He felt the familiar sting, the pain that accompanied a bullet piercing his body. Before the next shot could be fired, the man was dead and Pietro was looking back at Summer, “I told you not to follow,” he said as the blood started to fall down his body as he started to get woozy, using a nearby car to hold himself up. ”Are you ok?”
“I can handle bullets!” she snapped. “Are you forgetting I’m not just an empath? There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Pietro.” She frowned and blocked his pain again. “I know you hate it when I’m in your mind but stop fighting me on this one,” she muttered.
Pietro shook his head. “I don’t care if you’re fucking bullet proof,” he said, ripping away his shirt to take a look at the bullet hole on his chest, “I’m not letting you get shot at while I can stop it.” He kept his mind running still, trying to keep her out somehow. “I can handle pain, Summer.”
“Well I can’t handle your pain, okay?” She pulled the rags of his shirt off him and peered at the wound. “Hospital or SHIELD? I’m going with you.” There was a host of other things she wanted to say to him, starting with ‘you idiot’ and ending with ‘why can’t you just say you love me’, but all she allowed herself to say was, “I don’t like the way you’re bleeding.”
