shower together. "Can I trust you not to get all dizzy and end up on your ass?"

"You were cooking, I want dinner first," she mirrored his smile, then slipped behind the shower curtain. "If I'm not out in ten minutes, I'm unconscious."

"Duly noted," he called over the spray, then stepped back out, shaking his head. They were going to be the death of each other.

------

76 - Lullaby

He hadn't planned to wake his partner for another five or ten more minutes, maybe longer, but Black Widow was already pushing her shoulder against his and prying the gun from his cold-numbed fingers.

"My turn," she reminded him, as his body betrayed him with a shiver and a yawn. "Get some sleep, Barton."

They'd been trading sentry shifts every three hours, though frankly Hawkeye would have been content to keep watch through the night. The headcold he'd picked up in Brussels last week wasn't making sleep easy. Nor was he recovering as quickly as he could have without proper rest. Scylla and Charybdis, she had teased him earlier, and he'd rolled his eyes both at her humor and inexplicable penchant for mythological reference.

He rarely regretted his lot in life, and never complained about the job or its rigors, but sometimes a man could still wish for a warm bed and a soft touch.

Catching a short breath past cracked lips, he crushed a fist beneath his nose and sneezed with painful containment.

"--aptssh!"

They weren't in strict stealth conditions, at least not yet. Murmured conversation could be held, but neither of them was in the mood, and it still felt strange to let out his unmistakably forceful sneezes when they were on the job.

Sighing restlessly, Hawkeye turned his back to the wind and twitched his nose, trying to ignore the throb behind his eyes and the buzz in his sinuses enough to catch even a few minutes of sleep. He was still shuffling and sniffling twenty minutes later when Widow finally seemed to take pity on him, if that was an emotion she actually possessed. Wordlessly, she tugged him closer until his head was pillowed against her thigh, a scant but blessed bit of warmth coming through even the thickly padded leather.

"Sleep," she reminded him.

"Working on... APTsshh! on it. -snff!"

The tissues had been used up long ago, he sufficed with the side of his glove, grimacing and then blinking in surprise at the feel of her own smaller hand settling naked against his temple. Hawkeye flicked a glance sideways and upwards, but Widow had only switched the weapon to one hand and was staring out over the lanscape with a blank, controlled expression. Her palm was warm against his ear, and nails soothing as they scratched gently through his hair. His eyelids suddenly seemed heavier, some of the tension going out of his spine as he relaxed against her.

He might have stayed there in comfortable stasis like that, but soon after she began to half murmur and half sing to him in Russian. Were he fully conscious, he would have understood it. As it was, the worlds slurred together in a warm, sad tune. Hypnotic. That was... strange, but nice. He tried to recall if anyone had ever sang him to sleep before, even in the circus, but gave up on the recollection in favor of yawning again and drifting slowly off.

Later, he would add it to the vaults of countless secrets locked between them, and no one else would know that the Black Widow was capable of lullabies.

[Jorm]

Also, I will happily take drabble requests for certain situations/characters.

Welll... Since you ask... If it's something you'd be interested in, I'd quite like to see something with Pepper as the "victim". Perhaps trying to work through a bad cold (because we all know Tony isn't going to pick up the slack if she take a day off) and Tony either trying to care take or making things worse. Or both

[VividBubbles!]

Oh oh oh! I second Ouro! And, perhaps, a little contagion as well? Maybe Pepper passes the cold to Tony or maybe Pepper gets the cold from Tony and they take care of each other? Whatever your genius comes up with, Garnet, I will except and welcome with open arms and possibly drag it inside.

BYE!

[alias]

I LOVE THIS THREAD! MAY IT CONTINUE FOREVERRRRRR!!!!

And I love all three of those Clintasha drabbles. They are spectacularly written. I especially love this part:

Instead, he rubbed an open palm in circles along her back and smiled as she cried herself out. "Well I'm sure not telling you, even if I was."

I should contribute a story as well. I'm putting it on my to-do list.

Keep up the awesome work all you amazing writers, you!

[serotonin]

xXBittersweetLoverXx -- sneezekink!Tony FTW I absolutely adore all the inducing detail you wrote, especially picturing the fingernail usage... unf. And I love Tony's physical reaction to Steve's fit, as well as that hint of domination/control that maybe I'm just reading into because that totally pushes my buttons...

Garnet -- nnngh woman are you trying to make my ovaries explode? if so, I congratulate you on your success. The morning Pepper/Tony one was adorable~ and the screencap was a very nice visual. Their dynamic is lovely and I love how he tries for her d'aww. And then the one with Bruce nose rubbing in the shoulder and the spelling of that second sneeze hngarejngafhj! And now these Clint and Natasha! I love in the first one when he calls her 'pretty girl,' it just sounds so right <3 Also hurrah for some lady sneezes up in this thread, I hope to add to that soon. Annnd also I like how you wrote Clint's contained sneezes.

*twiddles thumbs*

If you're still taking drabble requests... I'd definitely enjoy Tony with hayfever or some other allergy that's interfering with his ability to work in the lab. I'd also quite like a situation where he needs to sneeze and his partner, preferably Pepper, Bruce, or Steve, is controlling the sneezes -- like the classic finger under the nose, or not letting him blow, etc. Optional but attractive would be if either Tony or his partner gets off on that.

What no I don't love putting sneezekink characters everywhere *shifty eyes*

[Garnet]

Also, I will happily take drabble requests for certain situations/characters.

Welll... Since you ask... If it's something you'd be interested in, I'd quite like to see something with Pepper as the "victim". Perhaps trying to work through a bad cold (because we all know Tony isn't going to pick up the slack if she take a day off) and Tony either trying to care take or making things worse. Or both

I intend to fill the other two prompts/suggestions as well, thank you guys for the fodder! Here's the first one!

68 – Attitude

Working for Stark Industries had years and years ago taught Virginia Potts to keep her cool in situations that would fluster even the most iron-hearted business executives. She could wear a two-piece and six inch heels and still strut with the confident grace of a lioness on the veldt, all while ensuring that Tony didn't either blow himself up or run the company into the ground. It was a tightrope act, but one she'd grown very used to.

The occasional illness was unavoidable, but hiding it on the job was just another prerequisite skill. It was all about attitude. That still didn't make it pleasant, though, even she couldn't put her mind to that.

She rescheduled what meetings she could, and held one forgiving individual over private video conference, but there was only so much juggling she could do, and she was feeling ragged and undone by late afternoon. The third time she interrupted a phonecall to discreetly smother a sneeze, Pepper opted to throw in the towel and spend the rest of the day working from her home office in the tower. Arguably it wasn't always more peaceful, but at least she could wrap herself in a blanket and try to plow through some paperwork that had been piling up for a rainy day. Or a sick day.

She forewent the quilt upon arriving home, but the quiet lasted exactly thirty seven blissful minutes before Tony either figured out she was home or JARVIS ratted on her. Then he was suddenly in her office, owning the entire room the way he did whether it was occupied by one person or a thousand, and chattering away about something a mile a minute. Pepper was good at annoying him, however, and relegated his clipped gravel to background noise while she concentrated on reading through a few forms that required her digital signature.

Tony went on talking, until at last she looked up with a beleaguered sigh and a sniffle. "Tony, unless someone is dying or you've invented a cure for the common cold, go away," she hissed with just enough venom to make him pay attention. It sort of worked.

"First of all, that's crap. There's no such thing as the common cold, there's like two hundred different kinds of rhinoviru-- wait." He paused, finally, cocking his head to one side. "You're sick?"

Wonderful. If she'd remembered his rampant germaphobia earlier, she might have gotten rid of him earlier. As it was, a particularly well-timed sneeze was creeping up on her, so she settled for snatching for a tissue and bending to one side. "Heh-nhssht!"

She took no shame in giving her nose a lengthy blow afterwards, finally pitching the soiled paper aside and leaning back in her desk chair with a flush of effort. To her surprise, Tony hadn't retreated to the door with his shirt up over his nose and mouth, as if the very air was crawling with the plague. In fact, he'd stepped closer, and was reaching a hand towards her. Pepper blinked as his palm settled against her brow, trying to make sense of that gesture rather than concentrate on how warm and calloused his hands were, smelling reassuringly of machine oil even through her congestion.

"You're kind of hot," he huffed with a frown. "Well, not kind of, really. Always. Smoking, in fact." She allowed herself a bleary smile at his innuendo, in spite of it all. "But you shouldn't be working if you're sick." He pushed her laptop closed.

Pepper breathed a sigh of annoyance and opened the notebook back up. "I can't afford to take time off," she groused, and even without looking up could feel his exaggerated eyeroll.

"Oh, yeah, they really don't pay you enough."

"You know what I me--mean- heht'NGKshht!" That one had crept up on her, leaving her teary-eyed and sniffling like a little girl. She really, truly hated being sick. She also wished Bruce wasn't on sabbatical in Colombia, he would probably make chicken stew and put her to bed before she'd even noticed what was happening, instead of initiating a stand-off as Tony did. She loved him so much it scared her sometimes, but empathy was not his strong point.

"Take a day off, Potts, it won't kill you," Tony wheedled, and nudged the tissue box closer. She glared at him as she took one, blew her nose, and coughed.

"Let me rephrase. You can't afford for me to take time off. There's too much work to do, and I know we've had the 'one of us has to be responsible' talk before."

Tony shrugged, unswayed by either her running nose or scathing replies. "Man, you're cranky when you're sick. So reschedule your meetings and stuff. I'll fill in for the rest."

"Because rich old white men love being told that they're inconvenient," Pepper groaned, putting her head in her arms.

Tony smirked in amusement. "Hell, I'll tell them."

"I know you will, that's why I'm worried."

Pepper peeked up at feeling his hand on her shoulder, aware that he'd rounded the desk fully to stand beside her. His expression had softened, razor wit in his eyes replaced with affection. She liked that look.

"I'm kidding, Pep. C'mon, I've been schmoozing these pricks since I was old enough to talk, remember?" He soothed, and leaned down to kiss her hair. She knew she was playing right into his hands, but had to grudgingly agree with that argument.

"You're going to catch this, boss," she sniffled, reluctant, but feeling tears of exhaustion creep up on her now that the possibility of bedrest had been allowed to fully form in her mind. It sounded a little too good, especially as Tony pulled her up and against his shoulder.

"Probably. At least that gives you fair warning to take a few extra days. Or, you know," he smirked. "Flee the country."

She laughed a little, hoarse, but kicked off her heels and enjoyed a minute of her cheek pressed against him. The glow of the arc reactor diffused through his shirt, lighting her own skin with a faint blue cast. "I feel awful," she confessed at last with a watery sniffle, and ignored his reflexive grimace.

"Yeah, you sound it. C'mon, skirt off, pajamas on," he scolded, giving her a little nudge towards the door and a none-too-professional pat on the rear. She'd left professional behind thirty seconds ago, though, and shed it as completely as another skin. "I'm checking in on you in ten minutes and if you're not in bed, I'm getting the tranqs."

Pepper went, in a daze, and was privately impressed when Tony did indeed return twenty (not ten) minutes later to her room. They shared his bed almost every night, and most of her wardrobe was in his closet, but she'd still been adamant on having a bedroom to herself just for occasions when one of them was working late or he was being. Well. Tony. He knew himself well enough to agree to that.

She might have teased him about keeping her waiting, but he brought with him more tissues, Nyquil, bottled water and a fragrant-smelling paper bag whose logo she recognized as the deli from across the street.

"Oh, honey," she bantered weakly, with a pet name they never used. "You cooked!"

"All day, slaving over a hot stove, etcetera," Tony agreed, uncovering a styrofoam container of soup. "Chicken barley. Want some?"

She sneezed.

"Bless you. I'll take that as a no," he said, and handed her the tissues. "I'll heat it up for you later."

"Where -- heh'NGKsshh!" She interrupted herself again, with a fresh handful of tissues to her nose. She was long past the point of embarrassment, but the sneezing was going to get very old, very fast. Pepper wiped her nose carefully to avoid an encore. "Where'd all this TLC come from? I was just thinking earlier that empathy isn't really your thing."

"Bless you again. I'm hurt, Pep," Tony shrugged, then kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto the bed beside her for a few minutes. "Bruce is rubbing off."

"Well, that's something," she sighed, smiling, and let him wrap his arms around her middle and pillow his head against her breasts. "Though now I suspect you had ulterior cuddling motives."

"That may have been part of it," Tony agreed. "Did you know the fever brings your freckles out? It's pretty cute."

Pepper smirked and laid her cheek against his hair. If he didn't have a bedside manner, he could have fooled her. It was more than she expected and all that she could ask for, and that was just fine by her.

Edited July 26, 2012 by Garnet

[matilda3948]

Tony taking care of sick Pepper?!! I am a puddle of goo.

[hiyou9]

So, this thread has lots of amazing stuff and is therefore super intimidating, but I'm throwing this a little-too-long-to-be-a-drabble-but-not-quite-a-story-either thing out here. Puh-leeze don't tear it to shreds (or do. Because how else am I going to get better, right?)

It's a Clint/Natasha pairing. They're not exactly together, but they're more than friends. My story, my universe--all the Avengers relocated to NYC (except Thor, obviously), and yeah. Here goes nothing!

Not Quite Budapest

Natasha Romanoff didn’t often miss her mother.

She wasn’t heartless or cold—at least, not entirely. No, she didn’t often miss her mother—or her father, for that matter—because their deaths were nothing but a distant memory now. Not even a nightmare; just an odd, lucid dream she might have had some night long ago. She barely remembered anything about that night—the fire. Sometimes, she wondered if that was her brain’s way of protecting her from traumatic memories. She didn’t try to dig too deep. She was an assassin, not a psychologist.

But today—today was different. Natasha had come down with one of those rare and dreadful summer flu’s, and today she really, really, really missed her mother. Faraway memories flitted through her consciousness—tucked into bed, her mother’s cool hands on her forehead, a steaming mug of black tea. Safe, warm, happy.

Loved.

When she’d woken up with a head full of cement and a throat too raw for talking, she’d emailed Fury to let him know she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be coming in for the day. Blessedly, he didn’t question this—even though Natasha never, ever called in for any reason, at any time. His reply was simple and to the point—he told her it was fine, and that he hoped she’d feel better soon. The unusual nature of Fury’s response was not lost on Natasha—he was not the type of boss who casually handed out sick days. But she didn’t question it; she felt too miserable.

Natasha had found solace on the squashy sofa in the living room of her apartment. She’d collapsed there—half ensconced under an old blanket—shortly after reading Fury’s answer. And she had remained there in semi-darkness for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon—feeling lonely and, even worse, vulnerable. Caretaking—whether it was for herself or others—was not her forte. She did not know what you were supposed to do when faced with illness; this, she supposed, was something she would’ve learned from her mother.

Around 3:30, though, there was a loud banging.

It roused Natasha from her state of feverish half-sleep. As sick as she was, her reflexes were still finely honed, and she was on the defensive—albeit a little bleary—moments after she woke. She realized, belatedly, that the banging was actually just someone knocking on her apartment door, and not someone sent to fight her, kidnap her, or both.

Oh.

She stumbled over to the door and opened it, only to find none other than Clint Barton standing on the welcome mat she’d sprung for in a rare moment of homemaking enthusiasm. In his hands were two plastic shopping bags.

Natasha was suddenly hyper aware of her appearance—her pallor and mussed hair; her mismatched pajamas. Clint had been her partner for a long time, but he’d become something more in recent years. At first he was only a friend; but there had always been a certain level of...tension between them that sometimes came to a boil.

Budapest was an excellent example of that.

But, in spite of their relationship, Natasha was quite certain Clint had never, ever seen her like this. She made a point of always being calm, cool, and in control. She was smart, always prepared. Nothing fazed her.

Nothing except, apparently, this.

Natasha and Clint stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Natasha was the first to eventually speak, “What are you doing here?” In her surprise, she sounded ungrateful, and she felt a small twinge of embarrassment.

Clint, however, shrugged off the less-than-enthusiastic greeting, “I brought you soup.”

Natasha just stared. Clint smiled slightly, “I heard you weren’t feeling well.”

At this, Natasha scowled, “From who?”

“Fury.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and stalked back over towards the sofa, “Great. Perfect. What did he do—call for a meeting and announce to everyone, ‘Just in case you were wondering why Natasha’s not here today—I’ll tell you. It’s because she has a case of the sniffles.’? That’s working wonders for the credit I’ve built up, I’m sure—,”

“Shut-up,” Clint said easily, “He didn’t call a meeting. I just asked him where you were.”

Natasha thought about this for a moment, “Did anyone else ask?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

This—if it was even possible—made Natasha feel even worse, and somehow smaller than usual.

“Oh.”

Clint inherently understood the subtext of her response, and he rushed to reassure her, “They didn’t ask because they don’t care or something. You know Tony and Bruce—they’re both squirreled away in the lab from the moment they get there until the moment they leave. And I don’t even know if Steve was there—he may have been on a mission or something—,”

“Heh...hp-ksschiew!"

Natasha sniffled, blinked, and then looked up at Clint with very big—and very tired—eyes.

“Oh, Tasha,” he sighed, and sat down next to her.

Her breath was already hitching again, “Hept'ksshhhew!”

“Bless you.”

Natasha blew her nose in response.

The pair lapsed into silence. Clint, like Natasha, was missing the caretaker gene—and seemed unsure of exactly what he should do to help. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, would you like me to leave, or stay—?”

“Stay,” Natasha said quietly, and paused before she continued, “Please.”

Clint nodded, “Can I heat up some soup for you?” He sincerely hoped she’d say yes. He wanted something concrete to do.

Natasha shook her head. The combined congestion in her head and chest was making her nauseous, “Not hungry.”

“You sure?” Clint prodded, “It’s a cure-all.”

Natasha looked at him pointedly, “No such thing.”

This, Clint couldn’t argue with; that was painfully true when it came to their line of work. He wanted to press the matter further—Natasha was notoriously bad at taking care of herself, and he was sure she probably hadn’t eaten all day. But her temper was fiery at the best of times; when she was sick, she had all the gentle sweetness of a wounded lion. So he kept his tongue.

He settled on, instead, “What do you want?”

Natasha thought for a moment. “I want,” she said slowly, “I want just you. Stay here with me. That’s all.”

Clint smiled. “I can do that.”

The pair settled into the sofa—Natasha nestling herself under Clint’s arm without even thinking about it. He ran a hand—gently—through her hair; slightly damp with fever sweat.

“How is it?” Natasha sighed, already half-asleep.

Clint grinned, “Well,” he began, “It’s not Budapest. But it’ll do.”

[Parksborn]

What no I don't love putting sneezekink characters everywhere *shifty eyes*

Shhh... Don't tell anyone, but I do it, too~

[Garnet]

Oh gosh, hiyou9. I was gonna wait and comment until I had more drabbles to post but NO my Clint and Natasha feels are too great. I loved that drabble and wish to pick Natasha up and hug her forever except she'd kill me before I touched her so I CAN DREAM. I love both of them failing at caretaking, and Nat especially failing at expressing or even knowing what she wants.

This—if it was even possible—made Natasha feel even worse, and somehow smaller than usual.

RIP MY HEART OUT WHY DON'T YOU.

[Jorm]

I have decided that this is the best collection of bedtime stories ever So much "D'AAAAWWWWW!" and Awkward Clint XD And I second Garnet's desire to hug Tasha. But also here fear of being subsequently murdered. ALL THE FEELS.

And speaking of feels, Garnet, I feel all spoiled over here. That was even better than I was imagining. I bow before your ability to write banter. I literally laughed out loud at "Man, you're cranky when you're sick." So perfectly Tony that I swear I could hear Robert Downey Jr saying it in my head.

[Dusty15]

Oh my goodness...this thread is all kinds of amazing.

Also, sick!Pepper might be my new favorite thing....there's something super hot about her trying to solider through a cold and Tony being all cute about it. *melt*

[Garnet]

It's torture the crap out of Tony day YAAAAAY /kermitflail!

'd also quite like a situation where he needs to sneeze and his partner, preferably Pepper, Bruce, or Steve, is controlling the sneezes -- like the classic finger under the nose, or not letting him blow, etc. Optional but attractive would be if either Tony or his partner gets off on that.

And, perhaps, a little contagion as well? Maybe Pepper passes the cold to Tony or maybe Pepper gets the cold from Tony and they take care of each other?

Sort of hitting both at once here. Let's see how racy I can make this without actually getting 18+ and being newspaper smacked over to the adult section ~ With Pepper, because she's basically a perfect human being. Also holy crap this got long, but ohwell! Garnet does not understand how to drabble.

43 – Contagion

Pepper took a single, glorious sick day to recover from the 'cold of horrors', as Tony had so eloquently put it. It wasn't really all that bad, she'd take a case of the sniffles over a stomach bug anyway, but it was still nice to unwind and make her self-absorbed boyfriend wait on her hand and foot. She went back to work on the second day, and felt fine by the third. At least it hadn't been wildly contagious, as a week later Tony still seemed to have escaped unscathed. She was happy about that, really.

Tony tended to revert back to instant manchild mode when he was sick. Once he figured out that she complied with most of his requests while ill, he would run her ragged with petulant fussing and she would contemplate dumping his body in the East River. Except not really, because while she certainly didn't enjoy watching him suffer, some of the sharp edges and vicious retorts melted away, leaving something raw and uncertain that few ever saw. If men were babies when sick, Tony took it to a strange sort of art form and Pepper, who didn't do mothering but did do power and control with smiling aplomb, could appreciate the weakness.

It still probably said something that this was her fantasy material, and it was a moot point anyway. Bad Pepper. No sadism.

Thus reprimanded by her own conscience, she tripped over a slight pothole of conflicting feelings when she got home that afternoon and found Tony curled up on the sofa in her home office, looking pale and rumpled.

"Why aren't you in bed?" She accused, taking her time in setting down her attache and slowly slipping out of her heels, taking down her hair.

"It's warmer in here." He held an ubiquitous tissue to his nose, probably to keep it from running into his mustache. She tried to pretend that was gross and pathetic. It was sort of endearing, though.

"You're a terrible liar. Go to bed."

"Can't. I need a stretcher. I'm dying."

Pinching her mouth primly at the corners, Pepper felt his forehead, then pulled up his shirt, despite his yelping protests, to check the arc reactor. It was glowing as bright and healthy as ever, with no telltale discoloration in the skin at the entry sight. "You're fine. Go to bed."

"Are you coming with me?"

"No. I have work to catch up on."

Tony made a woeful noise and slumped further into the sofa. "That's horrible, you're horrible. I took care of you. I'm calling Bruce and begging him to come back early."

"Yes, you did," she agreed, making him beg for it as she unpacked her briefcase into neat piles of work on her desk, and went through her e-mail. "And it was very sweet of you, but I take care of you all the time. It's not going to be quite as novel and exciting."

He sneezed, a pathetically weak "h'isschiu!" of sound, and that broke her resolve. Pepper sighed, pushing her laptop closed again not five minutes after she'd opened it.

"Gesundheit. Alright, come on."

Tony uprolled his eyes to her, silently appealing. She pinched him. "Don't milk it, I had the same cold and it wasn't that bad."

"Ow! Okay, okay." He hauled himself upright, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of her jaw. She allowed herself a small smile at the tickle of his beard against her neck. "Jeez, bossy."

"You like it when I'm bossy," she reminded him, turning him by the shoulders and giving him a little push towards the door. "Bed. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He gave her a look over one shoulder like a kicked puppy, but went obediently. She didn't exactly pull out all the stops for him -- dinner could wait until later that evening and he obviously wasn't flu-ish or weakened past the point of coherency. Tea, Kleenex, and Sudafed would suffice. He fussed about the tea when she brought it to him, but she bullied him into drinking it, then rewarded him by climbing up into bed, still in her skirt suit and black nylons. Tony surveyed the sight with sleepy appreciation, and she went so far as letting him run an appreciative hand along her thigh before she pushed him off.

"Ah ah, you're sick. Far too weak for hanky panky."

"Did you seriously just say 'hanky panky'?" Tony repeated, amused. "Also, I may have exaggerated. Slightly. Marginally." He seemed about to continue, when a flicker of genuine irritation crossed over his features, flaring his nostrils and turning down the corners of his mouth. "Ih-- SHHH! ... heh'ISSCHoo!" He sneezed with annoyance into a hastily snatched tissue.

"Bless," Pepper purred in idle satisfaction. "Maybe not that exaggerated. You sound pretty bad."

"N-nah," Tony protested, clearly fighting the urge to sneeze again, as if to prove his point. The tip of his nose twitched in an entirely cute way, she decided. "Just a sniffle, I feel shi-hh-- ship shape." He wrinkled his nose hard, which seemed to chase the desire away for a second, then strayed a hand towards her hip. Pepper allowed him exactly one second of contact before swatting the hand away.

"And what makes you think I'd want you when you're all drippy and pathetic?" She declared airily, lifting the point of her chin in challenge. Unswayed, Tony slid an arm back around her waist and kissed her exposed throat.

"Pfft, you always want me." He sniffed again, she could almost feel the wetness on her bare skin. Her pulse jumped, but she attempted to downplay the shiver of delight as one of disdain.

"Arrogant bastard," she smirked. Tony gave her a flat look.

"Yeah, hi. Tony Stark, have we met?"

That got an abrupt laugh out of her, breaking character for a splitsecond before she schooled herself back into a tightly mischievous smile. "Once or twice," she agreed, then peeled back the covers until he laid bare except for black sweats in the sheets beneath her. "I think you need to be put in your place," she declared, sliding a leg over his side until she could settle neatly on the taught muscle just above his pelvis.

Tony groaned with appreciation. "God, yes..."

Though he'd never admit it to anyone else, content to bask in his strutting alpha male air, he seemed to privately thrill over her bullying him about in bed. Pepper wasn't sure who enjoyed it more, though, Tony or herself. They hadn't quite strayed into 'yes mistress, please mistress' territory yet, but it was still entertaining.

She leaned over him, closing a palm over the glow of his reactor heart and not missing his instinctive, momentary flinch. She felt immediately bad, but rather than lose momentum just redirected it into a kiss to his brow. "Oh, don't worry. You're sick, I'll go easy on you," she purred, stroking her thumbs gently down either cheek. "I'll take care of you."

His breath quickened a little beneath her, either from arousal or the desire to sneeze, she wasn't quite sure but it did give her some inspiration. Pepper trailed a forefinger slowly down his nose, pausing at the tip to press down and wriggle very gentle in place. The touch seemed to have an immediate effect, his chest expanding with a deep, catching breath between her thighs. But Pepper had been expecting this, and switched her touch to lay the digit lengthwise against his nostrils, damming back the verging sneeze. Tony's features screwed up into a delicious mix of desire and uncertainty, as though not quite sure what to do with himself if he couldn't sneeze, and couldn't not sneeze.

"Peh...Pepper..." He groaned, wrinkling his nose and squirming it around in a daze. His nostrils were flushed pink and fluttering, so she took a moment to kiss each in turn with a gentle brush of her lips, silently daring him to sneeze on her. He came dangerously close, judging by the cracking sound of desperation as he hitched a sharp breath, but managed to stall it until she sat up. His head tipped back immediately, a hand raising to towards his mouth. Pepper caught that too and pushed it firmly back down, delighting in his frustrated gasp.

"Pep, c'mon, I gotta sn-...snee..." He couldn't even make it through a sentence, so she chastened him again with a finger under the nose. "H-hih...!" His nostrils quaked miserably against her touch, brow creasing and hands knotting in the fitted sheet beneath them, but he managed to avoid losing it.

"Poor thing," Pepper cooed, working her finger slowly back and forth until the corners of his mouth trembled and her insides felt twisted and bright like a hot cathode. The science metaphor probably would have pleased him, if he had been cognizant to appreciate it. Instead, Pepper smirked to herself, squirmed her hips against him, and curled her toes when he gasped. "Seems like you really need this."

"S-so bad, huh--!"

"Tickles?" She hummed and switched the lay of her finger to scratch a nail gently along the sensitive lining just inside his left nostril.

"Ye--hh...hh!" He almost unraveled, breath hitching a spastic pulse against her core, but clenched his jaw hard and managed a teary nod.

"I don't hear the magic word."

"Please," he exhaled, half a sob. The fraying restraint in his voice was almost enough to finish her right there. Who knew? But she didn't leave him hanging. A free hand snatched up a tissue or four and folded them neatly to his nose, rustling encouragingly as she simultaneously removed her teasing fingertip. She didn't even have time to verbalize her permission before he was wrenching half-upright with a long-anticipated sneeze, loud and hopelessly messy.

"Hh-HUH'ISCHHH-- oo!"

Pepper bit her lip hard, keeping a hand on his shoulder for support as he sniveled in desperate anticipation of another. Her thighs tightened with the same.

"Hah-ISSSCHHiu! -- Heh! Heh'knggtshh!"

He fell to sneezing short and hard, six times in a row with her changing out tissues quickly between pairs until he fell back in dizzy relief, breathing hard but half-laughing.

"Holy hell," he sputtered. She grinned and eased off of him, despite that neither of them had actually 'gotten' anywhere. Yet.

"Was that too much?" She worried gently, kissing at his shoulder with returning tenderness. Tony shook his head.

"God, no. That was... something. You're amazing. I'd say do it again, but I'm not sure I could take it." He rolled over against her. This time she let him rest his head on her chest and his hands wherever he wanted. She petted his hair and smiled.

"Good, me either. Rain check for allergy season?"

He covered her throat in kisses. "Mhnn, -snff!- definitely."

I'd definitely enjoy Tony with hayfever or some other allergy that's interfering with his ability to work in the lab.

Attempting some Steve with this one, because I'm not as used to writing him. Not exactly a relationship, but possibly hinting at one if you look for it!

72 – Remedy

Captain America shielded a hand to his brow, cutting the glare of the sun as he watched the streak of red and gold sweep across the sky. Apprehension turned to grim acceptance as Ironman's course slowed and staggered for a half-second, throwing off the usually graceful flightpath. A heartbeat later he was fine, correcting his falter and darting away like a dragonfly.

He probably could have passed it off to damage sustained in today's almost-monthly-city-defending-battle-of-epic-proportions, but his gut told him otherwise. Captain prided himself on his instinct. It helped that Ironman had been doing this, albeit discreetly, since leaving the tower. Stever was used to commanding his units with all the watchful intensity of a sheepdog, so of course he'd noticed. He'd also noticed the way Ironman went pointedly silent over the team's communication link during each of those mid-air spasms, whereas the concept of radio silence was normally almost impossible for him to grasp.

"Pack it in, Stark," Captain ordered. "Hawkeye, Widow and I can do clean-up."

"What, and let you have all the fun debriefing S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Tony's snarky voice clipped back over the comlink.

"I didn't realize you and Fury were so close."

"Cut the banter," Black Widow put in, her eyeroll somehow almost visible through the soundwaves.

"Take Hulk with you. You know he gets all antsy once the fighting's over," Captain added, trying for misdirection as he took stock of the damage to the park around them. Not too bad, although a few trees had been uprooted in the tussle. The pollen counts must have been sky-high today, it glittered thick and cloudy every time the wind blew.

...hm.

"Whatever," Ironman said with a synthesized sigh, much closer now as he dropped out of the sky in a low arc to hover bravely near the Hulk. "C'mon big guy, we're not invi..." He trailed off, and Captain watched in dry satisfaction as the suit shuddered hard, dropping altitude a few inches before Stark recovered enough to compensate. When he spoke again, his voice sounded congested, as if he'd been crying or was catching a cold. "...invited to the super secret spy tea party."

The Hulk looked vaguely confused, shooting Captain a strange look, but obediently went loping after the blur of red and gold like a huge, city-destroying pitbull trained to its master. Stever shook his head. That was one relationship he still didn't quite understand.

When he made his way down to the lab two hours after the debriefing, Steve was entirely unsurprised to see Tony red-nosed and sniffling as he soldered and sanded out surface damage to the suit. Bruce orbitted around him, working on some other project but engaged in a conversation judging by their shared smirks. He was the first to notice Steve's presence, looking up with a shyer smile as if his alter ego hadn't just been bending steel beams like floral wire.

"Hey, Steve."

Steve gave him a nod and an honest smile. He liked Dr. Banner quite a bit, but he wasn't here to talk to him. As if sensing this, Bruce set down a complicated-looking piece of equipment that he'd been carrying and said something to Tony about needing a part from another level. As he brushed by Steve in his egress, he murmured a discreet 'good luck'. That couldn't be a good sign.

Tony shut off the gas torch and set it aside, then tore off his welding goggles as the spray of sparks died away. He already had some half-formed quip waiting on his lips, but as they parted to deliver it, his expression hesitated and crumpled. Steve recognized that look, crossing his hands calmly and pretending to inspect something on the table as Tony turned away to sneeze violently at the floor, a hand braced on his knee.

"Heh'IESSHoo!"

"God bless you."

Tony gave him an exasperated look as he straightened up, reaching for tissue from a box sitting conspicuously nearby. It was obvious from the flicker of his reddened nostrils that he wasn't even close to finished.

"Heht-IHFSHH!"

Steve gently turned a chalked-up blueprint resting on the table, feigning interest in it as Tony worked through a frantic sneezing fit.

"IFFSHu! Hh-- ish! ...H--ish! ...H-- ish! ...Hh'ISSH!" He paused long enough for Steve to glance up, but it was apparently only to catch his breath in between waves. "Huh-ISSH! ISSHoo! Christ," Tony spat out hoarsely as he gave his nose a rough blow, trying to corral the urge. The sloped shape of his nose scrunched up, pink and quivering, before he finished the fit off with a cleansing tenth. "Heh-heh---- IESSHHOO!"

He slouched sideways onto a nearby stool and let his head drop to the table with an audible thunk. "Kill be dow."

"Bless you. Are you okay?" Steve marveled. Even pre-serum, with hideous allergies of his own, he didn't recall them being quite that intense.

"Do I friggid look okay?" Tony snarled before blowing his nose again.

Steve sighed. Tony was sassy even in the best of moods, but he'd fortunately seen enough of the man's good side to ignore the nasty retort. He tried a different tactic. "Do you take something for that?"

"For what?"

"Your hayfever," he said slowly, wondering if Tony had lost a few braincells in that fit.

Tony scowled. "I don't have h-hay...hih...! IFFTSH!" He sneezed out a straggling tickle, wiped his nose and continued. "Hayfever."

Steve stared. "... right."

That time Tony sighed, pitching the ruined tissues into a wastebin under the table. "Not chronically, anyway. It's just the really high pollen count days, like that angiosperm orgy outside," he sniffed. "Extraordinarily shitty timing for a mission."

"I think that still falls under the definition of hayfever," Steve mused.

"If you came to scold me, fuck off," Tony said with a steely glare, the effect slightly ruined by the allergic tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. "I'm fixing the air filters on the suit now. Won't happen again, Dad," he sneered.

"Take it easy," Steve replied, taking a cue from Bruce in refusing to rise to Tony's barbs. It was no easy task, especially when they edged into the forbidden territory of that laundry list of daddy issues, the ones that came from a man Steve had called a friend. "I come bearing gifts."

It seemed to take Tony by surprise, brows raised as he reached for another tissue to wipe his eyes. Steve palmed a small, unopened glass container from his pocket and held it out.

Tony sniffled, and leaned in with a squint. "... honey?"

"I used to have really horrible allergies," Steve said, setting the honey down on the table when Tony didn't seem inclined to take it. He produced a clean spoon from the same pocket and set it nearby. "This used to help a little."

Tony gave him a suspicious look, but picked up the jar and turned it over in his hands to read the label. "Howso? I took some Benadryl..."

Steve shrugged. "The theory is it works sort of like a vaccine, builds up an immunity to local pollens. That stuff's made from bees they keep right in the park."

Tony glanced up from the jar. "Immunotherapy? They have allergy shots for that now. This sounds like a bunch of holli--ih!-- ht'SHHHiu! --Heh-ISSH! Ugh. Hollistic mumbo-jumbo."

Steve sighed and held his hands up, palms out in surrender. There was only so much he could take. "I guessed it was more of a placebo response, but I figured what the hell. It's just a folk remedy."

Tony hesitated, looking almost contrite for the snide responses. He unscrewed the lid and dipped the spoon into the jar, withdrawing a healthy mound of the sweet golden substance. "...well, I've never been a fan of shots." He swallowed the honey dutifully, throat rippling. Steve was assuaged.

"Yeah," he smirked. "Me either."

They shared a quick laugh at that. Deciding it was probably best to end the conversation on a decent note, Steve made to head for the door, but paused when Tony slid off the stool and rounded the desk, sniffling.

"Hey, thanks, Rogers," Tony said, sincerity in his tone despite the indignity of having to crane his gaze upwards to meet him in the eye. "Sorry for being a bastard, I'm bitchy when my face is trying to explode."

Steve chuckled, so his shock wouldn't show. There were very few people that got apologies from Tony Stark, at least not without monetary compensation and or Pepper holding a gun to his back. "It's fine, really, I get it."

"Good," Tony sniffed. He rubbed his nose, then took Steve's arm with the other and started tugging him to a different part of the lab. "Now that we've kissed and made up, let me show you a reinforcement we were working on for your shield..."

It was the guileless physical contact that finally unraveled the tension in Steve's shoulders. He allowed himself to be led along, a genuine smile in place as Tony chattered away.

Edited July 27, 2012 by Garnet

[pinknose]

Garnet...

...

...

Marry me.

[SapphireSong]

First of all, let me just say that all of you people are friggin' BRILLIANT, and I'm sorry I haven't had the time to fangirl ecstatically over each and every one of these pieces of pure WIN. This is by far one of my favorite threads on this whole forum, I'm not even kidding :') Thank you all so much for contributing here!!

Garnet. Garnet. *uwaaahhhh ~flails~ seriously, i think you're trying to kill me XDDDD I've enjoyed all of your Avengers fics, but for some reason these latest drabbles are quite possibly my favorite Maybe because I finally saw Iron Man 1 and 2 and have an even greater appreciation for Mr. Snark and his brilliant assistant...? Or maybe just because they are fully, to put it semi-coherently,

lol. <-- zis is me. XDDD

I will be a devoted reader of this thread forever. ^^ And who knows, perhaps eventually I may even add something of my own

[VividBubbles!]

Garnet, I am very glad that you don't understand how to drabble. These not drabbles are complete and total awesomeness! I love your sick-but-not-enough-to-not-complain and snarky-my-face-is-going-to-explode Tony and your kinky Pepper and caring Steve. Well, I guess basically, I love all your characters! I hope to see some more of your not drabbles soon!

BYE!

Edited July 27, 2012 by VividBubbles!

[Jorm]

I can't even....

[matilda3948]

Oh my! These are so, so soooo good!!! Tony with hayfever?! Pepper kink?! Wow!!

[Parksborn]

Garnet~

Remember how I said that I just love Tony's fits?

Well, you're creating a monster.

Please don't stop. <3

[Dusty15]

Garnet. GARNET. Garnet.

Sick Tony and slightly sadistic Pepper was quite possibly the hottest thing I've read in ages. Maybe ever. I'll be back to re-read more than once, that's for sure. Holy crap.

[fraggle]

that is all!

[Dye]

OH MY THREAD HAS BECOME A GOLD MINE GARNET I AM DEAD

[Garnet]

HOMG you guys <3 Way too sweet, I was going to respond to things individually but I don't want to hog the thread. Thank you much for any responses to my silly drabbles though, Y'ALL SHOULD CONTRIBUTE WITH MORE so I'm not monopolizing 8D

That said, I'm still happy to take requests for characters/situations/whatever :B These are fun.