I'll come back as soon as I can. He was standing in an alley, staring at a dirty blanket with a few holes in it laying on the cold wet floor. He was feeling short of breath, almost panting. His heart was racing and his chest felt too tight, hurting. I'm not leaving you. The words kept echoing in his head, his eyes watering as he kept staring helplessly at the empty place he had occupied for months. She was gone.

He couldn't breath anymore, he felt like he was suffocating. He turned around, looking around him. There was so many streets, so many places, he wouldn't find her, she was gone. His vision became blurry, and he felt like his legs were about to let him down at any moment. He was dizzy, and felt like he was about to pass out. She was gone.

"Pietro?" someone suddenly called him. "Pietro, look at me."

Clint grabbed his shoulder, trying to get his attention, but Pietro's eyes were unfocused, he had completely lost touch with reality. He was having a panic attack. The brunet was glad he had made him sit as soon as he entered the room, because by now he would probably have passed out or fallen if he was still standing up. His whole body was shaking, and his legs were jittering violently.

"Pietro, you need to calm down and tell me what's happening." Clint said in a calm soothing voice. "I can help you."

Pietro suddenly stood up, and started pacing around the room. He was breathing erraticaly, and tears kept rolling down his cheeks. "She's gone." he kept saying, not even looking at Clint, as if he hadn't even noticed him. Clint frowned, as realization washed over him. His sister had disappeared, he didn't find her where he was supposed to. He had told him earlier that she was too weak to even walk, Clint couldn't even imagine what had happened to her.

Pietro finally stopped pacing, his eyes still unfocused, staring at the wall, and tried to say something, but the words refused to leave his mouth. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down, and breath deeply. He took a long shuddering breath and released it in a choked sob, he tried breathing regulary but his chest was too tight and his heart beating too fast. He had tried not to panic, to stay calm, but all he could think about was his sister and how she was probably dying and he couldn't even think straight anymore.

"Sit down, kid."

He felt hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him down to make him sit, and Pietro didn't fight it, resting his back against the wall. Clint sat down next to him, still with a hand on his shoulder. The young man saw his lips moving but he couldn't even hear him anymore, the same voice in his head repeating over and over that she was gone. She may even be dead by now. His eyes looked away from Clint, and he was suddenly seeing the empty dark alley again, with the abandonned blanket on the floor that had kept them warm for weeks. He remembered sharing it with Wanda, both curled up on the wet ground of the alley during night, watching the street with wary eyes as his sister slowly drifted into sleep. He choked back a sob, and suddenly felt two arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

"We'll find her, alright?"

Clint wasn't really fond of hugs, but seeing Pietro like that broke his heart. He hadn't known this kid for even a day and yet he couldn't watch him cry without doing anything about it. He just seemed really vulnerable, unlike how he had been all day, keeping a mask on and trying to look stronger than he realy was. Pietro buried his head into Clint's shoulder, wetting the tissue of his shirt. Clint looked down at him, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw that the young man's respiration was starting to slow down.

He didn't know anything about him, but he already knew he would never let him down.


The sun had settled for hours, and no one could be seen in the silent street when they finally got out of the hotel, shuddering at the low temperature. Clint took a glance at his right and, seeing that a car was parked in front of the building he had been watching, he hurried Pietro down the road. They quickly reached the center of the city, where Pietro and Wanda had been staying, and slowed down a little, looking around them. Pietro was shaking, rubbing his hands covered by the sleeves of a jacket that wasn't his. Clint had given it to him before they went out. Well, he had actually thrown it in his direction and had given him a warning look when Pietro was about to protest. He was more of a "tough love" man.

They had now been walking for two hours in silence, only disturbed by Pietro's heavy breathing, who was still a little shaken up. Clint had spent almost twenty minutes rassuring him, but he couldn't stop him from being anxious. The brunet glanced at Pietro from the corner of his eyes, and saw that he looked even paler than before. He frowned, thinking that the young man hadn't shown any sign of dehydration since when he last drank, when he suddenly heard a loud rumble from Pietro's stomach. He had to stop himself from doing a facepalm. How could he have been so careless? The young man had showed sign of starvation and dehydration when he had first saw him, and yet he had forgotten to give him food before walking out of the apartment.

"You should go home and rest, I'll keep looking for her." he told Pietro, stopping dead in his tracks.

Pietro gave him a strange look over his shoulder as he kept walking, retorting that he was fine in a husky voice, his throat still dry even though he had drank a few hours ago. "No, you're not fine, you're starving, and I won't be able to look for Wanda if you pass out in the middle of the street." Clint scowled, crossing his arms. He was getting sick of this kid's stubborness, if his sister was really dying, Clint didn't have time to argue with him. He understood that Pietro put his sister's life before his, but that was not a reason to put himself in danger when he could rely on someone else.

Sighing, the brunet watched Pietro getting further and further away from him, before finally giving up. "One hour." he accepted grudgingly, as he resumed walking. "One hour, and you go back. And I swear to god, if you faint I leave you here, laying face down in the snow, all alone. People wouldn't suspect me. Nobody would know." he kept ranting, ignored by Pietro who just walked ahead, focused on finding Wanda. Pietro turned the corner of the street, and suddenly froze. Clint frowned, wondering if he had finally found his twin, and jogged to catch up with him. The young man had his eyes widened, staring at a man who looked like he was still in his pyjamas, with slippers on his feet. Pietro quickly recovered from his shock, as his expression creased into a frown, anger pumping through his veins.

"I thought I heard you." the man said in a low, calm voice.

Clint went to stand by Pietro's side, unsure of who the man was and if he was a threat or not. Judging by Pietro's reaction, he wasn't a man to be friendly with. If Clint hadn't been with Pietro, he would have thought he was rather a nice man. The old man, probably in his fifties, didn't look evil at all, with his grey hair, hollow cheeks, tiny nose, and slopping eyes that made him look approachable and kind. But, the man took a step forward, stepping out of the shadow that his house was providing him, and Clint could suddenly see the disgust in his eyes. He was looking at Pietro with aversion, and when his eyes fell onto Clint, his loathing only seemed to grow.

"You brought your boyfriend?" he snorted, eying Clint with distaste.

Clint didn't know why he had been expecting english, really. That was stupid of him, and after forgetting to give Pietro some food, he was really starting to wonder if he was slowly losing hundredth of brain cells. But, despite the langage barrier, the man's tone left no room for doubt. He knew Pietro, and he despised him.

"I'm happy to see you again too, Ivan." Clint gave Pietro a strange look, wondering why he was answering in english, before realizing that he wanted him to know what was going on. "How's mom?" he spat, a dry smile on his lips.

The man, apparently named Ivan, clenched his fist, scowling as he told him in sokovian that he was not supposed to call him by his first name, and that, being his son, he owed him some respect. Clint, still not understanding a single word, just stared at him in disbelief. This man was Pietro's father? For some reason, the brunet had assumed that his parents were dead or that they had just disappeared. He hadn't really thought about it, just kind of ignoring their existence. The fact that they could have been kicked out didn't even pop in his mind.

"I don't owe you anything." Pietro growled, glaring at him.

"Why are you talking in english?" Ivan suddenly asked, talking with a thick marked accent, almost making his words unintelligible.

Pietro jerked his chin towards Clint, his eyes still glued on the man standing in front of them. "He don't talk english."

"Liking men wasn't enough, you had to pick an american."

"I'll take what I can get." Pietro shrugged, a smug smile on his lips. "I'm sorry, father, am I disappointing you again?"

Ivan clenched his jaw, fuming, and suddenly walked towards Pietro at a fast, angry pace. Clint reacted immediately, and took a step in front of Pietro. He got into a fighting position, when the young man suddenly walked past him, his fist violently hitting his father's jaw. Ivan fumbled backwards, startled. He turned his head away from them, massaging his jaw, and Clint thought it was already over, relaxing a little, when Ivan got back at him without any warning, throwing a punch at Pietro. It was an unexpected move, and neither Clint nor Pietro had time to react. The impact sent the silver-haired man crashing into the wall of one of the houses on their left, his head violently hitting the hard surface. The last thing he saw was Clint's knuckles colliding with Ivan's jaw, before he completely lost consciousness.


His head was pounding and his throat dry when Pietro woke up, looking around him in confusion. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and recognized Clint's apartment. He slowly sat up, and rubbed his neck, when he suddenly remembered what had happened. They were supposed to be looking for Wanda. He suddenly got up, but his headache got worse, forcing him to sit down again. Clint entered the room, carrying an ice pack and a sandwich. He put the food on the couch next to Pietro, and gave him the ice pack, looking at him with concern. The silver-haired man thanked him with a nod, and placed the ice pack on his forehead, when he felt a tissue covering his skin, probably a bandage. He didn't think his injury would be that bad. "How's your head?" Clint asked, eying the bandage cautiously.

"It hurts." Pietro growled, feeling the humidity of the blood soaked bandage under his hand.

He was about to try to get up once again when Clint stopped him, telling him he should eat and rest a little before moving. Pietro shook his head. "I need to find her." he insisted.

"You won't even be able to get to the stairs before passing out."

The young man had a smug smile on his lips, and his eyebrows lifted, clearly meaning "watch me", before he got up, taking a step forward. Clint crossed his arms, watching him with a stern look. He didn't want Pietro to hurt himself but he couldn't wait for that idiot to fall. The silver-haired man was about to walk past him, when he started feeling dizzy. His knees suddenly felt weak, and before Pietro could react, his legs couldn't carry him anymore.

Clint didn't plan on helping him, enjoying his failure more than he was supposed to, but he suddenly saw that Pietro's head was going to hit the floor, and knew that this time it could end up with a concussion. He swiftly caught him, and pulled him back to his feet easily. They were suddenly too close, Pietro's face only inches away from Clint's, his icy blue eyes staring intensely at him. Uncomfortable, the brunet took a step back, looking away, and helped Pietro back to the couch.

"You're an idiot." he scoffed, grabbing the sandwich to throw it into Pietro's lap. "Eat."

Clint went to grab his phone, sitting at the table, and went through his messages while Pietro just ate in silence. He hadn't checked it since he had gotten here, and his inbox was now more than full with Steve keeping him informed, Tony sending him stupid and useless things, his lawyer constantly asking him when they could meet up and Laura wanting to know when she could come get her stuff. He sighed, and quickly answered to Steve and his lawyer before turning his phone off, putting it aside. He glanced at Pietro and noticed that he was eating surprisingly slowly. After not having ate properly for weeks, Clint thought he would have finished it in one bite, but he almost seemed repulsed by the simple idea of eating. He looked preoccupied, riddled with guilt. Clint frowned, still staring at him, when he suddenly realized something. His eyes softened, and he looked away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He was eating, and not his sister. He almost consumed with self-hatred because of all the comfort he was being provided, while Wanda was nowhere to be found, probably alone and lost in the city, dying of hypothermia. Clint cleared his throat, and looked out the window, trying to think about something else.

"You don't watch the building across the street anymore?" Pietro suddenly asked, throwing the paper of the sandwich into the trash in a perfect shot.

Clint glanced at him, and shook his head, answering that he had a new mission, still there in Sokovia. He could see Pietro wince from the corner of his eyes and rest his head carefully on the back of the couch. It was right behind him, on the left of the window while the table was only a few feet away, on the right of the window. The agent was sitting sideway, so he could look out the window and have a proper conversation with Pietro without him talking to his back. But, the young man said nothing after this, a comfortable silence settling between them. It lasted for about five minutes, and the agent assumed Pietro had fallen asleep, considering he had his eyes closed, when Clint suddenly heard his voice.

"You're not saying anything?" he asked in a quiet, tired voice.

"About what?"

"About me being..." He made a pause, almost as if the words couldn't leave his mouth. "About me being gay." He looked ashamed, but opened his eyes, looking directly at Clint, confronting him. "You're not disgusted? You don't want me out?"

"Why would I want that?" Clint asked, lifting his eyebrows as he turned around, his legs straddling the chair to face Pietro.

"Because people usually do." the silver-haired man shrugged.

For some reason, it bothered Clint that the young man could think such thing of him. He knew they had only known each others for a day and that they had only started trusting each others a few hours ago, but he thought Pietro would know he wasn't this kind of person. He sighed, resting his arms on the back of the sit.

"Listen, I could not care less about who you like." he assured, before resuming. "I mean, I'm bi, how could I even judge?"

The young man stared at him, taken aback, before looking away out the window, but Clint could see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wasn't used to people saying it this easily, hell he even thought he was the only one at some point. Knowing that he wasn't alone brought a warm feeling to his chest.

"But, really? I'll take what I can get?" Clint mocked, quoting Pietro's words from his conversation with his father. "C'mon, you and I both know I'm a solid ten." he smirked, showing confidence he definitely didn't have.

Pietro's frown loosened, and he suddenly bursted out of laughter. It was a loud booming laugh, filled with so much warmth it made Clint smile genuinely. He had never heard his laugh before, and now that he had seen him so cheerful, he almost couldn't remember the distressed Pietro from earlier, as if he had never existed.

Still with a faint smile on his lips, the young man got up from the couch carefully, moving slowly so he wouldn't start feeling dizzy again, and stopped by Clint's chair, as if he was waiting for his approbation. "Can we go now?" he asked, his voice steady and clear. "I rested and I ate, mom."

"Let me at least check your injury first." Clint answered, still a little hesitant.

He had to admit that the silver-haired man already looked better. His face had regained some colors, and he didn't look like he was about to faint at any moment anymore. Pietro rolled his eyes, and kept walking towards the door, when he suddenly started to slow down, putting his hand on the wall for support. Clint immediately got up and was at his side in a blink, a hand against his lower back, his eyebrows knitted in concern. Pietro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but when he opened them again his vision was still blurry, clouded with black dots. The room started to spin and he crouched down, a hand on his forehead as he closed his eyes again, his face scrunched in discomfort.

"Why am I so weak?" he mumbled, resting his back against the wall as he completely sat on the ground.

Clint sat beside him, their shoulders brushing slightly, and sighed. "You were in a serious case of starvation not even ten minutes ago, and you have a head injury, you need to rest, kid, it's simple." he explained, giving Pietro an apologetic look. He understood why Pietro wanted to go outside, he felt helpless, and the brunet wished he could help him get back on his feet but there was nothing he could do. He wasn't a doctor, he only knew the basics, he only knew the symptoms to a few things like concussions and broken ribs, because it was a part of his job, but he had no idea of how to heal injuries. All he could tell him was that he needed to rest. He wished he could do more. Clint ran a hand through his hair, and turned his head towards Pietro, who had drawn his knees to his chest.

"Look, I'll go outside and search Wanda until I have to go for my next mission, alright? Stay there, and try to sleep."

Pietro opened his mouth, and seemed to hesitate, before closing it again, frowning. He wanted to trust Clint but something inside of him told him not to. Lately, he had learned to trust no one, to only think about his sister and her safety, but he knew that now, if he wanted to save her, he would have to rely on someone else, someone he barely knew.

"You can trust me." Clint promised.

Pietro looked back at him, meeting his glance, and stared at him for a second, a hint of hope sparkling in his eyes, before nodding slowly. "Ok." he breathed, looking at the hem of his sleeves while he played with them absent-mindely. Clint smiled speechlessly, and slowly took his hand in his, squeezing it lightly in support before getting up. He went to grab bandage out of his bag, wanting at least to check on his injury and to change the tissue before getting out. He came back after only a second, and started changing his bandage cautiously, a comfortable silence settling between them.

"I should be the one outside." Pietro muttered when the archer was almost done, looking down at the sweatshirt with a disapproving glare, hating the warmth it was providing him.

Clint gave him a confused look, waiting for him to resume. It was probably the first time Pietro was talking to him like that, so vulnerably. Usually he would stay silent, or get upset, but this time he actually wanted to confess to the brunet. He was seeking for comfort.

"I once told her I would become a real popsicle before I would let her catch a cold." he explained, letting out a bitter laugh. "And now, I'm here in a warm apartment, with a sweater and food, and she's outside dying all alone because I've let her down again."

"Again?" Clint frowned, cutting the bandage after having managed to cover the injury completely.

"She followed me when I got kicked out last year." Pietro admitted, ashamed. "She came with me and I didn't say anything. I knew my life was over as soon as I stepped out that door, I knew things would be hard, and I let her come with me. I ruined her entire life just because I was too scared of being alone."

"Maybe someone found her and helped her?"

Clint knew this was surreal, but at this moment he would say anything to reassure him, to make that look of self-hatred disappear from his eyes. He would have wanted to say that it was normal, that no one would have pushed her away when she was offering him to come with him, that it didn't mean he was a monster, but he knew Pietro wouldn't have listened to him, he knew he would have hated it. He didn't need someone to tell him he wasn't a bad person, he needed to know his sister was alright. Putting him before her would have upsetted the young man even more.

"People don't care about homeless people here. I would like to say it's because they're mean, but no, they're not bad people. They're just as poor as everyone, they have their own problems."

The silver-haired man looked up at the agent, his eyes glowing with tears, and Clint had no idea what he was supposed to do. Pietro was probably expecting him to walk out, given he had just finished bandaging him, but the agent couldn't bring himself to leave him like that. When he saw him like that, filled with self-hatred and sorrow, he found himself incapable of getting up and leaving. So, Clint did the only thing that he wanted to do at that moment. He leaned down, wrapping his muscular arms around Pietro's shaking frame in a warm embrace, and felt the young man hesitate for a second before leaning into it, burying his face in the archer's shoulder.

After a few seconds only, Clint moved back, and was about to get up, when Pietro suddenly leaned in, his lips meeting the brunet's. The agent tensed as he felt lips crash down onto his, and he wanted to back away, he really did, but his instinct took over, making him respond to the kiss, snaking an arm around his waist to pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. A quiet moan escaped Pietro's lips, and he gripped his shirt, pulling him towards him, when Clint suddenly snapped out of it. He couldn't do this. The kid was desesperate, completely lost, he couldn't take advantage of it. He suddenly backed away, leaving Pietro flustered and bewildered, slightly panting. He met the agent's eyes, and saw the remorse in it. He frowned and looked away, mumbling that he shouldn't have done that.

"Wait, no, it's not like that." Clint clarified hastily. "I like you, I really do, but... You're going through some tough stuff and you want something to stop thinking about it, and I don't want to be the man in the right place at the right stime, alright?"

Pietro nodded, giving him an understanding look. Clint told him that he should probably go now, and planted a quick kiss on the top of his head before walking out. He crossed the corridor and stopped two doors away from his apartment, knocking four times in a specific rhythm, a code instaured between agents during a mission. He wanted to ask his friend if she could just check on Pietro from times to times, still afraid that his injury was worse than he thought.

The door opened after only a few seconds, revealing a woman with red hair, looking her usual perfectly put together self despite the late hour. She was on a mission and didn't sleep a lot but she still looked flawless. "Nat, I need a favor." Clint said, without greeting her. They had been texting each other only a few hours ago, and they were far enough in their friendship to not bother with civilities anymore.

"Alright, but I probably have to tell you something before you say anything." Natasha answered, backing away from the door to let him get in.

"Can't be worse than me." the archer grumbled as he walked past her.

Her apartment was identical to his, a crappy room with a couch, a kitchen and a bed in only once space, and Clint only made two steps into the room before freezing, staring at the figure sitting on the sofa, curled up in a ball.

"I found her sleeping in a dark alley when I came back here, she looked really bad I couldn't leave her there." Natasha explained from behind him, sounding a little guilty despite her usual confident behavior. "Clint?"

The brunet opened his mouth, but his mind was blank and he didn't find anything to say. He just kept staring at the woman sitting on the couch, hidden under a blanket. She had brown hair, wide doe eyes and hollow cheeks, she didn't look anything like Pietro, and yet, he knew.

She looked scared and confused, her eyes going from Clint to Natasha, and the redhead went to sit next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, and explained to her who he was in a soft voice. She looked back at him, but he was already gone. He rushed out of the room, and crossed the corridor in less than a second, throwing the door open. Pietro had his head tilted back against the wall with his eyes closed, still suffering from his headache, but suddenly got up when Clint rushed in, wincing at the pain it provoked him. He gave the brunet a confused look, and the brunet only needed to say two words. "Your sister." he breathed out, his heart pounding like wildfire.

Clint grabbed his arm and led him outside, stopping by the doorframe. Natasha was in the middle of the corridor, apparentely heading to his room. She wasn't supposed to be seen with him outside of her room, but she was intrigued by his behavior, and the hotel was empty anyway. He suddenly noticed Wanda's small frame slightly hiding behind the redhead, and was about to say something when her wide green eyes fell onto Pietro.

"Brother!" she cried, rushing over to him.

The silver-haired man looked frozen, his eyes widened in shock, but managed to catch her as she litteraly slammed into him. He almost lost balance, but stayed upright, holding onto her for dear life. She was sobbing into his shoulder, and she looked so weak at that moment that if Pietro's arms weren't hugging her tight she would probably be on the ground. Natasha didn't look confused, and Clint assumed that Wanda had already explained the situation to her. The two seemed pretty close, or at least closer than the redhead was with most people. She took a few steps to be next to Clint, and briefly glanced at his from the corner of her eyes.

"What do we do now?" she asked him, still looking at the twins with a hint of tenderness in her eyes.

Clint glanced at Natasha, before his eyes went back to the twins. Pietro had let his arms fall to his sides, but Wanda didn't seem to want to let him go. The young man chuckled, planting a kiss on top of her head, but as he leaned down, tears he had tried not to shred rolled down his cheeks. He looked up, his chin resting on Wanda's head, and met Clint's eyes, offering him a warm, genuine smile.

The brunet didn't know what they were going to do, he didn't even know if he wanted to do something. All that mattered was that Pietro had found his sister, and that he was here, safe, and smiling. For the moment, that was all he needed to know.

After a few minutes, Wanda finally took a step back, sniffing and wiping the tears away from her cheeks with the sleeves of her borrowed black sweater, and punched her brother's shoulder with enough strenght to make him yelp, asking her why she was hitting him. "You're an idiot." she smiled, incapable of being mad at him, especially now. "Don't ever do that again." she scowled with a light accent. Clint had just noticed that had exactly the same musical charming accent, different than the others sokovian who had a rougher one.

The brunette turned towards Clint and Natasha, giving him a little nod to aknowledge him, and walked towards the redhead, thanking her hesitantly, as if she was keeping herself from doing something. "I won't bite you, you know." Natasha said, a soft smile appearing on her lips. Wanda chuckled, and hugged her, thanking her once again for helping her. Clint was watching them with his eyebrows knitted in astonishment, surprised by how affectionate Natasha was being. Pietro suddenly interrupted him in his thoughts. "You're not that."

"What?" the brunet asked, confused. He turned his head to look at the young man, and was a little taken aback by how intensely he was looking at him. He was staring deep into his eyes, the blue of his irises electrizing him, and Clint found himself incapable of looking away.

"The man in the right place at the right time." Pietro added. "You're not that."

Clint's eyes unconsciously flickered to Pietro's lips, but didn't even have time to answer before the young man kissed him. The archer smiled against his lips, and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

When he said he wanted a quiet mission to recover from the events in New York, Clint wasn't expecting that, but the young man climbing into his crappy apartment early in the morning was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Sokovia could be a surprising place.