"Pietro, you should go outside, it's not healthy," Barbara said softly, putting a gentle, wrinkled hand on his shoulder. He bit his lip and shook his head.

"I cannot." he said firmly, eyes glazed over with something Barbara admired.

Barbara sighed, looking down at Clint's body, covered in an old blanket and Pietro, who was sat beside him. "You should, Pietro. He wouldn't want you to be like this; it's not healthy," she repeated.

Pietro looked over at her. "He saved my life. I cannot leave - I - I do not know. I cannot understand what it is, and I cannot explain it."

"It's alright, honey. The English language probably doesn't have a word for what you're feeling." she said, her grip on his shoulder reassuring. He nodded his silent thanks before she turned and left, letting Pietro sit there beside Clint, mind full of worry as he kept his eyes on Clint's unconscious state.

Time passed in agonisingly slow seconds and Pietro felt like he was going to be driven insane. He still waited; he would borrow a book from Barbara or one of the others and read it out to Clint's still form.

It was terrifying and painful to see how very little Clint was reacting. Pietro had to keep reminding himself that Clint was still alive, even if he didn't look it. The others didn't say anything to or about Pietro; they didn't comment on how he was so dependent on Clint waking up, or how he was losing weight from lack of eating. (True they were all losing weight from that, but they still managed to scrounge some money up for food.)

His life was revolving around Clint, making sure Clint wouldn't be hurt, and yet he couldn't stop himself. He had to check that Clint's stolen drip was going to keep him alive, that his pulse was steady and that his body was going to continue fixing itself as Pietro tried to give him his vitamins in alternate ways. He knew he had to prepare himself in case anything happened to Clint whilst he wasn't looking.

He couldn't let Clint die, not after he had so foolishly put himself on the line for Pietro. If Pietro was to at least try and repay him for what he had so stupidly done. Pietro felt the rage within him building up again as he remembered how he saw the man take out the knife, hadn't reacted quick enough to save Clint. No matter what, he knew it was his fault that Clint had been hurt, that he was so damaged like that because it was him that had caused it. If only he had been aware of his surroundings, aware of how it had been too peaceful and calm.

Pietro really should have realised that it was going to be a matter of time before something like that happened. For a brief moment, he had considered leaving; making sure that Clint wouldn't be ruined by his presence, but he couldn't find it in him to leave the older man; how could he? After all, Clint had done everything for Pietro, and had promised so much, that they would be able to find Wanda and live a happy life after everything.

"You look like shit."

Pietro jumped a mile into the air. He looked at Clint, unable to stop the massive grin that spread over his face. "You're awake!"

"Of course I am, what with you babbling on in Russian," he said, nodding towards the book Pietro had in his hands. Pietro blushed a little. "It's fine, was nice to wake up to some nice Russian instead of some angry mobster Russian."

He couldn't help but smile down at Clint. "And how many times have you had to endure angry mobster Russian?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Clint flashed him a smile, surprising Pietro when he reached out to take hold of Pietro's hand.

"Enough times to know the slight differences between normal Russian and angry Russian."

"You are an idiot." Pietro said, the smile on his face wide and true. "How is your wound?"

Clint shrugged. "It's fine. Hurts a little, but I'm glad it's not worse. Who patched me up?"

"Me and Barbara," Pietro answered honestly and Clint raised an eyebrow. "You didn't see that coming?" he asked, the words flowing off his tongue with ease.

"Kid, you never fail to surprise me."

"I will surprise you again - I am not a kid."

Clint rolled his eyes, his grip on Pietro's hand tightening. "Yeah, yeah, sure you're not."

Pietro stuck his tongue out at him, albeit childishly. "You are a jerk."

"Bitch."

Silence fell between them, the only sounds that broke it were their breathing and the sound of movement from the others downstairs. They could hear Susan and Barbara talking indistinctly and Pietro briefly wondered what they were talking about, but decided he was content to sit beside Clint, happy with holding his hand.

"Pietro?"

"Da?"

Clint shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I - uh - I don't know how to say this," he laughed awkwardly and Pietro smiled slightly. Pietro felt the pressure on his hand tighten again and Pietro moved before he could think.

His mouth was pressed against Clint's softly, cutting off whatever Clint had been trying to say. Pietro felt Clint's free hand go into his dirty hair, keeping him close. Far too soon for either of their liking, Pietro pulled away from him, resting his forehead on Clint's. He didn't care how awkwardly he was sitting, leaning over Clint, careful of his wound.

"I think that got rid of some of the tension that had been between us," Clint said, sounding too breathless to be good.

"Only some?" Pietro asked and Clint breathed out a laugh.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, kid." he said and winced again.

"What is wrong?" Pietro said as he pulled away from Clint.

He pointed to the wound and Pietro knelt down, hands going to the wound tentatively, looking at Clint worriedly. Clint nodded, hands clenching in preparation before Pietro pulled the bandage off gently, only to reveal the stitches he and Barbara had done, and saw the discolouring of the wound.

"Infected. I'm sorry." he said and Clint's eyes widened. "Sorry, I just have to try and steal some medicine to make sure the infection will go away and it will recover properly."

Clint groaned loudly. "You scared the absolute shit out of me." he said, shutting his eyes as he tilted his head back. "I thought you meant I was going to die."

"You will not die any time soon, but I should go and steal some medicine so that it will not get worse," he said, shrugging his shoulder as he took off the bandage and put on a new one for him. "Do not worry," he continued, when he finished up and looked over at Clint. "I stole the other medical things for you and did not get caught. I will be fine." he said, giving Clint a smile.

The older man sighed, moving his hand over to Pietro's head, pushing his fingers through Pietro's hair. "I can't stop you, but all I can tell you is to be careful. I don't want you to get caught or do something. You shouldn't get caught for thieving just for me."

"Clint. You are a fucking idiot. I do not want to see you get hurt, not after everything that had happened." he said, resting his head on Clint's makeshift bed, eyes on Clint's face. "I want you to get better, and if that means I will have to steal the things that will make you better," he shrugged his shoulders. "then so be it."

"You're a fool."

"Maybe so, but because you need to get better. I will fix things," he said. "I will make sure who did this to you will pay and then we can figure everything out from there, yes?"

Clint smiled, tired but real. "Yes. That sounds good. One step at a time, right?"

[Apologies on how short these chapters are and how sporadic they come in updates. I am more active on Archive of our Own (AO3) so check that out to see my more loved fics since I leave this for a few months at a time between updates.]