Metal Birds?

3: X-Ray Magic

Pietro narrowed his eyes at the blond, face setting in a stone cold glare. Clint just grinned in response, eyes glowing in amusement. Pietro repeated his question venomously; "Who is Lincoln?" Clint grinned once again.

"Just a guy I know. He's a cool nurse dude. I actually introduced him to this place. Met him a while back. He used to be a hospital nurse, and I'd often get stuck under his care 'cause he worked in the ER and I'm a dumb shit," Clint explained casually. The heat of Pietro's glare intensified it his level of jealous anger. Clint grinned, enjoyably drinking in the sight of the jealous young Sokovian.

"Ya know, jealous is a good shade on you," Clint teased. Pietro's face flared bright pink and his stormy gray eyes instantly switched from glaring to wide-eyes staring. Clint nodded, a smug smirk on his lips.

The door opened and Clint turned to face Natasha and Lincoln, greeting them casually. "Hey guys, how are you?"

"Bruce told us you broke yourself. What did you do now?" Lincoln asked, getting straight to the point.

"I might have fractured my ankle and there's definitely something wrong with my hands," replied Clint, leaning back against the wall.

"I'm thinking an x-ray would be helpful," Natasha commented, pushing lightly on Clint's ankle. He winced and inhaled sharply so Nat stopped with the pressure.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Lincoln agreed. "You go grab a wheelchair, I'll look at his hand?" Natasha nodded and left the room. Pietro reverted back to sulking in the chair, sending Lincoln the occasional dirty look.

"Be honest Link, how fucked am I?" Clint asked, very straightforwardly. Lincoln shrugged and picked up Clint's hand at the wrist, holding his palm to better examine the knuckles.

"Skin broke, for sure. It'll need some cleaning up and we'll do some tests for you, and if it comes down to it, we'll x-ray the hand too, but I don't think it's that bad. I suggest some rest and no heavy lifting with either hand."

"Dude, I'm a superhero. I save the planet," said Clint, staring at him like he was crazy.

"Well, you'll have to let the others do the work for a while. I don't want to see you down here for a while, you hear me Barton?" Clint rolled his eyes but nodded.

"Got it, kid. Now, can we get my leg checked out now so I can walk?"

"I'm not a kid, but Tash is back so yeah," Lincoln agreed, helping Clint stand. Clint lowered himself into the wheelchair and put his feet up on the little stand things (idk wtf they're called) and began to wheel himself out the door. Pietro rushed over and grabbed the handles, stopping him.

"You do know that 'no heavy lifting' means yourself, right?" he asked, pushing Clint through the door. Clint crossed his arms and pouted. "Okay, you aren't seven."

"I can do it myself," he insisted.

"Doctor's orders," Lincoln called, following after them.

"You're a nurse, Link," Clint reminded him, flipping him off. Lincoln rolled his eyes and began talking to Natasha who was walking next to him. Clint tilted his head back to look up at Pietro.

"How are you doing lately?" Pietro shrugged.

"I've been feeling pretty dead the last day or so," he replied with a wink. He chuckled at his joke and Clint just stared at him. "That was good!" Clint shrugged.

"It was okay, maybe. You'll fit right in though; nobody at this place knows a good joke." Clint glanced back to Lincoln. "Especially Link. He couldn't tell a joke if his life depended on it." Lincoln, who had overheard that bit of the conversation, scoffed.