Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

18.5

They were at the beach, Clint wanting to do something nice for his partner. Wanting to make him happy. He'd settled them a few feet from where the tide came in, gently lifting his husband bridal style. He sat in the sand with his lover on his lap, the latter completely limp. It wasn't warm enough to be in the water, but the sickly man had always loved the ocean since the first time he'd seen it. Just sitting and enjoying the view and the sound of waves was enough.

Pietro attempted to speak, nothing but a muffled noise escaping his lips. Clint followed his gaze to a group of college kids who were saying something, but too far away for the archer's damaged hearing to pick up. "I can't hear them from here, baby."

When he looked again they were gesturing rudely, clearly mocking his lover. Clint began to stand, not missing the slurred sound that vaguely sounded like 'no' coming from his partner. "I know, baby. I'm just gonna go have a chat." He sat Pietro back into his wheelchair, kissing his cheek. "Be right back."

The archer stalked over to the group, five kids still laughing when he got close enough to hear. One slapped a bent arm over his chest while pretending to drool, imitating the noises Pietro made when he tried to talk.

"Hey!" The archer shouted, picking up speed. "Any of y'all want to tell me why you're mocking my husband?"

"Because it's funny." One of them snorted, smirking. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Taking a quick look back at his husband, he was enranged. "Oh, it's funny, is it?" He grabbed the punk by the neck of his stupid tropical button-up. "It's real fuckin' funny to make fun of someone who's dying, yeah?"

The kid went red, opening his mouth. Clint cut him off. "I have half a mind to beat your fucking ass right here and now. But, I would love nothing more than to get back to my date. So, we're gonna go over and you're gonna apologize. Got it?"

A shallow nod and the archer was dragging him by his collar. Pietro was blushing though he had a look of amusement to his eyes. "Clint."

"Pietro, this dickwipe has something he'd like to say." He told his lover sweetly.

The asshole floundered. "I- uh. Um, I-"

"Apologize before I hurt you." Clint tightened his grip.

Pietro almost felt kinda bad for the kid, who was now shaking. "I'm, uh, very sorry. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Fuck you. Get out of here." No, the dude was an ableist dick. It was funny to watch him squirm.

With a laugh, Clint pushed the man back and watched as he fell on his ass. "You and your friends get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about beating your ass." Turning back to his love, he pressed their lips together. "Now then, should we get back to our plans?"

●●●

Clint was called down to the meeting room later that day. Pietro was napping, Wanda coming in to sit with him in his husband's absence.

He opened the door to the glass walled meeting room, already able to sense it was PR related by Pepper's presence at the table. She looked unamused at a laptop screen.

Tony ran a hand down his face, sighing. "Okay, so before we start I just wanna say no one here would've done any different, but-" Pepper tapped a key, sending a video to play on the large screen at the front of the room.

It showed Clint nearly choking the kid from earlier, forcing an apology out of him. It was was then rewound to the beginning of the clip and Clint's heart shattered as it showed what the kids were saying and doing when he was too far to hear them.

"Dude, look at that fucking cripple. That's just fucking sad." A blonde man laughed. The camera panned over and zoomed in on Pietro's limp form, his head lolled back against Clint.

It quickly refocused on another guy, a brunette with a hoodie on. "Man, if I ever go all-" he demonstrated, rolling his eyes back and sticking out his tongue as the group cackled. "-just shoot me. Someone should put that fucker outta his misery."

He then saw himself carrying Pietro back to his chair before stomping over.

"Uh oh, looks like the fag is angry." The voice behind the camera giggled.

Clint saw red. "How many people have seen that?"

"The video was posted to snapchat, but it's already been reposted hundreds of times in different places. We're having our people working on taking this down right now." Pepper sighed.

The archer froze. He was silent, anxiety spiraling. People had seen Pietro looking so sick, had seen people bullying him. They'd seen it and shared it. Clint was nauseous, heart thudding in his ears. He saw moving mouths, talking to him, saying his name, but it was all underwater. How could people be so cruel?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Tony's hand on his shoulder. "You with us, Katniss?" A shallow nod was his only response. "Like I said- no one here blames you. But you have to know about the media fallout, the way some people are gonna react."

"Do you need me to put out a statement?" He worked hard to keep his voice level.

"Not yet, we'll let you know. Just don't post anything on any platform till Pepper gives you the okay. Alright?"

Clint stood, nodding again. "Yeah. I'm gonna get back to him. Thanks for the heads up."

He left the room swiftly, ducking into a supply closet to sob. He crumpled to the floor, feeling more like a wet napkin than a person at the moment. His heart felt like it was being ripped out, stepped on, smashed. He felt like a failure, like he'd failed to protect the person he loved deeper than anyone.

Eventually, he composed himself enough to head back to his husband. He found him buried in soft blankets in the bed, Kate organizing her arrows that were spread across the bed. "What do you think, Piet? Should the acid arrows be labeled in the 'spicy' section or the 'oh no' one?"

"Spicy. Save 'oh no' for the gunpowder ones." He looked over at Clint, eyes flooding with worry as he saw his lover had been crying. "Vozlyublennyy, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, honey. Don't worry." The older was at his side in an instant, pressing his lips to the younger's. He ran fingers over his stubble, kissing his cheek. "Just... having a hard day."

"Sit. Tell me." Pietro's eyes were glossy with concern.

Clint stood nervously rubbing his hands up and down over his pants. He looked away, red rimmed eyes threatening to spill again. Kate took the sickly man's hand, breathing in deep. "Tell him, Clint. He has a right to know."

Tears dropped onto the younger's hand where the archer held it to his mouth. "Baby... those assholes earlier, they- they recorded everything. They recorded me and you, and everything they said and they posted it. I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so, so sorry."

Pietro's eyes closed, and he let out a pained slur, a tear tracking down his face as he desperately tried to speak. His lover held him, sobbing into his shirt. Kate made her quiet exit, and Clint didn't notice his lover typing until his device spoke.

"Not your fault. Assholes fault."