Here's the next chapter, hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer:I own nothing.
Tonight was supposed to be a fairly quiet night for Clint. Steve and Natasha were around at the tower and they had managed to get Tony out of his lab and they were all hanging out like, well, friends. Just some pizza, TV, a few drinks (Steve and Tony had a slight chug off), and they were having a pretty good time. Until Clint got a phone call from Peter.
"Hold on guys, I've got to take this," Clint said, setting down his pizza and picking his phone up and answering.
"Hey kid, what's up?" Clint asked.
"It's-it's about May," Peter stuttered from the other side, sounding shaken.
"What about her?" Clint asked, worry seeping into his voice.
"She-she got hit by a car," Peter choked out, "she's in the-she's in the hospital, and I-I don't know what to do and I'm sorry about calling you, but you were the first person to come to mind and I'm really sorry-"
"Hey, shh, it's okay," Clint said, trying to calm the kid down as he got up from his position on the floor, "it's okay kiddo, but I need you to take a deep breath and try to calm down."
"I can't," Peter sobbed out.
"Yes you can, I need you to take a deep breath," Clint said as calmly as he could manage as he got into the elevator not even bothering to explain what was going on. "I'm going to be right there, okay? But in the meantime I need you to breath with me, okay? Ready?"
"Yeah," Peter managed to say.
"Okay, in, one, two, three, out, one, two, three, in, one, two three, out, one, two three," Clint continued until he walked out of the building and Peter had his breathing semi under control. "Okay, there we go, good job, bud. Now, did they tell you anything else?"
"All they said was she got hit by a drunk driver and she got taken by an ambulance to the hospital, they-they said she might not make it," Peter whispered, his voice sounding worse than ever.
"Shhh, everything's going to be okay. You're at home, right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, I'm going to get a taxi and I should be there in about ten minutes, okay?" Clint said gently as he hailed a taxi down.
"Okay."
"I want you to get anything you think you might need, phone charger, a clean t-shirt, and I know it's the middle of April but you still need to bring a coat, and anything else you might need, also I'm going to need you to let me in when I get there," Clint said as he got into a taxi.
"Okay, and I'm sorry about everything," Peter said, voice low and broken.
"Hey, you have no need to be sorry, bud, I'll be there in a few minutes, okay? Do you want to keep talking or do you want to focus on getting your stuff pulled together?"
"I'll get my stuff."
Lalalala-*screaming* I. Hate. Line. Breaks. So. Much.-lalalala
Clint had finally made it to Peter's apartment building, shooting Peter a quick text to let him know that he was here so he could buzz him in, once he did Clint headed up to Peter.
He silently prayed that he had the right apartment as he knocked on the door. Luckily he did as Peter opened the door. He looked exhausted, with his eyes bloodshot and his face slightly dampened.
"Thanks for coming," Peter said quietly, his small frame trembling ever so slightly.
"It's not problem, Pete," Clint said, ruffling the kids hair, "we better get going."
"Yeah, I guess," Peter said with a sigh as he locked the door behind him.
"Yeah."
Lalalala-*screaming intensifies*-lalalala
They had made it to the hospital in record time, now Clint was trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do from here. He had already checked in and they had said she had gone into surgery and would be out in a couple of hours, they had also warned him that her chance of survival was incredibly slim and they should be prepared for the worst. Clint didn't know what to do if he was being honest, in the case that she did die what was he going to do? Nope, nope, nope he couldn't think like that, Peter needed him and he couldn't let his head mess around.
"Clint?" The small voice of Peter broke through his whirlwind of thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"What am I going to do If May doesn't make it?" He asked pitifully.
"She will," Clint said confidently, but somewhere in the back of his head he scolded himself for saying things that might not be true.
"But what if she doesn't? I don't want to be alone, Clint, I don't wanna be alone, it was bad enough when Ben died but at least I had May, if she dies I'm going to be alone," Peter said, stumbling over his words, trembling uncontrollably.
"Hey, look at me," Clint said cupping Peter's check in his hand, "if she doesn't make it, I promise I won't leave you alone, okay? I promise you, I will not let anything happen to you." His own time in foster care flashed before his eyes.
"I don't want you to have to do something you don't need to do," Peter whispered.
"I wouldn't."
Lalalala-ahahaha I'm sobbing-lalalala
Four hours they had been waiting, four long, agonizing hours, in till one of the nurses finally called them.
"Mister Parker?" One of them called out.
"Yes," Parker said, practically jumping out of his seat.
"Your aunt is out of surgery and ready to be seen," the nurse said.
"Okay."
"But, I'm afraid that I must be the one to bear the news that her chances of surviving the night are slim," he said, pity seeping into every word.
Peter only nodded, his whole mind obviously spinning, looking about ready to collapse. Clint put an arm around the kid's waist.
"You're okay," Clint whispered, "I've got you."
A sense of overwhelming dread filled Clint's body as the two followed the nurse. The was going to be one of the hardest nights of his life.