Chapter Text
Bruce came over when the hospital called him. Today they wanted to wake up Tony and check the possible damage to his brain. He was dead for a few minutes after all.
He knocked at the door to the room Clint shared with Tony, but he didn't wait, he just opened the door and entered. Clint, who sat beside Tony's bed and held his hand, scrambled up, knocked over the stool and pressed his hands against the wall. Bruce wanted to slap the back of his head. Of course the younger man was easily startled, after all that happened to him in the last two years and he just entered the room without proper warning or time to react.
“Clint,” he said, his hand raised to show him that he was no threat. Clint's breathing was still too fast but he seemed to recognize him, Bruce. “I'm sorry, Clint. It's just me, Bruce.”
“Okay,” came his reply after a very long, very tense moment. “I... I thought...” he started but Bruce shook his head.
“No, it was my fault. I didn't think,” he said and slowly, still both of his hands raised, he drew closer to the bed, to the other side so Tony was between them. Clint calmed down, slowly and he went to pick up the stool.
“I'm sorry, Bruce, I shouldn't...”
“No, Clint. It was my fault. And I'm really sorry. I won't harm you, you know,” he asked and the younger man nodded. Slowly he sat down, his eyes still on Bruce, and took Tony's hand. “I just came over because Dr. Rothman called me. She said they want to wake him up today.”
“I know,” Clint said quietly and used his other hand to caress Tony's cheeks. “I know. I hope...” he licked his lips and looked up at Bruce, “I hope he's okay.”
“Physically, yes, as far as possible. But there might be damage to his brain...” he said and Clint nodded slowly.
“I know,” he whispered and pressed his forehead against Tony's hand. “Don't give up, Tony,” he murmured for the umpteenth time.
“We...” Bruce started but got interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked at Clint and the younger man murmured 'enter' but he was sure whoever was outside couldn't hear him. So Bruce went over and opened the door.
Dr. Rothman smiled when she saw him and held out her hand. Bruce shook it and together they went to the bed, to Tony.
“Mr. Barton, I'm here to wake up Mr. Stark,” she said and went to the IV bag. She unplugged the line and removed the bag from the pole.
“What are you doing?” Clint asked and kept his eyes on her and her hands.
“I remove the drip infusion with the medicament that kept him in the coma. He should start to regain consciousness very soon,” she explained and Clint nodded.
“And then you can check for brain damage?” He asked.
Dr. Rothman nodded. “Yes, Mr. Barton,” she said. “But the last tests held a lot of promise.”
“So, you think he'll be okay?” Clint asked and Dr. Rothman nodded again.
“It seems so. For further details we need the test but... I think he's going to be okay.” She took the IV bag and went to the door, Bruce followed her.
“Thank you, doctor,” he said and the woman smiled before she hurried away to her next patient. When he turned back Clint sat on the stool again, very close to Tony and whispered into his ear.
“I don't care if you are still world's second smartest person when you wake up, Tony, as long as you remember who you are, who I am, that I love you and that you love me. Anything else... I don't care.”
Bruce went over to him and carefully, so that Clint could see it coming, he put a hand on his shoulder. “He'll be all right, Clint,” he said and the younger man looked up and then he nodded.
“I know. He's a fighter. He won't stop fighting.” He turned his head to look at Tony. “Do you hear me? You're a fighter. So, fight.”