Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

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●●●[cringey ass Authors Note, just wanted to say that i know these first few chapters are kinda shit, but i'm already writing chapter 17 and i definitely find my flow after the first few. so just stick with it dawg.]●●●

"I had a brother. His name was Pietro."

Pietro had been working with the avengers for just about six years when the symptoms started.

He'd been spending so much time playing it off, keeping Wanda out of his head and shrugging off Clint's concern. He'd been so caught up in his own head he didn't notice someone had entered the room.

"'Silver, you okay?" Clint's voice pulled him back to earth.

"Mhm. Fine, why you ask?" He turned, pushing the hair from his face.

"I've been trying to get your attention for like five minutes, dude. You sure you're good?" The archer put his hands on his partners shoulders softly.

"Lost in thought. I am okay, I promise." It was almost convincing, until the subtle spasm in his finger began. It could be mistaken as a nervous habit by most, finger flickering in blue mist. But not to Clint.

"I know when you're lying, sweetheart. Talk to me." Clint's voice was soft yet stern, the care for his boyfriend laced between it.

Pietro groaned, clenching and unclenching his hand to settle his finger. "I tell you, there is nothing going on. If there was something I would tell you, swear." He shifted his weight, avoiding eye contact as he sipped his coffee and leaned back against the counter. The archer eyed him up and down, a frown lightly on his lips.

"Okay. Just please tell me when you're ready. I can tell when something is off." He sighed, shrugging on a purple hoodie and sliding on his shoes. "I need to go out and get more food for Lucky. Do you wanna come with?"

Trying to keep appearances, Pietro smiled. "Of course. Let's go old man!" He zipped by, reappearing with shoes and a coat on. As he stopped he leaned into the wall, catching his balance. Clint side eyed him, but said nothing.

They walked down the busy New York streets, talking amongst themselves. Pietro, keeping up the front by teasing the archer relentlessly. The other laughed, although in the back of his mind he kept note of the silver haired man's clumbsy steps. Just noticable enough to be picked up by a trained assassin. His steps just barely off, feet bumping into eachother loosely. The way he leaned into him, struggling to maintain his balance. It made the older concerned, along with Pietro's resistance to acknowledge it.

Eventually they got down to the pet store, Pietro excitedly zipping over to the fish. Clint winced as the other man veered to the side, stumbling over himself as he stopped, grabbing the side of a display for stability. He wanted up to where the other was pretending to simply be too excited about the fish. Clint spoke quietly, discreet in nature.

"You're going to the doctor, honey. Something is wrong." He wrapped an arm around Pietro's tapered waist.

The younger started to protest, huffing.

"Please, 'Silver. Let me in." Clint whispered. "Don't fight me on this."

"Fine. But they will say I am fine and you will be the fool." He crossed his arms. "We get dog food and go home. I am tired."

"Alrighty, babe. Let's go."

●●●

As soon as they got back to the tower, Pietro made a beeline for the couch. He collapsed against the pillows, yawning. Clint draped a purple blanket over his lover, kissing his forehead. Pietro had the tv remote, scrolling though netflix.

"I'm gonna get you an appointment with Dr. Cho, you rest for now. Okay?" Clint said, earning a disgruntled sigh from the other man.

The archer went to seek out Wanda, the only one who could give her insight into his significant other's head. He found her in her room, door open and smell of incense strong. He waited for her to motion to him before he entered.

"This is regarding my brother, da?" She spoke forwardly.

"I thought you wouldn't read my mind." He was suddenly guarded, arms crossed. She invited him to sit on her plush bed.

"I didn't have to." She crossed her legs, face tight. "There's something terribly wrong, and he won't let me in." Wanda stood, pacing. "I can feel a storm brewing. He's sick, Clint. And I fear it's only going to worsen."

Clint felt sick. He saw all the signs cumulatively. "He keeps pushing me away. He has to know this is bad, right?"

Wanda just shuddered. "He knows. He just doesn't want us to know."

●●●

It was a week later, all the tests thus far coming back inconclusive.

It was group training, Pietro pushing himself despite the protests of his closest family. He'd been running the track as usual, Steve timing him and charting notes. His miles slowed, his form sloppy. Still, he insisted on continuing.

It was too fast to see exactly what went wrong. His foot caught on the ground and before he could correct, the speedster was stumbling, unable to find sound footing. He skidded out, tumbling over himself before coming to a stop. Clint leapt up from where he was perched, running to the kneeling man. The silver haired man was crying, panting and severely out of breath.

"Baby, are you hurt? What happened?" The archer cupped his love's face, wiping the flowing tears.

He just shook his head, letting out a hiccuping sob. "I don't- I can't-" Pietro gasped, trembling. "What is wrong with me, vozlyublennyy?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. Come on, let's get you up, okay?" The older kissed the top of his head, chest tightening as he realized how much assistance his once strong boyfriend needed in standing. He wrapped an arm around the other, pressing a kiss to his cheek.