A/N: Some moments of stronger language here so you've been warned. I'm really liking this story at the moment so I'm updating pretty quick I know :) Enjoy

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What's a man to do when he's confined to one room, totally bored? Clint had no idea. He'd pushed the chair back slightly from the bed, leaning into it and propping his legs up on the mattress, careful to avoid knocking Pietro or any of the wires snaking around him.

He felt for the kid. No one wants to give their life saving someone. Not really. In an ideal scenario the both of you would walk away, saved, and joking about a close call. But Clint knew sometimes you feel like you need to do it. And the whole time you're thinking to yourself going in to that situation, you won't make it out. And you tell yourself that's okay, while part of you already regrets what you haven't done, what you will do, what will be your final moments. And yet you know you'd regret it more if you didn't. This kid had guts. A quality few and far between these days, Clint mused.

He looked to his right at the digital clock on the table. 10:47 p.m. Damn today was going slow. Clint could've sworn it was later. Today had really messed with his senses. Not to mention how exhausted he was. Closing his eyes, Clint thought back on the day, on the last few days. He hoped to pass the time by replaying memories like a tv show in his mind, until eventually his eyelids felt heavy and unwilling to open, and the temptation to drift asleep was proving harder to fight. He slumped, giving in to temptation, arms still folded over his chest before his head jolted up, alert and slightly embarrassed at his slip. He decided then and there that he would never tell anyone that the reason for his sudden awakening was the mini dream he had of facing Wanda after she found out he was sleeping on the job.

That girl secretly scared him with what she could do, but if anyone found out, especially Stark, he knew he'd never hear the end of it.

Clint glanced back to the clock, convinced it was early the next day by now, to be greeted by a bright red 11:23. 'Tch,' he scoffed, 'Oh to be so lucky.' he thought to himself bitterly. He needed a new distraction and fast.

Clint's gaze drifted to the monitor all the wires covering Pietro's body were attatched to. The touch screen display showed a pulse on the screen, the buttons surrounding it labelled with various medical terms Clint didn't even try to understand. He looked around for something to play with on the monitor that wouldn't cause the kid's demise and found the 'Change Display' button. He poked it carefully; the colours of the screen changed and instead of a pulse he just saw numbers. It was showing his bpm. Clint's brow furrowed as he noted the heartbeat was a lot slower than average, yet still steady and consistent. Thankfully. Not dwelling too much Clint shoved his chair as far away from the monitor as he could, thinking if it was in fact too low there would be staff flocking to him to take care of him. And besides; he had target practice.

Entertainment was in the small things for Clint. Thank god otherwise he wouldn't passed out from boredom alone by now. Luckily he found a distraction in throwing various small objects he found at the 'Change Display' button on Pietro's monitor, never once failing to hit dead centre. Clint realised at that point, 2 hours later, that this probably wasn't the safest thing to do, especially since missing would hit one of the other buttons and god knows what that would do. 'Well it's a good thing I never miss then...' Clint thought smugly to himself.

Another hour and he'd changed his target several times; hit the door handle, the tiny speck on the wall, the cabinet above Pietro's head. In his sheer laziness he failed to realise that once the object had hit the cabinet, it would fall back down again. And hit the kid. Shit. From his spot on the other side of the room he dashed over barely managing to catch the small yet rather heavy piece of plastic before it fell on him. 'Knowing my luck he'll fucking inhale it and die. Smart move Barton.' He scolded himself, sighing.

Whoops. He was far too tired to move that fast. He started swaying lightly on his feet nearly falling over but managing to grab onto something near by. He mentally chastised himself for ever agreeing to this, but was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a rapid, and very loud, beeping sound. An... alarm? He looked around for the source, only to find that what he had caught himself on was the monitor keeping Pietro alive. The touch screen monitor. Which he had just touched... Damn.

Panicking slightly but keeping face, he looked to the monitor for any sign of what to do to help. He couldn't just wait until someone arrived, the kid might die before then! The only thing the monitor showed was the rapidly increasing heartbeat of the kid in front of him. This was not good. He had to calm him down and fast. Calling Wanda was not an option. He got himself in this mess, he'd get himself out. Racking his brain for ways to calm him down, he thought about how Pietro clung to Wanda, their hands almost always intertwined. Was that a comfort for him? It was worth a shot. He slid his hand along the bed just meeting the boy's hand before groaning, hoping to god Tony got none of this on video.

Interlocking their fingers, Clint noticed an almost immediate response from the monitor. Pietro's heartbeat was slowing and his breathing was stabilising. 'Good. Thank god.' At that moment a medical assistant dressed in her pyjamas rushed in the room, eying the situation and looking confused. The monitor had stopped beeping as frequently and Pietro's vital signs were slowly becoming normal, well what they were before, again. She checked him over never the less, an eyebrow raised as she saw Clint's hand wrapped around her patient's, but said nothing. 'Smart girl,' Clint thought.

Clint didn't know how long he stayed like that for, holding Pietro's hand, brushing his knuckles with his thumbs. But eventually it was 4 a.m. and a sudden ringing of his phone made him flinch, worried it would wake up the kid. Realising how stupid that thought was he answered the phone with a "Yello?"

"Clint? You okay? I didn't see you before you called it a night last night." Natasha's voice answered back.

"Yeah, well technically I never did. I'm down in the medical bay looking after the Sokovian martyr as a way to free myself of guilt."

"Really? I know he saved your life and all but you don't usually get that bothered."

"Ah, I promised Wanda I wouldn't leave him so she could get some rest. She needs it more than I do right now. More than any of us."

"Are you sure it's not 'cause you're too afraid she'll tear your head off for putting her precious Pietro in harms way?" Clint could practically hear her smirk from the other end of the line. She was the only one that knew, rather figured out about Clint's "fear". And boy, did she use it against him.

A gentle squeeze of his hand pulled him out of the conversation with Natasha and he looked down at the kid, whose face was scrunched up in what was either discomfort, confusions or both. He was waking up. Relief flooded Clint's system, and for once it wasn't because it meant Wanda would be happy and therefore would not kill him. No, it was relief that the kid who sacrificed himself for him just might be okay.

"Nat I've gotta go." He said bluntly.

"Wait wh-" He cut her off, leaning over the boy as he wriggled slightly, positioning himself.

As Pietro's eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light and sights around him, he slowly saw a face, but it wasn't who he was expecting.

"Clint?" Why was he here? Where was Wanda? And most importantly, why were they holding hands...?

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A/N: Done :) I know this was a little boring and not much happened. Like, at all. But I really wanted to set it up before I goofed it all up. I promise it won't be as slow in coming chapters. Tell me what you think if it sucks I'm experimenting at this point. Please constructive not cruel. Thanks :)