Sick Clint pt. 2
TW: depictions of vomit
Once Clint had fallen asleep, Laura managed to maneuver herself out from under him. She carefully laid his head down on the pillow, pulling the blanket up to his chest, which he nuzzled under gratefully, although he didn’t wake. She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek, still pretty warm. The medicine didn’t seem to be working.
She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, then headed into the kitchen to get started on the dishes. Normally she would listen to music while she was working in the kitchen, but she didn’t want to risk waking up her husband, so Laura just hummed to herself under her breath instead.
“Laur?” Clint called from the living room, his voice sounding rough.
She set down the pan she was washing and dried her hands before heading into the living room. Clint was sitting, but hunched over, his head between his knees, breathing hard.
“Babe?” Laura walked over and started rubbing his back gently.
“M’not feeling so good darling,” he mumbled.
“I know, you still feel really warm,” she said sadly.
“No, I mean... m’stomach,” he said, the words coming out as more of a grunt.
“Oh... Oh you’re feeling nauseous?” she asked, already reading for the trash bin in the corner of the room. She really didn’t want to clean the rug today.
“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement.
Laura set the bin down between his legs then sat down beside him, trailing her fingers up and down his back. Clint propped his head up on his hands, still leaned over the trash, mouth hanging open.
“Hey, just let it happen babe, you’re alright,” she assured him.
“Not coming yet,” he shook his head, even though the movement made his head spin and a harsh wave of nausea rush over him. His stomach still seemed content to stay in place and just make him feel miserable for a while longer though.
He wasn’t even sure where this had all come from. His stomach had just been upset when he’d woken up, but then as soon as he sat up it turned to queasiness and he knew it was only a matter of time.
“Do you want to move to the bathroom?”
Clint shook his head slightly. The thought of moving was enough to make him gag, hanging his head back over the bin.
“Okay, take it easy babe,” Laura said, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.
Clint coughed, which morphed into a heave, that brought up his churning stomach finally. His stomach squeezed, making his eyes water painfully as he continued to gag and heave.
“You’re okay,” Laura said softly, reaching her other hand over to move his bangs out of his face.
When he was finally able to stop dry heaving, he spit into the trash, eyes squeezed shut to avoid seeing the mess and being sick all over again. Clint slowly straightened up, leaning heavily against his wife’s side, who wrapped her arms around him.
“I’ve got you darling,” she said, kissing his forehead as she smoothed her hands up and down his trembling arms. And for once Clint just let her.