Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

14.5

Pietro was in very rough shape. He had a respiratory infection and the beginning of bedsores from the neglect. Clint had gotten permission to set him up in their bedroom, taking care of him there rather than the medical wing or the hospital.

He was hooked to round the clock tube feeds and IV medication that provided him strong pain relief and antibiotics. Clint hardly ever left the room, always there taking care of him and comforting him the best he could.

Kate was released from the medical wing, but she felt too guilty to come see her friends, locking herself in her room most of the day. Pietro had been asking for her, wanting to talk to her but to no avail.

"Clint... go ask... Kate... come here." He tried again. He looked awful, body covered in bruises and eyes barely open under the sedating effects of the medicines.

The archer kissed his cheek softly. "I'll try, honey."

Clint padded lightly down the hall, knocking on Kate's door.

"Go away."

"No can do, Katie-Kate. C'mon, you really gonna make the dying guy worry about you?" He sighed as moments passed without a reply.

Just as he turned to walk away, the door clicked open. "He should be mad at me. You should be mad at me."

"But he's not. I'm not. Fuck, kid, you got yourself nearly beaten to death trying to defend him. We're both proud of you, and awfully worried." The elder put a hand on her shoulder, testing to see if she would pull away.

Instead she collapsed in his arms, sobbing. "I- I tried so hard. They just kept coming. I tried, Clint, god I was such an idiot."

"Kid, look at me. You did your best, Hawkeye. This isn't your fault." He rubbed her back. "Now come see Pietro before he worries himself sick."

She looked for a moment before hesitantly nodding.

They walked back to the room, Kate freezing when Clint opened the door. Pietro looked nearly dead, bruises and scabs poking out from the neckline of the oversized sweatshirt he wore. He was gaunt, heavy bags under his eyes. Soft wheezing eminated from his trach. "Katie."

She took a small step, her resolve crumbling as she ran toward him, crawling up on the bed. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"No... malen'kiy yastreb. Not your... fault." He managed a small smile. "You did... good, Kate. Did good."

"It wasn't enough! You got hurt because of me." She sobbed into his shoulder. "I should've been stronger."

She cried for a while, Pietro whispering slurred comforts to her as Clint rubbed her back. The three stayed like that for a long time before Kate pulled back, wiping her eyes.

"Put on... movie... so I can... complain... about how stupid... it is." He gave a slow smirk, knowing making fun of television was a surefire way to cheer her up.

The trio cuddled up on the bed together, sharing a tub of ice cream and watching some dumb action movie. Pietro fell asleep rather early into it, the wheezing from his trach growing in intensity. It alerted Clint to the build up of secretions that needed to be suctioned, moreso than usual due to the infection.

He reached for the tool, caressing his husbands face until his eyes opened. "I need to suction you, baby. Okay?"

An acknowledging hum before the older began, Kate holding Pietro's hand soothingly as his chest bucked in a weak protest to the intrusion. Tears trailed down his face, cheeks red as he struggled. Slowly he wound down but the tears didn't stop.

"So tired." He mumbled, eyelids drooping. "Hurts..."

Clint ran finger through the silver hair. "It's okay, babe. Rest."

A low whine of pain escaped him, Kate rubbing his arm comfortingly. Pietro's eyes closed, his husband kissing him tenderly.

●●●

Recovery was slow and painful. That night Clint washed his lover tenderly, soaking him in a warm bath with epsom salts and essential oils. He was black and blue all over, cuts all over. The water was turning a dingy rust color as the archer lightly scrubbed the dried blood away from his fair skin.

"Love you." Pietro murmured as his husband washed his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

Clint gently tipped his lover's head to the side to look at him. "I love you too, roadrunner. So, so much."

"I almost... gave up. In that... room." His voice was a whisper. "The pain... was so tired."

His archer's breath shuddered. "I wouldn't have blamed you. I would never blame you for that."

"Stayed... because. Wanted to... be with you. And stayed... for Kate." A break in his words. "She would've... blamed... herself."

Clint rinsed his hair carefully, keeping the water out of his love's face. He was lost for words as he rinsed crimson suds from his husband's hair. "I'm glad you stayed. I don't want you to die like that, alone and in pain. I want you comfortable and surrounded with love when that time comes, sweetheart."

"Want... bed. Cuddle with... you." Pietro looked to him sleepily.

"Alright, let's get you nice and cozy." Clint covered his chair's cushions with soft towels before lifting him out of the bath.

He dried him gingerly, careful not to press too hard on his bruised body. He threaded thin, limp limbs through plush purple pajama pants with small bows and arrows on them before putting fuzzy white socks on his feet. He was extremely careful to judge pain levels as he put a soft blue sweater over his lover.

Pietro had a small smile on, it grew as Clint took his face in his hands. He kissed him softly, grinning at his lover's attempt to kiss back.

The two were soon in bed, the younger swaddled in fuzzy blankets as the older held him, kissing him down from his lips to his jaw and neck. The silver haired man gave a light moan as his archer kissed the sensitive skin behind his ear.

"Mh, tomorrow. When we... are rested. Love me from... the inside until... I feel better." His voice cracked.

Clint kissed up near his cheekbone. "You sure you're up for that?"

"Will... let you know... if not. But I... want you." He shortly fell asleep in the arms of his lover, safe and loved.