Title: Catch Me As I Fall

Author: Proclaim Thy Warrior Soul

Rating: T for Clint's potty mouth.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, I tell you! I don't have, nor do I know anyone with, narcolepsy/cataplexy. Everything here is a result of what little research I was able to scrounge off the 'net and a huge dose of creative license. Apologies for anything I got wrong, and no offense is intended in any way.

Summary: Clint Barton was strangely at ease with discovering himself sprawled haphazardly in the kitchen doorway, head ringing with the blow it'd taken from the wooden door frame. It came with the territory when you had the unhealthy combination of cataplexy and a debilitating sleep disorder like narcolepsy… Narcoleptic!Clint

Author's Notes: Sequel to Suspicions, and part of the Sleeping Beauty 'verse.

Catch Me As I Fall

The World's Greatest Marksman was strangely at ease with discovering himself sprawled haphazardly in the kitchen doorway, head ringing with the blow it'd taken from the wooden door frame.

"Sonofa-"

Well, mostly at ease.

It came with the territory when you had the unhealthy combination of cataplexy and a debilitating sleep disorder like narcolepsy. Add that to a course of meds that'd suddenly declared war on his magically-screwed brain chemistry, and you had the perfect recipe for disaster. A Clint Barton shaped disaster. Clint'd have to remember to thank Loki for that one when he saw him next, the asshole.

At least he hadn't bitten a large chunk out of his tongue in his fall and half choked to death on the resulting pool of blood...

This time.

Yeah, that one had been fun to explain. Because there were only so many 'damn, I'm such a klutz!' excuses an ex-carnie archer could make before people apparently grew suspicious.

Go figure.

The archer was trying to remember how to make his crumpled body move - because, ow, he hurt, and the last thing he needed was for the others to find him in such a pathetic state - when his hearing aids detected a surprised inhale of breath that wasn't his own.

Fuck.

"Clint? What happened?"

Bruce Banner's gentle voice at his six almost startled the archer back into oblivion. Seriously, who knew the bare-footed, bespectacled scientist was such a goddamn ninja?!

Refusing to allow his muscles the liberty of any kind of weakness in front of the scientist, Clint stifled a yawn as he braced his entire weight against the door frame and fought his way to his feet. "Oh, hey, man..."

There. Mission accomplished. So what if it was more leaning than actual standing...

Ignoring the wave of dizziness and the violent protest of the leg that'd been folded under the weight of his body for god knows how long, Clint tried and failed to blink the ever present aura of exhaustion away before he made a fool of himself.

Again.

"I, uh, heard the explosion from Tony's lab," the grey-haired scientist explained quietly when Barton didn't offer any further comment, making an obvious effort to keep his distance in case he thought Clint needed a moment to collect himself. "I thought it wise to make sure everybody was okay."

So it was Stark's fault. The unexpected explosion must've triggered his cataplexy. Fantastic.

"S'alright, Bruce. 'm good..."

The strangled growl from Banner's direction warned Clint that his ridiculously slurred excuse probably wasn't washing with the doctor.

"Hm. You maybe want to try that one again?"

Clint ignored the crack of his jaw as he yawned once more, turning his head slowly to face the physicist whilst still using the door frame as a means to support his tiring body. The sudden temptation to just close his eyes and give in to everything was a scarily desperate one. If not for the fact that it would only encourage interference from the team - and from the two versions of Banner his addled brain was currently seeing - he'd happily capitulate. God knows he could use the rest. A few minutes wouldn't hurt anyone. Right?

Too late, Clint noticed his legs giving way beneath him, the pull of sleep winning the silent battle far too easily. "Oh, shit..."

This was definitely not one of his best days.

Before he could hit the floor, Bruce was there at Clint's side, easily taking the weight of the taller man's limp body.

"Clint, can you tell me what's wrong? Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head?"

The archer could just about make out the note of panic in the doctor's voice before he lost his fight with consciousness for the second time that day.

*S*L*E*E*P*I*N*G*B*E*A*U*T*Y*

Part 1 of 2