As soon as he woke up, he was met with blazing eyes, ones with a dark ring around them and soft middles, silver flecks darting across the iris that made them look like they were small fish swimming in a sea of blue.
Clint let out a scream.
Pietro screeched back, launching himself away from the other. Clint did the same, uttering something about being scared shitless.
"What were you doing in my bed?!" the quickster snapped, standing up woozily after having stumbled across the room.
"What WAS I doing in your bed?" Clint muttered, utterly confused. He never got up to get in it...? "Someone must have moved me," he said, shaking his head. "I definitely didn't just..."
"Sure, like I believe you didn't want to get close to this," Pietro waved his hands, gesturing to his body. He gave a laugh and coughed violently. "We're in rough shape."
"Yeah, I guess," Clint blinked and felt his head spin.
Then it hit him.
He was alive.
"You're alive," he whispered, speaking his thoughts aloud. "You're alive."
"Uh, yeah, I am, thanks for noticing," Pietro smirked, a look that could send shivers down your back. "All because of you, I guess."
"You're alive," Clint repeated. "You're... You're alive."
"Yep, in the flesh, living and breathing air, just like you," he said, sarcasm dripping like venom, yet a slight hint of concern hid underneath it. Was Clint delusional? Of course he was alive; he was just that solely because the other had saved him.
Clint felt his chest restrict and his heart pound as he walked across the room. He reached a hand out but stopped, unsure of what he wanted to do. His fingertips brushed Pietro's stubble, a prickly feeling, one he wasn't used to.
It felt fantastic.
It was so real, so real that he couldn't have been imagining this.
Yet what if he was? What if Wanda was just trying to make him feel better by producing an image of her brother for him? What if she had gotten into his brain, and he was crazy?
"Clint?" Pietro whispered, suddenly deeply worried. "Are you okay?" He raised his hand to hold the other's, lifting it from his face and settling it back by his side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Suddenly, Clint felt his world crumble.
Pietro would never be that gentle with him. He was being too caring, too kind. The only side of him Clint had ever seen was the sarcastic side, fast paced and witty. This was new.
Therefore it wasn't real.
"Get away from me," he snapped, stumbling backwards as he tried to move as far from the other as possible. "Get away!"
"Look, I know you don't like me all that much, but that's not very nice," Pietro frowned, moving towards the other. He was walking slowly, agonizingly slowly, and it took all his will not to run away. "Does my breath smell?"
"Don't come near me!" Clint barked, hopping behind the bed frame and using it to shield himself. Had he gone off the deep end?
"What's wrong with you?" Pietro questioned, equally confused and frightened. What had he done that would cause Clint to act like this towards him? He thought that maybe their relationship had gotten a tad better, after all the shit they've been through together.
"You're not real! Get out of my head! Go away!" Clint screamed, searching for something to throw at the other. "Get out!"
"I'm not real? What on earth makes you think that?"
"GET OUT."
"Clint! Listen to yourself. You just touched me! You should be able to tell if I was real or not," he cried, exasperated. "You're not making any sense."
Clint's chest was rising and falling at an abnormally fast pace, his vision blurring, and his heart racing at a speed that couldn't be healthy. He was seeing things; no way was Pietro really there. He had to be hallucinating. He needed to find Wanda, and he needed to make her get HIM out of his head.
He felt as though the world had dropped and he was plummeting to his demise.
Didn't he just carry the kid out of the rubble that was the battle? Didn't he just call the doctor's to come and save him? Why was he doing this? It was irrational, it was stupid, and it made no sense.
Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that Pietro wasn't there.
He wasn't a big fan of the whole mind control thing anyways.
"Don't come any closer," he screamed, throwing his hands up. "Get out of my head!"
Wanda suddenly appeared in the room, eyes wide with panic. "What's going on in here? I heard screaming."
"Clint doesn't think I'm real," Pietro said over Clint's yelling. "He thinks you're in his head."
"I'm not?" Wanda muttered.
"That's what I'm trying to tell him!"
"Show him you're real or something," she snapped, frowning as Clint slowly sank to the floor and curled up, sobbing. This was a new level of destruction even she hadn't seen in a while. She had no idea that Clint could even do this.
"How?"
"Figure it out!"
Pietro fidgeted and finally dashed over, picking the other up and racing out of the room. Clint looked up as the crack of air whipped in his ears, the world a blur as they roared around the tower. They finally came to a stop in the rafters of the training room, a flat piece of metal suspended by poles that allowed the electricians to fix the wiring if needed. Pietro had found out before the battle that this was Clint's favorite spot. The man loved heights; the closer to the sky he could get, the better.
The archer sat there, stunned, as his world came back into focus. He felt warm, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, like they were scared he would move away. A steady heartbeat could be heard from where Clint was resting his head, and the rise and fall of a chest breathing was slowly lulling him to sleep.
"Was that real enough for you, old man?" Pietro asked, smirking that dumb smile that made Clint want to slap it off.
Then he realized.
That was real. That was all real. Pietro, the run, everything. Wanda wasn't in his head after all.
He was real.
Clint let out a sigh of relief as he felt Pietro sit down, still holding him.
"I understand why you thought I wasn't here or something. I know about what happened with Loki. That must have been awful," he absentmindedly stroked the other's short hair.
Clint yawned. "Yeah, don't dwell on it too much," he muttered, feeling his eyes shut.
"I won't," Pietro said as he felt Clint tuck his head under his stubbly chin. He smiled, just a little, not enough to be noticeable. Not that anyone was there to see it.
Clint slowly fell away, his breathing slowing and his mind clearing. "Wake me up in the morning."
"It's 1:00 in the afternoon. I'm not sitting here until tomorrow just so you can nap."
"Fine, wake me up when you get restless. I just need," he yawned again. "To take a nap."
The last thing that he remembered was feeling like he was in the safest place in the world, like nothing could harm him, and Pietro would look after him and make sure he was alright. He hadn't felt this way in a long time.
Just another thing to file away and think about later.
