Wew. Almost doooone!

Instead of attending the Lab's holiday party, Peter was sitting in his apartment looking over notes from his current projects. The silence was unnerving, even with the radio on. It had been over a month since he broke up with Sam, yet he still expected to hear him singing in the shower, or to wake up to pancakes after a long night in the labs.

He realized he had read the same line five times and set the papers on the end table. Peter took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

Had he been unfair to Sam? He had the same discussion with himself everyday. He wanted to believe he did the right thing.

When Sam showed up the week after their breakup, he almost caved. Because, he still loved Sam. Giving back the pocket watch had ripped out a part of him. He knew if he saw Sam again he wouldn't be able to walk away again. But, Sam had kept his word and stayed away.

There was one thing which Peter couldn't ignore: Sam had introduced him to his family. His last boyfriend hadn't, he hid their relationship from family, from friends. He yelled at Peter when he would suggest going out with a group.

Sam was nothing like him.

Sam kept his promises. Sam treated him like an equal, not a toy. Sam would go out together with their friends. Sam would hold his hand tighter when someone made a rude comment in public.

But Sam also kept their relationship a secret from his coworkers. Sam called Peter his roommate. Deep down, he understood. He faced prejudices before, he knew the feeling of being looked down on from everyone around you.

Peter stared at his phone, debating again if he should reach out to Sam. It was a debate he had nearly everyday, and everyday it became harder to resist.

A knock at the door broke Peter from his thoughts. He wasn't expecting company. A jolt of excitement surged through his limbs; was Sam going to try again? Was he standing on the other side of the door with flowers and Peter's favorite take out?

Peter put his glasses back on and rushed to the door, flinging it open. The man that was in the other side wasn't Sam, but he did look familiar.

"Uh, hello?"

The blonde man looked exhausted. His skin was pale and he had dark bags under his eyes. He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"You might not remember be, I'm Clint Barton, Sam's partner." He showed Peter his badge to prove who he was.

"Sam doesn't live here anymore." Peter was close to shutting the door. The embarrassment of being known only as Sam's roommate bubbled back to the surface.

"I know." Clint's voice was strained. "But you're listed as his emergency contact."

"What?" Peter's heart beat faster.

"The hospital needs someone to fill out paperwork for him."

"No…no…" Peter gripped the door frame as his legs began to feel week. Fate made the choice for him.

A calm hand was placed on his shoulder. "He's alive, if that's what you're worried about." Clint stepped back into the hall. "I can give you a ride down."

Peter nodded and retreated to grab his keys and wallet. His blood was pounding in his ears. What state was Sam in? Peter was afraid to ask, afraid to give away Sam's secret. Because it wasn't his to give. He loved Peter too much to put his career on the line.

Would Sam even want to see him?

The ride was quiet, but over quickly. Peter followed Clint into the hospital, through a maze of hallways, until they stopped at a nurse's station. Peter fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt as Clint talked with the nurse.

The blonde man turned to him, "He's in the second room there- 616-A. No need to wait around, I'll bring the paperwork to you."

Peter nodded and slowly made his way to the room. He gingerly turned the knob, afraid to make too much sound. He closed the door with a soft click and took a steadying breath. The room was dimly lit, yet he could make out the pale candor of Sam's face. There was a dark bruise on his cheek. Peter slowly made his way over to the side of the bed. He eyed the IV and studied the monitors.

He turned as the door creaked open. Clint stood in the doorway, "He looks worse than he his." He crossed the room and handed Peter a stack of papers and a clipboard.

Peter took another glance at Sam before taking a seat. "What happened?"

Clint shrugged. "Cop stuff. It happens. He was responding to a break in and was shot by one of the perps." He ran a hand across his short hair. "Can't help blame myself, it was my day off and he was with a rookie. I got here right after he got out of surgery, he hasn't woke up yet. Rest of the guys went home to get some sleep, or went back on duty. But I'm his partner, ya know? I can't leave. But I figured I'd be useful and fetch you since they couldn't reach you by phone."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. He had changed his number shortly after the breakup, of course Sam wouldn't have his new one on file. Peter looked at the papers in his lap. All standard stuff. He filled it out to the best of his ability, and was surprised at how much he knew about Sam. The beeping of the monitors rang in his ears as he wrote.

He was nearing the last page when Clint cleared his throat. "I guess he should update his emergency contact then?"

Peter frowned. "He doesn't have any family around here. Just friends."

"I meant your number." Clint eyed him. "Ah." He nodded, "Now it makes much more sense."

"Wha-"

"Don't worry. I don't care. Not sure how I didn't figure it out before now, guess the kid is a better actor than I gave him credit for." Clint crossed his arms. "You might want to leave before he wakes up then. I know from experience: the last thing a guy wants to see when they wake up from trauma is their ex."

Peter's head was swimming. Clint had put the pieces together so quickly. But he was right, Sam wouldn't want to see him. It would be easier to leave, to not have to explain to Sam that…that what? That he was still in love with him? Hopelessly so? He felt tears start to form and blinked them away. He took a long look at Sam, and with a shaky breath stood to leave.

"When he wakes up…" Peter shook his head. "Never mind."

Clint grabbed his arm as he walked past. "I won't tell anyone, so don't worry. I've seen what can happen to gay cops…it's a mixed bag, some don't care, some will beat a man on the street and call him slurs. Ours doesn't have any bad apples that I know of, but he's right to be wary. He's done a good job hiding it."

"Take care of him."

Peter slipped his arm out of Clint's grip. He made it to the door and suddenly the monitors started beeping loudly. Peter had been in enough hospitals to know not to panic, it was just a sign he was waking up. He turned and looked at Sam; he seemed so frail laying there. Peter wanted to wrap him in his arms and protect him from the world.

"I'll let the nurse know on my wait out."

Clint grabbed the clipboard. "I'll get the nurse."

Peter blinked up at him, but he was out of the room before he could argue. He sighed and walked over to Sam's side. Slowly he began to wake. It was something Peter had watched countless times before. This time was different, because Sam was alive; and he knew what he was going to do.

Sam blinked at him, the painkillers making his mind fuzzy. Peter was familiar with the haze of waking up after surgery, it was disorienting. So he was surprised when Sam focused on him. "Peter?"

Peter nodded and squeezed his hand. "Yea, it's me."

Sam gave him a sloppy smile. "I guess that bullet killed me? Worth it."

Peter's heart swelled with love and guilt, "You're alive Sam." Peter gave him a soft kiss on his forehead.

Sam blinked, trying to force himself through the fog. The nurse came in, followed by Clint and Peter dropped Sam's hand.

The nurse checked his vitals as Clint walked next to Peter. "I told you, I don't care."

Peter slid his hand back into Sam's and held on as he slipped back to sleep.

The nurse turned to them. "He'll need a few days bed rest, but he'll be good to go home when the morphine wears off." The nurse checked a few more things before leaving the room.

They sat in silence for a while until Clint turned to him with a thoughtful expression.

"You still love him?"

"Yes."

Clint nodded. "Good. Then you take him home. He's a bear when he's hurt. He'd make me shoot him myself."

Peter smiled. Sam was a bear, but he had always been his bear. When he had a sprained ankle a few months before, Peter learned first hand that an immobile Sam was a crabby one. But he took it in stride, making Sam his favorite meals when he got home from a day of desk 'busy' work.

"Gladly. If he wants to."

"I want to." Sam's voice was clearer than it had been before.

Peter jumped up to Sam's side. "Sam?"

"I want to go home."

"I don't know where you're living now, but sure. I'll make sure you get home."

"No." He shook his head. "I want to go with you. Please?"

Peter bent down and placed a kiss on his nose. "Anything you want, it's yours."

Sam blinked, then turned his head away from Peter. "No…I can't. I can't do that to you again." He clinched his eyes closed.

Clint walked over to the other side of the bed. "Heya Sam. Stop being a drama queen."

Peter smiled over at him, "He's still a little high on morphine…"

"Clint?" Sam opened his eyes. "No! Don't- don't tell!" He tried to sit up, but two sets of hands held him to the bed.

"Buddy, I don't care. Half the force wouldn't care either- at least at our precinct."

"Sam…I want you to come home."

Sam turned his attention back to Peter. "I'm sorry."

Peter kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry too. Now, get some sleep. We'll get you home tomorrow, and we will have plenty of time to talk."

~And they lived happily ever after~?

Thank you for reading!

Originally I was going to have three ending options (happy/sad/bittersweet), but this one ended up being longer than I expected…and I don't have the emotional fortitude to write the other two….