Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

8.0

Kate sat by the sick man's side as the two watched Clint train. She was insanely focused on his moves, the last shot he took throwing her for a loop. How did he do that? She'd have to ask him lat-

"Kate." She looked back over, the popsicle she held for Pietro melting.

She cursed, using the napkin she was holding to blot a drip of the cherry juice out of the muted green flannel he'd stolen from his lover. "Aww man, sorry dude."

"Is fine." He gave a small smile as she held the melting part close to his face so he could lick it before it dripped again. Today was a good day. His pain was managed and he felt well enough to get outside for a bit, although the sun beat down unforgivingly onto his frozen treat. He hadn't really taken much food by mouth since the getting feeding tube, finding it more convenient to simply get his bulk nutrients through the tube and only eat orally for pleasure. It had also come in handy for taking medicine, as he was completely unable to swallow pills at this point.

Pietro watched Clint for a while longer before the older was done. By this point the younger was hurting, needing to be repositioned. He said nothing though, as his lover trotted up to them. The older archer grinned as Katie went on about how cool some of the moves were, especially the one with the flip, can you teach me that sometime?, imitating her mentor's motions.

Clint lovingly cupped his boyfriend's face as she spoke, stroking his thumb across the stubble on his cheekbone. "How're you feeling, honey?"

"You cool off..." the pause between his words was becoming normal to them at this point. "Then ask." He didn't want his archer overexerting himself, he could tell the older was hiding the tiredness from his workout.

Rolling his eyes fondly, he sighed. "Roadrunner, I'm not gonna break a damn hip if you need help with something. What is it?"

"Mh, you might, after... all you are pretty old." Kate snorted at that. "Position hurts."

"Shut up." There was no malice behind the words. He gently positioned his lover more comfortably, tilting the chair slightly to redistribute his weight. "Better?"

He can see the relief in his lover's face, smiling as he saw the younger relax. "Yes. Much better, milaya."

"Alright. You wanna go to bed or hang out with the team for movie night?" Clint looked excited at the prospect of movie night, something they'd been missing out on a lot recently as Pietro struggled with the sadness he felt he brought to things. The younger agreed, mostly for the look of happiness that would be plastered to the older's face.

●●●

Getting his lover settled, Clint was bickering with Tony over movie choices. "We are so not watching Batman again. Sorry dude, not doing it."

The billionaire whined. "But why, it's so good! You just don't appreciate quality cinema."

"We could watch Girl, Interrupted again." Wanda came in with a bowl of popcorn.

"Veto." Pietro wheezed, words too quiet and slurred for Tony to understand at this point. "Too depressing."

Tony looked at him, then to Clint. The archer sighed. "That's a nope on that one."

They resorted to scrolling through streaming services, all while more team members filtered in and took spots around the large common area. Pietro was weakly holding his lover's hand, looking at him sleepily.

"You sure you don't wanna go to bed, baby?" Clint whispered to him, brushing the silver hair from his eyes with his free hand.

The younger just smiled slightly. "No. Want to be here."

Tony tried not to stare, he really did. But his mind was going overdrive as he sat and thought about how time had passed so quickly, how the enhanced man had gone from walking with a slight limp to being on life support within a year and a half. He didn't miss the dirty look Pietro shot his way when he caught him staring. He was limp, draped into the comfortable recliner by the main couch, dressed in Clint's clothing that had once fit him tightly, but now hung loosely off his withered frame. His hair had grown out, now down to his chin with unkempt waves and curls. The long nights Tony and Banner had spent in the lab were in vain, no way to help this. No way to heal this. His motor neurons were failing, and it wasn't a thing that they'd found any way to repair. He would die, the man who's life was derailed by various mistakes Stark had made throughout his life. It was crushing Stark, the feeling that Pietro's death would signify one last time the man that indirectly killed his parents failed him.

The frail man mumbled something to Clint, and Stark took a deep breath, leaning back against the couch and waiting for the archer to lay into him. Instead, the older man of the couple stood, leaving the room while tapping on his phone.

Tony's phone buzzed, a message from the man displaying. 'Kitchen'

He got up, walking after the other. He was met with Clint facing away from him, hands pressed to the counter so firmly his knuckles were white. The archer sighed.

"Look, I-"

Clint cut him off. "He's worried about you, y'know."

That made his head spin. He sat on a barstool, resting his head on his hand. "What? Why?"

"You can't even be in the same room as him without that look. That guilty, fucked up, you're dying and it's my fault look." He shook his head. "Why do you think it's your fault, man? Because you can't magically cure a disease that thousands of scientists have been trying to cure for god knows how long? C'mon. Your ego can't be that big."

Tony covered his face with his hands. "Every fucked up thing that's happened to that kid has somehow been tied to me." His hands muffled his speech. "I just wish I could fix this one thing, somehow make it up to him."

"Jesus, dude. That's when you get someone a box of chocolates or something, not make yourself feel personally responsible for the fact that you can't cure an incurable disease. Donate to a charity or something, don't do this. The last thing that's gonna help him is you looking at him like he's..." Clint trailed off, wiping a hand down his face. "I don't know. He just... you know how he is. He hates that shit. All he wants is normalcy until the end, even though things are fucked up and nothing is normal about this. He just wants to feel normal."

Running a hand through his hair, Tony nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Should I apologize? Would that just upset him more?"

"Just be your normal, asshole self. Do whatever you'd usually do." The archer patted a hand on his shoulder as he passed, going back to the other room.

Tony took a minute, composing himself before following. He passed Pietro, ruffling his hair into his eyes. Yep. That's Tony.

"Asshole." The sokovian rasped quietly, a small smile on his lips.

The other flopped back down on his seat, flipping the thin man off with a smirk.