A Saviour At Last (Hawksilver/Marvel AU)

8

"I don't need to sleep," Pietro complained, making his way to stand back up only to be pushed back down again. The blond knelt in front of the Sokovian boy, worry pooling in his eyes.

"You do... So please, for me... Sleep..." The words came out soft and full of worry and Pietro sighed at the tone. He couldn't say no to that...

"Okay... I will sleep. But only a little!" Pietro didn't protest when Clint pushed him back on to the sofa so he was lying down, tucking the blanket around him like a parent would do with a small child. The blond fussed with the younger male, making sure he was comfortable. It took almost 5 minutes before Clint was satisfied that Pietro would sleep comfortably on the sofa and finally leave to get the shopping done.

The Sokovian let out a heavy sigh, currently on his side facing the TV which was playing some sort of show he didn't care about at a quiet volume. Lucky was soon padding her way back from where she had followed her beloved owner to the door, settling down in front of Pietro on the floor. She lifted her head to glance at the boy, seemingly trying to make sure he was okay before laying her head back down to fall into a deep sleep. A small smile settled on the boy's face, his eyes beginning to drop...

Pietro was absolutely shattered to say the very least. He had barely slept all week. Every time he tried his mind was plagued with flashbacks, memories of what once was his life, horrific fantasies of what could become of his life; Clint leaving, Pietro alone, slowly being lost to the unforgiving ice clutching and eating away at him until he was nothing more than a frostbitten corpse left on the streets of New York. One night he had woken up, only to then scramble his way to the bathroom to throw up everything in his stomach. It was unpleasant and left Pietro feeling exhausted throughout the day. Of course, he tried to hide it, but he hadn't slept at all last night and it was really starting to catch up with him.

Pietro was soon out like a light, so to speak. Lucky led close beside him, her back pressed against the sofa, as close as she could get to the boy from her position on the floor. Pietro curled into a ball on the sofa, clutching the blanket to his chin as is he would never be able to feel this warm ever again.

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Clint managed to get the shopping done in only an hour or so, including the travel. Luckily there was a rather large convenience only 20 minutes away from his apartment, give or take, depending on how Clint was feeling.

By the time he got to the apartment, it was gone one in the afternoon. As Clint opened the door he hoped to see his boyfriend (although he wasn't sure if they really were boyfriends) was still asleep on the couch. He had looked so sleep deprived, it was kind of scary.

Clint walked into the apartment and the first thing he heard was whimpering. He was instantly on high alert as he made his way down the small hallway into the main living area of the apartment. He looked around for only a second before his eyes found the source of the noises. Lucky was awake and alert, whimpering helplessly at Pietro.

The Sokovian boy was tossing and turning on the sofa, trembling with cold sweats and gasping harshly between loud sobs and cries. He flinched, kicking his legs and crying out Russian words Clint didn't understand.

Shit!

Clint dropped the bags in his hands and ran over to the quivering boy, pushing the dog away and commanding her to stay back. He knelt on the floor, grabbing Pietro by the shoulders and shook.

"Pietro! Come on, it's okay. It's just a dream." Pietro thrashed about, his hands flying up defensively and almost hitting Clint in the face as he did. Clint managed to grab his arms, trying to hold him still so he didn't hurt himself.. or Clint for that matter. "Pietro! It's me, Clint! Come on, wake up, buddy. You're alright." He shook the boy again, calling out to him. After a few more seconds of trying to coax the brunet from whatever hellish dream he was trapped in the young boy shot up. His breathing was uneven, sharp and shallow, quick and harsh. The older of the two quickly realised the telltale signs of a panic attack. Clint was quick to drag himself on to the sofa, grabbing the brunet's face gently and brush back his sweat ridden hair.