Four hours prior

Clint walked into the bedroom about an hour later. He opened the door, expecting Pietro to be fast asleep and at peace, but instead found him seizing on the covers, back arching and teeth gritted.

Clint rushed over, shushing him and reassuring himself that everything would be okay.

But the seizure didn't stop. It kept going for seven minutes, Pietro's lips tinged blue. He wasn't breathing.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." He chanted, trying to think.

"Cooper, can you bring me my phone?!" Clint yelled urgently.

Cooper bolted in, face paling at the sight of Pietro shaking and twitching on the bed.

Clint dialed the emergency number he hoped he'd never have to use.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Uh, my boyfriend is having a seizure and stopped breathing." Clint was on the verge of panic.

"Any known medical conditions?"

"Yeah, epilepsy and cerebral palsy."

"Dispatching ambulance now. What is your address?"

Clint relayed his address swiftly.

Pietro still jerked violently, eyes open but glazed over.

The ambulance arrived in minutes, busting through the bedroom door and taking Pietro onto the stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, hurrying out of the house.

Clint began to cry. He walked to the front room where the kids were huddled.

"Come on. We've gotta get to the hospital." He wiped his eyes.

•••

Present time

"Hallo?" Pietro's voice was just above a whisper, his throat dry.

Clint, who he hadn't noticed, looked up from across the room.

"Oh my god." He ran to Pietro's side. "Oh my god." He cried, burying his face in the sheets.

"C-Clint, what happened?" He asked slowly.

"You had a seizure. A really bad one. You stopped breathing, baby. I was so scared." Clint mumbled. "So, so, scared."

"I am okay now." He assured, running his curled fingers through Clint's hair.

"Thank god." He sighed.

The doctor walked in, Clint must've pushed the button when Pietro hadn't been paying attention.

He checked the vitals, scribbling something.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ah, okay, I g-guess." Pietro cringed at the sound of his slow and stuttering voice.

"Any headache or nausea?" The doctor absently tapped the pen in the clipboard.

"U-usual post-seizure feeling. A bit of a headache and n-nausea."

He scribbled on the paper.

The doctor grabbed Pietro's wrist to check the IVs.

Clint saw Pietro fight the urge to yank his hand away or yelp. He hated being touched by anyone besides Clint, Wanda, or Nate.

"It looks like you have moderate to borderline severe pneumonia. It should've been treated at the first signs. Have you seen a doctor about it?"

"No."

"Why not, if I may ask?"

Pietro started to speak only to be cut off by Clint.

"Because he's stubborn and refuses to ask for help."

The weaker glared at him. "Hush, Barton."

"Well we would like to keep you overnight for observation, and you can go home in the morning. We'll prescribe some antibiotics and other medicine to fight the infection, and knowing Clint, you'll take them."

"Damn straight." Clint confirmed.

"Any questions?" He looked up from his notes.

"No, I think we are good."

"Okay. Press the help button if you need anything."

The doctor left.

Pietro began to tug at the annoying cannula the best he could, trying to take it off.

"Leave it, honey." Clint grabbed Pietro's hand gently.

"Why?"

"'Cause the doctors put it there for a reason. I wouldn't take it off."

Clint sat on the bed by Pietro, stroking his faded silver hair gently. Before long they were cuddling on the small bed, Pietro's arm outstretched so the IVs wouldn't get messed up. Clint was pressed flush against his body, arms wrapped around his waist. Silence coated the room.

"Sometimes, I dream that I am okay." Pietro whispered.

"What do you mean?" Clint shifted position.

"I can walk without crutches, I can run. I don't t-talk like this. I don't have seizure, or get sick all of the time." He sighed. "Would you like me more if I was like that?"

"No." Clint pressed his face into Pietro's shoulder. "You're perfect just like this. I would love you just the same."

"Are you sure you would not like someone able bodied and not sick?"

"If they weren't you, then no." The elder traced shapes on Pietro's exposed skin.

"I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Pietro pulled the blanket up higher. "I am tired."

"Do you need me to move?"

"No. No, stay." Pietro's eyes shut. "Stay, please?"

"I'll stay, babe. I'll stay." Clint kissed his cheek. "Go to sleep."

"Mmm." Pietro scooted farther into Clint's embrace, sighing contently. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Pietro."

His breathing pattern changed as he drifted to sleep, Clint still attached to him. His eyelids grew heavy and before long he too was asleep.