Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

10.5

The meeting was for an urgent mission. The whole team was needed. Pietro wasn't feeling well the next morning as Clint suited up and then proceeded to walk Kate through the younger man's care. He trusted the young archer, instructing her on suctioning, how to help him drink, how to change his clothes.

Wanda had been by, briefly kissing her brother on the forehead before leaving to go prep. Clint kissed him deeply, caressing his cheek gently. "Baby, make sure you tell Katie if you need anything. I love you."

"Love you." His voice was incredibly soft.

And then Clint was off, the younger archer taking his place by the bed. She gave a small smile. "Need anything?"

"Nyet," the quiet wheeze of the ventilator. "Just sit."

She took a seat on the bed, a hand on the other's leg. It had been over a week since his last 'good day' and he was constantly feeling his worst. She felt her mentor's unspoken fear: maybe this is just his new normal.

She made herself cozy on the bed, turning on the televison and scrolling through movies. Eventually she just just picked one at random, half watching and half checking her phone. Pietro was uncharacteristically silent, usually joking at least somewhat. But he just stared weakly at the television, bags of exhaustion under his eyes. Kate grabbed his hand, squeezing gently. "Piet, you feelin' okay? Usually you would've told me how awful this movie is by now."

"Am fine. Just... very tired." He slurred, pausing for a second. "Worried... for Clint."

"He'll be fine! You know he can hold his own." She smirked, but had it wiped off her face by a pained look from the other.

He closed his eyes and she felt a finger twitch against her own. "Not what... am worried... about."

"I know." Her voice shook a bit. "He's got a lotta people in his corner, though. He's gonna be okay. And he's got you. You know damn well you're not throwing in the towel yet, you're way too stubborn for that."

That got a weak laugh from him. "You're right... about that. Am not... good quitter."

"Plus you've still got that wedding, did you guys set a date yet?" She eyed the ring around his finger.

"Next month... short notice... but want," a small noise as he tried to swallow. "Able to talk... at wedding."

Kate smiled sadly. Seemingly his speech declined daily, always a little softer, a little harder to understand. "'Course."

"Water... please. Throat is dry."

The young archer nodded, quickly yet carefully sitting him up and grabbing the glass from the nightstand. "Don't do that thing where you worry about spilling. It's fine, dude. I don't care."

Upon his agreeing hum, she placed the straw to his mouth. It took a good while for him to get any water through, but once he did it quickly began to drip from his mouth. He started choking weakly, barely any force behind the coughing at this point.

"Okay, you're gonna hate me and I'm gonna be really scared, but Clint's gonna beat my ass if we skip this and you get sick." She grabbed for the suction tool, an upset groan sounding from the man between coughs.

She kicked it on. "Okay, it's supposed to be scary, just do it like Clint said..." the younger mumbled to herself, beginning to do the steps exactly as she'd seen them. Her heart dropped as the man coughed as much as he could, tears dripping from his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, almost done."

Kate stopped, rubbing his chest as he continued to fight the vent on reflex. Once he calmed down, she wiped his face gently. "You okay?"

"Am fine. No worry." He rasped, cheeks tinged red from the fit.

She gestures to the wet shirt. "Wanna change your shirt? I'm sure that can't be too comfy."

He blushed before giving a small 'mhm'. Kate went into the closet, rustling through coathangers. She showed one of Clint's shirts, a soft, oversized Pink Floyd shirt. She knew it was one of Pietro's favorites, she'd seen him in it more times than she could count.

"How 'bout this one?" She asked, grinning when it got a small smile from the man.

"Did you... know Clint... wore that," a small pause. "On first date?"

Kate 'awwed' smile growing. "That's so cute! Where did y'all go?"

"Shitty pizza... place. Then went... home. Played... Mario Kart." The smile on his face was genuine, filled with nostalgia.

The younger archer snorted. "That's very Clint."

"Ever the... romantic." He gave a short laugh.

●●●

Clint had been hit. Pietro was freaking out, crying and demanding information. Kate had taken him down to the medical wing to try to reassure him, but he only cried harder upon seeing his lover sedated in a hospital bed. Realistically he knew his fiance would be fine, the shot was through and through, no organ damage. But he couldn't help the helpless feeling festering inside of him. He wasn't there to protect him. He couldn't protect him.

Katie placed the sokovian's hand on his archer's and they both sat waiting for Clint to wake. About an hour later, the older woke. He saw his partner, draped limply in that godforsaken chair, cheeks streaked with tears. His hair was tousled, eyes only slightly open. His hand was in his archer's, which Clint squeezed gently.

"You're awake." His voice was hoarse, even thicker than usual with tears.

Clint pulled his lover's hand to his lips. "Honey, I'm okay. I'm sorry I got you so worried over nothing."

"Nothing? You were... shot... moy luchnik." Pietro's eyes were glassy, tears tracing down his face.

The elder archer just grasped his hand tighter. "It's nothing, baby. You know I've had worse."

"Mh... but you are... old man. Hurt easier... now." A sly smirk shadowed by worry.

"Oh, there it is. I was waiting for that one." Clint sat up, stifling a hiss as his side stung.

He leaned over, bracing himself on the armrest of his lover's chair as his kissed him. Rough, calloused fingers wiped away tears. "I'm okay. Stop worrying, 'Silver."

Pietro gave a frown. "Rest. I will... get Nat... if you don't."

"Ugh, fine. But no more worrying!"