The Life That Pietro Saved

1.0

Pietro woke the next morning to his phone ringing.

"Hallo?" His voice was thick with sleep.

"G'morning, honey. Sorry if I woke you, I just wanted to call you before we suited up."

"It is okay." Pietro yawned, rubbing his eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm good, we spent all of yesterday planning, but today we're going to infiltrate the base."

"I wish I could be there." Pietro sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe. I wish you could, too." Clint's voice was soft through the phone.

He heard Steve's voice in the background.

"Sorry, Pietro. I've gotta go. I love you."

"I love you too, Clint."

The line beeped, signifying the end of the call.

"Khorosho, davayte sdelayem eto." Okay, let's do this. He groaned, pulling the covers off and fighting to sit up.

After a few attempts he ended up in his chair, feet splayed on the footplate.

He pushed into the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. Pietro drank out of a purple mug, setting it on the counter to go get dressed before he roused Peter.

He slid on Clint's hoodie, it was black and had a purple bow and arrow on the front.

The silver haired man let out an growl when he realized that he was still wearing flannel pajama bottoms. Clint usually helped him (much to Pietro's protest) with this part.

Peter had woken up on his own while Pietro was getting dressed. He stumbled sleepily through the halls, coming to the open door of Pietro's bedroom.

"'Morning." He muttered, seeing Pietro fighting with the pants, mumbling sokovian curses.

"Ah, good morning." Pietro glanced up, cheeks red with frustration and embarrassment. "We go shopping. Go and get dressed."

"Can we have breakfast first?" Peter rubbed his eyes.

"We stop on the way."

"Okay."

Peter ran off to get dressed. Pietro finished the battle with his pants.

His partner was battling enemies and defending innocent lives, and he was here battling with his pants against his limp legs. He'd never felt more useless. He held his head in his hands, breathing deeply.

Okay.

Peter was done in less than two minutes, bounding back down the hallway, already full of energy. "C'mon, c'mon! Let's go!"

"Yes, Peter. Hold on second."

Pietro took five pills he usually took in the morning for the past six months.

"What does that do?" Ever the curious one asked.

"It's, ah, for my back." Also for my crippling depression and anxiety disorders, he thought.

Peter ran to the elevator. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Yes, okay." Pietro slung his backpack across the back of his chair, moving into the elevator.

"So we're gonna get breakfast, right? 'Cause I'm hungry."

"Yes, Peter." Pietro tapped the button for the first floor.

"We go to the garage, right?"

"Net. I cannot drive, kiddo. We go without a car."

"But that's a long way!" Peter seemed shocked.