Working through requests! Will upload them as much as possible and as evenly as possible!
This story was requested by one of my favourite people on here, Niom Lamboise! Love the idea, been thinking of it a while, and now I guess I'll give it a go!
10 chapters planned, hope you enjoy! :)
Disclaimer! Don't own anything! Literally! Even the idea is Niom Lamboise's and not mine! :o I AM JUST THE WRITING MONKEY! :3
The quinjet was coming for him.
It was coming for him, guns firing, tearing up the ground as the bullets collided with the concrete road. He stared it down for a moment, accepting his fate.
This is how heroes died. Protecting civilians, and what better civilian to save than a child? This is how heroes died. In a blaze of glory, trying to save the world. This is how Clint Barton died, and he was perfectly fine with that.
He clutched to little boy to his chest and turned his back to jet, at least he could shield the kid. Hopefully one of the other Avengers will get him to a boat when they find Clint, get him to his mother, give him a chance.
The bullets were getting closer, and time seemed to be moving in slow motion. He screwed his eyes shut, in anticipation of the blows that were about to come.
The bullets never came though. The searing hot pain he was so accustomed to, the sensation of tissue and muscle being tore apart, it never met his body.
There was some wush sound, something had over turned? Did Ultron's attack completely and totally miss?
But the bullets never came. The shooting sound stopped. He had resigned himself to death, but death just refused to take him once again.
Looking up from his crouched position, he checked the kid, convinced if he didn't get hit, then the bullets must have hit the little boy in his arms instead.
But nothing..
When he looked to the other side of him though, his heart stopped, he saw something he wouldn't have ever bet he would.
Standing there, bullet riddled, unsteady as anything on his feet, the kid. Pietro.
Pietro had saved him..
His eyes went a little wide and shock went through his body, this wasn't happening.. This can't be happening.. The guy didn't do this, he didn't save Barton's life, he hated the archer for Christ's sake!
His strained voice reached Clint's ears though, and it made the situation all too real.
"You didn't see that coming..?"
He snapped his eyes open with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in his bed as he tried calm his breathing down.
Not again..
He groaned a little in annoyance and fell back down when he realised it was just another nightmare, his arm moving to cover his eyes.
This was becoming a nightly occurrence for Clint Barton.
It had been two weeks since the Ultron attack, a whole fourteen days, and he still couldn't get a proper nights sleep.
The kid was just in his head way too much.
That day, he was supposed to protect him and his sister. Why? Well because they were dragged into the fight. They really didn't choose, they just went along with it because they didn't want Ultron destroying the planet, didn't want their home town left completely defenceless. So he made it his mission to protect them, and he couldn't do it.
It had been the first mission in a long time he failed. And he failed in the worst possible way..
He sighed roughly and wiped the sweat from his forehead, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up then. He was still a little wobbly. His side had taken a bad hit in the fight and they had to graft some skin back onto it to cover the wound. He knew that fake stuff they patched him up with wouldn't last! That, and, the lack of sleep. They were keeping him in the infirmary as much as possible because he just wasn't sleeping right, and they couldn't send him home like that. Sometimes during the day he'd get too bored though, so he'd wander the SHIELD base before some terror stricken nurse would come find him. He had begun to wonder if Natasha threatened them to keep him in the place until he was fully healed!
He put on the slippers by his bed and a hoodie before leaving his room, going to the one place that calmed him each and every time he had that nightmare.
They were lucky. They were really lucky. To have such good health and such a good standing after a god damn killer robot attack was a miracle!
When they got onto the ship that would cart them to the safety of the hellicarrier, Clint had fallen unconscious. The wound to his side, accompanied by the fight they were just put through, the bad knocks he took, and the adrenaline completely leaving his system, had him knocked out in a hospital bed for a week. He woke that day in a complete panic, it took Steve and Natasha easily a half hour to calm him down because the memories of letting Pietro die were just too strong for him.
There was only one thing that managed to calm him down.
They put him in a wheelchair that day and brought him to Pietro's body.
Only, it wasn't what he expected to find..
"You have the nightmares too, Agent Barton?" The soft voice was coming from Wanda Maximoff, curled up in a chair half asleep. It was 4am, she hadn't left this place in days now. The only times she would was when Natasha would train her in fighting, just to get a distraction.
He stopped getting shocked by her knowing he was here. She never faced the door, the chair always faced the bed. He realised the second or third time that she knew he was there because she could, of course, sense his thoughts.
"Clint." He corrected, they were on better terms now. At the start he was iffy around her, he was timid and reserved, because her brother, her twin, the single most important person in her life, had taken a billion bullets for him, and he just couldn't be alright around her when he knew that.
It changed though when they learned things should be fine. When they were told things were going to be alright he started talking more easily around her, coming around that little bit more often to the room, slowly becoming good friends with the woman.
He smiled a little sadly at the figure in the bed, walking over to place a hand gently on the guys forehead, his nightly ritual to make sure he was actually there, that it wasn't just a dream.
He was pale, paler than usual at least. He still had an oxygen mask over his face, but his increased metabolism and healing abilities meant that, even after only two weeks, the bullet wounds were basically just scars now. He was still unconscious, should wake up soon hopefully. But none of that mattered.
All that mattered was that Pietro Maximoff was still here. He was still a living, breathing, little bastard.
Whatever experiments were done on the kid back in the Hydra base were the only reasons he was here now. There was no pulse though, that's what confused Clint when they tried tell him that he survived, it's what made him panic and refuse to believe Steve and Natasha. He checked for a pulse when Pietro got hit, he made sure of it before he gave up hope. Maybe he missed it, maybe it was weak and he couldn't tell, maybe his shock may have been a little too much to be the one to tell that the kid was dead.
Luckily, SHIELD medical staff are a little more trained than he is. So, they could tell right away he was still alive and rushed him to surgery right along side the archer. Some odd poetic beauty there. Both of their lives were being saved, side by side, even though both seemed to be destined to die side by side that day.
"Unfortunately so." He sighed after a moment, realising he was lost in his thoughts. He pulled up his usual chair, right next to Wanda's, and took his spot by Pietro's bedside. "Kid's done a real number on me.."
"I know the feeling." She replied through a weak chuckle, and he couldn't help but smile.
She was trying to be ok. Trying to get over the shock of nearly losing her brother, of actually losing her brother. He doesn't care what they say or how many times they try convince him otherwise, Pietro was definitely dead in his arms. But, the past few nights, she's seemed better. Seemed to be talking more, seemed to be joking a little as best she could.
The previous day, when they were told that Pietro will be fine and should have woken by now, well that was the most Clint has seen her smile in the longest time.
The two of them had managed to sneak their way into his heart, he had to admit. They seemed a little too lost, a little too vulnerable. He never had this urge to protect people, he was used to being around people who actually protected him.
Damn..
Shh Clint.. Don't think your next thought
He did protect you..
Dammit, I said shh!
He had to calm himself, shake the thought from his head, because it still hurt too much.
He looked to Wanda when she let out a yawn, and he had to give a little chuckle.
"When was the last time you slept?" He asked softly, reaching over to pull the blanket she had over her up to her shoulders.
She looked like hell. Black bags under her eyes, dishevelled hair, and a look in her eyes that told him her reply was definitely a lie.
"A few hours ago." She shrugged, her eyes never leaving her brothers face. They were both waiting for the same thing. He knew that.
They were both waiting for those eyes to open.
But, she'd end up next to her brother in a different sort of sense if she continued on the way she was.
So, while she was distracted, the only time he knew she wasn't secretly reading his thoughts, he took out his phone and sent a text to Natasha, just asking her to take the kid for a shower, food and rest. The usual drill when they manage to tear her away from the chair. It was approaching 4:30. Nat would definitely be up, training for her starts at 5am!
He got no reply, but about ten minutes a soft knock on the already open door made him grin. He could always trust Natasha..
"I'm heading for a training session." She started, and both himself and Wanda turned to look at her. He gave his partner a grin, that would always get Wanda out! "You ready to try some basic evasion, Maximoff?"
Clint looked to Wanda to see if she'd do it. She was always too polite to turn Natasha down, he knew that, Romanoff knew that. But since she heard that Pietro would wake soon, should be awake now, she was by his side more than ever incase he needed her.
Clint noticed this in her eyes. He didn't have to have the powers she possess to know what turmoil was going on in her mind. It was the same battle he had each time someone would try pull him from Natasha's bedside after a bad mission. That argument in yourself that says you have to be there for your partner, for your family, no matter what.
"I'll be here." He whispered to her, a soft smile on his face. She looked to him in slight shock, he guessed she wasn't expecting him to know what her fear was. She wasn't the only one who was good at this sort of stuff! "He won't be alone, and I'll message if he wakes. Go relax for a while."
It took her another moment, but Clint and Natasha let her take all the time she needed. He grinned when she finally nodded, taking to her feet then and stretching out her stiff muscles.
"Thank you, Clint." Wanda said with a little smile, going over to kiss her brothers cheek before doing the same with Clint.
He was a little shocked with the contact. Not because he was afraid of kisses or anything like that, but because it was the first bit of affection she'd shown anyone, the first time she'd called him Clint. The first time she trusted him. And that just made his day a little bit!
He watched the kid walk past Natasha, his partner simply sending him a smile and a wink before leaving.
He smiled a little more to himself and turned back to look at Pietro's still form. That little wink was her way of letting him know she'll look after Wanda. She had taken a liking to her through training, Clint knew that simply because if Natasha doesn't like you then you wouldn't survive the first training session, not let alone go back for multiple more afterwards.
Hell, first time they trained together, he nearly took a head shot. She perfectly intended on killing him that day! He guessed dodging the head shot was his was of showing her that he was a worthy training partner.
Almost like Vision lifting Thor's hammer..
Damn that guy..
One day, one day soon, Clint will figure out how Thor does it! No such thing as magic! Sure, he knows some magic tricks from the circus days, but those days thought him that everything 'magic' is just that; tricks!
But, as he watched Pietro in the bed infront of him, a thoughtful look spread across his face. Their powers weren't a trick. They may be experiments, sure, like Rogers was, but this was different. He still couldn't figure Wanda out, and it hurt his head to try! She could move things, what's the word he's looking for.. Telekinetic..? Teleportly..? Telepathically, something like that! She could move things with her mind! She could get inside peoples minds and make them see their worst fears. She could manipulate and alter reality. That, was magic!
And Pietro? A little more normal to Barton's mind. He had increased metabolism and crazy healing factors, almost like Steve on the super juice. He could run faster than a bullet, towards the speed of sound. Not just yet, he's still learning his powers, but the document on their research told them that he has the potential to get up to that sort of speed, and maybe even pass it one day.
A slight laugh rippled from Clint's chest, though none of it was funny, one thought just struck home so bad that it nearly crushed him. So he had to laugh or cry!
Why couldn't you have learned to out run bullets sooner..? Then maybe my heart would be fine right about now.. Punk..
He didn't move for the longest time. He couldn't sure, he promised Wanda he wouldn't, and if he was perfectly honest with himself, he didn't actually want to. He found himself, about three hours into his watch, tracing random spirals on the back of the kids hand, watching his peaceful face for any signs of waking.
It was second nature to him, sitting by hospital beds. Nat was human, Coulson was human, he was human. So, unlike the God of Thunder or the Star Spangled Man With a Plan, bullets ususally sent them to hospital for quite some time!
But Pietro? Clint couldn't figure out why he was so protective of him, so upset over the state he was in. He had fought this guy, he hated him so much for a while. Sure, in the end, they came through for the Avengers, but why the hell was his heart beating so uncomfortably every time he thought about those bullets ripping through his chest..?
Long week, Clint..
He told himself, shaking his head everytime he thought about it.
What other reason could there be..?
His hand clenched. That was the first sign, at nearly 2pm, that the kid was finally starting to come around. Barton took his hand and held it, and the grip was unbearably tight. His way of judging pain levels, because generally, the more pain a person was in, the harder they'd squeeze.
His head snapped to the heart monitor by the bed side when it started going ninety to the dozen, Pietro's chest rising and falling too quick for Clint's liking in the process. He could hear nurses rush to the door, didn't have to look around to know it was them, but he waved them off with his free hand. If he could handle Nat when she panics awake, he can definitely handle Pietro.
Slowly, Clint stood up to stand over the kid, his free hand gently resting on his chest while his other still had a gentle grip on Maximoff's hand. He put on his serious face, his mission face, and hovered over the guy slightly so that when he did decide to open his eyes he'd see a familiar face.
"Pietro.. Relax." He said softly, though it held a commanding edge in order to break through whatever fog was trying to be lifted. "You're back at a SHIELD base. Everything fine, everyone's fine. The fight is over, you got hit bad, but we got you back in time. Slow your breathing for me."
He had to repeat himself three more times, the second time his face fell into one of worry, because the sound the kid was making were just so pain filled it killed him a little.
"Everything's fine.." He whispered for the third time, and he had to smile when he was finally greeted with the kids eyes. He was still in a panic, still most definitely leaving a bruise on Clint's entire hand, but he was awake. "You gave us one hell of a scare, but everyone's fine."
Clint stayed still, his hand still on Pietro's chest to try calm his breathing down. A useful trick that was used on him way too many times! Dictate their breathing when they get too erratic by actually forcing them to breathe normal.
His eyes were glassy, dark, but with each passing second, another bit of the guy slowly came back to being. Clint just waited, whispering his little message whenever it looked like he was about to panic again.
He felt and odd pang of hurt when Pietro finally spoke his first word in two long weeks.
"Wanda..?" It was weak, it was strained, it was behind an oxygen mask, but Clint caught it and gave him a sad smile.
The kid is lying here bullet ridden and he's still only worried about his sister, about his partner..
"She's fine.." He replied softly, finally moving his hand from his chest when his breathing calmed enough. Though he couldn't bring himself to release Pietro's hand. "She never left your side. Romanoff finally dragged her away to rest up a little bit."
"You..?" He was a little stronger asking that, his eyes scanning Clint like it was the first time he saw the archer.
Barton's eyebrows hit the roof with surprise. He was worried about Clint..? Seriously?
A nurse came over to replace Pietro's oxygen mask with a nose plug instead, while Barton tried his best to recover from the shock of what was just asked.
He was lying near death, he actually did die at one point, and instead of asking what happened or if he'd be ok, he was making sure Clint of all people was ok. The panic flaring up in Pietro's eyes told Clint he should probably answer before another attack hits the kids chest.
"I'm fine." He replied with a small smile, giving his hand a little squeeze to reinforce the fact.
I'm not fine.. You nearly killed me with worry you little bastard.. His mind screamed at him, not the time to say such things though.
"Scared your sister was going to kill me for letting you get hurt though." He managed to chuckle out, feeling a little uncomfortable under Pietro's gaze.
Rather than calming him like Barton had hoped, it seemed to bring another bout of panic to the speedster.
Shit..
"I'm sorry..I just moved.." He whispered quickly, his eyes wide as they scanned the room nervously. "I just.. You were.. And I couldn't let you.. And.."
"Hey hey!" Clint said quickly, cursing himself for upsetting the guy. He placed his free hand on his cheek to force their eyes to meet, making sure his held some confidence rather than the upset he definitely felt right now. "Don't you be sorry. You saved my life! I'm here because of you, I wouldn't have survived all those bullets like you did!"
Pietro's eyes didn't leave Clint's for the longest time, and Barton knew to stay quiet and unmoving, like dealing with a wounded animal, give them the time to come to terms with whatever was going on in their lives.
But Barton meant those words. The only reason he was by this kids bed right now was because he took the hit. The only reason he was by this bed, and not lying six feet under in the ground somewhere in Iowa, was because he took the bullets that were destined to be Clint's.
And damn, if that wasn't enough to warrant his nightmares, he didn't know what was.
The only time Barton started to move was when Maximoff's eyes slowly starting slipping closed. The kid was fighting off sleep, Clint could tell that much, but whatever drugs they were feeding in through the IV were making it near impossible. Only way he'd sleep, Clint figured, was if he knew he was safe. Clint was the exact same.
"Rest up." He whispered, patting the kids cheek gently before moving to sit on his seat again. Pietro's eyes lazily followed Clint, then finally locked onto their joined hands. Shit.. "You and Wanda are coming home with me, where I can keep an eye on you.. Where I can keep you safe.."
Their eyes locked one more time, and lord help him Clint couldn't look away. He just offered the kid a smile and nodded in response to whatever unasked, unsure question was in his mind.
"Rest.." He whispered, and Pietro's eyes finally slipped closed. "I've got first watch.."
Letting the two of them stay with him was the least he could do.
He had to start paying off this unpayble debt he now owed the guy in the bed.