The Life That Pietro Saved

4.0

Clint woke Pietro up at nine the following morning.

"C'mon, babe. You've got training."

They called it 'training' because it sounded much better than 'physical therapy to gain your independence back'. It was sort of training, in a sense.

"Mm." Pietro whined, pushing his face into the pillow.

"C'mon..." Clint sat on the bed, playing with his boyfriend's hair.

"Okay...alright..." Pietro yawned, pushing himself up to sit.

Clint carried him to his chair. Pietro still felt bad that Clint had to help him do things and carry him sometimes.

Pietro drank some coffee before heading down to the training gym.

They started with stretches. Clint was trained in rehabilitation and physical therapy by the nurse so he could work with Pietro instead of him being helped by some stranger. Pietro's grey sweatpants draped over his thin limb as Clint lifted his leg, extending and contracting it.

"Push against my hand?" Clint asked this every time in hopes a miracle had occurred.

Pietro tried, he really did, but nothing happened. He shook his head. "I can't." His answer was the same every time.

"That's okay." Clint lifted him, walking to the pull up bars.

He stood on a stool, letting Pietro grab the bar before letting go of him.

"Bet I can do more pull ups than you." Clint teased as Pietro pulled himself up on the bar.

"I bet you can." Pietro agreed, dropping from the up position down to hang from the bar once more.

Clint held Pietro's torso, helping him up for the next one.

"Two more, okay? Then we can call it done." Clint told him.

"Alright." Pietro panted, pulling up again.

His fingers slipped and he fell to the ground.

"Shit!" Clint knelt down. "Are you okay?"

"Da, yeah, fine." Pietro sat up. "I am good."

Clint sat next to him, arm around his waist.

They both sat in silence for a while. The archer looked into Pietro's electric blue eyes and leaned forward, kissing him gently.

Pietro's fingers found their way into Clint's hair and he soon was on his lap, running his hands down the assassin's chest and up his back. Clint had his hands up Pietro's shirt, warm hands against Pietro's cold skin.

He slid off Clint's shirt and tossed it aside, kissing his neck and pushing him back against the mat.

Clint tossed his lover's shirt aside, pulling him down to lay against him.

Their tongues fought in a battle of dominance as they panted and pulled each other ever closer.

"Oh shit! Sorry!" Steve's voice echoed in the gym.

Clint and Pietro separated in horror. The mood was lost.

"Sorry. So sorry." Steve ran off.

Pietro giggled. He started laughing and just couldn't stop. Soon Clint was laughing too and they were both laying on their backs, giggling like children.

Pietro then realized he didn't have a shirt on. The mostly healed scars dotted his chest, stomach and a few painted his upper arms as well. He quickly reached for his shirt, trying to cover the many white marks on his body.

"Hey," Clint stopped him. "You're beautiful. You don't need to cover up."

"But the scars are ugly." Pietro looked down.

"Baby, they're not ugly. I have scars too, see?" He touched the thin white lines that covered his chest from various missions. "It's part of being an avenger."

Pietro hugged Clint tightly, sighing. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Clint smiled, lifting Pietro up and carrying him.

"Can we go up to the rafters?"

It was one of their favorite pastimes before Sokovia, sitting up on the rafters and talking, cuddling, or just goofing around.

Clint nodded and began to climb the utility stairs to the center beam, connected to the other beams by thin bars. They always joked around about walking across them.

Clint sat down, keeping Pietro on his lap. They both used to know how to jump off the rafters without getting hurt, but now Clint was scared that Pietro would fall.

"Bet you cannot walk across the bar." Pietro joked.

"Bet you I can."

"How much are we betting?" Pietro turned around to kiss him.

"Hmm...sex." Clint replied.

"Sex?" Pietro laughed.

"Yeah." Clint slid Pietro off of him and stood.

"Okay." Pietro almost immediately lost what little posture he had when Clint's support was lost.

His limp legs dangled from the edge of the beam as he recalled the exhilaration of walking across the small bars.

Just as Clint was about to step onto the bar, he heard a small voice.

"Hey!" Footsteps echoed on the metal.

"No, no Peter! Stay there!"

As a normal four year old would do, he disobeyed.

Clint ran toward Peter just as he tripped, falling off the edge.