"Ugh."
Natasha glanced up from the book she had in her lap as Clint slowly sat up in the hospital bed. "Hey there," she grinned and stood up to walk over to him. "Sleep well?"
"Where am I?" the archer replied groggily, confused as to what was going on, and why there was a bright light directly in his face. Fluorescents always bothered him.
"Infirmary. You got your ass kicked by a ricocheting bullet that bounced off a car door," Nat responded, rolling her eyes, as though getting shot was the easiest thing in the world. "How do you feel?"
"Awful," Clint grunted as he smacked his hand down on the end table and searched around blindly for a bit before realizing that there was no cup of coffee there, and there wouldn't be one until he asked. "Coffee. Please?" he whined, like he was a four year old and Nat was his annoyed mother.
"Fine," she sighed and stood up, leaving Clint alone. He blinked, gathering his senses before one word hit him in the face like a train.
Pietro.
He jumped, nearly falling out of bed. Pietro. Was he okay? Did he survive? How long had he been out? Scrambling out of his sheets, Clint stumbled and nearly smacked into the wall across from him. He had to find him. He had to know.
Clint had to know if he survived.
As he moved along (clumsily, if anything) down the hall, he bumped into Tony.
"Clint! Hey man, good to see you up. How ya feel?"
"Have you seen him?" the other replied, eyes wide with worry.
"Huh? Seen who? You've been out for four days, I'm not sure if you should be moving around this much. Lets get you back to your room, maybe Pepper will make you some food or something."
"Pietro. Have you seen him?"
"I think he's in his room, but he woke up before you. He said something about him not being an old man and healing quicker," Tony chuckled. "If anything, he's not running quite yet. I'd go catch him now. But hey, didn't you say you didn't like that kid? Why'd you go back to get him?" Tony was talking to empty air as Clint disappeared around the corner, hobbling all the way. "Clint?"
He had no idea where he was going. Asking every agent that came into sight, he would always turn away disappointed, as they said they were too low of a level to know that classified information.
Then he heard it.
"So I got him almost killed?" Pietro's accent came from down a corridor. "Ironic, since I was trying to save him."
"It was his choice to go back and get you. Without him, you wouldn't be alive right now," Wanda's higher voice rang out, clear as day. Clint followed the sounds until he was standing outside the doorway, hiding behind the wall. "Why are you so concerned? You should be grateful."
"Yeah, I know, and I am. It's just... odd, I suppose. I have not felt this way in quite some time."
"What way?"
"I am not sure. Loathing? No, no, definitely not. Gratitude is certainly a big part, but something else is funny, and I am not sure what it is. I suppose I should just forget about it," he shrugged and laid down. "May I take a nap?"
"No need to ask," Wanda giggled and rolled her eyes. She had missed her brother; two days was a lot for her side to be silenced. "Do you want me to get you something?"
"A knife so I can gut this feeling out," he whispered, but went unheard. "No. Thank you," he said, more audible. "I am fine."
"Okay, I will wake you up in an hour. Sleep well," she walked out and shut the door. Clint had hid behind an open door, hoping not to be spotted.
He was, to say the least.
"Barton?" Wanda called, walking down the hall to him. "I see you are doing better! How do you feel?"
"Like shit," he grinned, trying to keep the mood light. "How's your brother?"
"Fine. Much better, at least. He greatly appreciates what you did for him."
"Yeah, I appreciate what he did for me. You too, since you got us out of there."
"Yes, I suppose I did. What brings you down here?"
"Oh, well I was just going to see if he was awake yet, see if the bastard beat me. Apparently, he has," he laughed as Wanda pushed him gently and smiled. "I just had to make sure he was okay..."
"I don't advise you talk to him now, he's napping," Wanda said before eyes widening and she giggled as Clint turned around to see what she was laughing at.
"What? Is it my hair?"
"No, no, I just remembered that before you go in there to check on him, change out of your hospital clothes. When they dress you, they... Uh..."
"What?"
"They don't give you underwear."
"Oh my god," Clint involuntarily covered himself (even though he had clothes over it) and felt his face flush. "Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna go put my clothes on."
"You do that. Can you wake Pietro up in an hour? I was going to go down to the lab with Banner for a bit so I could help him move some heavier things around."
"Oh, yeah, sure," Clint nodded, acting nonchalant. "I can do that."
"Thank you," she walked away, opening a door without touching it and disappearing into the other rooms of the base.
"Of course I can do that."
Clint wouldn't miss him waking up by his side for the world.
