Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

15.5

The night terrors had Clint sleeping with his hearing aides turned all the way up so he could hear his lover stir.

A barely audible yelp shifted the archer out of his slumber. He rolled over, met with Pietro's wide and teary eyes. Clint held him, caressinghis face. "Hey, honey. You're safe, I have you. I have you."

Pietro let out a low whine. "Hurts... Clint. Scared."

"I know, baby. I got you. No one's gonna hurt you." His hand to his husband's heart, it beat even faster than usual. He wiped the younger's eyes, kissing his cheek.

"Was the one... with the... needles." Pietro murmured. "Made me... spasm... against floor. Drive needles... all the way... in."

Clint's breath stuttered at the mental image of that. "Are you in pain, sweetheart?"

"Da. No move... please. Need you... hold me." His voice was weak, cracking and shaking with his sobs.

"Okay. You let me know when you feel safe enough for me to let go and get your meds, okay babe?"

A shuddering hum was the only response, tears staining into the archer's shirt. They laid like that for what could've been hours, Pietro whimpering occasionally. His archer toyed with his hair, scratching lightly. The two were intertwined, warm bodies pressed against eachother. The sick man could feel his lover's heartbeat against him, slow and steady. The sobs tapered off as he finally settled. He was a boat lost at sea as the waves crashed around him, threatening to pull him under. Clint was his lighthouse, guiding him through the storm and into his warm light. Leading him to safety.

"Meds... am okay... now." He dreaded the cold air that rushed to his skin as the warmth from his husband disappeared.

Clint gave him a chaste kiss, sitting up to draw medication. The doses had been increased recently, the pain wasn't being managed properly before that. With two syringes filled with off-white liquid and one with water, he turned back around to face his love. Pietro was so beautiful, even now. He was a work of art, his features all well blended to create the perfect man. Pulling out of his thoughts, Clint twisted the first med onto the tube and pushed slowly.

Within moments, Pietro began to relax. "Mh, thank you. Much... better now."

"No need to thank me, sweetheart. Do you want some water?" The archer pushed hair from the other's eyes.

The affirmative noise led Clint to sit his lover up, spooning small amounts of water into his mouth. It was the simplest way they'd figured out since he lost the ability to drink. Eyes half lidded, he looked to his husband. "Love you..."

"I love you too, baby."

●●●

They were down in the lounge, Pietro sprawled in a recliner hanging out with Kate and Wanda while Clint 'took care of something'. As ominous as that was, the three were having a good time. The siblings bickered back and forth as the young archer giggled at them.

"Pietro! Shut up, I am trying to watch movie!" The younger twin hissed.

The older laughed. "Is not... as much fun... when I don't... comment... about stupid... shit."

She looked to Kate for help, who slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter. Her face fell into a grimace in a second.

Wanda looked behind her to see what was going on, and saw Steve in the doorway. "You." There was venom in her tone, a fierce protectiveness radiating off her.

Pietro went pale, eyes shining slightly. Any part of his good mood had been sucked out by the air of displeasure toward him from the super soldier. He walked into the room confidently, stopping beside the sickly man. "Maximoff, report?"

Before Pietro could even open his mouth, Wanda was toe to toe with the captain, Kate on her feet. "Report is that you're an asshole. Leave my brother in peace before things get ugly."

"I will not be spoken to like that-"

"Report...hm, shall I... report how they... electrocuted...me?" His voice was thick, Kate helping him make his point. "No? Maybe you... would like to... know how... the guards had... their way... with me, yes?" Tears trickled along his cheeks. "No, no. You want... report on the... medication... withdrawl... on top of... beatings?"

The tears came harder now as he began to choke on his own saliva, Kate rushing toward him to tip his head forward, rubbing his chest as he struggled. "Anything..." a weak wheeze, followed by soft coughing. "Else, Rogers?" A string of spit came down from his mouth as he choked, the young archer wiping his face gently. She hushed him, trying to soothe him.

Steve left without a word, Wanda going to comfort her brother as well. She called Clint, filling him in on what transpired. The weight of what her brother had said sat in her chest. She didn't know much of what had happened to him, he refused to tell her. Didn't want her to worry.

Pietro was so tired, cheeks red and eyes half lidded. His back and hips hurt terribly, the two women making sure pillows and blankets were situated comfortably around him. "Hurts. Tell Clint... get meds."

"Of course, Piet. Do you need anything in the meantime?" Wanda was stroking his hair, an aura of concern surrounding her. Kate pulled out her phone, shooting a text to her mentor.

"Nyet." His voice was weak, barely audible.

They waited for his husband to come. He came quickly, running into the room. "Baby. Are you okay?"

The only response he got was a short whimper.

He quickly gave meds, careful not to push them too fast. He tipped Pietro's head up gently, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I've got you, honey. Do you wanna stay here or go to bed?"

"Here. Hurts too much... to move." Pietro closed his eyes as his lover softly stroked the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. He was falling asleep near instantly, soothed by the care of his husband.

●●●

"Such a sick fucking bastard. What the fuck is wrong with him?" Kate huffed, flopping back on the couch.

Clint sipped whiskey, shaking his head. "No clue, but I swear he's got a fucking nother thing coming if he doesn't leave Pietro alone."

Wanda just sat back in silent rage. Her eyes glinted red as she protectively stared at her brother, who was sleeping deeply on the recliner. He was so visibly ill, so obviously in pain. So deeply hurting, so clearly dying. What kind of person would see that and continue to do this?

"He's fading, losing time with us and Rogers just thinks that is okay?" She shook, continuing to look at her sibling. "I can't... I can't understand it."

Pietro woke, a stifled shout ripping out of him. His eyes were wide and frantic, brimming with tears. Clint bolted to his side, holding his hand. The younger gave a whine before sobbing. He was so frail, so helpless as he cried into his husband's shirt. "Clint... they had the... knives- ya ne mogu..."

"I know, sweetheart. It's okay now, they won't hurt you. I have you now." Clint held him, kissing him wherever he could. "I swear, no one's ever gonna hurt you ever again. I won't let them."

"Pozhaluysta... ya boyus'." Pietro whimpered. "Make it... stop."