[Cringe ass authors note but I've been super fuckin sick and wrote these last few chapters while taking a shit ton of meds. I'll prolly be better by the time I publish these but if they're wack that's why.]
It was another rare good day, Clint taking Pietro out on a simple date. They were just going to get ice cream and feed the ducks, and that was more than enough for the both of them.
The archer had his eyes trained on his lover rather than the pond in front of them, carefully helping him to eat small spoonfuls of the frozen treat. He was so small, so fragile in the eyes of the agent. He'd been reduced to skin and bones, metabolism too fast no matter how many calories they tube fed him without the exercise his system had been designed for. He'd been built to run, to work every day without complaint. But here he was sat now, exerting more effort to simply move his left hand a few inches or swallow. Clint still loved him exactly the same, however. He was content to help his love through the most simple things, be it showering, dressing, or having little tastes of food here and there.
"Is funny... you know?" The soft rush of air through the ventilator. "You are... old man, yet... I die first."
The older looked down at a duck who nibbled at his shoe for more food. "I'm gonna miss you so damn much, 'Silver."
"And I will... miss you," a pause. "My luchnik."
Taking a small, frail hand in his own, Clint kissed his knuckles softly. "Send me a sign, y'know? When you're gone. Let me know you're there."
"I will... paint the sky... for you." A small smile. "I will... never stop... looking over you."
The archer leaned over the siler haired man, kissing him tenderly. He could feel the slow attempt at reciprocation, the wetness of his fiance's cheeks. Pietro sobbed into his love, Clint holding him close. "It's okay, baby. Let it out. I'm here."
"Don't wanna... leave you." The younger spoke in a broken voice.
"I know, love. I know." He scratched the other's head lightly, fingers laced through his hair. "We've still got time. You're not going anywhere yet, honey."
They sat together for what could've been minutes or hours. Kissing, mumbling sweet words to each other. As the sun set a chill cut through the air. Clint took off his jacket, draping it over his lover's lap.
"We should probably go home, Piet. I don't want you catching a chill." The older stood fully, propping him back against the chair and popping his own back. The only response he got was a low hum as he wiped the other's tears.
●●●
Later, Kate laid on the bed with Pietro as Clint showered. She gossiped with him, telling him all the tower drama she'd heard.
"So, three weeks till the wedding. You excited?" She beamed, happiness radiating from her.
The thin man smiled tiredly. "It's the best... gift I can... give him."
"Don't pretend it's not a gift for you, too." The young archer sing-songed.
"Am... looking forward... to it." A harsh choking sound as he failed to swallow his own spit. "But sad... he is marrying... man who... is so sick."
She nonchalantly wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth. "That doesn't matter to him, dude."
She grabbed her phone, pulling up a video Clint had sent her when he was drunk and sentimental. "This is still you. This is who Clint's marrying."
Pietro's back was to the camera as he stood by the stove, in an oversized white undershirt and Clint's purple boxers. He was tending to something on the stove, humming to himself as the camera drew closer. The head of silver hair then turned, revealing a bright grin. "Ah! Go back to bed, moya lyubov. I was trying to surprise you!"
"Awww but baby, you look so cute right now..." Clint drawled, setting the camera against something on the counter.
He pressed himself against the other's back, arms wrapping around his waist. Pietro continued to hum, swaying softly in his lover's arms. He then looked over, noticing the camera.
"Why are you recording this, durachok? It is just a normal morning." He grabbed the phone.
"I know, but I just want a reminder of how beautiful you are this morning." Clint kissed him.
The video cut to black, and Pietro sobbed quietly. Kate brushed his hair from his face. "That's still you, Pietro. You're still you."
"Kate, when I... could still write... I wrote letters... for everyone." A wheeze. "Sorry, not... one for you... did not... know you when... could write." His voice became even more slurred and soft at the end.
"Take a second, I know long sentences are hard. I'm patient." She added the last part playfully.
He paused a moment at that, gathering his strength. "They are... under bed. Under floorboard. When time... is right... give them."
"You got it, man. Anytime after, or sometime specific?" She waited as he prepared his response.
He opened his mouth to reply, trach giving a short wheeze. "You will know."
The shower turned off, the room silent in the absence of the white noise it provided. The only noise in the room was the hiss of the ventilator and quiet hum of the feeding tube pump. Kate braided his hair absently, it was shaggy with unkempt curls having a tendency to get into his eyes.
Clint emerged several minutes later, shirtless with purple flannel pajama bottoms. He smiled at seeing two of his favorite people becoming close, Kate just had such a way with the disabled man. It was rare that even on his worst days she couldn't coax a smile out of him. They were always plotting, joking and playing pranks. He came to the side of the bed, pressing a kiss to the other man's lips. "Love you, Speedy."
"Love you... too, old man."
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Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close
قصص الهواة[Disabled writer makes a vent fic for an outdated fandom.] Pietro's acting different. Wanda's noticed, and so has Clint. He's been clumbsier, tripping and dropping things, only to push everyone's concern away. He's fine. There's nothing going on. He...
