Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

20.0

Pietro was back at home, still weak and exhausted. The tower was in chaos, between him being so sick and Steve finally finding Bucky. He hadn't been told much, Clint shut down anything Kate tried to say about it.

"Clint. You need to tell me what's happening." He typed as Clint swapped out an IV bag. The archer paused, sighing.

"You don't need to be worrying about this." The older's voice was tight. "It's nothing."

The younger looked at him intently. "Stop treating me like child."

"Okay! You wanna know? They found Bucky, but that's not him. They found him alone, in an apartment, sitting in his own piss and drooling on himself. They gave him brain damage." Clint was sitting on the bed facing away from him, shoulders shaking softly. Pietro wanted to wrap his arms around his archer, instead just lying limply on the sheets. "It's... I know you felt close to him with the similarities between what you experienced at the hands of HYDRA."

"I want to see him." The other stilled, breath catching in his throat.

"No, baby. You're not- you're too sick, honey. You could be hurt." Clint took his hand gently. The unspoken he could hurt you rang through the air.

"I don't care. He's not alone, I need him to know."

The archer sighed deeply. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

●●●

Tears spilled from his eyes as he looked through the hospital window. He saw an emaciated man curled on a bed, face covered in dark hair. Steve was sitting on a chair in the corner, sobbing. Clint placed gentle fingers to the underside of his husband's chin, tilting his head up slightly.

"Lemme go in first, talk to Steve. I'll be right back." The archer walked through the door and all Pietro could do was watch through the window as if watching muted television. He saw the captain's eyes grow dark with anger for a moment before Clint said something to make the taller man's face soften, followed by a nod.

Clint returned shortly thereafter, stroking a lock of hair from his husband's eyes. "Alright, you ready?"

Pietro must've replied, because when he blinked he was at the super soldier's bedside. The dark haired man was sitting now, uncomfortably slouched to the side. He didn't look like he recognized the sickly man at first, but as he stared something flashed across his face. His eyes were foggy, confused, as he reached out a shaky and curled hand. Clint flinched, on guard, until the hand rested softly on Pietro's knee.

"Wh- what... what... what..." Bucky heartbreakingly searched for words. "Ha- hap- happen?"

The archer saw Pietro look up to him, eyes watery. A signal that his husband wanted him to speak for him. Wiping his eyes, he spoke. "Pietro got real sick while you were gone, buddy. The sickness made it so his body can't move anymore."

There's a sadness in Bucky's eyes. He cocked his head a bit, Pietro could see the now rusted gears turning. "L- like how... how... like how... my b- brain?"

"Kinda like that." Clint kissed the top of Pietro's head with a hum.

"It's good to see you, Buck."

Pietro had tears in his eyes as he looked at the shell of his friend. His metal arm was limp at his side, as if he'd entirely forgotten how to use it. Bucky tried to sit up more, falling back onto his side as he lost his balance. Steve got up to help, but Clint gently grabbed the disabled man's arm and guided him to sit up.

Bucky went to speak, a look of alarm flashing across his face as a wet rasp came from Pietro's throat. Clint just tipped his head forward, suporting his husband as spit streamed from his lips. A pitiful moan came from the younger as his husband wiped his face. The archer looked to Bucky as he sat the other back up. "He's okay, don't worry. He's just sick."

The sickly man's eyelids hung low, face pale. "Clint. Hurts."

"Okay, honey. Let's get you back to bed." Fingers ghosted Pietro's jaw.

Steve stood as Bucky whined and stuttered. "Can... h- h- hug?"

"Hey, Buck, that's probably not-" Captain America's voice was cut off by Pietro's device. "Yes, if you're gentle. I'm in a lot of pain."

Clumsily leaning forward, Bucky draped an arm around his friend and hummed. Clint and Steve stood on guard in case anything went wrong. The pressure of the dark haired man's chin on his shoulder was too great after a minute and he typed quickly. "Hurts too much. Sorry."

Steve helped pull him back, Bucky's eyes large. "Wh-wha's that." He waved a loosely fisted hand in the direction of Pietro's ventilator tubing.

"That breathes for him, pal. It's important that you never touch it." Cap took his hand as it strayed closer to the blue tube. "His muscles don't work anymore so he can't breathe on his own."

Pietro's eyes are dangerously close to closing, exhaustion settling in his bones. He felt too tired to type, so he just listened to the others speak. Upon feeling being moved, he peered through his eyelashes. He and his husband were in the hallway with Steve, the two standing men conversing.

"...is about all he has in him anymore. Even using the eye-gaze tends to be a struggle these days." Clin't calloused fingers toyed with his hair. The older picked up on the faint clicking sound of his lover trying to swallow. "You awake, babe?"

A weak groan is all he could give, just enough of an indication he was conscious. It was moist, Clint was able to tell he needed to be suctioned. Pietro was trying to speak, severely slurred voice nearly inaudible in volume. A warm hand placed itself on his cheek. "It's okay, hon."

Steve awkwardly cleared his throat. "Maximoff, I've been meaning to apologize. The way I acted toward you was awful and uncalled for."

They sat in silence for a moment, Pietro's eyes remaining closed. Just as Steve turned to walk off, stormy eyes opened a bit to loosely type on his screen. It took a minute, but then the device spoke.

"I'm glad you apologized. I can't forgive you yet, but I think I can. In time."

The captain nodded, reentering the hospital room. Clint briefly rubbed the back of his husband's neck. "Okay, baby. Let's get you some rest."