Harry Potter, Sherlock, Doctor Who and Supernatural Imagines

Imagine #162 ~ You Didn't See That Coming? >:]

"Steve, where's Pietro?"

Imagine the low hum of helicarrier rumbling beneath your feet as it swooped throught the thin air, cotton clouds rolling past the open window behind you. All the Avengers had stumbled onto the carrier, bruised and bloody but very much alive. You had taken account on who had walked in and only counted 8. You had looked down at your list a small tick next to each name except his. Pietro Maximoff. The cocky Eastern European man and yourself are sort of an item. He had kissed you passionatly and had exchanged words of love with you before he sped out to join the battle, leaving you confused and flustered, but undeniably in love.

"Steve, where's Pietro?" You pressed harshly, your chest that fluttered for past thoughts, now tightening anxiously. You leaned closer to his face so you could reach his eyes, but he kept them glued to the floor.

You looked around Steve's shoulder, hoping wildly you'd see him rush towards you in a blur with a smirk. His silver hair would be trailing behind him, framing sweet, soft, crystal blue eyes. He'd gather you up into his arms and plant a small kiss on your forehead, while you would chuckle and bring him into a proper kiss. You'd thread your fingers through his thick, ash grey hair, grazing his scalp electing a groan from his lips. He'd push you even closer to him, your hips colliding and mouths gasping open to allow tongues to slip in...

But that didn't happen.

"Steven Grant Rogers, where the hell is Pietro Maximoff." You bitterly pressed again. Looking around at the other Avengers they too had solemn faces that refused to look at you. Your heart thumped painfully in your chest. You tightened your hands around your clipboard, feeling your eyes sting with tears. Panic hugged your ribs, crushing you in silent fear.

"He's dead." Clint announced from the table. You looked over seeing him with his head in his hands, fingers threaded through scruffy brown hair and gathered tears on the table below him.

You stared at him wide eyed, your stomach dropping and churning with nausea. Sending a side glance to Steve you finally met his eyes. Even with only a painful glimpse you saw the guilt and redemption dripping from the bloodshot blues.

You took a gulp of air suddenly not feeling like you could breath. You grabbed the metal railing next to you, steadying your wobbling legs. You fell to your knees, feeling your stomach lurching as if you were to vomit. Tears were dripping down your cheeks wetting your shirt and tie. Steve knelt down to your level, resting on his shins and carefully pried your clawed fingers from the bars of the railing. As soon as he had plucked them off you violently straddled him and wrapped your arms tightly around his body. He gently placed his arms around you, feeling you tremble and sob beneath his touch.

There was a sharp scraping of a chair and then a tender hand on your shoulder. The hand then slipped down and you felt a strong chest pressed against your back, with his arms wrapped around you. He was trembling, his nose pressed into the crook of your neck as wet tears soaking your shirt.

"It was my fault." He whispered, his voice hoarse and gritty. "It was all my fault..."

"Clint." You said dryly, picking your head up from Steve. You turned to face the distraught archer and held his head in your hands.

"It wasn't your fault." Tony's voice wavered to you from the table. You all looked up towards him; Steve and Clints arms still wrapped around you; Natasha grimacing at the wall with her arms crossed.

The billionaire was staring down at the table, his eyebrows furrowed painfully and lips drawn to a straight line while his head was being kept up by his palm. He was sketching random shapes onto the table with a finger, jabbing onto the glass each time he started another one. He sighed deeply and arose his hazel eyes to down at you.

"It wasn't Clint's fault. It was no-ones. Nobody could've stopped it." He said solemnly. You lapsed into another wave of tears, burying your head into Steve's arm, and choking on the amount of air being restricted.

Please, no...