Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Gotov k vypolneniyu.” The words echoed through the quiet room. The light was shallow, casting only a faint light across the asset’s face as it breathed heavily in its spot. Ready to comply.

“You have a mission, Soldier,” was the reply that came from the man standing in front of the asset, his face almost smug as he looked down at the man strapped in The Chair while he spoke in clear Russian. “An assassination with no witnesses. Your target is Maxwell Casetta, a man who has wronged us too many times. Any show of noncompliance will result in painful consequences for you, Soldier. Do you understand?”

“Understood.”

“You leave at sundown.”

The mission was no different than any other. The asset was accustomed to the repetitive routine, although the details it was not aware of: mission, memory wipe, sleep. It was only awake when needed. The asset acknowledged the pain it had felt and the numbness it experienced, but the memories of either lacked. It was a weapon, a dangerous soldier that has been trained to kill and nothing more.

It’s freedom was nonexistent, but what weapon was given choices?

The asset was allowed to choose his weapons for this mission though, most likely a choice given in order to lessen the workload of some agent. The asset did not spend much time dwelling on what gun it would rather choose, instead picking its weapons in a matter of seconds based on what the mission would require and nothing else.

The asset was not given any free time after its equipment had been collected, instead being pushed into training that would only benefit it on the mission if his position was compromised. The cause was unlikely as the soldier was trained to be never seen, never caught, to be a ghost.

The asset trained its eye on the target a few hundred feet in front of it, the gun in it’s hands held steady. In just a few seconds, the trigger was pulled and a bullet hit the center of the target. There were no claps, or smiles, or any reactions to the conclusion. The asset only continued shooting the bullets until the clip had run out, easily switching it out and then continuing the process until he was told to stop.

“Soldier.” A man’s voice called, the same one as before, the asset assumed. The soldier stood at attention, but stayed staring ahead with his gun only slightly lowered. “Weapons down, Soldier.” He requested, tone firm, the Russian hitting the asset’s ears in a way the asset found strict, “You leave in five minutes.” The statement was punctuated with not only silence, but an agent shifting his hold on a gun and watching the asset carefully. The action was almost tempting the asset to make use of the gun still held in its hand.

The asset complied though and allowed the two agents that accompanied the man who addressed it to guide him down the hallways until they reached a room that held even more agents and the supplies that the asset had seen earlier in the day. The soldier’s orders were repeated as it reviewed it’s weapons and suited itself.

“No witnesses, Soldier.” The words were tacked on for the second time in the past minute, as if the chance of a witness was higher than it had been earlier. Paying no attention to the change, the asset stood up straighter and adjusted to the new weight of more weaponry that hang from its body. It’s left arm shifted, causing the new tension that found its way into some of the agents’ bodies.

“Understood.” Came the asset’s voice, gruff and low from lack of use.

It would only be a matter of minutes until the asset was removed from the base and then an unknown time where the asset found itself in the middle of the mission.

“How much are you getting paid again?”

The man listened to the question, but waited a few seconds to respond. He busied himself with turning an arrow in his hands, glancing up once he let it go still, “Fifteen thousand,” he responded.

The woman nodded slowly, pushing some of her red hair behind her ear, “Fifteen seems a little low for killing this guy, Clint.”

Clint shrugged, turning and placing the arrow back into his quiver with the rest of the arrows. He eyed the bow that sat next to the quiver in the case before he closed it all up and leaned back against the wooden desk, letting his eyes shift around the room quickly. Clint was glad that they weren’t spending any longer than a day and a half in this hotel room. Even if he checked it for any bugs that had been planted, he never felt he could trust a hotel room for very long.

“I already grabbed some extra from the last job,” he explained easily, “If I take too much from each job, word will get around. You should know that, Nat.”

Natasha tilted her head slightly, “I do know that, Clint, but I also get paid more than fifteen thousand for a job.”

Clint watched her as she stood from the bed, tugging at her jacket sleeves. The jacket, Clint noticed, was his and he had a growing feeling he wouldn’t be getting it back by the time they left. He was pretty glad he had packed more than one jacket.

“This Maxwell guy is just another wealthy fucker, so I doubt anyone would be paying anybody anymore than twenty either way. I’ll be getting a better deal soon anyways.” Clint said, his voice confident and earning a roll of eyes from Natasha as she looked through her own gear.

“While you go play, I’ll be out earning much more than fifteen thousand, but I’ll see you.” The phrasing of her last comment allowed Clint the confirmation that he may be leaving the country without Natasha soon and left him wondering when he’d be seeing his friend again, but he hummed and allowed the reply to settle.

“This shit will be easy for me either way. The only part that actually will take just a little more thought is how I’m going to manage to get that arrow back as evidence for my contact.” He pondered aloud, glancing over to where his bow and arrows were safely packed.

“Well, if you don’t get going soon, it won’t matter either way because you’ll miss your mark.” Natasha commented, turning to face Clint with her arms crossed over her chest.

Clint watched her closely, noticing his still present surprise each time he came face to face with Natasha’s new haircut. The bob, matched with bangs, gave her a clean and soft look, but her natural presence, he knew, would make anyone tremble if they got too close. Her clothes, loose and made up of a t-shirt and sweatpants, allowed Clint the wish for a moment of quiet, even if his job didn’t really allow such an opportunity. It’s a nice thought though, especially as he spoke with someone he mostly trusted.

Clint wasn’t very aware of Natasha’s past, fully knowing that she had made up major parts she had told Clint and would most likely never reveal the full truth unless she felt she really could or needed to. He had done the same though, not to really keep himself safe, but to keep her at a reasonable distance in order to keep any order between private life and his career.

Clint hummed, “Good luck, Nat.” He settled on saying, a small smile settling on his lips.

One side of her lips tugged up, “You act as if I need it.” She walked up to Clint though and placed a hand on his shoulder, “If anything, I should be hoping that you don’t get cheated out like this again.”

Clint rolled his eyes, eyes flicking to the electronic clock that was sat on the nightstand in the small bedroom, “You definitely don’t think all that highly of me, do you Natasha?”

Natasha grinned and shrugged, stepping away and returning to her things, “Bye, Clint.” She stated, ending the conversation and giving clue to Clint that it was time for him to head out.

Clint was quick to gather his things, stealing one last glance at Natasha and hoping that he would get the chance to see his friend again, before heading off to the location he was given. He found it almost too easy to slip out undetected and to find an easy route to the roof of a building that was nicely located next to the certain apartment building where he was higher up than where he knew his target would be.

Clint made his way to the edge of the roof carefully, eyeing where he knew the target would be meeting with his team in the alleyway below him. He wasn’t a big fan of having to shoot down into an alleyway when more than one person would be around, but he found that groups like this had a small habit of fleeing when their leader was picked off.

Stepping away from the edge, Clint set himself up. He carefully removed his bow from its case and the quiver full of arrows followed next, eliciting a grin from Clint. He slipped the quiver over his body and held the bow comfortably in his hand, the other hand free and ready to grab an arrow.

Now, he had to play the waiting game.

The asset didn't take the grounds first. It knew which building it’d need to find itself on top of in order to gain the best opportunity for a shot, so he assessed his area from the the spot it knew it was needed to be in.

The asset had been shown the mission’s face, finding a man in his late thirties who seemed to only hold a smug grin. The asset was informed of the events that would occur in the night where he’d take the shot and take down the mission. The asset was also aware of the people who would be in the alleyway, knowing of the similar fates they were going to meet.

It would not be a messy mission for the asset. A gun was easy to clean up after in the asset’s case. Although the asset was unaware of it, he had a faint feeling that there would be much more unpleasant ways for these men to go down. His left hand curled at the thought.

He took in his surroundings carefully and slowly, watching for any movements or things that may affect the mission. The roof lacked any of those things, which brought his gaze to the other buildings. The apartment building next door, on the other side of the alleyway, was void of any activity with its lights dark and lacking many occupants to the Soldier's knowledge.

The building next to the asset on his right, lower and lacking as much cover as the building the asset had climbed, seemed void of anything as well. Despite such a fact, the asset felt a slight unease of trusting the thought of the area being secure. He decided not to dismiss the building and kept a careful eye on the rooftop while he prepared his gun and his area for the mission.

The asset was almost entirely still from where he was hidden from sight. He was positioned at the edge of the roof where he’d be at an angle to take out the mission from behind and be given easy access to where the others would most likely be situated. The gun would make no noise when the shots went off, which would control the situation greatly and give the asset more time than needed to take out the other members.

The asset waited as the night moved along, keeping a careful eye out for any movement.

Clint felt like he was being watched. He wasn’t sure from where or if the feeling was wrong, but he was certain that something was happening.

With the feeling, Clint didn’t dare move until he spotted any movement. He was perched in the shadows of the structures that were built atop the roof, the use of each he couldn’t tell in the dark. He wasn’t certain of how long he had been on the roof either, but one of his legs was growing stiff and the chill in the air was growing to be a real bitch.

He didn’t shift though, focusing on going over the steps he’d have to take in order to avoid injury or attracting too much attention to himself instead. His breathing stayed even and he kept a hand ready to reach for an arrow.

A minute or two after he had gone over his strategy for what felt like the hundredth time (and now he just wanted to actually sit down instead of going over a strategy he already knew before even getting on this roof), a shift in movement down by the street caught his attention.

He slowly shifted in order to get a clear view of the alleyway and street below, finding a man in a long coat, rather cliché in Clint’s mind, who was making his way down the alleyway in a manner that was both stiff and relaxed.

He kept his head down, but based on the neatly styled hair and the evident look of money on the guy, Clint was sure he found the target. He couldn’t take the shot just yet, that he knew, as it would leave too much time in between that point and when the people he was meeting would pop up. It would also leave Clint with the disadvantage of dealing with these guys up close when he attempted to collect his arrow. Based on his position, he would also need to wait for a certain moment for when he could take the shot that would kill the man instead of just an injury that would eventually take him out.

Clint watched closely as the man moved farther into the alley until he had settled against the wall, taking out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. He never took out a lighter though. A little pointless to take the cigarette out, no?

It was something close to another minute before any other person made their way into the alley. The motions reminded Clint of a leaky faucet in a way, as it started with one person making their way towards the target and only a second would go by before another would come. As the seconds ticked by, the men came in quicker by the passing second.

Clint couldn’t hear their discussion at all, but he saw the man push himself off of the wall and stand up straighter, as if to make himself look stronger. At this angle, Clint was sure the man would end up shifting into the correct spot soon. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the mark shifted so his back was facing the open street. The movement not only showed the lack of comfortability in the situation, but also gave Clint the perfect area for a clear shot.

He stood up carefully and drew a hand back to slip an arrow out of his quiver, the arrow coming to his front slowly. He moved, quick when nocking the arrow and aimed. He took in a deep breath, readying himself to take the shot and land the arrow right in the perfect spot.

As he was about exhale, and release the arrow, Clint watched as the target dropped and landed on his front.

Clint’s hold on the arrow didn’t lessen, but the breath came out short and his brows furrowed. He was tense now, ready to take out someone else that wasn’t the target that he was supposed to kill (there goes fifteen thousand down the drain) and let his eyes look around just as the four other men that had been with the target drop to their knees and grow lifeless.

What the fuck.

Clint’s hold on the arrow faltered now and he held his breath while anger flooded through him and irritation took charge. Although rather stupid, Clint took a step out from his hidden spot and aimed his arrow again in the direction of where he assumed the shooter was.

Clint faltered again when he came face to face with nothing but a building, but his lack of evidence of a person diminished when he saw the faint glint of metal that stood out against the dull metal and concrete of the roof on the other building.

Against everything that Natasha had told him and his past knowledge, Clint let the arrow fly in the direction of what he assumed was a person. He hadn’t aimed at anything in particular, but had aimed in the general area of where this thing was. Something he wasn’t expecting was when the arrow didn’t make contact with anything.

Clint’s eyes widened slightly as he witnessed the arrow be taken out of its flight before it could even hit anything, having been grabbed. The action wasn’t immediately accompanied by anything, which Clint filled with tucking himself behind his spot again.

Alright, what the hell?

Going against his better judgment, Clint ducked down and rolled out of his spot and landed in a kneel where he took aim again in the direction of the reflective metal. Probably disappointing Natasha even more, Clint decided that this was the best moment to speak up, “Motherfucker, you ruined everything!” He yelled, accompanying the statement with letting another arrow fly.

Perched on the roof and paying no mind to the cold or the gravel of the roof digging into the fabric coating its body, the asset killed the mission and his companions easily by only using up five bullets.

The asset felt nothing as it rose, no remorse or worry of punishment. It hadn’t been expecting much after taking the shot, but it’s body was still aware of it’s surroundings and situation. It hadn’t been expecting an arrow to fly in it’s direction, but it also didn’t hold any surprise as the asset easily grabbed hold of the arrow with it’s gloved right hand. The asset turned it’s head in the direction of where the arrow came from and found itself searching closely in order to find any sign of a person. It spotted the man just before he had ducked behind a metal structure.

The asset let the arrow drop and raised the other gun it had brought with the same hand just as another the man rolled out from his spot.

No witnesses.

Finger pushing down on the trigger to take out the man, the asset was taken aback by the words that came from his mouth.

“Motherfucker, you ruined everything!”

For the first time since the asset could remember, it slipped up. The arrow the man let loose made contact with the asset’s shoulder. The thick fabric sitting there didn’t allow the arrow to bury into deep, but the asset felt the arrow bury into his skin slightly.

With a shaky hand, the asset pulled the arrow out from it’s shoulder and tried it’s best to not let the words spoken echo through his head.

Such stupid words with such little desirable passion behind them. Such stupid words that were engraved in a deep black on the asset’s skin. Such stupid words that were one of the only recurring things in the asset’s life.

Just as the archer moved to shoot another arrow, the asset let anger take place of worry or concern so he could raise his gun.

Fuck those stupid words.

Fuck those stupid, stupid words.

Fuck those stupid words that the asset spent any free time just staring at.

The Soldier was a weapon and nothing more. Words engraved in it’s skin would never change that.

It let a bullet fly at the man, only growing irritated when the man easily moved out of the way of each bullet sent his way. As each bullet flew through the air, the asset inched closer and closer to the edge of the roof in the direction of the man until the asset felt it’s anger swell. The asset let it’s gun drop to the rooftop and easily dismissed an arrow flying it’s way while it replaced the gun with a knife. Despite its sudden emotions, the asset’s face—although mostly covered by a mask and goggles—remained void of any expression.

The asset started forwards at a quicker pace until it was running, seemingly catching the archer by surprise when the asset easily jumped from the rooftop to the next rooftop where the archer was situated.

No witnesses.

The asset had been trained in many types of combat, which gave it an advantage in all fights, this one being no exception.

Emotions were not something for a weapon, but fighting was an even match.

Anger was allowed, the asset decided. The source of the anger the asset didn’t ponder on, but instead let it rush through itself and let it run through the fight.

Clint watched the arrow bury itself into the shoulder of the person on the other roof. He expected a stumble, or a visible show of pain, but all they did was remove the arrow and let it drop.

Clint’s brows furrowed and he removed another arrow from his quiver and took aim. Before he could even let the arrow fly, a bullet came his way. Clint easily moved out of the line of fire and let his arrow loose. For each arrow he let go, a bullet was matched.

Clint’s heartbeat was faster than normal, his body tense from a mix of stress and anticipation. He felt that he wasn’t even a second ahead of each bullet that was shot, causing the archer to grow more anxious and merely hope this other person ran out of bullets before Clint ran out of arrows (which didn’t seem likely).

As the thought crossed his mind, he registered the person’s steps coming closer to the edge of the roof. He let one more arrow fly before the person had dropped their gun and ran towards the edge of the roof.

Clint’s eyes widened for only a brief moment before the person came into Clint’s view as they—he— landed on the roof without any visible signs of discomfort or strain.

Clint watched, almost mesmerized by the man’s smooth movements as he spun the weapon held in hand. A knife, maybe? Alright, yeah, that is a knife that can easily tear through Clint’s skin.

Clint cursed under his breath as he let another arrow fly at the man as he had started towards Clint. The arrow was easily avoided by the man, who took only a slight step to the side to let the arrow fly just above his shoulder.

Recognising his options, Clint let one last arrow fly, more so acting as a distraction, while he took off in the direction of where he knew a fire escape was placed. He had easily decided that if this guy could only let one of, maybe, twenty arrows hit him, and make no visible damage, Clint wouldn’t stand a chance in hand to hand combat. He also was the dumbass who showed up without an extra gun, for once.

His escape was easily tossed aside when a something sharp skimmed the side of his leg, causing a slight stumble on Clint’s part that allowed the man an easy opportunity to grab onto the back of Clint’s shirt.

Clint was tugged backwards, the intent obviously viscous. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he quickly shifted his grip on his bow and, once he was positive he had grown closer, shoved the edge of the bow backwards in order to dig it into the man. Clint didn’t feel the grip lessen on his shirt, but he attempted to turn either way and found himself earning a sound of tearing fabric rather than anything else.

Finding himself at a spot that allowed for what he hoped was a fair fight, Clint wasted no time before he let a punch fly towards the man. His fist never made contact, as a hand grabbed his own with a strong grip. Clint let his eyes asses the situation and— a metal hand?

His observation was pushed aside when the hand tightened its grip on Clint’s fist, earning a muffled groan of pain from Clint, but a shot of terror moved its way down the archer’s spine at the sight of the metal arm.

Clint didn’t let his bow drop either way, quickly shifting his stance in order to attempt to knee the man anywhere. The brief change in the other man’s posture from the attempt allowed Clint barely enough space to dig the edge of his bow back into the man’s side and twist out of his grip. His hand hurt like hell, maybe broken for all Clint knew, but he moved backwards in hopes of putting more space in between him and the man.

The short amount of time that lacked any contact gave Clint a clear view of the other man: tall-ish, but not close to Clint’s own height, white with ragged brown hair. The metal arm was obvious and extremely threatening now, accompanied by the body armor and the abundance of muscle on this guy. The goggles and mask (who actually wore masks in a fight?) covered the majority of his face though, which prevented Clint from getting a clear view of him at all.

Fuck, there was no way Clint was going to win against this guy. He could try his best though.

Mentally, he apologized to Natasha for his obvious stupidity, and tried his best to shoot one more arrow that the man easily avoided. Clint twisted then, attempting to get behind the man and barely succeeding, and started running towards a structure he knew would be easy to climb and most definitely a nice vantage point. He heard the other man follow after him, accompanied by the sound of a gun being loaded.

Clint, in just a quick moment, was able to climb on the structure and aimed an arrow at the man. He let it loose and watched, in slight surprise, when it buried itself in the man’s arm. The man seemed to ignore it though, much to Clint’s confusion. He shot another arrow and was disappointed this time around when it simply left just a small crack in the man’s goggles.

He couldn’t put a title on this man’s fighting style, besides chaotic and lethal, and didn’t understand how he easily dismissed injuries that others would be falling over from. He took notice of the new gun in the man’s hand either way and prayed to whatever god there was before jumping and diving towards him.

The gun never went off as Clint came down towards the man, somehow easily knocking into the man’s shoulder and twisted to get his bow over the guy’s head. The metal arm glinted in the light, much to Clint’s horror, once Clint managed to conclude his action and pull the bow backwards with him as he hit the ground.

He figured this guy was faster, much faster than Clint, so he counted on gravity to have this guy fall to the ground and maybe, just maybe trip him up for a few seconds.

Clint rolled away from the man once he fell to the ground, not far enough to not be in danger, and instead pulled an arrow from his quiver and rose slightly to bury it deep into the same spot he was sure he landed an arrow in earlier. The action was met with him being pushed back into the ground, the other man serving a blow to Clint’s face that most definitely would leave quite the mess.

Rushing to catch up with the sudden change, and the new pounding in Clint’s head from the contact it made with the gravel, Clint allowed too many blows to hit his body.

The man didn’t let up at all, his left hand holding Clint down and his finger’s digging deep enough into Clint’s shoulder that he felt even more pain next to the punches, while his right came down consistently.

In any other given situation, Clint would’ve probably loved being straddled by someone, but now he tried his best to hold back any obvious sounds of pain and tried his best to get the man off of him.

Feeling weaker by the second, Clint didn’t want to admit that he may actually lose this fight for good. Pain and worry crashed over him with each second. Wrapped up in his thoughts, a short, pained, whimper left the archer despite his refusal. The sound was met with hesitation on the other man’s part. No time to be wasted seemingly, the man released Clint and stood, only to pick him up by the front of his shirt and drag him towards the edge of the roof.

Clint looked up at the man with half-lidded eyes. The pain was washing over him in waves and he was very aware of the blood that dripped from his split lip and other wounds that littered his body from the fight.

Clint couldn’t fight back anymore and the thought made a part of him want to shut down. The worse part, he knew, was that he was still living and breathing through his pain. Maybe he would recover, but in the moment Clint couldn’t be sure.

The man released his hold on Clint’s shirt and spared a short glance down at him as he bent down and wrapped his metal hand around his neck instead. Fear taking over, Clint was able to raise his hands and desperately claw at the man’s arm in desperation while he was raised up. The man’s fingers only dug deeper into Clint’s skin, slowly cutting off his oxygen. Clint’s eyes blown wide and his face turning red, made brief, and surprising eye contact with the man.

The goggles had been removed, Clint was unaware of as to when this happened, but the addition only added to Clint’s worries. He was met with a man’s face that was lacking any emotion. Clear, blue eyes were empty and looking at Clint with such a stoic glare that would’ve made Clint uncomfortable if not in the middle of being killed.

As black dots clouded his vision, Clint felt a sudden lack of contact on his neck while his hands slipped from the arm. No nerves or anticipation flooded his body while he watched, lacking any clear vision, as the man’s face grew further and further away while he fell from the roof.

The motherfucker just had to punch, choke, and also drop Clint off a roof, didn’t he?

Clint acknowledged the feeling of objects digging into his back as he ceased in his falling. He had expected concrete and a sickening crack as his body made contact, but his body, although is still hurt, met an impact that was much softer than concrete. A little smellier too.

The last thing Clint saw before his vision went black was the man watching him from the roof, a cold and calculating look on his face before he was out of Clint’s sight. Clint just hoped that maybe he’d get another time to open his eyes.

Cleanup was easy for the asset. The Soldier’s weapons would return with him and be cleaned whereas the bodies would not. He—it collected any evidence needed and rid of the bodies in a simple matter. The only people that would find these bodies would be seeing it as a message and would not call for anybody.

Collecting its weapons, the asset’s eyes flickered to the abandoned bow and the arrows that the archer left behind before his fall.

No witnesses. No evidence.

Putting its own weapons away, the asset made its way to the bow and picked it up. He examined it easily and quickly and did not find anything too special, besides the obvious factor of age despite the noticeable care that had been put into caring for the weapon. Since being shot, the asset had already removed the other arrows that had landed on him and spared no extra thought. The wounds would heal on their own very soon.

The arrows took longer to collect, but the asset eventually made its way to the alleyway.

The soldier’s eyes flickered over to the dumpster where the archer had landed. The asset was not sure why he had pulled his punches and allowed the man a, somewhat, safe fall. He was sure the man would survive if strong enough. The thought of the man surviving irked him, but the asset relied on depending on the man not being strong enough.

For the first time since he could remember, the asset could not think clearly. He—it had recognized the first words he had heard from the man. There were not many memories of the words, but while prepping for the mission, the Soldier had noticed the words printed on his side. A strange phrase, it had decided, one that must’ve been there for a reason.

The asset assumed its handlers were aware of the print, so it released any thoughts it had on the words and had continued preparing for the mission.

They unsettled the asset though when he heard them aloud, as if it was meant to be significant. It followed it’s order though and followed the no witnesses rule to it’s best ability.

The anger the asset had felt still lingered, although some other strange emotion it couldn’t identify coated it. The anger had an uncertain source, but was useful in the fight.

At the thought, the asset turned and started towards where it's desired location for retrieval lay and dumped the bow and arrows along the way. It’s eyes skipped to the blood that had taken various spots on its metal arm, the red no longer surprising against the shiny metal. The blood looked wrong there, for once.

The mission had been taken out and the rules had been followed either way. The asset should not be receiving any punishments.

As the Soldier moved along in the shadows and away from the eye of the public that may be around, it repeated in its head: mission completed, no witnesses, no noncompliance shown.

Maxwell Casetta was just another name on the list of people the Winter Soldier killed.

For just a sweet, beautiful moment when Clint stirred, he forgot about the pain and the stench that surrounded him.

Once that nice little moment was over, Clint was pretty sure he would rather be dead. His eyes slowly opened, the night sky and the outer walls of the buildings coming into view. Clint wasn’t sure how long he was out, but he could easily tell that more than a little time had gone by based on how the sky was much darker than it had been. Clint didn’t try to move a limb of his yet, but darting his eyes back and forth from what he could see, he wisely concluded that he had fallen right into a dumpster.

As a quiet groan left his lips, his ears were met with a relieved sigh. Despite the pain, Clint felt himself tense up, as if he could actually fight someone in the moment. After a short moment of someone shuffling, he was relieved when he saw Natasha’s head appear above his own.

Her brows were furrowed and the look of concern on her features was obvious, “Clint?” She asked, her voice quiet and concerned. Clint noticed then how his hearing wasn’t exactly at its best, with his right ear, luckily not being the one facing Natasha, didn’t seem to be doing its job all that well.

Clint cracked a small smile up at his friend. He opened his mouth to speak, but when he tried his best to let out a few words, he was surprised by the sudden pain that erupted and how the only thing that came out was a hoarse gasp. Natasha reached a hand down and placed it over his mouth with a shake of her head, “There’s some nasty bruises on your neck, Clint. Whoever got to you really fucked you up.” She paused and watched Clint carefully for a moment, “Don’t speak or else it’s just gonna be worse on you.”

Suddenly, her face had disappeared from where he could see. More shuffling could be heard before Natasha popped up again, seeming a bit more at ease and a little taller, “You look like shit by the way.” She commented, eyes assessing his wounds, “But that aside, I’m going to get you outta here, but I need you to help push yourself up.”

Clint tried his best then and gave a short nod and raised an arm to grab onto the edge of the dumpster. The initial pain, he presumed, was from the still open wounds he had, whereas the rest of his body was majorly sore and tense. He felt Natasha grab onto the back of his neck once he had lifted himself just enough. He found her quite helpful then, offering him support as he slowly made his way to sit up.

“Clint, I know this hurts, but you need to try to go a little faster, buddy.” She said, her eyes drifting towards the street at the end of the alleyway, “Whoever your mark is most definitely is going to have some guys out looking for him and we don’t want to be here when they find him dead.”

Clint gave a brief nod before attempting to speed up the process.

Eventually, with a lot of support from Natasha, Clint managed to get out of the dumpster. Once his feet made contact with the cement, his legs nearly gave out on him. He leaned heavily against the wall until Natasha rushed down to his side, pushing an arm around him and doing her best to help him move.

The two walked down the alleyway, keeping to the shadows the best they could, “Both your hearing aids intact?” Natasha asked once they had gotten a few streets away from the dumpster. The hotel was starting to seem a lot farther than it had been when Clint left earlier that day.

Clint reached up slowly and tapped his right ear, which earned a hum of acknowledgement from Natasha, “We'll replace it, don’t worry, Clint.”

Clint left the conversation at a nod.

It was difficult to get back inside their hotel room, but once inside with the door locked, Natasha was much quicker to get Clint into the bathroom and make him sit on the toilet seat.

In the light, Natasha was slightly horrified with what she saw. Clint’s face, covered in his own blood, held multiple cuts and bruises, accompanied with a split lip. The bruising on his neck seemed to be worse than she originally thought and she could see the bloodstains on his pant leg and on parts of other articles of clothing.

She swiftly left the bathroom and returned with her bag where she had been keeping some medical supplies that might help Clint out. Taking another look at her friend, her biggest worries remained on his neck and the obvious cut on his leg.

Clint leaned heavily against the wall to his right, not allowing his eyes to shut. As Natasha got to work on trying her best to patch up Clint, he blocked out thinking about any stitches that were pushed into his skin or any minor burning from antiseptic.

He thought over the fight, thinking closely about what the guy was up to. They obviously had the same target, but based on there being a fight, Clint was pretty sure that this guy was working for someone special or just had some issues. He wouldn’t be surprised by either. He also pretty sure he gets paid a lot more than Clint.

His mind wandered to the metal arm then. People don’t just have metal arms like that, Clint decided. With his foggy head, Clint couldn’t ponder on such a thought for too long, but he made a small reminder to himself to actually think about getting beat up.

At some point, which he didn’t notice, Natasha took a long look at her friend. Her head had moved to wondering about who he had gone up against. She knew Clint was a fighter, so there was no way he just allowed this to happen. He a clever guy, too, so he should’ve been able to manage himself just long enough to get out of there at least.

Once Natasha had finished doing her best to patch Clint, she crossed her arms over her chest, “Clint, you do know we can’t leave when you’re like this, right?”

Clint nodded and looked over to his friend. He raised his hands and sat up a bit straighter and began signing, hoping it didn’t come out too lazy. How bad is it?

Natasha watched his hands and let out a short sigh, “Bad enough that I’m not sure I can help you out entirely.”

Clint let his head fall to the side again, signing. I can’t go to an actual doctor. Too much risk. I am sure you knew that.

She nodded and glanced at the bathroom door, “I know someone who can help you out, but it's a bit shaky in the security part. If I can get you there, we need to make sure what we tell them can’t lead back to us at all.”

Clint nodded and raised a shoulder in a half-assed shrug and raised his hands again. So what did the guy leave me with?

Natasha ran a hand through her hair, “Somehow with how bad your face looks, he left you with a nasty cut on your calf, split lip and some extra cuts and bruises, along with what I hope aren’t broken ribs,” she paused, “But I can't do much about your neck right now since I don’t have the stuff to help with that, but the guy I know can help. In the end, it probably could have been a lot worse.”

Clint nodded and signed back. Sounds great as long as he does not ask for my name or how this happened at all. He confirmed.

Natasha hummed and took a step forward, placing a hand under Clint’s chin in order to turn his face to look more towards her, “We’ll see them tomorrow, alright? I’ll be keeping a close eye on you until then.” She pulled her hand back and held a hand out for Clint to grab, “You’re taking the couch while I call these people, okay?”

Clint gave another hand, grabbing her hand and allowing Natasha to help him to the couch. He still felt rather shitty, and gross, but he knew he’d have to wait for any means of bathing until after Natasha had spoken to whoever she need to so he could confirm he might be up to it.

He settled back into the couch easily, staring at the beige wall next to the small television in front of him. He could vaguely hear Natasha shut the door behind her as she stepped into the bedroom. Irritated by his lack of hearing, Clint reached up and removed his surviving hearing aid and let it drop down next to him on the couch.

Clint tilted his head down slightly to take an actual look at himself, finding his shirt mostly ripped and all articles of clothing on his body dirtied from both the fight and the dumpster. God, he probably smelled terrible. Lifting the leg that had been cut by the knife slightly, he wasn’t surprised by the way his pant leg had been torn for easy access. From the looks of it, the knife didn’t cut nearly as deep as Clint originally thought and the stitches Natasha had done seemed pretty stable. His brows furrowed at the sight, wondering what the rest of his body must look like.

That guy was vicious and most definitely ready to kill Clint if he needed to, so was there some reason behind leaving him to sit rather than take his knife to Clint’s throat?

Clint shut his eyes tightly at that and opted for waiting for Natasha to reappear. Realizing that Natasha was unaware of his lack of hearing aids entirely, he opened his eyes right before Natasha emerged again. She started to speak, but Clint cut her off with the movement of his hands: No hearing aids in.

Natasha paused before she came and sat on the coffee table in front of Clint, raising her hands to sign, We leave at six tomorrow morning and they will not ask any questions.

Clint nodded and watched the concern flush her features again.

Can you recall anything significant about this guy? She questioned.

Clint shrugged, About my height, white, brown hair, blue eyes, and a metal arm.

Natasha visibly tensed at the mention of the description, her hands pausing, How did he fight?

Clint rolled his eyes, Couldn’t really make that out while I was fighting to get out of there alive.

Stubborn as always, Natasha refused to let it drop and instead continued, If you dealt with who I think you dealt with, you shouldn’t even be sitting here. At the comment, Clint’s brows furrowed. She continued, Which arm was metal?

Left, Clint answered easily. Natasha knew who the guy was? Clint couldn’t say he would be that surprised.

Her jaw clenched and her hands dropped into her lap. She hesitated before she ran a hand through her hair. Clint saw her say something, he assumed ‘fuck’ used three times, before she met his eyes, I don’t understand, you should be dead right now.

Clint raised a brow, If you wanted me dead so much, I would think you would have taken me out a long time ago.

She rolled her eyes, If you really fought the guy I think you fought, I don’t know if I should be impressed you lived or if I should be worried he let you live. She seemed to think each idea over.

Not like he knows my name or anything. As long as we get out of the country by the end of the week, I doubt I will see him again. Clint responded, his head starting to hurt and begging for some pain killers he wasn’t sure they had.

Natasha sighed and shook her head, I would never be that sure.

Natasha let the subject drop after that, instead shifting to check how Clint was feeling and her concerns over his injuries. She explained that they probably could leave by the end of the week as long as Clint’s face looked just a little bit better.

Eventually, they ended the subject entirely before shifting to very briefly discussing Natasha’s night.

As she was explaining how she was able to get her target alone, Clint came to the realization that he had no fucking clue where his bow and arrows were.

Feeling bad for interrupting, although deciding that his bow was more important, he signed quickly, Do you have my bow and my arrows?

Her brows furrowed at the question, her eyes moving from Clint’s eyes to behind him briefly before she swore again, Clint assumed. She signed back, I was hoping you knew. She paused, I was on the roof first and saw nothing and they weren’t near or with you.

So they’re just gone? Clint asked.

She hesitated, More so I believe the man took them. The new worry was clear on her face, although she didn’t share the reasoning why. Instead of pushing the subject, Clint his head fall back as he shook his head.

He shot out a couple angry remarks over the loss of his bow, the sadness over the loss leaking in as well. Natasha chose not to respond, instead watching Clint carefully before settling down on the couch next to him once he calmed down.

She patted his knee in what Clint assumed was meant to be comforting. Eventually, she settled her head on Clint’s shoulder. They didn’t converse for some time, instead taking time to pause for just a moment. Later in the night though, she forced Clint to allow her to help him clean up and get out of clothes that couldn’t be saved in any way.

The two didn’t get much sleep after that, mostly from their lack of relaxation that entire night, but managed to gather their needed things and leave the room at six on the dot.

Clint still thought over that stupid fucking metal arm and that motherfucker who ruined his night throughout the morning and afternoon.

The asset was told not to lie, so the asset never did. It learned to tell the truth to its handlers, and only its handlers.

This mission ended differently than the others, the asset decided, based on the glances the agents shared. The man he had seen before he had left shared a few words with another agent before facing the Soldier again, “We have a change of plans, Soldier.” He explained, “No memory wipe this time. You will be leaving again in three days for an additional mission that requires your previous knowledge of Maxwell Casetta.” He continued, eyes trained on the asset.

The asset listened and responded when needed. With a lazy motion of his hand, the man assigned two agents to accompany the asset to it’s living quarters. There, it would be allowed to bathe, eat, and change its clothes in return for lack on noncompliance on the mission.

No witnesses.

The words echoed in the asset’s head vaguely as it was directed to its quarters. The asset decided that it did not lie when asked if there were any witnesses.

No witnesses, it had stated with no hesitation.

It was not sure what the reaction had been on the man, mostly from the lack of expression on his face.

The statement was not a lie. The asset had terminated the witness, having inflicted enough damage it assumed would kill the man in little time.

He assumed.

The uncertainty in the thought was dismissed easily by the asset, along with worries over the possibility of lying.

The agents each took a side of the door once they reached the asset’s living quarters.

In a clipped tone, one of the agents addressed the Soldier, “Bathe, change, and food will arrive.” The door was pushed open then and the asset entered after giving a short nod in understanding.

It heard the click of the heavy lock that laid on the outside of the door, giving the asset a clue to being locked inside.

The plain room was nothing more than concrete with a small, metal bed frame with a sleeping mat upon it and an archway that let to a small bathroom. Said room consisted of more concrete and an old shower head and an equally aged toilet.

The asset took notice of the clothes thrown upon the sleeping mat, being nothing more than a white A-shirt and dark sweatpants. The clothes were not clean, the asset could easily tell. Most likely, they had not been washed since whenever the asset last wore them.

The asset easily stripped itself of its clothing and took the few steps to the bathroom. It stepped under the shower head and turned the slightly rusted knob. When the cold water made contact with the asset’s skin, it did not flinch, instead plucking the small and used bar of soap from its makeshift ledge in the wall. The asset knew time was important in these times, so it did not spend any longer than a few minutes bathing.

By the time the water had turned off, the asset was also aware of the main door being momentarily unlocked and an agent entering the room. The asset stood under the shower head for a few moments more until the door made an audible click again.

When the asset moved from its spot and back to the area of the sleeping mat, it saw a tray of food set on top of the clothes it would change into. It’s mission clothes had been temporarily removed from where the asset had left them.

It easily moved the tray out of the way while it picked up the clothing with its other hand. The asset set the tray down carefully before moving onto pulling on the clothing in its hand.

Before the asset pulled on the last article of clothing, the A-shirt, it took a look at its side. The words were still sat evenly on its skin, the deep black obvious against the skin.

‘Motherfucker, you ruined everything!’ was written in a messy scrawl, the space between the letters lacking slightly and every other letter connecting. The asset expected a new swell of anger at the sight, but instead it felt nothing.

It wasn’t sure which it would rather feel.

At the acknowledgment of the words engraved in its skin, the area prickled with pain. With furrowed brows, the asset felt the pain increase until it felt as if it’s skin was being burned. The asset watched closely as the area turned pink, the pain being pushed away with just a short acknowledgement. As the pink grew, the letters’ color shifted from their black to a rich red.

The pain disappeared after a few short moments and instead left the asset staring at the spot in confusion. Almost to the asset’s horror, a flash of the sight of blood splattered on the metal of its arm came to its mind.

The asset allowed thoughts to push through for once, feeling worry and a faint sadness at once.

The asset, alone, much to its despair could not remember what these words were for. They were a stable part of the asset’s time though. It took comfort in the only familiar thing it knew about. It was unaware to the reason of why a memory wipe did not remove this information.

Was that the source of it’s anger?

The asset found familiarity in the phrase, and the use of it from a witness to a mission didn’t seem fair in a way. The phrase was something on the asset’s body, maybe even something that was his.

The asset partly feared and partly loved the idea of having the ownership of this part of itself.

It slowly moved its left hand, trailing its fingers over the scrawl on it’s right side. The moment felt too personal, too intimate, for the asset.

Quickly, it tugged on the A-shirt and ignored the quickening of its heartbeat.

It took a seat on the sleeping mat and started on the food on the tray. It was easily described: bland, dull, and only holding what was absolutely needed.

It set the tray aside, placing it on the ground a couple feet away.

The asset moved to lay on its back once the tray had been set down. The only thing it saw was the faint sight of the concrete roof. The room was pushed into darkness long ago, with only a single light adding any light at all.

The asset’s enhancements didn’t allow such a worry though. At the point it was at, food and a time to rest was not a necessity but rather a luxury that was not currently needed. Perhaps it was nice, but the asset was more accustomed to long times without food while it acted on a mission.

The asset did not sleep much, although its mind did not wander very far.

By the second day of three before its next mission, the asset had adapted to the idea of having something.

The words, now red, engraved into its skin belonged to the asset. They should not be taken.

The asset was not allowed these things and in the moment the asset was brought in for a briefing of it’s next mission, the agents had discovered the red words.

He had gone with a fight while they pulled him to the locked room holding The Chair. The metal of the arm did not lack at least some of the agent’s blood by the time they got him into the room.

The wicked grin on the man’s face as the asset was strapped into the chair angered the asset and for the first time created fear in it that settled in it’s bones because the asset didn’t want to forget this. It didn’t want to forget the one thing that was his.

“Soldier,” the man addressed with a shake of his head, “You are a weapon of Hydra. You do not involve yourself in such human things such as that mark.” The grin grew slightly as he saw the asset’s chest rise and fall with it’s heavy breathing, “A shame, truly. You were doing so well.”

That was the last thing the asset heard before the pain started and a scream ripped its way out of his throat.

Chapter Text

Clint Barton was not a man who begged, mostly. When it came to his dog though, the circumstances tended to be pretty different.

“Tony, all I’m asking for is that you watch Lucky for three hours,” Clint said, exasperated by Tony’s lack of compliance.

“And in those three hours I could be working down here instead of watching your fleabag.” Tony stated easily, not glancing up from the small device he was tinkering with. The use of which, Clint wasn’t sure about. For all he knew, they were a new version of Natasha’s widow bites, even if the object seemed a little too oddly shaped.

“I will pay you, Stark! The only thing you need to do is make sure his water bowl is full and to let him out to potty a couple of times.” He tried to reason.

Tony gave a short chuckle and looked up, his hands pausing, “I’m a billionaire, Clint,” he paused, “But, I have a different option for you if you’re up for it.”

Clint raised a brow, “As long as it won’t piss off Steve or make me a criminal, I’ll be up for it.”

Tony released his project and leaned forwards, his body leaning heavily against the workshop table. He propped his head up on a hand, his chin resting delicately on his fist, “The bet from two weeks ago? Steve still hasn't found out about it and if I’m the one to let him know about it, he will get all pouty and pull that disappointed look instead of kissing and cuddling me.” He explained.

Clint crossed his arms over his chest with a roll of his eyes, “If anything, Steve will forgive you much faster than he’d forgive me. You’ve got the option to get down on your knees and use that to your advantage, but I’m not the one who’s getting it on with America’s sweetheart.”

Tony stood up straighter and sighed, “Guess your Lucky will have to come with you and rearrange your plans.” He gave a quick shrug, the beginnings of a grin appearing on his lips.

Clint clenched his jaw, hesitating. He had made these plans with Pietro and Wanda weeks ago back when Pietro was still recovering in the hospital (thank god he was actually able to recover). Pietro had spent a majority of his time, once he was up to it, complaining about the bland hospital food at SHIELD. Clint made a promise to get the twins a proper, nice meal once Pietro was healed and healthy pretty quickly after that. He couldn’t just cancel this and try to find a place that would allow a golden retriever.

Clint realized he really only had one choice, “Fine, but you’re taking the fall for the next bet if I have any control over it.” He stuck out a hand, which Tony took and shook quickly.

Tony allowed the smile to grow on his face while his hand fell back to his side, “Perfect. Show time, Barton.”

Before Clint could even raise a brow, Steve’s voice rang through the room, “What are we betting on? If it’s about Natasha and Wanda, I’m betting that it will be Natasha that breaks first.” He slinked behind the table and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist as he spoke, the action coming across easy and comfortable.

Clint grinned, “I’d match you on that.” He decided to agree, “Nat has been lookin’ at Wanda in a little bit more than a friendly way these last couple of weeks, but she m—” A loud, and rather obvious cough from Tony cut Clint off. He found it as an attempt to push Clint back on track, which earned a roll of his eyes in return, “Y’know, speaking of bets, Steve,” Clint started, eyes flickering onto Tony who still seemed at ease in Steve’s arms.

Steve raised a brow, causally placing his chin on top of Stark’s head. From the action, Clint let out a sigh and let himself pity Tony for just a few seconds. He was pretty sure that the guy wouldn’t survive five seconds without Steve by his side.

“I know you’ve been trying to figure out who started the betting on your outburst in that one interview, and I just wanna step forwards and take the blame. It was an asshole move, so I’m sorry, Steve.” The words felt fake coming out of his mouth, but he was hopeful that Steve would take it as an effect of his lack of need for apologies.

Steve hummed, eyeing Clint carefully. All while watching Clint, Steve loosened an arm from around Tony’s waist and instead briefly dug it into the man’s waist. Tony jumped at the action, frowning when Steve pulled himself away from him and crossed his arms over his chest, “Tony, you can’t just have Clint take the blame for your bets.”

Tony didn’t hesitate before turning his head to Clint, who had already started inching towards the workshop doors, “I’m calling off our deal, Barton! Take your dog with you!”

Clint shrugged, “Sorry, Stark, but we shook on it!” He hurried his steps towards the doors, only hesitating to throw back one more comment, “I swear that after laying your eyes on Lucky, you’ll be in love, but good luck, buddy!” The last comment, he directed towards both the current situation and his new responsibility for the next three hours.

Before the doors shut behind him, Clint heard the disappointed sigh slip from Steve’s lips. He was pretty sure Steve would only maintain the grudge for only a day or two before he was attached to Tony at the hip once again. Clint was also pretty sure that Tony truly was going to fall in love with Lucky by the end of the three hours.

Once Clint had arrived to his desired door via the elevator, Clint whistled while he made his way through the floor, easily finding Wanda sat on the couch. Her fingers moved quickly against the screen of a cell phone that was comfortably settled in her hands. Ever since Tony had finally convinced the Maximoffs to take the new device as a gift from the man, Wanda had been more focused on being able to easily navigate the device while Pietro was rather involved in documenting the dumb things that each avenger did. It became known that a camera mixed with the man’s speed was not their favorite pair.

“Hello, Clint.” Wanda greeted evenly, her head turning to catch Clint’s eye while he came closer to the couch, “Pietro should be ready to leave in just a few minutes, but feel free to let him know about your arrival.” She offered him a smile.

Clint returned the action and hummed, “I’m sure if I don’t, he’ll just end up blaming me for making us late.” The comment earned a light chuckle from the girl while Clint moved once more in the direction of Pietro’s bedroom.

Clint wasted no time before raising a hand to knock on the door. Before his fist could even land on the wood, the wind that blew against his cheek gave him clue to lower his fist and let out a sigh. When he shot a glance to the couch, he wasn’t surprised to see the white haired boy sat comfortably next to his sister with a smirk resting on his lips.

“You are going to make us late, old man,” Pietro said, his accent coming off much thicker than Wanda’s, “Standing outside of my bedroom is only wasting time.”

Clint rolled his eyes and started back towards them, “I’m only thirty,” he commented briefly. He made a mental note to remind Pietro to take it easy on the running before the two stood up and joined him once he had passed them. It had been a couple months since the speedster was shot, but he still had to be cautious. The three made their way to the elevator with a comfortable silence settling around them.

Clint had grown close to the twins since the events of Ultron. He realized that spending more time with one of them usually followed with the other twin gaining interest on the other’s new acquaintance, of which Clint didn’t find himself bothered by. He had decided pretty early on that forgiving the two for what had occurred was the best choice, especially when he realized that they were truly only kids who were trying to help out their country. Clint had shared a pretty long conversation with Steve over the matter.

Having Pietro almost die for Clint was a pretty big thing as well. Even in that moment, Clint wasn’t entirely sure of the reason behind Pietro’s bold actions that day, but Pietro had let Clint know about most of what he had been thinking. Clint felt a mix of both sadness and pride at the words that came from the Sokovian. He hadn’t expected the boy to casually tell him that he felt that Clint’s and the child’s lives mattered more in the moment. Pietro hadn’t said it, but Clint was pretty certain that knowing his assistance to Ultron helped hurt his own country still weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Having the two join the Avengers made Clint, and most of the team once they made the attempt to hold a full conversation with them, pretty happy as well. The Maximoffs were both young and talented with the hope of doing something good, which Clint found himself honoring a lot.

With such a thought in mind, a smile grew on Clint’s face, “How have you two been settling in?”

Wanda smiled at the question, “It has been nice,” she started, “And Stark allowing us to even stay here has been a gift in itself.”

Pietro hummed, “It is very nice here and I’ll admit that the training room is quite impressive.”

Clint grinned, “Speaking of, how’s training been?”

Pietro crosses his arms and smirked, “Beating your ass each time we spar has been too easy, old man. Perhaps your age makes you a little slow?”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Next time remind me not to pull my punches then, Speedy.”

At the comment, Pietro’s brows furrowed, but Wanda spoke up, “I’ve really enjoyed training with Natasha. She is an exceptional fighter, which I’m sure you knew.”

Clint hummed, “Nat told me she’s thinking the same of you.” He spoke the truth, mostly just to nudge Wanda and Natasha along.

A light blush found its way on Wanda’s cheeks, “She did?” She asked, hope clear in her voice.

Clint nodded and eyed the red words that peeked out from under the girl’s sleeve when she lifted her hand and pushed some hair behind her ear.

Clint was certain that Wanda and Natasha hadn’t exactly made any comments on the activation of their marks yet. A pity, he thought. He had been ecstatic when he saw the red words on Natasha and was eager to get the details from her. What he hadn’t been expecting was to hear that she was linked to a certain gal who had once been their enemy. Clint tried to nudge her into talking to Wanda about the topic in deeper details, but Natasha had grown attached to the idea that they needed to stay professional.

He thought it was bullshit.

If he met his soulmate, he was pretty sure the first thing he’d do was jump their bones and be relieved that they were actually there.

Clint knew it wasn’t his place to meddle though, so he didn’t push the conversation.

The elevator doors opened soon enough and the three set off.

The new Avengers facility was a little farther out and isolated than the tower had been, but Clint easily understood why.

Ignoring Pietro’s protests, Clint convinced the twins to take a seat in his old car so they could arrive at their desired location.

Just to get on his nerves, Pietro continued to make short, quick comments about the “slow” speed of Clint’s car. In replace of a reply, Clint settled for rolling his eyes and carrying a light conversation with Wanda (and Pietro once he decided to actually converse instead of be a snark).

“You said that this restaurant was nice, correct?” Wanda asked as they neared the establishment.

Clint spared a glance in the rear view mirror to take a look at Wanda. She had her head turned towards the window, her eyes following the sites. Pietro had been doing the same, but with his seat in the passenger seat, he had a little more to look at, “Trust me, if this place weren’t good, I wouldn’t be taking you here for your first lunch as Avengers.”

Pietro tapped a finger on his knee quickly, a habit Clint had noticed the boy held, “First lunch like this in America,” he corrected, his voice a little quieter than normal.

“Than we should probably get some ice cream or somethin’ too, huh?” Clint asked the two. With a quick glance, he saw the slight grin on the older Maximoff’s face and the small smile on the younger’s.

Clint was sure he couldn’t express how glad he was that these two were still around.

Eventually, Clint was able to pull into a parking lot and put the car into park. As they walked to the entrance of the restaurant, Clint inched a little closer to the twins once he noticed Wanda’s hand wrapped tightly around her brother’s wrist. He was sure it was an old habit, but he still found himself concerned over whether or not they felt safe in the unknown area.

Clint even went the extra step and held the door open for the two (he got a quiet thank you accompanied by a smile and a snarky comment accompanied by a playful tug at his jacket, the owners of each easily guessed), before he followed the two inside. The restaurant wasn’t packed luckily, so getting a table took no longer than a minute or two.

Taking a look around, Clint was glad he had picked the spot. There were multiple large windows that allowed an easy access to seeing their surroundings and the light that shone through the panes gave the room a nice lighting that didn’t make Clint feel like he was in a small, closed off space.

Based on the looks on Pietro and Wanda’s faces, he was pretty sure they felt the same.

Once seated, the three were quick to take a glance at their menus. A light chatter floated around their table, along with Clint having to nudge Pietro more than a couple times to remind him that he was allowed to ask for any help with his menu like Wanda has been doing. The entirety of the menu was not all that simple, something Clint forgot.

Wanda understood swiftly that Clint was free to offer help in explaining a dish throughly or explain the strange wording of anything. Pietro, on the other hands, seemed well adjusted to having to do things on his own and for his sister. He spared her an extra glance each time she looked to Clint for assistance.

Once they had each ordered, their conversation grew luckily.

“You still have yet to introduce Lucky.” Wanda commented at some point in between Clint and Pietro’s brief argument of won their recent sparring match, of which had been broken up by Clint getting called out for a mission.

Clint perked up at the mention of his beloved dog, “As long as Stark can actually take care of a pet, you two can pop in and say hello to him.” Despite his comment, Clint was confident in asking Tony to keep an eye on Lucky. He was pretty sure the dog had already grown on Tony when they had first been introduced, even if Tony wouldn’t admit that.

Pietro grinned at the confirmation, “I’m going to end up stealing your dog, Clint, and Wanda will assist me.” He decided to comment, his words slow as he swirled the straw in his water glass.

Clint raised a brow, “I’d like to see you try,” he replied, “Lucky is a loyal dog, and even your neverending speed can’t steal him away.” Or at least Clint hoped it couldn’t.

Wanda rolled her eyes, “More likely you’ll be seeing Pietro much more once he grows attached to your pet. Even he isn’t cold hearted enough to steal a pet from a loving owner.”

Clint chuckled, “Lucky would probably fall in love with you either way as long as you were nice enough.”

Pietro raised a hand briefly once that was said, catching the attention of both Wanda and Clint, “Speaking of, how is Agent Romanoff?”

Clint felt his smile grow at that, sparing a glance at Wanda who was now very interested in her water cup, “She’s doing great,” he started, “Thinks Wanda is doing very well in her training and seems very glad of their partnership.”

Pietro hummed, “Ah, but I doubt they are doing as well as we are in training, no?” He didn’t wait for a response before continuing, “But, we cannot deny the connecting Wanda and Nata—”

“You two are unbearable.” Wanda said, cutting them off.

Pietro shrugged, “Maybe we would not be if you spoke to Natasha.”

Wanda shot a glare at her brother, “It is not that easy.” She mumbled.

Clint tapped a finger on the table, “Nat may look a little scary sometimes, especially when you know that she could kill you in many, many ways, but trust me, she’d respond nicely if you spoke to her. God knows she won’t do it herself.”

Wanda looked up at that, “Why is that?”

Clint hesitated, thinking over whether or not it was his place before acknowledging that there was a good chance that Natasha may struggle with letting Wanda know the full truth, “You have been through a lot, Wanda, and so has she. She’s guarded for good reasons and it’s difficult to break that down and see who she really is on the inside, if she even knows. Most of all, she’s probably worried, scared maybe, of not being able to be fully there for you.” He paused, watching Wanda carefully, “She was the same way back when we were first partnering up before SHIELD actually. I was one of the only people who was able to know her, and even then, it’s taken me about nine years to get to know her.”

Wanda stayed silent for a few seconds, her gaze calculating. “Do you think she’d let me in?” She asked slowly.

Clint nodded slowly, “If she could spare enough time to pull my dumbass out of dumpsters eight years ago, I’m positive she can make a spot in her heart for her soulmate.”

A smile grew on the girl’s face at that before she turned her blushing face down to her drink again. Their food arrived then, but Clint didn’t mix the nudge Pietro gave him and the smile her shot his way.

Taking a look at the twins, Clint found himself smiling with how at ease they looked. Both were dressed simply and comfortably, with Pietro sporting a plain shirt and joggers and Wanda clad in a nice dress he was pretty sure Steve had gotten her as a welcoming gift. The gift only made Clint more certain that Steve was growing to be the team mom in a way.

Despite their attire, Clint was mostly focused on how they interacted with each other and himself, their smiles, and the way they held themselves confidently now. Clint, himself, was confident in saying that these two were going to do amazing things.

“Stark update you on anything lately?” Clint questioned as the three made their way to the elevator in the Avengers facility, each hoping that the ice cream cones on their hands wouldn’t hit the floor at any point.

Pietro shrugged, “He’s working hard,” he started, “Last he told me, Wanda and I were very close to becoming U.S citizens.”

Clint hummed, “Hopefully Tony can stick to his word.”

“I believe he will.” Wanda commented as they moved inside the elevator.

“I don’t doubt him,” Clint responded truthfully.

Clint took a look at Pietro, finding himself equally worried and not surprised when he saw the lack of an ice cream cone in his hand, “Kid, you gotta lay off on the running. It’s amazing that you can even use your abilities right now, but you’re still in the recovery stage even if you’re nearing the end of it.”

Pietro rolled his eyes, “You worry too much, Clint.” His words were dismissive, but Clint was glad he was able to spot the lack of denial of the statement. He was sure Wanda would have his head if he tried to speed off more often either way.

Once they stepped out of the elevator onto Clint’s floor, Clint spoke again before he finished off his cone, “Hey, Friday, where is Lucky right now?”

Pietro jumped a bit when the A.I replied, obviously still not used to it, “He is currently playing fetch with Captain Rogers in the training room, Mr. Barton.”

Clint hummed, quickly washing his hands, “Is Tony there too?”

“He is standing near door and watching them play.”

“Thanks, Friday.”

Clint dried off his hands, waiting patiently for Wanda to finish her ice cream while keeping up conversation when he could.

Once all three were finished, they made their way to the training room. When they entered, Tony, Steve, and Lucky didn’t notice them at first. Lucky was too enthralled with Steve and the ball held in his hand while Tony watched them fondly.

Clint took a few steps closer to Tony, “Told you you’d fall in love.”

Tony jumped slightly at Clint’s voice but didn’t turn towards him, “Guess your play date is over?” He joked.

Clint shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “Just couldn’t resist seeing my lovely dog again.” At the statement, Clint called our Lucky’s name. The dog perked up, his tail wagging excitedly, before he bounded over and pushed himself into Clint’s hand to be pet. Clint decided to ignore the pout Steve was wearing now.

Once Clint had greeted Lucky, he turned to Pietro and Wanda who were still close to the door. Clint gestured from Lucky to the twins as he spoke, “Lucky, these are Pietro and Wanda and dearest twins, this is Lucky.” He introduced.

At the mention of his name, Lucky continued to wag his tag, his attention now directed onto the Sokovians. Focused on the interaction, Clint barely noticed Steve and Tony slip out through the other door. He did wish though that he didn’t see the hand that Tony had comfortably placed on Steve’s ass. Clint wasn’t all that surprised that Tony didn’t even have to go a day without Steve by his side.

Lucky trotted over to the two, sniffing the hand that Pietro stuck out quickly before he practically threw himself into the boy’s legs. Pietro didn’t seem all that affected by the movement, but he was quick to start scratching at the dog’s side with a large smile on his face. Just as Lucky seemed ready to fall into Pietro’s legs, his attention was stolen away when Wanda bent down to he near eye-level with the dog. She barely mumbled out a ‘hello’ before Lucky had started licking her face.

Stunned, Wanda didn’t react momentarily before she nudged the dog’s face away and opted for using one hand to scrub at her face and the other to pet the dog’s head.

Just taking a quick look at how happy the twins looked with Lucky, and with how happy Lucky looked, Clint smiled.

Too immersed in watching as his dog got along extremely well with the Sokovians, he didn’t notice Natasha slink in from the same door Steve and Tony left through. She nudged his arm as she stood next to him though, catching his gaze. Natasha was looking forward, more specifically on Wanda Clint assumed, “Took Clint a lot longer than I expected to introduce you three it seems.” Natasha commented.

Wanda tenses up slightly at the sound of her soulmate’s voice, but focused more of her attention on Lucky.

Clint gave a short laugh, “Pietro is probably going to steal my dog, so maybe I should have pushed this off even more.”

Pietro shot the man a grin from where he was now sitting next to Lucky. The dog seemed a little more than pumped up, his tail still wagging and excitedly switching between giving his attention to Wanda or Pietro. Once he noticed Natasha, Clint was forgotten entirely as the dog grew even more upbeat.

Noticing Lucky’s current state, Natasha grinned and walked towards the dog and greeted him quietly, the Russian nickname she had given him rolling off her tongue easily.

Clint smiled at the sight of the three enjoying their time with Lucky. He noticed the glances Wanda kept shooting towards Natasha, who grinned just a little more with each time she noticed.

After making a quick decision in his head, Clint spoke up again, “Hey, Pietro? I forgot to bring it up at lunch, but I need to look over a few videos of your training performance. Nothing too major, but we just need to check for anything we need to touch on.”

Pietro looked up and shot a glare towards the archer, “Can it not wait? Your dog is on the verge of loving me more than you.”

Clint rolled his eyes, taking a quick look at Natasha and Wanda, who hadn’t paid much mind to Clint’s comment.

“It won’t take that long, Pietro.” Clint pushed.

Pietro, remaining oblivious, rolled his eyes and stood up. He gave Lucky’s head one more pat before starting towards Clint, “This better be quick, Clint, or else I get to have your dog for a day.”

Clint scoffed, “You can spend time with my dog, but you can’t just have my dog for a day.”

The two exited the room and Pietro was quick to start the conversation back up again, “I could do much better in training if I still weren’t recovering, so I—”

“That was just an excuse.” Clint explained easily, leaning against the wall next to the door.

Pietro’s brows furrowed, “Excuse for what?”

“Wanda and Natasha are more likely to have a nice conversation when they’re alone, especially when they have Lucky to start the conversation off with.” The archer continued.

Pietro nodded slowly before grinning, “Sometimes you are actually smart, old man.”

“Sometimes you are actually able to give a half decent compliment.” Clint countered.

Pietro allowed the silence to settle for a few moments before he spoke again, “You are helping them quite a lot with this,” he started, “Is that for a certain reason? One that is not about your best friend or my sister?”

Clint hesitated, shrugging, “There is no other reason besides those two, from what I can think of, but maybe there is another reason.”

“And you? Is there a soulmate in your life?” Pietro, growing more causal with his words, leaned against the wall across from Clint and crossed his arms over his chest.

Clint shook his head, “Nope, not right now.” He answered simply, “What about you, kid? Someone who makes you blush and all gooey?”

Pietro chuckled, letting his head dip down briefly, “No, no, there is no one.”

Clint hummed, “Sucks, doesn’t it? Everyone here has gotten there black turned to red and here we both are.”

“Do you believe you will meet your soulmate?” Pietro questioned after a few seconds of silence.

The archer pondered on the question quickly, “Maybe.” He settled on saying.

Pietro shifted against the wall, “I hope I will meet them one day, but it worries me that the day will never come.” He paused, “For all I know, my soulmate was in Sokovia when Ultron attacked, or was there when Stark’s weapons were used against us. They could be dead and I’d never know.” Pietro’s fingers fiddled with the the end of one of his sleeves, his eyes sticking to the movement, “It’s almost like I can feel that the day will never come.”

Clint watched the kid closely, “Pietro, you’re only a seventeen year old.” He responded, “I can’t promise anything obviously, but you’re so young that maybe this person just hasn’t popped up in your life just yet.”

Pietro let out a sigh, “Perhaps you are correct,” he said, “But perhaps you are wrong. I would rather be prepared for the worse, even if it does not come to that, Clint.”

Clint nodded slowly, “No matter what, and I want you to remember this, you will always have all of us around,” he gestured around, as if the people he was referencing were nearby, “You’ve got Wanda, myself and all of the avengers, and even Lucky.”

A small grin made its way onto the Sokovian’s lips, “You are too nice to me, old man.” He teased, “But thank you.”

Clint took a step forward and placed hand on Pietro’s shoulder, offering him a smile, “Anytime, kid.” He responded easily. He patted the Sokovian’s shoulder before letting his hand drop to his side, “Now, we can either head back inside or we can let them be and hope they don’t get piss we left. It’s up to you.”

Pietro hummed, taking a look at the door behind Clint, “I am sure they would appreciate our presence again.” He decided,

The archer hummed with a nod, “More so you’d like to see my dog again.”

Pietro, already walking back to the door, let out a laugh, “You know me so well, old man!” He said cheerfully, pushing the door open and keeping it open for Clint once he had stepped inside.

Inside the room, the two girls had moved to sit next to each other with a smile placed on each of their lips. That sight, joined with the sight of Lucky sleeping soundly next to Wanda with his head sat on her lap, pulled another smile from the archer.

Before Clint had even properly entered the room, a rush of air brushed his skin as pietro appeared on the side of Lucky that was free of any person. A wide smile was on his face while he settled a hand on the dog’s back. His sudden appearance earned him a glare from his sister and angry Sokovian directed at the boy.

Clint took a seat in front of the three, greeting the two girls before allowing new conversation to take place. He hadn’t missed the slight smile that had made its way onto his best friend’s face or the light blush that dusted Wanda’s cheeks.

“Tony had to fess up to Steve for the bet, by the way.” Clint brought up.

Natasha looked to Clint quickly, “And?” She urged Clint to continue.

He huffed, “Got the disappointed pout for about two seconds before the two were all over each other again.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “I make a bet and get told to clean up my act and had to clean up Lucky’s shit for two weeks, but when Stark makes a bet, he gets fucked.”

Wanda let out a light laugh at Natasha’s comment, of which didn’t go unnoticed by the redhead.

“And yet you still question why I don’t actually create the bets.” Clint commented.

Natasha rolled her eyes again before the conversation shifted into more general topics, of which could include the twins as well. Eventually, once Lucky has woken up and seemed ready to leave, the four moved to the communal area where a few more avengers were occupying.

Somehow, Clint had been the only person to forget that it was movie night. He wasn’t surprised when Pietro cracked a joke and tripped Clint (just a little bit) when he started towards the couch. Clint still smiled fondly at the group of people either way, having adjusted to Pietro’s way of showing affection in the light teasing.

February 4, Washington D.C

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as Sergeant Barnes during WWII (1940s).
107th
Born March 10, 1917
Died in 1944
Eldest child of four
Best friend of Steve Rogers (Captain America)

I am James Buchanan Barnes.
I am James Buchanan Barnes.
My name is James Buchanan Barnes.
I was born in 1917.
I am not a weapon.
I am not a weapon.
I am not a weapon
I am not a we

The pencil snapped.

Frustrated, James Barnes tossed the pencil to the ground and set his journal down with a shaky hand.

I am not a weapon.
I am not a weapon.

He repeated the words over in his head, as he stared at the ground.

“I am not a weapon,” he mumbled quietly, frustration clear in his tone, “My name is James Buchanan Barnes.” It had only been a few weeks since he had gone against Hydra and didn’t return to them, and just the thought made him anxious on its own.

The shaking in his hand did not stop, much to his displeasure. James stood up either way, aimlessly walking around the small area of the motel room he had settled in for the night.

I am not a weapon.
I am not a weapon.
My name is James Buchanan Barnes.

He was unnerved and he didn’t know why.

Why did they take him, why was he still here, why couldn’t he understand it all?

He clenched his jaw, the shifting of the metal of his arm audible in the silence of the room. He was unaware of some small changes. He did not remember being called ‘he’ but it seemed to fit in on its own.

James ran a hand through his hair, eyes shifting to the door. Taking rigid steps toward it, he checked the lock once more before moving to the window. He gave it a harsh tug, and although it didn’t budge, he felt unsatisfied with its current state.

He had been valuable to them only a few months ago, so he was not safe. Constantly, he was in danger of being pulled back in and forgetting again and feeling nothing.

Jame Barnes did not want to feel nothing again.

Want was still such a new feeling to him as well. He was able to recall not being allowed anything more than what was given. A weapon did not need, it was only used.

His hand inched towards the knife that was on his body, the weapon easily sliding out of its spot and glinting in the moonlight that flooded through the window.

James Barnes took a seat on the end of the bed, on edge even after sitting, and kept up a routine of keeping watch of the door and window before checking on the locks once more.

He did not sleep.

January 28, New York

Steve Rogers is Captain America. He was also my best friend. I wish I could remember him correctly, but I can’t. He’s everywhere either way. His face is plastered on posters and he’s on the news and he seems familiar but I just can’t place his face to anything.

He’s a hero though, someone who’s doing good unlike me.

Steve Rogers was never Captain America to me, I believe.

He’s tall, blond hair, blue eyed, and probably the center of many people’s fantasies. He seems untouchable when described like that, but he doesn’t seem to think the same of himself.

I could be wrong.

He said something though and he made me stop and hesitate. The asset never did that.

James Barnes did.

Steve Rogers was important to James Barnes and I’m learning that he must be important to me even today.

I still do not remember much, but New York is loud and its distracting.

I don’t like it here all that much.

James made sure the picture of Steve Rogers was firmly attached to the page before he stuck a colorful tab at the top of the page. He shut the journal and placed it down gently on the floor in front of him.

He was tired but he couldn’t rest.

January 29, New York

Brooklyn.
Becca.
Sarah.

February 3, Massachusetts

I am not a weapon of Hydra.
I am James Buchanan Barnes.

I remind myself of those things as much as I can.

I hurt a lot of people before I encountered Steve Rogers and pulled him from the water.

I still hurt people. I hurt when things are not looking up for me. I hurt when something seems too worrying. I don’t do this often, but there is more blood on my hands even if I did not want it to be there.

I still wonder why I pulled Steve Rogers from the lake.

He was my best friend, but I still can’t fully remember the details. He said those words and I hesitated and I couldn’t let him sit in the water.

I hope someone found him and he didn’t have to limp his way home.

He was on the news today, with his team called the “Avengers”. I encountered the girl, the Black Widow, when Steve Rogers was my mission. She fought alongside him. She was extremely skilled and was quick. She was clever too, but I was faster and stronger either way.

That team is mentioned a lot, even in the streets.

I do not know all of their names or am very familiar with their faces, but they all did something.

Steve Rogers had his shield and was a true hero.
Black Widow was trained well, I can tell, and she’s talented.
The man, I presumed, in the suit is fascinating. I wonder if he created the suit or if they have a supplier. It is one of the most amazing things I’ve seen. He can fly too, it’s truly a sight.
There is another man too, blond hair, big, and carries a hammer. He flys too, but it’s strange in a way. I do not know what to think of him.
Another thing is the green thing. It’s big and strong and screams.
There is also an archer. He manages to take out enemies with arrows, something I would not think would work all that well, but it’s impressive. He’s talented, extremely talented. I heard a woman mention that he never misses. I’m doubting that.

The archer was the one who explained their mission on the news in the diner I had stopped in.

He looks familiar but I do not enjoy pondering on that thought.

If I can, I might return to that diner. They have nice pancakes.

The chances of returning there are unlikely.

February 21, Spain

A man followed me today.

I had gone out to pick up some new tabs and a new pencil (I broke the last one) when I noticed the man sitting at a table reading an outdated newspaper.

I don’t think he’s all that smart.

I crossed the street then and he followed me there. I managed to get him into an alleyway and tried to make his end painful and quick, but he went down on his own.

He said “hail hydra” before he fell dead.

I want to just fucking sleep.

Hydra is their name through and it’s on a loop in my head.

Hydra made me into a weapon.

James kept a close watch on his surroundings, but he reminded himself to thank the woman who was selling the apples he had just bought. They were not expensive, so he was able to buy more than one. He had been eating a lot of food that lacked appropriate nutrients in the past weeks, so even the idea of an apple was amazing.

He gave the woman a smile before he turned away, intending to go back to the motel room he was staying in for a few days. The weather was still low, of which James was thankful for. He had to wear multiple layers or long sleeve, always with a glove covering his hand, in order to fit into a crowd. He had easily learned that warm weather was not something he enjoyed dealing with when it came to being in hiding.

Along with hiding his arm, James had chosen to wear a hat and allowed his hair to fall into his face slightly. He remembered being called a ghost and that he was known by a name, not a face, when he was a part of hydra, but paranoia was a constant in his life now.

He had learned to hide at least, and knowing more than one language was helpful in these moments.

James turned the corner and continued down the street, shooting a glance at the bag held tightly between his fingers.

He looked up, eyes catching onto a head of blond hair almost immediately. The kid was scrawny, short, but a fast runner. The yells that followed the running and the bag held tightly in his small hand gave James a clue of the situation.

It was not his problem.

James stepped to the side, allowing the kid to run past him. He watched as a man who was passing by grabbed onto the boy’s arm and pull the bag away from him, yelling at him loudly. James picked up on the words easily, feeling a slight bit of worry at the threats that tumbled off the man’s lips.

He only stopped when another man ran up to them and returned his stolen bag of food. Before he could get a word in, the boy twisted and got himself out of the tight hold on his arm. He took off again, turning down an alley.

James stared at the alley, thinking over the thought that made its way into his head.

He stuck his free hand into the pocket of his jacket and crossed the street when possible. After a quick turn and search of the alley, he found the kid up against an old fence.

He jumped when he saw James, angry and shaky threats falling from his own mouth.

James waited until the threats weakly died down before he plucked two apples from his bag and held them out towards the boy.

The kid eyes them for a second or two before he grabbed them quickly and mumbled out a thank you. James nodded and attempted a smile before he turned and left.

The kid reminded him of someone.

Chapter Text

Clint exhaled slowly, releasing a single arrow and watched as it buried itself in the center of the target. A moment passed without the archer moving before he returned to it, his speed in shooting the arrows increasing with each hit on the target. The training was simple for him in this moment, only shooting a few plain targets.

The archer only stopped once he was out of arrows, his hand reaching back for another and coming up empty.  

Clint let out a sigh, rolling back his shoulders and glancing around the room as if he expected a difference in the passed time. He wouldn’t be training with Pietro, or really all for the rest of the day, and settled for gathering his arrows up and starting up again.

As he shot the collected arrows, he wondered about what his team mates were up to. The thoughts focused on their absence from the training room, having expected at least one of his teammates to have popped in.

He supposed Tony had occupied himself with a project, most likely the same for Bruce, while he was aware that Natasha and Wanda had gone out somewhere earlier in the day. He was sure Pietro was around somewhere, possibly bothering Thor about his hammer again, and Vision would be wandering around the facility or filling his time with necessary activities. Maybe Sam was around? Scratch that, he had gone somewhere with Steve in the morning.

Clint supposed he’d have to settle with waiting out the last few hours before the team’s movie night.

Unbothered and collecting his arrowed once more, Clint went through the motions another couple of times before someone whistled.

“Truly the ‘Amazing Hawkeye’.” Bruce commented lightly from his spot in the doorway.

Clint turned around to face the man, lowering his bow and the arrow he had notched, “Hey, Bruce.” He greeted.

Bruce shot the archer a smile, clasping his hands in front of his body, “Nat wanted me to let you know that we’re only waiting on Steve and Sam to come back before we start up the movies,” He paused, “But Tony made it clear that we’re going to start without them if they don't come back soon, despite their message that said they were only an hour away.”

Clint hummed, allowing himself to relax and slip his arrow back into his quiver, “Any idea on what they’ve been up to anyways?” The archer hadn’t pondered on the question all that much himself, but Steve’s random and abrupt missions caused Clint to wonder if there was a bigger proclamation he wants aware of.

Bruce shrugged, “I haven’t thought to ask Steve, but maybe he’s just chasing an old lead on Hydra. We haven’t gotten one of those for awhile.”

Clint hummed, glancing back at the arrows he had shot, “I’m betting that Nat knows, but if Steve isn’t mentioning it, I can’t think it’s all that important, right?”

Bruce shrugged. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking towards Clint and eyeing the targets, “You really are an impressive shot, Clint.” He commented, “When I’ve seen you shoot in battles it’s amazing, but it’s truly something seeing it up close like this.” He trailed off, looking closely at the arrows that were buried into the targets.

Clint nodded slowly, “Kind of surprised you haven’t popped in here as much as Tony has to be honest,” the archer replied, “Not so much for research purposes, but maybe curiosity.”

Bruce nodded before placing his eyes on Clint again, “Maybe I’ll stop by again and spare a few minutes to watch. Are you this good with a gun as well?”

Clint was pretty sure that Bruce hadn’t been able to take a look at his teammate’s fighting style and their weapons as the rest of the team had. Most of the time he had been fighting, he had been the Hulk. Hulk was more interested in smashing rather than learning about weapons, Clint knew. “Yeah,” he responded easily, “And, well, if I throw it, it’s going to hit its mark too.” He stated easily, tone joking, but voice dripping with slight confidence.

Bruce chuckled, “What about Cap’s shield?”

Clint hummed and grinned, “Tested and succeeded.” He briefly thought back on the team’s first fight with Ultron. The situation wasn’t the best, but Clint could at least say he was able to throw The Steve Roger’s shield (not that he ever doubted himself).

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, mumbling something that Clint could only guess.

“We ordering in for dinner too?” Clint asked, moving his gaze to his bow and checking it over. He was positive there was no recent damage, but perhaps he had gained the habit over the years.

“Thor just got in yesterday, so of course we are. Tony always likes to use his entrances to push off cooking if it means we can order in.” Bruce replied, “Don’t know what we’re ordering just yet, but if we don’t head down there soon, I’m sure we won’t have any say.”

At the mention, Clint packed up his things before the two made their way to the communal living room where they were sure everyone was gathered. As the doors of the elevator inched opened, the familiar sound of Thor’s booming voice rang through the air, followed by laughter and the recognizable noises of movement.

Clint stuck his hands into his hoodie pocket, trailing after Bruce as they made their way towards everyone.

“Ah, Banner, you have returned!” Thor called out upon their entrance, “Now joined by Barton! Hello, friend, how have you been?”

Clint shot Thor a smile, “Same old, same old,” he settled on saying, “What about you, buddy? Anything fun happening in Asgard lately?”

Thor seemed to briefly think over the question, “Asgard has remained the same in these past few months and during my absence whilst we battled Ultron. I am unsure of what may occur in the near future, but until I am notified otherwise, I will be spending my time here!” He continued brightly, smiling at his friends. Clint was glad to see Thor, especially with him being this happy. It was always nice to have Thor around, the archer found. He was loud and bright, which brought a certain new feeling to the facility.

As Thor dove into an animated conversation with Tony and Bruce, the three gravitated towards the bar pushed off against a wall. Clint took a look around the room. He found most of the team gathered near or on the couches, paired with Lucky dozing in front of the coffee table.

Natasha and Wanda were sat on one end of one of the couches, only a small amount of space between them, a show of progress that made Clint grin. Pietro was sprawled on the floor in between the two couches, his eyes skipping between his sister, her soulmate, and Vision, who sat himself neatly on a plush chair near the occupied couch, as the three conversed.

Clint made his way over, flashing a smile at Natasha when she noticed his presence and fell back onto the free couch. He stretched out and settled on listening to the conversation rather than twist his body to watch for any reactions. He popped into the conversation whenever he felt needed, a similar decision Pietro had made.

At some point, when Clint had shut his eyes and distanced himself from the conversation, the archer felt a tug on his ankle. He opened his eyes slightly, pausing until his ankle was tugged again. He glanced down at his ankle, finding the sight of Pietro reaching a hand towards Clint’s ankle once more. He seemed aware of the archer’s eyes on him, but he merely tugged on Clint’s ankle once more.

“Can we order food soon?” Pietro questioned, sitting up entirely and letting his hand fall away from Clint’s ankle.

At the question, Clint sat up and looked to where Tony was talking with Bruce and Thor, “Hey, Stark?” Clint questioned, loud enough that Tony could hear him. Once he was acknowledged, Clint continued, “Speedy over here is hungry and I’m betting we are all gonna get cranky if we don’t get some food soon. Send your boyfriend another text or some shit because we’d love to get this show on the road.”

Tony rolled his eyes but pulled his phone out once more, “He already sent a message,” he pointed out, “And now he and Sam are about fifteen minutes out, so we can start with the food.”

The decision itself started the expected debate over what exactly they should order, eventually reaching a decision and sending Natasha and Clint out with the team’s orders (and what they could remember of Steve and Sam’s usual orders).

Natasha and Clint bid the team a quick goodbye before they moved into the elevator.

Clint settled himself against one of the walls of the elevator while Natasha stood, her arms crossed over her chest as her gaze settled on the decreasing number on the little screen above the doors.

“A little birdie told me you were getting curious about Steve.” She stated calmly.

“So not so much a ‘birdie’ but a guy who doubles as a genius and a big green guy?” Clint countered. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair before settling his hands back into the pocket of his hoodie. He wasn’t surprised by Natasha’s observation. She was trained for these kinds of things, gathering information, but he was more curious on when she was able to find the information.

She grinned and turned to face Clint, “Doesn’t change the intent.”

Clint rolled his eyes, pushing himself off of the wall when the elevator dinged. The two didn’t speak as they exited the elevator and entered the garage. He let Natasha lead the way, deciding he’d rather have her drive for the night. She chose one of Tony’s more nondescript cars, of which were very few and only there by Natasha’s request.

The silence continued on until they had gotten out onto the road.

“So, what? That wasn’t just an observation, was it Nat?” Clint asked, figuring he had allowed her enough time. 

She hummed, “Not just an observation,” she confirmed. Still, she left Clint in a silence that had him rolling his eyes.

“Does this involve either my death or a coffee shortage?” He questioned, voice lacking much emotion.

She shook her head slightly, just enough for Clint to pick up.

“Ah, so that’s why you are taking up as much time as you can?”

Now, Natasha rolled her eyes, “It’s called thinking Clint, perhaps you could pick that up if you actually do just that: think.”

“God, Natasha,” Clint started, letting out an annoyed groan, “Even you know that’s a used up joke.”

“Yet, you’re still reacting.” She countered, a grin settling on her lips.

“What I should be reacting to is your reasons to knowing my little conversations with Bruce.” Clint continued. The archer knew they still had some time until they reached the Thai place they had decided on, so he was determined to not let the conversation expire.

“Steve is not a good liar, but I think everyone knows that now,” Natasha started, “So only two people know what he’s up to.”

“But I’m guessing that’s a big, huge secret?”

“The people that know what’s he’s been up to are the ones that were originally involved in the reasons for his sneaking around.” She answered instead. “Seems that he wants to add one more person to that count though.”

Clint found himself more intrigued than he had been before. He learned easily that he has no place in trying to find out the details of his team members’ private missions. He had simply assumed this was one of those situations.

Clint hummed in excuse for an answer, watching Natasha closely in order to observe any change in the conversation. She was tough to crack though.

“It’s not my place to explain or even really talk to you about this, but frankly, you can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes, dare I say insensitive,” Clint reached over and pinched her arm at that (he was sure he’d end up with a black eye in training for that), “And because of that, all I’ll say is that Steve is going to be making some changes and you have to live up to your bragging.”

“I don’t brag that much.” He excused lamely.

She scoffed, “Says the guy that uses his aim and the vents to pull pranks.” She responded, “You were trained and learned to be quiet, so I’d say combining that with your victory speeches equals to bragging.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “But moving away from that, you’re saying that America’s Sweetheart is searching me out for my talents.” He confirmed.

She shrugged.

Clint was pretty sure she played coy just to piss him off at this point, “If this ends up being some joke or a play on me, I’m stuffing my leftovers into your pillowcase.”

“No you won’t.” She wasn’t entirely wrong.

James Barnes watched himself carefully in the old mirror. The room he was staying in was just as shitty as the rest he had been in. The night was no different either, filled with every anxious feeling and every training protocol he remembered but lacked much sleep. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be allowed such a calm state.

He felt chaotic in a way. He was not the same as whoever he had read he once was. He had the same face as the man from the 40s, but James Barnes was now a killer. He could never be the man who was called charming, who was called “Bucky”. He wasn’t even sure if he could be James. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it.

His grip tightened on the sink, a few small cracks in the porcelain surrounding his left hand. James Barnes was now a man made up of blurry memories, nasty habits, metal, the constant, lingering feeling of numbness, and paranoia.

He was no longer the bright man who was the best friend of Steve Rogers and the eldest of the four children of the Barnes family.

He glowered at his own reflection. He didn’t like the sight, with or without the scowl. He was not him anymore and he couldn’t think of anything else.

But he was someone, even if he wasn’t sure who.

Hydra had called him the ‘Asset’ and Soldat, but those names were hollow and lacked ownership. James Buchanan Barnes was the opposite, holding almost too much emotion. He settled for James no matter what, because at least it was something.

Would he ever be able to lack that paranoia, or be filled with emotions he couldn’t remember?

James Barnes clenched his jaw and set an even heavier glare into his expression. His hands applied more pressure onto the porcelain until he unconsciously released his hold. Guided by his own thoughts, James raised his fist and thrust it forwards. The skin made contact with the mirror, the shattering of the glass erupting a sound that was abruptly loud in the silence of the bathroom.

The glass fell down into the sink and to the ground, the small shards glinting slightly from the dim lighting.

Blood trickle down from the cuts that now scattered his knuckles, but he paid them no mind. Skin healed, especially faster for a thing like James.

Angry, at himself and maybe the weak nature of the mirror, he turned and opened the bathroom door. He allowed it to hit the wall, most likely leaving a dent, before he stepped out and moved towards the bed.

He settled on the edge of the mattress, settling his cut up hand over his thigh. His head tilted down, James watched the blood drip from a certain, nastier, cut. The blood hit the carpet, adding even more of James’ presence to the room. It merely added more to his cleanup of the room before he left Spain in the next few hours.

James had enjoyed Spain, a feeling he hadn’t expected, but he couldn’t become comfortable.

Comfortable and safe was dangerous, he knew.

His gaze was drawn to the window, the shutters covering most of the view. The sun had just started setting, marking his start to cleaning up his room and gathering his things.

At the thought, James stood up and made quick work of getting his hand wrapped. It may heal quickly, but he didn’t want to make more work for himself.

Cleaning up his room was just as quick of a job. He didn’t own much, mostly just a couple shirts, the clothes he wore on his body, his journal and whatever things he needed that he could snag.

The journals were the only important thing, as they were the only thing of any value.

He had moved into the habit quickly, but the journals were actually helpful. Each held the memories he recalled, both good and bad, and the rundown of his days. It was risky to have something so personal, but it felt nice to know there was something there that held his life for him.

The colorful tabs that stuck out just at the top of each book, placements not so random in his head but perhaps to others, had marked only the important things. He marked the pages about Steve, the pages about his important memories from before Hydra, and the ones from them. The pages always filled up quickly, as the memories just came. There were many journals, just sitting in the bag he carried.

He dismissed the thoughts as he pulled his backpack on, the cap coming over his head as if it were instinct and the hood of his jacket easily following. It was not a disguise, he thought, just a precaution.

James checked over the weapons placed on his body, going over the list in his head, before he pulled the glove over his left hand.

He would be making the journey to France next. He didn’t have a certain location in his mind for an actual stop. He wasn’t even sure if he’d get the chance he supposed.

As he done with every other room he had spent time in, he left easily and without leaving a trace of himself behind.

Sam and Steve arrived back before Natasha and Clint had.

They had even been home long enough for them to have grown at ease on the chairs and couches. Clint was glad he hadn’t walked into the wall (thanks to Natasha for tugging him out of the way), as he was sure Sam and Tony would have never let him live it down.

“Honey, I’m home!” Natasha called as they entered the room. Clint followed her, adjusting his grip on the takeout bags in his hands. He was sure that if Tony weren’t a billionaire, the entire team would be in debt just from eating.

“Hey, Nat! Hey, Clint!” Steve called, rising from his seat and starting towards him to take some do the bags from them.

“Welcome back, Rogers.” Natasha replied, using her one free hand to brush some of her hair out of her face.

Clint released some of his bags, glad for Steve’s help, “Hey there, Cap.”

Steve tossed him a grin, following Natasha as Clint had been doing. The three set down the bags onto the coffee that was sat in between the couches and television. The surface lacked any open spaces with all the food, but the bags were quickly emptied once each person had received their food. Clint didn’t miss the way Lucky was hovering a little too close to some of the bags either.

“Hey, Friday, fire up Hunger Games.” Tony called out as they all settled in.

The order earned a groan from Clint, “For the final time, Stark, I am not Katniss Everdeen.”

Tony shrugged, “You could be though.” He took a seat next to Steve on the couch diagonal to the one Clint had chosen. Just as the archer sat down next to Natasha, the Maximoffs had made an appearance on the couch. Wanda took a seat next to Clint, offering him a smile while she settled in and directed her gaze to her food.

Pietro plopped down next to her then, not taking Clint by surprise. With his seating, he had already dug into his food and was eating at much quicker of a pace than anybody in the room. He had already finished by the time mostly everyone had started eating and the Hunger Games intro started on the screen.

“Pietro,” Clint heard Wanda whisper, “At least wash your hands before you get too comfortable... and throw away your trash.”

Clint felt the rush of air from Pietro’s movements, but he decided to focus on his own food and the movie rather than inflate the speedster’s ego.

“Fri, dim the lights please.” Bruce requested as he took a seat down next to Thor, who had situation himself in front of the television and heavily leaned against the coffee table. Clint was pretty surprised that the table didn’t budge all that much. Lucky, once realizing he wouldn’t be earning his own bag of food, made his way over to where Clint was sat and plopped himself down by his feet and let out a long sigh. Clint chuckled quietly at the dog.

The archer took a quick glance around the room to check in on everyone’s seating. On his left sat Natasha, and on his right, Wanda and Pietro. Sat on the other couch, quiet comfortably, was Steve and Tony, whereas Thor and Bruce had taken to the floor. Vision had sat himself neatly in the chair next to Sam’s, his hands folded in his lap and lacking any sort of meal.

Clint still found himself a little unnerved with the knowledge of Vision being partly Ultron, in a way.

As the movie played through, the trash from the food grew and the comfortable silence grew stronger. Clint glanced around, just as Peeta and Katniss shared a smooch, and noticed Tony sleeping soundly and leaning heavily against Steve. Based on the look on Roger’s face, Clint was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who was glad Tony was actually managing to get some sleep.

Clint settled back into the he couch, watching the screen with as much of his attention as he could spare. Just as the credits started rolling though, he felt a weight settle on his left shoulder. With a quick glance, Clint noticed that the red head he called his best friend had drifted to sleep. She still seemed stiff, a habit she had grown due to her past experiences. Her face looked mostly relaxed though, something that earned a small smile from the archer.

Bruce was quick to request the next movie in the series to be played once the credits had ended and the trash had been cleared. The title flashed on the screen and soon the next movie was playing on the screen.

Clint, slowly so he wouldn’t wake Natasha, lifted his arm and draped it across Natasha’s shoulders. At the familiar contact, she leaned a little heavier into the archer’s side. He took a look at the twins sat next to him, finding Pietro leaning into Wanda’s side in the moment. He was sure the kid would be out soon enough.

“Hey, birdbrain, you think you could win an archery competition against Katniss?” Sam asked, letting his eyes drift to the man in question.

Clint tilted his head slightly, “Not entirely sure since I only know so much about her skill, but I may do better.” He pondered.

Sam chuckled, “I would’ve thought you’d be all too confident in your answer, Barton,”

Clint grinned, “I haven’t won any competitions against Katniss yet, so there’s no reason to be too cocky quite yet.”

In response, Sam rolled his eyes and shifted his attention away. Clint wasn’t that surprised when the man fell asleep just a minute or two later.

The next one to fall was Pietro, who had shifted himself to lay across Wanda and Clint’s laps in less than a second. He seemed unsure of his actions, but Clint seemed to put him at ease when he settled a hand on the speedster’s shoulder. Wanda was quick to lean her head on Clint’s shoulder after that, noticeably taking comfort in Clint allowing his friends to use him as their pillow.

Taking another glance at the Sokovian boy whose head was resting in his lap, Clint wondered how he had managed to curl himself up enough to lay down how he did. He was on his side, legs curled up towards his body in the spot where he had sat. His face was facing the television, but Clint took in his even breathing and the way he had relaxed to find the teen asleep.

The sight made him glad that the twins were slowly finding themselves comfortable in their new home. They had been greeted with some reluctance at first, mostly due to Wanda having seen everything going on in their heads, but it was dismissed after a week or two when they saw the fear the twins had earned from HYDRA.

Clint never wanted to put space between himself and the twins, mostly because the idiotic speedster had almost died for him, but also because he had been there when Wanda had been scared and worried in that house in Sokovia. Seeing her walk out of there and take on the position of an Avenger was something that made him feel a sort of protectiveness over the Maximoffs. He wanted to make sure they felt comfortable and weren’t scared.

The next person to fall victim to sleep was Bruce, whose head had fallen back in his sleep (Thor had taken the step to move his head to the side, even letting Banner lean against him. He made sure to remind his friends that he’d keep an eye out for anyone else who seemed uncomfortable where they were asleep).

Clint wasn’t sure if they were actually going to push into the third movie, but once the credits rolled and Steve had made the order to switch to reruns of Dog Cops, the archer was sure the others were ready to pulled into sleep.

Clint was too involved in the show to truly allow himself any shut-eye, but he was aware of Thor letting himself sleep, followed by Wanda who was using Clint as her pillow, and then Steve who kept his arms wrapped tightly around Tony.

In his half awake state, Clint looked around at his sleeping friends before letting his own fall back. He hadn’t even shut his eyes before someone called his name.

“Clint?” Vision questioned, his voice calm and even as it always was (Clint was still trying to understand how Vision was able to be so polite and calm around the Avengers).

Clint hummed, “Hey, Vision,” he mumbled out tiredly.

“It seems as though the team is ready to retire to their bedrooms? Would you mind assisting me in waking them?” Lifting his head, he saw Vision standing with his hands clasped in front of him. He offered Clint a smile and waited for his reply.

Clint sighed and blinked a couple times before nodding at the android. He started with tapping Natasha on the shoulder, being careful not to give her any worries. “Nat?” He questioned quietly, “Time to get up and then you can sleep some more.”

A quiet groan met his ears as his best friend shifted, “You suck, Barton.” She lifted her head, surprising Clint when she didn’t take any time to shift to an awake state, “I’ll help you and Vision out with waking the team.”

“How’d you hear that? You were asleep.” Clint questioned.

She chuckled lightly and stood up, tugging on the bottom of her shirt, “I’m surprised you even thought I had a chance at falling asleep out here.”

Clint was quick to realize his mistake, choosing to roll his eyes, “Guess you’ve gotten better at fooling me.” She grinned at him before taking the few steps over to Steve and Tony while Vision chose to wake Sam, Bruce, and Thor (he was having a little more than a difficult time).

Clint surprised himself with his forgetfulness of his best friend’s habits. It seemed sad that the thought of the red head falling asleep around her friends was unthinkable. He had learned the same concerns though, that you couldn’t let yourself be that vulnerable so easily.

He made work of waking the Maximoffs once his thoughts settled. He made sure to keep his movements slow and predictable to allow them a calm waking. He used the hand that was already settled on Pietro’s shoulder to shake him only slightly, calling out his name a couple times until his eyes fluttered open. The process of waking up the boy awoke Wanda, her eyes shooting open much quicker and her head lifting off Clint’s shoulder just as quick.

He settled a hand on the girl’s shoulder while her brother rose from his spot and pushed himself off of the couch, careful to not hit Clint or Wanda on his way up.

Pietro shot a tired smile at the archer, “Thank you for being a pillow, old man.” He commented easily before helping Wanda up while she rubbed her eyes tiredly. In that moment, watching the twins fight their tired state in order to stand, he was reminded of Cooper who was probably well into sleep at this time at night... or at least he hoped he was. 

Around the archer, Steve was helping a half awake Tony to their room while Thor chose to help assist others to their rooms. The god had lifted Sam up into his arms (Clint was positive Sam would never speak of that event again) while Vision lifted Bruce up with ease. The two men started on bringing their teammates in their arms to their rooms, a light chatter coming on between them.

Clint stood up as the twins turned and started towards their own rooms, Wanda shooting Clint a thankful smile. In the end, it was only Natasha and Clint left in the room.

Natasha stepped over to Clint offering an arm for the man. He easily hooked his own arm with hers as they started towards the elevator, having waited long enough for the others to have left the compartment already.

“You and the Maximoffs seem pretty close, Clint. I’m a little surprised to say the least.” She commented as they waited for the elevator to open.

Clint shrugged, “They’re nice kids,” he commented, “Kinda remind me of Coop.”

She hummed, “How is he? I need to stop by and say ‘hi’ to the little guy sometime soon.”

“He’s doing good but I’d hold off on popping by until the Ultron thing is mostly settled. I’m sure Laura would kill me if we visited right now.”

“I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t either,” Clint said, “But I do wish I could see Cooper more often.”

Natasha nodded, “Maybe you can take some time off soon. You sure as hell deserve it.”

Clint shrugged, letting the question settle into silence as they stepped into the elevator.

“You and Wanda seem pretty comfortable now.” Clint commented, a grin settling on his features.

He got an elbow to the ribs as an answer.

March 9, Spain

My next destination is France.

I don’t know what may be there for me, but I know I can’t stay in Spain. I can’t stay anywhere for too long or else they will find me.

It’s inevitable and I’ve come to terms with it the best I can I don’t want to go back.

I think HYDRA might be letting me think I’m okay and that I have a chance. They made me into a monster and you can’t let monsters run free. It’s an ugly type of poetic I think.

I feel like I’m going to go insane by the time I even make it to France (I won’t, but it sure as hell feels like it).

I don’t sleep well, but I don’t think I ever have since the 107th.

I was drafted by the way. I never even asked for any of this and I wish I could have just stayed in Brooklyn. I remember what I felt like when I was drafted too. I was scared, sad, and a little angry. Going to war would help my country win, but at the same time I hadn’t wanted to leave Steve or my family there. I remember Steve wanted to go to war so, so bad. I would have stayed in Brooklyn with him if I could have. I would have even wanted to go down in that plane with him.

I don’t think I can ever get back to how I was back then.

I hope Steve can understand that. I hope all is well with him.

March 10, Spain

It’s James Barnes’ birthday today but I spent it sticking to shadows and keeping my head down.

I’ll be in France by tomorrow morning.

March 12, France

It’s been a little over a year since I last saw Steve Rogers.

Besides that, I found out that the room I’m staying in has easy access to the roof through the window. There’s a couple other buildings nearby that people could easily see me up here from, but it’s kind of nice to sit up here.

I don’t know how long I’ll be in France for but I’ve realized I can’t run forever. I could, I've been trained to withstand many events and my body wouldn’t let me down that quickly, but I don’t think I really can. I don’t think I can let myself do that.

There’s a pigeon that’s been eyeing my granola bar for about five minutes. I’m thinking I might give it a little if it doesn’t shit on me.

If it does, there’s a dumpster down in the alleyway that has its name on it.

I might try to sleep tonight.

The roof is nice but it makes me feel like I’m missing something, like this is something of a bigger picture.

(I gave the pigeon the rest of my granola bar before I went in)

A scream.

Red.

A smirk.

An arrow.

He hated it all.

A scream left his throat as he was dragged down the hall, the sound echoing and pulling a new wave of fear through his bones.

don’tforgetitdon’tforgetitdon’tforgetit
don’t. forget. it.
don’ttakeitfromme not again. please.

He tried to ask for mercy, offering to stay quiet and endure whatever punishment they threw at him.

The man only smirked as the door swung open.

He tried to get the agents off of him, tried to get away but for once he just couldn’t.

Their fingers dug into the asse—his arm. He was stuck, the asset was stuck.

iamjamesbuchananbarnes
iamnotaweapon
i
am
a
weapon.

The asset continued to scream as he was pushed into the chair, as the pain ripped through him and the numbness came.

It was silenced, but it never stopped screaming.

Another man entered the room, face bloody and clothes torn. He was limping and the asset couldn’t make out what he looked like, not entirely. His features almost looked as if they didn’t have substance. The asset made out faint blue eyes and hair the was lighter than brown.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a bow, an arrow tucked under his thumb. He didn’t shoot the asset, something it had expected, but instead tossed the weapon at its feet.

“Motherfucker, you ruined everything!” Were the words that echoed as the asset wordlessly reached down and took a hold of the bow and arrow.

Red words.

Burning.

Left for dead.

“Monster,” was the word that was spoken in whispers echoed around the room.

A scream ripped its way out of James’ throat.

In little time, James was up and off the bed. A knife that was tucked under his pillow was now tightly held in his hand while he fell back against the wall, having backed himself up into a corner.

The dark room was empty, a terrible silence being shattered by James’ heavy breaths. He felt cold, but his skin was drenched in sweat. He was unaware of the tears that had trailed down his cheeks.

James was tense as he slowly slid down the wall, his eyes wide in panic. His entire body was tense and his knuckles had turned white from gripping the knife too hard. He was scared of shutting his eyes for any longer than a short blink. His own screams echoed through his head, followed by that bloody face and the faint image of red words.

HYDRA had taken everything from him and made him a numb shell of James Buchanan Barnes, his mind littered with faint memories and nightmares.

James was unsure of how long he sat there before his breaths settled just slightly and he rose from his spot. He dropped the knife on the bed, ignoring the way his fingers hurt from how they had been holding onto the knife.

He tugged his shirt off, tossing it on the ground as he walked to the bathroom. He turned the light on once he had stopped in front of the mirror.

Monster.

He turned his torso and moved his arm out of the way, his heart dropping at the sight of the words engraved into his skin.

Red.

He had seen them for brief moments, but they weren’t something he had chosen to focus on.

Why focus on something that didn’t feel like yours?

The metal of his fingers, trailing over the messy scrawl, may have been cold, or warm, but James was too focused on the writing to acknowledge such a thing.

The words were stupid, he knew. The phrase was something you’d say in anger, which pushed James to believe there was no trace of positivity there in that red.

Had he gotten this put on his skin on his own terms? Was it HYDRA’s doing?

James felt like punching the mirror again but he didn’t want to deal with the cleanup again. He tilted his head down to look at the words directly, his brows furrowed as he tried to place them somewhere.

He faintly remembered the same words, but in black, then a burning feeling, before they were turned red.

He traced a finger over the words once again. James felt he didn’t deserve the words, angry or not. They were on his body for a reason, but the unknown reason seemed too sentimental.

These words were not his and they were taken away from him for a reason.

The nightmare he had was still fresh in his mind, earning a rushed exit from the bathroom and the quick search of the pencil and journal resting inside of his backpack.

He wrote the nightmare down in detail, trying his best to not bring on another wave of fear and tears. James’ mind continued to drift to the bow and arrow once he had set the journal down.

James put his head in his hands, trying to connect the details to anything he remembered. He couldn’t remember a face, not that well, but he remembered the bow and arrow. The man, a guess based on his build, was an archer most likely.

James tried hard to pull something from his mind, but eventually he settled for moving up to the roof to give himself more space.

It was as he settled himself to sit on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling off the edge, did his eyes catch onto the dumpster in the alleyway.

Left to die.

Did he murder the man?

He let out a shaky breath as the thought opened a door to every single punch he made that night. He threw a knife, shot bullets, he dragged him across the roof, choked him until he couldn’t breath and let him fall down into the dumpster. The archer had watched him as he fell and watched James as he moved away from the edge.

The man had spoken and James had been angry, had been angry that those words had been spoken. They were his, something that he remembered.

The thought gave way to another set of unacknowledged tears to roll down James’ cheeks.

The memory of the day was messy, but it ended like his nightmare: screaming until he couldn’t, pain, and then nothing.

He hoped the man hadn’t died. He hoped he was doing well.

Chapter Text

When Clint stumbled into the kitchen, much earlier than he wanted, he was a little annoyed by the laughter reaching his ears. He ignored the faces around the area and opted for walking to the already ready coffee pot that he decided was the new love of his life. As he poured himself a cup, he registered the sound of Natasha’s voice as she carried a conversation. He was glad that she at least had someone that could fill him in on anything he missed.

With such a thought in mind, he settled for turning and aiming to leave the kitchen. He was stopped though, by a hand taking hold of his arm.

Clint grumbled in protest and finally lifted his eyes away from his coffee. He met Steve’s eyes with a slight glare, “I just want to have some coffee.” He stated simply.

Steve offered him a smile, “Good morning to you too, Clint.”

“Hey, Legolas, we’ve got company, you grumpy ass.” He heard Tony’s voice call out. Clint raised his head just the slightest more ro take a look at the area where he, assumed, people had gathered.

His eyes first found Natasha, who had settled herself up against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. She seemed to be aiming for intimidating, which pushed Clint to wonder if there was something he was missing. Near his best friend, was Tony who was leaning against a counter as well, although his presence was much calmer. Pietro was missing, along with Wanda, Vision and Bruce, he noticed, and Thor was eating happily while Sam was shooting a glare at the man standing next to Steve (Clint didn't even want to acknowledge that he hadn’t spotted the new guy).

The new guy, who Clint got a look at when he peeked sound Steve who now blocked his way out of the kitchen, was somewhere in the age range of Tony and Steve (physically, of course), and had a head of short brown hair. He was smiling widely, and seemingly vibrating with excitement, as he looked at each member of the avengers. His eyes landed on Clint finally and he was quick to take a step forward and shoot a hand out for a handshake. The action earned a twist of nerves on Clint’s part before the man spoke, “Hey there,” he started, “Hawkeye, right? I’m Scott, but maybe you know me as Ant-Man.” He introduced.

Clint freed a hand from around his coffee and shook the man’s, Scott, hand, “Clint,” he replied, “I haven’t really heard of an Ant-Man, but nice to meet you.” He felt a little more at ease after the man introduced himself. With the words that made common appearances in his mind, an introduction was just another opportunity for those words to change in some way.

Scott nodded easily and let his hand drop, eyes skipping around the room again as a momentary silence settled between the group. Clint eyed him carefully and was quite surprised when he noticed how relaxed the man seemed. It was a bit strange in his opinion.

“Sam, Nat, and I are heading out soon, so I just wanted to get the introductions out of the way so Scott felt welcome,” he clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Scott here has taken on the role of Ant-Man, as he introduced, and I caught wind of his abilities and I think he’d be a very good addition here.”

If possibly, Scott’s smile grew, “Just glad to be here, guys.”

Natasha hummed and pushed herself off of the counter, “If this works out, I’ll be seeing you again.” She stated easily, brushing past Tony and making her way to the elevator.

Scott watched her walk away, earning a slight glare from Clint even if this “Ant-Man” couldn’t see it, “She’s scary, but it’s cool.” He commented.

The statement elicited a chuckle from Sam, “Well, Tic-Tac, if you end up working well here, scary should become normal.”

Scott shrugged, “It's already pretty normal when you’re dating a girl who’s scary.”

Tony raised a hand, “We will be touching on that subject again.”

Steve rolled his eyes and glanced at the time on the oven while Clint took a long sip from his cup. Steve made his way over to Tony and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before shooting a smile to the rest of the team, “Play nice.” He warned before walking towards the equator with Sam. Clint decide to assume this was another one of their secret missions.

Just as the two were leaving, a quick blur went by and soon Clint was missing his coffee cup.

“Morning, old man,” he heard Pietro greet.

Clint turned to face the Sokovian and shot him a glare before pouring himself a new cup, “Annoying brat,” he mumbled.

Before Pietro could reply, Scott took his shot and started his introduction again with a smile, which Pietro returned with his name and a lack of response to the hand he had offered.

Scott brushed the lack of reaction off and instead started his ramblings about being glad to be there, paired with a mention of a man named ‘Hank’ (Clint chose not to question it and instead opted to start making breakfast for himself and anyone who wanted any).

Eventually, Wanda, Vision, and Bruce made their own appearances and Clint made sure to check on Wanda when he saw her new nerves from the stranger that was in their kitchen.

Clint served the breakfast soon enough, a second breakfast in Thor’s case, and he wasn’t surprised by the silence that was met when they all took seats at the table. Now, Clint noticed, Scott was nervous as he took a seat next to Wanda. He didn’t seem hesitant, which was surprising, but Clint was more worried with the way Wanda kept her eyes on her plate. With a quick look at Pietro, the archer remembered the more intense details of Sokovia and Ultron and prepared himself to intervene at any point (even if he was sure Pietro would beat him to it).

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Scott best him to it when he turned to the girl sat next to him, “Wanda, right?” He asked.

She nodded slowly, only sparring him a quick glance.

Scott hummed and looked between her and Pietro, seemingly assessing the situation, “Sorry about Sokovia, by the way,” his words earned a clatter of a fork from Pietro and a tense feeling that surrounded the table, “But I heard about what you and your brother and, wow, you two are awesome. Like, really awesome.” He continued happily.

Pietro still kept his eyes on Scott but he took hold of his fork again, “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Wanda, on the other hand, lifted her head and offered a small, shy smile at Scott, “Thank you, Scott.”

He nodded at her and started on his food, unaware of the effect he made on the twins.

After that, it was easy sailing, mostly.

“So,” Tony started, “You shrink?”

Scott hummed, “And I control ants,” he paused, “I can also fly with the right ant.”

Tony raised his brows and nodded slowly, “Were you the one who made the suit Steve showed me?”

Scott shook his head, “Oh, no, that was Pym.”

At the name, Tony perked up, “I’ll have to take a look at that suit at some point.”

Scott gave a nervous laugh, “I don’t know about that. It’s not just my suit.”

Tony seemed ready to push on the subject, but Pietro cut in, “Have you ever been stepped on?”

Thor gave a loud laugh at the question, “Yes! Man of ants, what happens when you are shrunken? Is it some sort of magic or Midgardian trick?” He pondered, “And do you look like an ant during those times? Perhaps it is similar to when my brother—”

Bruce chuckled nervously, “Let’s not get into that right now, Thor,” he commented, “It’s a little harder to explain to some people.”

Thor seemed confused to why Bruce would make such a request before he turned back to his food, mumbling something about a snake.

Clint watched the interactions between Scott and the team quietly. As time went on, the archer still found himself put off by the amount of excitement this guy radiated, but he made the twins happy and didn’t try to pry into anyone’s business (or expose too much of his own and how Pym relates to it all).

Vision had also settled for observing it seemed. It was something he did commonly. Tony and Clint had once shared a brief conversation on the matter, which Vision had surprised them by phasing into the room and talking about how he was learning and doing his best to adapt (sometimes Clint forgot that Vision was realistically only just under a year old).

He chose to interrupt Thor and Scott’s conversation briefly by raising a question though, “Scott?” Vision questioned.

Scott turned his head to take a look at the android. He shot him a smile, just as he had for everyone else.

Vision offered him a much more closed smile, “What have you been doing as the Ant-Man? Captain Rogers mentioned that he ‘caught wind of your abilities’, but perhaps you could expand on that?”

For a brief moment, Scott hesitated before he spoke, “Well, maybe Sam mentioned it, but maybe not, but I may have borrowed something from you guys and I just happened to have a slight altercation with the Falcon and tore his suit apart.” He said quickly.

Clint furrowed his brows, “You borrowed something and tore Sam’s suit apart?”

Scott hummed, trying to ignore the team’s gazes on him, “It was used well.” He commented briefly.

A silence drifted over the table before Pietro laughed, loudly. He let his head drop into his arms while Wanda shot a glare at him, telling him something in Sokovian. In between his laughs, he replied to his sister, the chosen language being his native tongue.

Wanda rolled her eyes and leaned back into her chair, “He is laughing because he imagines a small man whistling away while he causes Sam worry while he destroys his suit,” she paused, “It’s much funnier to him, I assume,”

The presence of everyone at the table soon began to dwindle as Clint started gathering everyone’s plates, not denying Scott’s help when offered. Clint opted for rinsing the dishes in the moments and coming back later to load a full load. He shot a glance at Scott who started placing the plates and utensils he gathered on the counter next to the sink. He looked like he wanted to help, but Clint settled for making the man stand on his goes for a few moments before he spoke.

“So, Scott, you’ve got a girlfriend?”

Scott grinned and nodded, “Yeah,” he said, “Her name is Hope.”

Clint hummed, “If she is scary enough to make you comfortable around Nat, she must be one scary gal then.”

Scott chuckled, “Well, she was the one who trained me enough to take down the Falcon.”

Clint pause, “Really?”

Scott hummed, “Yeah, she’s not only scary but also violent.”

“Maybe she’d get along well with Natasha, but most likely if she let her in the training room.”

“I don’t think Hope would ever turn down popping by to spar with the Black Widow.”

“Does Hope do stuff like you do? Is she some sort of Ant-Man, too?” Clint asked, rinsing one of the last plates.

“She wishes she was.”

Clint shot a glance at Scott, “Then why isn’t she?”

Scott pauses and eyes Clint for a moment, shooting a glance to the rest of the team that stuck around and had moved to the living room, “Pym won’t let her. What I do, it’s dangerous. I don’t know what Hank would do if something happened to Hope.”

Clint wondered if maybe Scott didn’t want to let too much information loose mostly because of Hank (who was also Pym, Clint easily assumed) and Hope. Pushing that aside, Clint voiced his opinion, “I think I understand where he’s coming from. I’d never let my son get involved in something that could hurt him, even if it upset him that he wasn’t allowed to.”

Clint didn’t spare Scott an extra look, already making a guess that he wasn’t exactly at ease by Clint putting one and one together. He made a note to himself to remind Scott that he should be a bit more strict on how he words things.

“You’ve got a kid?”

Clint hummed, “A little eight year old.” He responded. Clint wasn’t entirely comfortable getting too deep into the subject, but from the way Scott was around everyone he was pretty damn positive this guy wasn’t going to use Cooper against him.

Scott hesitated, once again, “I’ve got a daughter, too,” he chose to say, which took Clint by surprise.

He turned his head to the man, standing up straighter, “Really?”

He chuckled, “Her name is Cassie and she’s around your son’s age actually.”

Clint grinned, “Maybe they’ll meet at some point when he visits and with your time around here they just happen to cross paths.”

Scott seemed pleased by the possibility. He nodded and offered Clint any extra help (Clint dismissed him and convinced him to go mingle some more with his possible teammates).

Clint wasn’t all that surprised when Natasha shot him a message later that day to inform him that they wouldn’t be back until that next week. He decided to just hope that meant things were going well.

But with his hoping, he found himself getting up and following Tony to the kitchen to grab another beer.

“So, Stark,” Clint started, leaning against the counter as Tony grabbed a few more beers from the fridge to bring to the team.

“So, Legolas,” Tony countered, placing a couple beers on the counter.

“Any clue on what the three musketeers are up to on these missions they keep going on.” Clint questioned.

Tony straightened up, “I’ve got some brief knowledge on it, but mostly because when Steve came back from one with a busted lip, I nearly had a panic attack because he was now going on missions that were actually getting him hurt.” He took a long look at Clint, “But I promised to not mention anything to anyone and it turns out that you’re the only other person that’s actually noticing any details about these missions.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “I’ve already tried figuring some stuff out, but now I’m more worried about if those missions concern any of the rest of the team,” he explained, “It's something like worrying about a bigger picture.”

Tony shrugged, “Don’t worry, Barton, if it was dangerous enough to involve anybody else, you’d see me with a lot more coffee and much less sleep.” He assured.

Clint shrugged and chose to let the subject drop. If Tony wasn’t mentioning what Natasha had let him know about, he found no point in involving Tony in his own business.

Clint helped with the beers instead, taking a sip from one while he assisted in opening a few and allowing Thor to help bring them over to the team.

He followed behind Tony once the beers had been assigned (he made sure to keep an eye on Pietro and his own beer), taking his seat on the ground in front of the couch Wanda, Vision, and Bruce had occupied. Bruce briefly paused his story when the Clint has reappeared, changing the way he was sitting slightly in order to accommodate for Clint.

Pietro popped in briefly to question Bruce on something he had said, taking a long sip from the beer in his hand as he waited for Bruce’s response. He wasn’t sure who gave the twins permission to drink, or at least Pietro since Wanda said she needed to be at her best to deal with whatever Pietro would end up spouting. Pietro was also an exception, mostly because of his fast metabolism. It would take a lot for him to actually get drunk, but Clint wouldn’t be that surprised if it ended up happening with how none of them could actually tell when Pietro switched his bottle out for a new one.

The thought was answered when Pietro let out a long groan when Bruce made a joke about a high school girlfriend at a convention he went to.

The other people in the room each turned their heads towards him. The speedster seemed unaware of their focus on him until he lifted his head and his eyes caught on each of them. He decided to roll with it instead of push away their unsaid questions, “It’s stupid, is all.”

“What is?” Clint asked slowly.

Pietro held Clint’s eyes for a few seconds before he sighed. He motioned briefly to himself, “We get those stupid little marks but we still fool around.” He mumbled, focusing his attention on his bottle while he spoke. 

“Which means?” Tony tried to push.

Wanda shot him a warning glare while her brother continued, “Nothing is going to happen with the people you fool around with if you have a soulmate around. If you have a chance of meeting that person, I would think you would feel a sort of attachment and loyalty.”

The response was met with brief silence.

“Everyone is different, brother.” Wanda commented, her tone similar to something like a warning.

Pietro rolled his eyes, “You do not apply to this, Wanda,” he continued, the subject of the conversation wandering onto something sensitive. He continued on in Sokovian to her briefly before addressing everyone else once more though, “It just doesn’t make sense sometimes, you know? Even having those stupid words on your body is a weird concept.”

“I believe it is romantic,” Thor spoke up, “I lack such a thing, as those ‘words’ as you call them seem to be a Midgardian custom, but my lady Jane has them. Although she does not speak of them often, she seems to enjoy the sentiment there.” He paused, “She even once wrote a paper, the intent to spur arguments against the assumption that magic is involved, but rather science. In the end though, she had to admit that it’s still rather odd, especially with the use of them only occurring from when you meet your soulmate and henceforth.”

Scott raised his bottle briefly, “Do you know what it’s like having the word “yes” tattooed on your finger and you just never hear it until you wake up and your soulmate is watching you while you sleep?” His comment was ignored through, as the conversation hadn't shifted.

“She still has a mark?” Bruce asked carefully.

Thor nodded slowly, offering a sad smile, “We have discussed the subject before, my friend, but I suppose it is still saddening,”

Pietro had gone silent as Thor spoke, his eyes flickering between the entire group and his sister whose fingers were brushing over the red words on her skin briefly.

Tony sighed and scooted to the edge of his seat, “Let’s play a game then, Avengers.” He said. Briefly, he took a look at Scott, “Plus a possible Avenger.”

Scott didn’t try to hide his smile.

“Seems like those little words we’ve got on our skin are a pretty untouched subject, so let’s do some team bonding and chat, huh?” Tony continued. At the team’s silence, he only went on. He pulled the collar of his shirt down slightly, the red of the words under his collarbone obvious against his skin, “I met Steve and we didn’t like each other at first, even though we both knew we were a little more than just teammates after our first conversation.

We got our heads out of our asses eventually though.” He paused, “Can you believe that Steve’s mark is literally over his fucking heart?” Clint wasn’t sure where Tony going with the conversation, but he listened closely while Tony shifted the conversation off to someone else, “Anyways, if you've met your soulmate, tell the story if you’d like, but if you haven’t, just be honest. It’s going to get deep, cheesy, and sad, but we’ve dealt with worse.” He nodded to Scott who was sat on the floor near his couch, “Go ahead, Lang.”

Scott sighed and shifted slightly in his spot, “Uh, well, if we wanna go back to Speedy’s ‘fooling around’ comment, I actually married someone before I even met my soulmate. She divorced me while I was spending some time in jail though, and eventually I met Hope and she didn’t like me that much. We’re doing a lot better now though.” He explained, tapping a finger on the side of his bottle. He took a long sip while he waited for the next person to speak.

Pietro sighed and sat up straighter in the chair he chose to occupy, “I do not really think this soulmate thing holds all of its truth, if that make sense.” He paused, “We wait around for someone we may never meet while we go around and fuck other people and marry them all while we wonder if we will ever meet that certain person.” He gave a dark laugh, “For all I know, my soulmate is dead and buried under what’s left of Sokovia.” He ran a hand through his curls, “It just doesn’t feel like it’s going to happen, I guess.”

It was Bruce who didn’t allow any silence then, as the man raised a question, “What does it look like?”

“What?” Pietro question, his brows furrowed.

“Are they still there? Are they black? Red?” Bruce continued.

Pietro opted for standing up and lifting his shirt, only enough to show the words engraved in his skin at the center of his torso and to the left, ‘You too!’.

Bruce hummed, “They’re not dead, I’m certain about that.”

Pietro rolled his eyes, lowering his shirt and sitting back down, “How are you so sure about that, Banner? Most people don’t even talk about these dumb marks.”

The kid wasn’t wrong, Clint found. They weren’t an untouchable topic in the world, but there wasn’t much question in the truth or origin of the marks. It was almost as if they were seen but not allowed to be spoken of.

Bruce shook his head and raised his wrist, the fabric of his shirt falling down only enough to reveal the faint words in his skin. Even from his close Clint was sitting, he couldn’t make out the words in his skin, but the shape of what seemed to be the words looked like a scar, “If your soulmate were dead,” he started slowly, keeping his eyes on his wrist where the scar rest, “It’d look like this, Pietro.”

Silence settled over the group at Bruce’s words. Only Tony seemed to be the one that seemed mostly at ease. Clint was sure that he already knew about that fact in Bruce’s life.

As Bruce had been the next one to go either way, Vision seemed ready to take his quick turn, but Bruce shot in one more comment before letting Vision speak, “Her name was Betty Ross.”

Vision pat the man on the shoulder, “I’m sure she was wonderful.” He paused, waiting for Bruce to acknowledge his statement before speaking, “I lack these words as Thor does, but, although I am adapting and learning a human lifestyle, I am not entirely human like most of you. I do enjoy learning more about this though, as it seems to be a beautiful thing when treated correctly.”

Vision’s gaze wandered to Wanda who was sat next to him, her fingers playing with one of her wings. Before the android could speak, Clint cleared his throat to get the attention on himself, “I’ll go before Wanda,” he stated, acknowledging the brief moment of a whispered ‘thank you’ that ran through his mind, “My story isn’t even interesting enough for your full attention to be honest.” He took a quick sip of his beer and gestured with the almost empty bottle briefly, “Words are still black,” he started, “I had some fun a few years back and maybe I’ll meet the person, but maybe I won’t.”

Tony chuckled from where he was sitting, eyeing Clint closely, “You are one of the least hopeful person I have ever met, Barton.”

Clint shrugged, “Not everyone meets their soulmate, so maybe I’m that person.” He looked around at everyone, “Call me sappy, but at least I’ve got some good friends and some close family.”

Pietro let out a groan at the statement, “Now you really speak like an old man, Clint,” he commented, “You are old, but not that old.”

Thor hummed in agreement, “Clint, I am sure you will meet someone special at the very least.”

Clint chuckled, “Thanks, Thor.”

Thor gave him a kind smile before the attention drifted off the archer and onto the girl sat on the couch behind him. She offered a timid smile to the group around her before she pushed some of her hair behind her ear. Wanda gave a nervous laugh before she rolled up her sleeve and held out her wrist to the group to reveal the red words.

Clint was aware of the way Pietro had tensed in his chair and the quick way his body moved. Clint had felt the urge to tell the girl that she didn’t need to be so vulnerable in the moment, but based on the brief murmur he faintly heard in his mind (seemingly in Pietro’s mind, too, based on the glare he shot at his sister), she felt the need to expose this part of herself.

Clint let out a quiet sigh and took a look at the words as everyone else was doing. He wondered if Natasha would ever let him get a look at her own words.

The words on Wanda’s wrist were hard to miss in comparison to her pale skin. The red was bright and the scrawl was a mix of sweet and strict. The space between the letters was glaringly present, as if they weren’t allowed to touch in some strange way. The words almost seemed like print on a computer, ‘Don’t expect this to be easy’.

“We properly met a few months ago, when I was getting help while I adjusted to life here. She is a confident woman, and kind even if she does not show it. I do not believe there is much I should say about her that she would like to be known, but I do believe none of you are ignorant enough to believe the facade she learned to put on.” She paused and took a look at her brother and the archer, “Her name is not something I will make known either, but you are a smart group of people.”

Wanda’s fingers briefly brushed over the words, her wrist coming down to rest in her lap once she felt that the group had seen enough, “I am a sentimental person, which I would not think is surprising. I did not believe I would find my soulmate while I grew up and before I got to this point, but they were always a nice comfort.”

Vision placed a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder, offering her a small smile, “I am sure this is a promising entrance to something wonderful, Wanda.”

Clint watched the android for a moment before a grin grew on his face. He was surprised he hasn’t noticed it before, but now that he thought it over, the thought of Vision putting a foot forward in order to make sure the team was happy wasn’t surprising. He was a kind man, Clint found, even if his origin wasn’t ideal.

The silence that fell over the group was both thoughtful and comfortable. The archer was certain of one thing, at least. He knew Natasha would be on her guard over the subject, but just looking at the excitement Wanda showed at juts looking at the words, Natasha wouldn’t try to stay away from the girl and hurt her feelings.

“In other news,” Clint started, looking to start a conversation over a topic that was much more bright, “I hear a birthday is coming up soon.”

A light blush creeped up Wanda’s cheeks while she rolled her sleeve back down, “It is not a very big deal, Clint.”

The archer smiled at the girl and took a look at her brother, who had gone quiet and was tracing the label on his bottle, “I beg to differ,” he started, “Wanda, you and Pietro are turning eighteen! I think that’s a pretty big deal.”

Pietro chuckled, “Sounds like you will not be thinking anything different anytime soon, huh?”

Clint hummed, “Don't expect an unacknowledged birthday, Maximoffs,” he started, looking between the two, “We’re going to make sure this birthday has as many happy memories as we can fit.”

Wanda laughed, “Thank you, Clint, that is a very sweet thing to say.”

Pietro hummed, keeping his eyes off the archer, “You do not need to do anything big,” he mumbled.

Clint was pretty sure he saw a faint blush growing on his pale face, something he chose to ignore in order to spare the speedster if any embarrassment.

“Nope, Speedy, we are going to make sure the day is amazing.” Tony said, leaning forwards and looking between the twins.

Thor nodded and chuckled, “If this age is as important as Barton speaks of it, I am in agreement for a nice day.”

Bruce voiced his agreement with a hum (Clint was pretty sure he was already coming up with ideas for a theme, or something).

Vision nodded, “I agree,” he started, “Wanda and Pietro deserve a nice day.”

Scott raised his bottle to gain some attention, “I second that, even if my opinion doesn't matter right now.”

With the agreements, Tony started pondering on the arrangements aloud, asking Friday to start a folder. Clint made sure to keep an eye on the twins, to check for any discomfort and to enjoy the timid smiles they gave to the group. As loud and cocky Pietro tended to be, Clint found his new silence and blush interesting, and with Wanda’s usual timidness, Clint was just as glad to see her offering up any opinions on the things Tony mentioned.

It was nice, Clint thought, to see the twins treated as if they were part of a family. They had to prove themselves when they were first here, mostly because of their past involvements, but after Pietro's stunt and the trust that had slowly built up, Clint was glad that the team was treating them the exact way he had been trying to. They had been through tough times, but even then, they were two strong, kind people that Clint only wanted the best for.

Chapter Text

March 26, Italy
First impression of Italy: a local tried to steal the wallet I don’t have.

James Buchanan Barnes kept his head down as he made his way down the pathway, the brief conversation in Italian catching his ear every few steps.

There was talk about dinner plans, world news and politics. James found himself wanting to be informed of how the world had changed since his last check in, but it didn’t ever seem a smart move.

He did his best to stay informed, at least with the bare minimums. He was fairly aware of the important things, such as the political atmosphere and anything that held importance in whatever location he had taken up. He’d rather be prepared with his little knowledge than grow overwhelmed with the wormhole of information in these moments.

Quietly, James let out a breath and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He wondered for a few brief moments how he was going to manage the warmer weather when it appeared once the seasons start changing, and depending on his location. The arm will always be an issue, of course this was something he’s known since he pulled Steve Rogers from the Potomac, and despite his enhanced abilities, being warmer than average wasn’t desirable.

Long sleeves in warm weather also didn’t seem all that normal to others. If anything, he can’t avoid the attention no matter where he goes.

James sidestepped quickly, avoiding the woman who was talking excitedly to her friend and paying little attention to her surroundings.

Two thoughts came to James’ mind at the sight: whether or not she had fallen on her face from her obliviousness and, the more depressing question of, if James could ever be that blissfully calm.

Another man, a leash connected to the collar of a dog clasped tightly in his hand. He was more aware of his surroundings, seemingly, as he lacked any distractions and most likely was focused on keeping his pet out of trouble. Much to James’ pleasure, he didn’t spare a glance his way.

The next group that proved to be a bit more of an obstacle, a group of young teenagers, took up most of the path and a splash of anxiety made its way into James’ chest.

He was a trained soldier who didn’t have the need to worry of such little, unimportant, factors, but it wasn’t until he managed to get the last the group did he realize the worry that laced his thoughts.

Trapped.

He wondered briefly if that was something that would continue to pop up.

He assumed the answer was a yes.

The idea of being trapped or lacking any means of freedom was rather terrifying to James, so he allowed himself to feel a string of pity for himself. It was a worry he could push off for a few weeks or months, at least until it bubbled over and scalded his skin from its intensity and presence in his head.

Scary, but not world-ending perhaps.

James Barnes lifted his head to get a much more clear view of his destination, the supermarket appearing in his line of vision. There wasn’t a whole lot he could afford to purchase from the supermarket, but he had been managing to live off small things like the container of mixed nuts and the cheap fruits he could get. It wasn’t ideal, especially for a man of his abilities and size, but he could only do so much with his budget.

As the entry to his destination approached, he reviewed the list of weapons on his person in his head quickly.

Knives (six): leg (right and left), arm, belt (two), ankle
Gun (two + ammunition): waistband, inside pocket of jacket, backpack (unpreferred)
Left arm.

The last note on the list left him tense.

James rolled his shoulders back only slightly when he continued into the supermarket, the attempt to seem intimidating and confident in his steps pushing through.

A brief scene of a scrawny kid from Brooklyn flashed through his head with that determined look in his eye and all of his efforts to be more than what he looked like showing in the evidence of the bloody nose and the bruise on his cheek. He didn’t let himself cry, James knew, even if his Bucky tried to remind him that he didn’t need to prove himself.

Steve Rogers clenched his jaw and kept his head lowered as his best friend helped him up from the dirty ground.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky started, brushing a few specs of dirt off of the blond’s shoulders, “You’re like a puppy. I leave you alone for, what, three minutes? And you go off and get in a fight in some alley.”

Steve lifted his head slightly and caught Bucky's eye, though his jaw stayed clenched and his mouth shut.

Bucky sighed and reached forward, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe some of the blood off of Steve’s face, silently hoping it wouldn’t be stained too bad in the future. He sent a short prayer to whatever god was listening that Steve would get a little bit smarter and wouldn’t always act on his impulses.

He loved the kid, but every time he found him like this, his heart broke. What if one of those times he found Stevie, he wasn’t moving, cold, and gone?

Bucky let his hand settle on Steve’s shoulder, giving a slight tug to get the boy moving and allowing him to fall into his side, “Let’s get you home, Stevie, and get you cleaned up.” He took another look at his friend, catching the brief look of sadness mixed with disappointment. Bucky let himself fall into the old reassurencess,“Who knows, maybe a pretty dame will catch your eye and think all of this hero bullshit is what gets her goin’.” He paused, “Just hopin’ she won’t encourage you to get beat up.” He muttered.

Steve let out a shaky sigh and lifted his head, putting on an even expression as they turned onto the open sidewalk.

Bucky took to talking about his day, what he had been up to while he worked, the nice man who offered him a smile on his way home, and the store with all the nice art supplies he was sure his friend would love.

“You think I’ll ever do anything important, Buck?” Steve asked, successfully cutting off Bucky as they walked.

Bucky offered him a smile and pulled him a little closer for a brief second, “You’re Steve Rogers, Stevie, you're already important to me, at least.” Bucky hoped that would be enough. He didn’t want to find the small blond dead in some alley.

He made a mental note to try and get Steve something from the shop with the art stuff.

James steps stuttered and he barely caught himself before a woman ran into him. She shot a glare at him but continued on with her daughter.

Already feeling the shakiness of his hand, James tried to push down the worry of forgetting this slice of whoever he had been, and searched for the things he could afford to eat.

He silently went over the memory in his head, digesting it and praying to whatever god cared to listen to him that he wouldn’t lose this little piece.

James made his way through the supermarket, picking up the cheap foods he knew he had enough money for and tried to stay on track and keep his pace quick.

In and out.

Unnoticed and then disappear.

He already had his next destination in mind, his plans for leaving Italy in motion.

James felt as if he was doing well with processing his recollection of Steve Rogers and the atmosphere around him, until he went to pay for his items.

A small television was situated on the wall behind the cashier. It wasn’t a pricey looking thing, only small and enough to entertain customers for the few minutes they were purchasing their items, but the screen was clear and was clean.

But, in bold letters and titled in Italian, the story alarmed James Barnes: ‘THE AVENGERS AND ULTRON… IS THE CLEAN-UP JUST A COVER-UP?’

His attention was stolen as the screen shifted and showed a piece of shaky and grainy security camera footage of the ‘Iron Man’ taking down a robot. James had only seen brief information of the Sokovia incident, but he was never aware of the details and was never concerned to learn.

The news reporters appeared on the television, some more footage being played in the corner of the screen.

“Anche se si verificano diversi mesi fa, i resti di Ultron non sono scomparsi. I Vendicatori, incuranti e non più gli eroi che credevamo che fossero, devono ancora fare delle mosse pubbliche in seguito alla loro creazione.” The woman stated, displeasure evident in her features. ‘Although occurring several months ago, the remains of Ultron have not disappeared. The Avengers, careless and no longer the heroes we believed them to be, have yet to make any public moves on the aftermath of their creation.’, James translated easily.

The man to her right sighed, “Tony Stark has supplied more than enough money for the cleanup of their mess, but besides a few meetings, we aren’t seeing much else.” He stated, “The public requests answers, as this makes us wonder: how well can we actually trust these ‘heroes’ to protect Earth if they are the ones creating villains.”

James held back his flinch. Didn’t he fall into that category? He was another villain, except he was allowed to escape.

The screen shifted to the security footage once more, instead showing the woman, Black Widow, as she fought alongside the archer, Hawkeye as the screen provided. They worked well together, James noted, and he wondered if they had been trained together.

As the reporters continued to speak, James filtered their words through his mind, only paying attention to what he thought was important.

“Signore?” The cashier asked, catching James attention. He finished the exchange of his items and took back the few coins he had as his change.

He mumbled a ‘thank you’, taking a few steps to the side but keeping an eye on the television and listening closely.

“How can we forget this team’s past though? Since the SHIELD information dump, we have gotten a very close look at who these people truly are. Black Widow? Originally a Russian spy who was an enemy to SHIELD, yet they went on to recruit her. Tony Stark, known as Iron Man, egotistical and selfish, used to make weapons,” as the woman spoke, a picture of the discussed team member popped up. The red head seemed to have shown up in the form of her SHIELD photo and for Tony Stark, a photo of him at what seemed to be a press conference, “Steve Rogers, also Captain America, is from an entirely different century, a century where he fought Nazis! For all we know, he may not even be as good of a man as we think he is in our own century,” James personally thought they were trying very hard to pull up dirt on each member, “And how can we not worry about Dr. Bruce Banner, the man who turns big and green if he gets upset? We have also recently learned of Hawkeye’s, also Clint Barton, past. A former Circus member turned assassin before being recruited by SHIELD just like the Black Widow.” James found himself glancing up the screen as he resided himself to leave the supermarket, urging himself to stop looking so interested in The Avengers. He caught the picture of Clint Barton and his grip on his bag loosened slightly.

Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye, with blue eyes and brown-blond hair. A past with a circus and murder.

An assassin.

SCREAM

RED
AN ARROWHATESCREAMINGWEAPON

WEAPON
WEAPON

burning and left for dead.

James Barnes felt like throwing up as he made his way out of the supermarket with pale skin and a million images running through his heads.

you killed him
you killed him
youkilledhim

he didn't want to

but he didn’t?

blue eyes and brown hair
an archer with blue eyes and brown hair.

talented and associated with the black widow and the avengers.

James let go out his restrictions for just a moment and nudged the people in his way out of his line of direction. It wasn’t hard enough to push them, but enough to get them to move and give him some room.

clint barton

James hand skimmed his side, the flash of anger he had once felt now replaced with regret and tinged with fear. Red words burned and the memories stolen and all started by that damn archer.

James felt like he was going to stumble, like he was going to close in on himself and try to make t all go away.

he’salivehe’salive
butit’salwaysyourfault

almost killed that man.

Will they come for him? He almost took away their archer, will they kill him? Are they like HYDRA? God, he hoped not.

A man yelled something at him in Italian, but James didn’t bother with translating it and didn’t bother with an apology or a look in his direction.

He had his destination in mind and hoped that no one would follow him. He couldn’t think straight for the first time since he met Steve Rogers again.

James didn’t remember actually arriving at his little abandoned apartment, but he registered the shutting of the door and his stuttered breathing as he scrambled for his most recent journal.

He started on the first page page he saw, trying his best to write down the memory of Steve and Bucky. The writing was sloppy and most likely only legible if you were the one to write it. On the next page he wrote down the new realization, the words on the page making his hand so unsteady he could barely hold the pencil.

His breathing had picked up and he felt the familiar trail of tears on his cheeks and suddenly James Buchanan Barnes felt so panicked, so overwhelmed as his regrets washed over him.

Did he ever deserve to live when he fought Steve Rogers?

He wanted to live though, to be free of the bastards of HYDRA and the tainted memories that plagued his thoughts.

James pushed this into the pencil on paper, the archer’s name hitting the parchment in a repeating line, as if he was testing the words on his lips without saying them.

He relayed everything onto the paper, all of the thoughts, all of the worries, all of the regrets, each second of his day.

James stopped working when the tip of the pencil snapped and left a splatter of lead on the white paper.

Slowly, James released the pencil and let it drop to the wood floor. He shut the journal and held it tightly in his hand, his body sinking to the floor like the pencil.

Two years of running and hiding, but James wasn't sure how much longer he could do that.

Bucky Barnes was taken and erased, made into the Winter Soldier who was trained for this kind of life. The Winter Soldier knew how to hide and how to not be found no matter what. But now, even if he holds those instincts left behind by the Soldier, James couldn't be sure he could keep doing this.

He was absolutely positive he can’t hide for the rest of his life (however long that will be).

He just wishes he knew when the time will come where everything catches up to him.

It’d be nice to be prepared for once.

James scrubbed at his face with the heel of his flesh palm. For once, he wished he wasn’t alone even if he felt the need to be. Two years and the most he’s done is hide. It almost didn’t even seem more than an avoidance than an instinct or skill.

James Barnes pulled his legs close to his body, the short nails of his fingers digging into the leather of his current journal.

He no longer had that scrawny kid from Brooklyn who he pulled from alleyways and grew up with. He didn’t have the girl who he remembered as Becca, or the parents Bucky Barnes knew. There were no more conversations from work or watching Steve Rogers draw whatever was on his mind. James couldn’t end his day with a smile and a night out. James Barnes couldn’t have any of that now.

Steve Rogers was older than he was in the 40s and was not the same little guy from Brooklyn, no matter how much he may say. That kid from Brooklyn is a man who defends Earth and fights enemies with a team behind him. Brooklyn wasn’t the same either (James had checked) and the only “work” he had been doing in the last seventy years was either HYDRA’s or hiding. He couldn't recall the last time he smiled.

Despite his own worries, he hoped Steve Rogers was better off than himself.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers’ Bucky and he was sure he never would be. He chose to not be the Asset, a choice he never would regret. He would never be those men or things again, but he couldn’t stop himself from wishing for the life of Bucky Barnes where things made more sense if you stopped the memories to right before he was drafted.

He wondered if Clint Barton had been given his second chance and had done well with it. He had been an assassin and was now fighting alongside Steve Rogers. The same could go for that entire team, mostly. It was something James felt at least a little confident in thinking. He didn’t know them, not even Steve, and despite their current situation in the world, their intentions seem nice.

He had heard they went against HYDRA and their followers.

Without much reaction, James found himself imagining the scenario of where they found him. The truth of it hit hard, but he would never blame them for taking down a monster.

They’d find him, take him and wouldn’t hesitate. Steve Rogers would be sad, maybe, that this monster had taken place of his best friend. Clint Barton may be upset about almost being killed by the Soldier and the Black Widow would probably be following behind her teammates closely. The other half of the teams wouldn’t think kindly of him either, but he wondered who would make the move to actually take him down. James believed he would hold back and wouldn’t try to fight it. It was fair, possibly.

Would they find his journals? That was something he didn’t wish to happen. Those held two years of his own progress, the least they could do was burn them if he wasn’t around anymore. The most intel they could get from those pages were about James Barnes and his depressing life as he moved around Europe and mourned Bucky Barnes’ and the Soldier’s time.

They would sneer and glare.

The Black Widow may take some sort of violence to being in his presence as she recalled their time spent together. Last he had seen her, he had tried to kill her. He hadn’t met half of the team, he didn’t believe, but majority always wins it seems. The God would use his size to his advantage and would flash that hammer around while the other two would back up anything he said.

He found that in a twisted way, thinking this out gave him a sad sort of comfort. Knowing that they had the ability to deal with him as he should be was nice. He didn’t know how truly fucked up in the head he was. For all he knew, he would switch back into defensive mode if someone flashed a knife.

James always had at least six on hand, but the thought that those six would leave his person as the only one that wasn’t his was left clean sent a chill down his spine.

James sucked in a breath and released it slowly, trying to calm the racing of thoughts in his head. He released his hold on the journal and let it fall to his lap. The nail marks weren’t as obvious as he thought they would be, but they were now a permanent addition.

Regaining some of his composure, James glanced around the small room and found his purchases of the day spilled onto the floor. He let out a sigh and stood slowly with his journal held much looser in his hand. He placed it down next to his sleeping bag and pulled his backpack off and dropped it down next to it, reminding himself to pack away the journal once he was settled.

He took an unsteady step towards his purchased items and gathered them up as quick as he could once he had reached them. James moved the bag over to his things and plucked out an apple. He wiped it off on the sleeve of his jacket and took a bite, sitting down and allowing the silence to settle in around him.

He ignored the way he struggled to hold the apple in tight grip with his fresh hand or how he didn’t want to look at the metal of his left.

He ignored the absolute silence.

He ignored the memory of blue eyes and brown hair.

He ignored the memory of determined looks and bloody noses.

He ignored and wanted to just push pass everything.

Forget Italy, he would leave for Slovenia in the next two days.

March 28, Italy
I plan on leaving Italy tomorrow night.

Italy was a little too eventful for my tastes (I’d blame my fucked up head more so than the location)

I’m not sure when I'll stop running and hiding.

Everywhere I go still holds a faint reminder of HYDRA and it makes me wonder if they sent the Soldier to these places (they most likely did).

Chapter Text

If there was something Clint Barton was good at, it would be avoidance and self-doubt (and archery).

Clint passed a hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat from his training. There was a throbbing in his side that he should be paying some attention to, partnered with his sore limbs and bandaged cuts.

He didn’t allow himself the break his body was begging for and continued on with his routine. Running on a treadmill shouldn’t be this difficult, right? The only sound, if it was even considered that, was his own thoughts. His hearing aids were left in his room, hoping to avoid any of his teammates the best he could. The training room wasn’t necessarily private, but the people who would be using it as this time were out on another one of their missions. Pietro wasn’t in the compound when Clint had stepped into the room, as the boy had made it a habit to run outside where there was more room, and Wanda was most likely still in bed since no one (Steve) had made an attempt to wake her up. Besides the twins, Vision didn’t need any physical training really, not like Clint, and Bruce was never actually Bruce when in battle while Thor wasn’t exactly needed in the training room at all times.

Clint was just exceedingly human. The archer scowled, slightly, at the thought. He had to be able to keep up with the super soldiers, gods, and armored people. Even Natasha and Sam, although technically human, had their own little enhancements. Sam had his wings, for one, but was naturally able to work hard in the training room while Natasha didn’t even need an explanation. Clint loved to remember how much of a badass his best friend was, but when he was in the middle of working his ass off it wasn’t the best motivation.

Clint also couldn’t exactly agree that the sudden pain rippling through his leg was his favorite thing either. Begrudgingly, he slowly lowered the speed of the treadmill until it had stopped and allowed him to get off. He would never admit that he almost fell on his ass once his feet made contact with the floor of the training room. Not wanting to pass out though, Clint walked over to where his water bottle was sat and took a long, greedy sip. He leaned heavily against the wall, hoping to be able to get back into his workout even with his break.

His hand came to rest on his side, right over where he had a pretty nasty bruise and was littered with cuts. He winced and removed the hand, trying to will away the pain if possible.

The past day and half were shitty to say the least. Not only did he have to wake up at ass o’clock in the morning, he had to go out with the team and fight an onslaught of dorky looking things made up by some crazy dude (Clint didn’t exactly pay much attention to the tragic origin story of those little monsters) but he did remember how those dorky little things had claws that were more terrifying than they were dorky.

He had been prepared, his quiver full with arrows, very nice arrows, and his bow fresh and ready to go. Hell, he even looked ready to go once you got past his pissed off attitude from his lack of coffee and sleep.

But, when the your weapon is for more far range kind of things and your armor can’t hold up well against sharp things too well, a fleshy human like him gets pretty beat up. The things were smart, he’ll give them that, and had figured out how to divide and conquer. Clint had been set up on one building where he could work fairly well, but before he could even get out five arrows, he was shifting from building to building as those things kept coming at him.

Clint had been injured worse and had been in far worse situations, but when you get thrown off of a building and get caught by the Hulk, only to be thrown through a window, shit hurts.

Natasha has tried to keep him down, reminding him that he didn’t need to cover everyone at once, but he didn’t listen. Clint was slower from all the injuries he had gathered from the fight, but did his best until the end (of which was when Tony had to knock him in the side to get him out of the way).

He stayed down after he hit the ground of the office building and realized he was bleeding a little too much from his leg.

Clint huffed and pushed off of the wall, screwing the cap back onto the bottle and letting it drop to the floor. Making the decision with a lack of thought, he left his things in the room as he moved onto the range. Maybe after he spent a few hours there he could actually feel better.

He went through the familiar motions of setting up the range and readying his bow, the action offering a slight calm.

As Clint raised the bow and took aim, he hesitated. The slight calm washed away, replaced by panic. He didn’t let the bow drop to the floor, he was smarter than that, and instead lowered his entire body to the floor. The weapon was on the ground next to him, but he kept his eyes away from it.

Not only had he been beat up by some monster things, the nightmares were in full swing that night. The archer only got just enough sleep to stagger through the day. He had woken up many times in the night, the sight of a bloody Cooper, the voice of Natasha dripping with anger and hate, or an arrow sticking through the chest of anyone he held dear to him playing on repeat in his head.

He was met with the sickening memories of his regrets and the fear of his own weapon, the one thing that offered him a state of calm.

Clint let out a shaky breath and laid back and shut his eyes tightly, not even wanting to face the blank ceiling.

God, he wished Natasha was around. He didn’t want to be vulnerable, not really, but he at least wanted that familiarity he had with his best friend. He hadn’t even come close to feeling that kind of companionship with the rest of the team, or even Laura. Laura had a normal life, at least the most normal it could be when she has a kid with an Avenger, but she had been raised entirely differently than Clint. She was happy, always had been, and never had to get involved in the shit he had to. Hell, she even had her soulmate in her life (Clint made sure he was a nice guy. Even if he wasn’t close to Laura in a romantic way anymore, he definitely wasn’t letting just any guy get around his family). They both always knew Clint led an unconventional life, one that didn’t exactly promise a future, but as long as Cooper and Laura were well he couldn’t feel any regret for how he and Laura played out.

But when it came to the team, he had hoped to find some sort of family there, even if he never openly admitted it. In a way, they were just that if you added on ‘slightly dysfunctional’. Tony and Clint had gotten a second chance at a family, whereas Natasha got a chance to attempt trusting people, and Thor got an opportunity of a group of people he could come to support and care for in a place other than Asgard and Bruce got a group of people that would appreciate Bruce and Hulk. Steve had gotten a second chance at life entirely once he joined the Avengers and the twins just the same while Vision came to be with the Avengers. Sam had gotten one hell of a group of friends too.

Clint could easily agree that they had all gotten at least something from the Avengers, even if that wasn’t the intent of the initiative. Clint didn’t have a large amount of trust and easiness with them though, although he had come to appreciate the twins as much as everybody else, but he supposed that’s what happened when you grew up like him.

He wanted to trust the rest of the team the same he would Nat, but he just wasn’t there yet. He took comfort in the word ‘yet’. He would trust Natasha with his life (whether it be helping him out or killing him), and would definitely trust the rest of the team to help him out when needed but none of them truly understood the extent of him just yet. He didn’t blame then, of course, it was his own issues that made him keep them at an arms difference.

He wanted to do better though.

He didn’t want to see them hurt or scared.

Clint didn’t realize he had been crying until he ran a hand down his face in attempt to pull himself together. Frustrated, but glad he was alone, Clint sat up and scrubbed at his eyes. He was tempted to call Laura and Cooper to check up, but he was sure at this time Cooper was already off to school and Laura was occupied with her own life. He was even tempted to talk to Barney. He pushed down the thought quickly, but the idea to get access to some FBI files lingered briefly. He knew there was no chance at getting in contact with Natasha either. He had tried once before, but whenever Steve, Sam and Natasha went off on their missions, they were untraceable in every way.

As Clint debated picking up his bow again and choosing to ignore the pain rocking his body, he jumped as a hand settled on his shoulder. Clint reached to grab the hand, but instead fell to the side slightly when his hand made contact with nothing.

Ignoring the pain at the motion, Clint jumped up and twisted around to face the person in the room with him. He let out a shaky, relieved breath when he came face to face with Vision. The man (android?) looked slightly shocked and worried, his brows scrunched up.

He opened his mouth and started speaking, but Clint looked away and gave up on trying to read his lips. He didn’t want to attempt it in the moment. Instead, he waved a hand dismissively and briefly pointed at his ears. Vision took a long look at Clint’s ears before he straightened up and nodded. He raised his hands, but hesitated before they started moving. I have not seen you today and was concerned. He signed, the motions of his hands making sense but lacking the fluidity that came from practice.

Clint blinked, opening his mouth as if to respond, but nothing came out. He wasn’t sure just how good Vision’s sign language was, he was more curious when and why he had made the effort. My night was not so good, came to train. Clint decided to say.

There was a pause from Vision before he responded, It is still early and— he cut himself off and took a long moment to himself before spelling out Wanda’s name, W-A-N-D-A is awake and asks for food. She says you make pancakes.

Clint nodded and wondered how Wanda remembered such an event. He had only only made her pancakes once or twice, but in the recent months their schedules hadn’t allowed a breakfast together. You want me to help?

Vision furrowed his brows momentarily before he nodded quickly and clasped his hands behind his back. He offered the archer a nervous smile.

Clint nodded, mostly to himself, before he chose to speak, “Gonna go get my hearing aids and I’ll join you both.” He said, unbothered by if he spoke too loud or too soft.

Visions didn’t seem to care either way, as he just nodded and left the room easily having chosen to just phase through the floors. Clint looked at the spot of the ceiling Vision had gone through for a few moments, wondering how that must feel before he packed away his bow and arrows.

He limped his way up to his room, the slight regret of his workout coming to his mind. When he was doing his best to make his way back to the elevator while putting in his hearing aids, the brief wind down the hallway gave him the brief reminder of the speedster’s presence.

“Clint, you do not look so hot.” Pietro said, now in front of Clint and taking a step backwards whenever Clint took one forwards.

Clint grinned, “I always look hot.” He attempted lamely.

Pietro groaned, “God, even you cannot make that okay.” He paused and placed a hand on Clint’s chest to keep him still, “But I am serious, are you okay?”

Clint shrugged and leaned against the wall, glad for the pause in motion, “Depends on your definition of ‘okay’.”

Pietro looked Clint up and down and shook his head, “I would think you’d be smarter than this, Clint.” He muttered before the two were suddenly in medical.

Clint groaned as Pietro lowered him to the ground slowly, “Now you’re a tattletale?” He paused and glanced at the doctors in the room that were staring at the two, “And with the way you were holding me, I’m looking even more like a damsel in distress.”

Pietro grinned, “Don't lie, you love looking like a damsel in distress.”

Clint looked at Pietro for a moment before sighing, “I can’t argue with that, kid.”

As the words left his mouth, a doctor came up to the archer and started the process of asking Clint why the fuck he thought it was a good idea to workout while injured before patching him up again, although in a much more professional manner. The entire time, Pietro watched the process with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin settled on his lips.

Once it was all over and done with and Clint was ordered off of any physical activity such a training until he was cleared, Pietro had swept Clint up into his arm and the two were in the communal kitchen.

“Good morning, Vision.” Pietro greeted as he stood with Clint still in his arms.

A muffled laugh reached Clint’s ears and he let his head drop back briefly, his eyes meeting an upside down (at least to Clint) Wanda who had a hand over her mouth and smile showing on her lips.

“Ha, ha, laugh it up, Wanda, but it’s your brother’s fault that you don’t have pancakes yet.” Clint commented as Pietro slowly set him back onto his feet.

Wanda was still grinning as Clint rolled his eyes and looked to Vision, who was looking just as concerned as he had when he last saw Clint, “Clint, how hard did you work yourself while training?”

Before Clint could respond, Pietro was in front of Clint again and was shoving him in the shoulder lightly, “Why would you train while injured?” He asked, his voice both irritated and curious.

“Can’t miss leg day.” Clint chose to say, leaning against the counter behind him.

Pietro rolled his eyes and took to sitting next to Wanda at the island nearby, “Please don’t do it again,” he started, the concern in his voice peeking through even if he didn’t want it to, “We only have one old man.”

“What about Steve?” Clint asked.

Vision took the question as his reentry to the conversation, “Well, technically Captain Rogers is around your age, perhaps a little older, but Sir is at least ten years older than you, Clint.”

Clint held back the wince from the use of ‘Sir’, a term left from JARVIS that Clint knew sometimes slipped past Vision when speaking.

Wanda laughed, “Thank you, Vis.”

It was Pietro who got them back on track after that. Clint seemed to be the only one who had any knowledge of how to make pancakes, but Vision and the twins seemed eager to learn. The eagerness led to Clint happily explaining each step and the ingredients he was using to make the breakfast item. He answered any questions given, all mostly coming from Vision (Clint was starting to feel a little better about the guy), but once he had gotten everyone some food, except Vision, the questions had gone silent.

Wanda gave Clint a close lipped smile as she set her pancake up with whatever was offered, “Thank you Clint, this was very kind of you.”

Clint nodded as Pietro spoke up, “I agree, but expect for me to ask for more.” He said before he reached forward and took another two pancakes from the plate settled on the island.

He heard Pietro’s thanks before the two had moved to sit by the television. Apparently the two had been introduced to a show that both Thor and Bruce liked, which started a habit for them to spend their free time watching the episodes. Clint had sat down and watched a few with them, but he found he favored some other entertainments over it (he never told the four that though).

Clint’s eyes flickered over to the elevator as it opened, revealing the two people he had been thinking of, plus a certain one-eyed dog. Bruce was chatting quietly to the god as they exited the elevator, but Thor’s attention was quickly stolen when he noticed the pancakes on the counter. He grabbed Bruce by the wrist and gently tugged him over, “Barton! Have you made this?” He asked, grinning.

Bruce offered a smile to Vision and Clint as Thor expressed his excitement.

“Pancakes, and yeah I did,” Clint paused, watching for a moment as Lucky trotted over to the Sokovians to beg for some food, “Feel free to take some, since Vision can’t eat ‘em and I’m settling for some cereal and coffee.”

As Clint started his coffee and got out his cereal, he vaguely listened to Bruce as he spoke with Vision. He wasn’t sure of the topic, but he was glad to hear that Thor was enjoying the pancakes greatly. Clint was sure the god had already had the breakfast food before, but he was sure that the meal felt like a lifetime ago for him.

“Clint?” Vision asked, earning the gaze of the archer, “Would you like to join Bruce and I when we cook lunch later? Bruce has offered to teach me how to make some meals that can be served to the team.”

Clint hummed in agreement and took a sip of his coffee, briefly wondering what it’d be that they’d make. He glanced at Pietro and Wanda, glad to see the two smiling and leisurely enjoying their meal. He considered the event of Cooper stopping by for a moment, wondering if he’d enjoy meeting his dad’s team.

He’d have to call Laura and ask, and catch up of course.

It hadn’t been very long since he had last seen his son, but it had been a little longer since he had seen him in person. He made sure to keep contact with Laura and Cooper, but it was also necessary that he didn’t get them on anybody’s radar.

He thought Cooper might like Pietro and Wanda, especially because of their younger age, but he was pretty sure Cooper would love to see (Auntie) Nat again.

Speaking of the redhead, the elevator opened once more and the woman herself stepped out. She barely looked around the room before she locked eyes with Clint. She ignored the gazes of everyone in the room as a smile grew on her lips, “Hey Clint, Tony needs your help with adjustments on your arrows.” She said, earning a furrowed brow from Clint from the lack of greeting.

He also was pretty sure he never asked for any upgrades or adjustments to anything, “Uh, sure,” he said slowly, placing his now empty cereal bowl into the sink and taking his mug with him as he walked over.

As they both entered the elevator and the doors shut, Clint cleared his throat, “I never asked for any arrow adjustments, Nat.”

She hummed, “I know.”

Clint let it end there, instead taking a long sip of his coffee. Whatever Natasha was up to, he hoped it was worth the lack of hugs and emotional greetings. It had only been about a week since he’d last seen Natasha, but he was human and missed people like hell.

After the long elevator ride (Clint was pretty sure it was the silence that made it so long), Natasha led him into Sam’s quarters.

Now Clint found himself even more lost, “Okay, I love you Nat, I really do, but if this is your attempt at a threesome, I am going to confidently say I see you as a sister and Sam is most definitely straight.”

Natasha shook her head as the couch of the living room came into closer view. Both Steve and Sam were sat on the couch, neither speaking.

Clint tapped a finger against his mug, “I object to any foursomes too.”

“I surely hope this isn’t a foursome,” Sam commented, looking up at Barton.

Clint opened his mouth to make another comment, but Steve was quick to end the conversation there, “Hey, Barton.” He greeted easily. He nodded towards the the chairs in front of Clint, but to Steve’s right and left, “Take a seat, you two, and I’ll fill you in, Clint.”

Clint held back a grin at Natasha’s mumbling, of which revolved around how Steve’s wording surely wasn’t helping Clint’s assumptions.

Clint took a seat though, glad Natasha had chosen instead to take the seat across from him. The archer ran a hand through his hair and awaited whatever explanation they were going to give him, “I have lunch plans with Vision and Bruce so I hope this isn’t an all day thing.”

“Finally playing nice with Vision?” Natasha asked.

Clint shrugged, “He likes to learn about cooking.”

Natasha hummed, her eyes flickering over to Steve.

As if sensing the transition, Steve sat up straighter and turned towards Clint. The archer noticed that it seemed he hadn’t changed into his Captain America getup, as the clothes he wore seemed ruffled and his hair still neat. Sam and Natasha seemed the same, “Clint, what you’re about to hear can’t leave this room.” He started off.

Clint nodded slowly, taking another sip of his coffee. He should’ve filled his cup before he left, “It’s okay if Friday hears?”

Steve hesitated, “She’s under the same conditions.”

Clint nodded again, just as slow.

Steve watched him for a few seconds before he continued, “The missions Natasha, Sam and I have been going on have been much more important, at least to me, then you may have thought.” He started, “And it involves my life from the 40s.”

Clint glanced at Natasha, looking for any sort of clues on her face. All he got was a blank canvas and also nothing from Sam when he took a look.

“I thought I didn’t have anything left from my life when I woke up, but I got lucky and found Peggy again.” Steve seemed as nervous as Clint should have been, “But even then, as much as I hate to think about it, I don’t know how long she will be around. So I kept feeling like I had lost everything even after I gained things.” He paused and now Clint was wishing he would be blunt, “Even when I was still in the 40s, I had lost a lot of things already, like Bucky, my mom and dad. It’s only gotten worse now as I’ve learned about the changes in the world, but now I have Tony and the rest of the team. It’s just, sometimes, I wish I could have lived through my life as I should’ve.”

Clint let out a quiet sigh, “Steve, I’m a big boy, whatever has got you so nervous, I can handle.”

Steve exchanged a look with Sam and Natasha, which only guaranteed a more irritated Clint, “It’s just that— this— it’s…” he trailed off again.

“My God, Stev—” Clint started up again, his voice irritated at the lack of progress was making, only to be cut off by Steve.

“Bucky is alive!” He yelled, startling Clint with both his tone and words.

The archer’s brows furrowed, “How the hell would he still be alive, Steve? Everyone knows about what happened to him, he died. Steve, even you saw him fall,” he looked at Natasha and Sam, trying to find some sort of agreement to Clint’s words, but he briefly fell silent at their lack of surprise. “Rogers, there’s no way he’s alive.” He said slowly, looking between the three.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve said slowly, “But I found out the truth when the three of us were in D.C.”

Clint ran a hand down his face and took to speaking to Natasha, “Nat, you can’t believe this, right? The man is dead, hell I read about him and his death in a goddamn museum. Even if he somehow made it out alive, there would be no chance he’d be alive today either way!”

Natasha watched Clint carefully as she spoke, “I thought the same thing Clint, but I saw him and then it made sense.”

Clint laughed humorously, leaning back in his chair, tapping a finger against his mug, “Magic, aliens and all this shit exists, but I can’t buy that Steve’s dead best friend is actually alive today.”

Sam sighed, “Well you better start learning to believe in ghost stories because we need your help.”

Clint readied himself to try to reason with his teammates again when Natasha spoke up, “I can give you a file, Clint, so you can understand the situation. It’s the same one I gave Steve, but we need to know you’re ready to help us out.”

Clint took a long look at her, leaning forwards, “Nat, how can you know I’ll believe a dead man is suddenly living.”

Natasha leaned forwards as well, “Well, you believed that Steve was alive.”

Steve took the moment to jump in, “Clint, Bucky isn’t exactly the same as I knew him. He’s still my best friend though, I know that. We had an idea of where he was for a long time there, but then he was gone. I can’t let him go again, Clint, I need to at least make sure he’s okay. We just need your help to find him.”

Clint settled back into his chair, letting the silence fall over him, “I need more details than just ‘I saw him’, Steve. There are plenty doppelgängers out in the world. I mean, I just saw a girl that looked exactly like Wanda.” It was a bit of a lie, the girl looked like Wanda from behind, but her face wasn’t at all close.

Sam cleared his throat, exchanged a look with Steve, and spoke, “Barnes shouldn’t have survived that fall from the train, but somehow he did. He would have died though, if HYDRA hadn’t gotten ahold of him. They did things to him, Barton, bad things. Think about what happened with Loki, but add seventy years to it and a whole lot more pain.” He paused, “And that’s the nice explanation.”

Clint let the information settle in his head, not enjoying that the situation was starting to make sense, “Get me the file and then I’ll see if I can join in on this insane group.”

Natasha shook her head, “You’re either committed right now or you aren’t Clint. That’s what’s happening here.” The look in her face already gave Clint a clue of what she was thinking and his next words just proved her correct.

“Fine, Natasha, I’ll join you maniacs on your Bucky Barnes mission, but I’m only going to be involved enough to help you three and keep my personal connections safe.” He caved.

Natasha grinned and settled into her seat, crossing her legs, reminding Clint too much of a ruler of a kingdom.

Steve let out a relieved breath once Clint spoke and Sam was in motion as the words left his mouth. Suddenly, there was a file in Clint’s lap and the dark red HYDRA symbol was staring up at him.

He didn’t stare too long, but made note of the translation of the Russian on the front. He was curious though, wondering how much he was about to learn (and how much he was going to wish he never knew).

Clint brought his eyes up and looked at the three, “Now that I have my homework for the night, would you care to let me know when the field trip is?” He asked, voice slow and careful. He couldn’t risk them leaving him in the dark.

Sam sighed, “Tomorrow morning, so rest up, Hawkeye.”

Clint hummed, letting his eyes drift back down to the file. He was sure that was a picture poking out from the side, only slightly, but he was more concerned about what HYDRA was taking pictures of.

Natasha stood up and made her way over to Clint, letting her hand drift to his neck where her fingers trailed across his shoulders. If he didn’t know her how he did, he would’ve thought there was attraction laced in the touch. He had learned better though, that the touch was rather a mix of warning and trust.

“Would your audience mind if I joined you all for lunch later?” And with Natasha’s words, the tense and somber atmosphere left the room.

Steve stood up after she spoke, “I’ll be in the training room, holler if you need me.” He told the three as he swiftly left to the elevator.

Clint let a hand come to rest on the file, briefly thinking over where he was going to hide the file for the rest of the day where no one would find it for the time being. If anything, he was surprised Natasha hadn’t destroyed it yet.

“And,” Sam started, sitting down on the couch and bringing his feet up onto the coffee table, “This is my living room, so unless you two plan to watch the new episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, the door is over there,” he continued, picking up the remote to his television and gestured to the elevator lazily.

Natasha gave a short laugh, her nails scraping gently against the skin showing right above Clint’s collar. At the action, he stood up and kept a tight hold on the file as he repressed the instinctive chill that threatened to run down his spine.

Both he and Natasha bid Sam goodbye before moving towards the elevator. They didn’t speak as they moved down the floors, besides giving Friday their desired floor. He noticed that Natasha wasn’t following him to the communal area.

When they reached the floor Natasha had requested, the use of the floor lost on Clint. Before the doors were to close again, Clint called out, “I’ll send Wanda to get you when lunch is done later today!”

She turned around, her body facing him now and a smirk resting on her lips, “I’ll make sure she feels welcomed.”

For how much she joked, Clint wished she wasn’t all talk when it came to Wanda.

The doors closed though, cutting off any replies Clint planned on making and he began his short trip to his own floor. He made his stop quick, hiding the file in a place he hoped nobody would be searching anytime in the next twenty-four hours.

When he came back to the group he had left before, they had all shifted and made themselves comfortable in the living room. The twin’s show was still on, but a different episode than earlier, unsurprisingly, and the two were huddled up together in the same spot. Vision was now situated near the two on the same couch, but he looked rather stiff with his hands folded neatly in his lap and his posture so nice. He supposed that was Vision’s version of comfortable. Thor and Bruce were sharing the other couch, still seemingly caught up in one another and their conversations. Clint found himself glad that although Thor and Hulk may not always be the best of buddies, Thor and Bruce had grown a bond.

Clint joined them quickly, making himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

He enjoyed himself as Pietro and Wanda discussed each episode after it ended, of which became the repetitive factor until lunch.

Clint did end up sending Wanda to retrieve Natasha. He guessed that Wanda should've been back in ten minutes at most with the redhead in tow, but he didn’t see the two for half an hour. He decided that it was too long for nothing to happen but too short of a time for something to happen.

Based on the look Pietro gave Wanda though, he wasn’t the only one who noticed her delayed return.

Lunch was an easy affair at least.

After the meal was shared, Clint didn’t find a moment of alone time until after the team had gathered for dinner. As he had been eating, it had occurred to Clint that he had some things to take care of before he left, of which included but didn’t end with Lucky.

So, instead of going to his floor with his dog, he brought him along to stop by a certain speedster’s room.

Clint didn’t need to knock, as the door opened when Clint and Lucky approached. Pietro was grinning widely at the sight of the two, “Old man! You have brought your dog!” He exclaimed, dropping to his knees and giving his attention the to the Golden Retriever.

“Speaking of your love for my dog,” Clint started, “Would you be interested in taking care of him for awhile?” He paused, grinning when he noticed Pietro’s visible excitement, “I’m not sure for how long, but you can move his things over to your quarters for convenience if you’re up to watching Lucky.” he offered easily.

Pietro looked up at Clint, “What I am hearing is that Lucky is temporally in my custody.”

Looking at the kid’s expression and the heart eyes he kept making at his dog, Clint shrugged, “Sure, let’s put it like that.” He answered, smiling as the sokovian squealed (something Clint was sure he wouldn’t admit to later on), “Just remember that he still is my dog legally, even if he starts sleeping on your bed and is eating your food instead of mine.”

Pietro shrugged, “Shared custody.” He suggested, “He’ll he heartbroken to learn of his dads’ divorce but you can pay child support.”

Clint chuckled, playing into the turn of the conversation, “Can you afford child support?”

“And that is exactly why you will be paying child support.”

Clint gave another laugh. He patted Lucky on the head before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to the same spot, even if Lucky didn’t appreciate the gesture Clint was just as obsessed with the dog as Pietro was. “I didn't grab any of his things just yet, but—” before he could finish speaking, the Sokovian was suddenly holding a pile of dog items in his arms, including Lucky’s (large) bed that now covered half of his face. Clint settled for nodding, “If you have any concerns, go to Bruce or Wanda. Tony, Thor and Vision are all great, but I don’t think they’re all that great at pet care.” He paused, “And if Scott is around, he’s added to the list with Wanda and Bruce.”

Pietro nodded and stepped aside to allow Lucky inside. He was still smiling, which offered Clint some comfort, “No worries, Clint, Lucky will be spoiled and will be pet very often.”

Clint hummed and took a step back, “I’m trusting you, Pietro.” He started slowly, “And I owe you for this.”

Pietro chuckled, “Sleep well, old man, and I will be thinking of what I can have you do for what you owe me. Lucky will be missing you, I can assure you that.”

Clint nodded again and offered Pietro a wave before the door was shut and Clint was left going back to his own room alone.

When he arrived back at his room, it occurred to him that Pietro had been in there with the file just under his nose. After a moment of tense worry, Clint had decided that unless the kid was a snoop, he probably didn’t see the file.

Speaking of, Clint carefully retrieved the file from its hiding spot. Hiding it in his vents wasn’t the smartest option, but Clint was really trusting the compound’s security. He settled for his kitchen to look through the papers, glad he had started on some more coffee when he had returned from dropping off Lucky.

He could admit, he was partially terrified to open up the file. HYDRA was an ugly, ugly organization. They tortured, they killed, they stole, they did it all. It passed through his mind that SHIELD had no doubt done things like that too, even without HYDRA being involved, but he didn’t want to think too hard on that.

He didn’t have all that much time though, so he opened up the tan folder and took a long look at the first entry in the file. No, not a written entry, but pictures. He was starting off strong, he guessed.

Although prepared in the best way he could be in the moment, he still visibly reacted at the first, large picture that was clipped to the folder.

It was a close up of a window, surrounded by what looked to be a metal door. The glass, whatever kind, was obviously frozen if the ice that littered the surface said anything. But, what left Clint unsettled even in the slightest was the fact that there was a man behind that icy window, frozen. He vaguely thought of Steve, wondering if that’s how this was going to work out. They freeze as if they’re a piece meat and get defrosted.

James Buchanan Barnes was the man in the picture, very obviously, but he hadn’t seemed to age all that much. He wasn’t like Steve, who looked the same as he had in the 40s. Comparing the large picture and the smaller one clipped onto its bottom right corner, of which was Barnes from the 40s, Clint could pick out multiple differences. His hair was the most obvious, now longer instead of shorter and he had stubble that lined his jaw now. The expression on the man’s face was something that Clint felt would stick with him through the reading of the file.

He wanted to say that Barnes looked sad in a way, something he wouldn’t doubt, but, god, he looked like he was in pain, constant pain. He looked as if he would wince and cry if he could, but there was no way something like that would ever occur around HYDRA. Clint found himself forgetting that this man was the Winter Soldier, a ghost story. He seemed so human when you looked at those two pictures.

Clint never knew this man personally, as he was long “dead” by the time Clint was born. He had heard the stories though, of Captain America’s best friend. Now, he understood why Steve wanted to find his best friend, not just because he was just that, his best friend, but also because just having the knowledge of what HYDRA was putting someone through was enough to kickstart a hero complex.

He tore his eyes away from her pictures and looked on, glad his Russian wasn’t too rusty. It started off simple, with data on James Buchanan Barnes and his war history, physical features and advantages compared to the average human. In the data though, was the report of Barnes’ first HYDRA encounter where he had already been experimented on and tortured. Once he first skimmed the details before fully reading the text, he had an understanding as to how the hell Barnes lived through that fall and losing his arm.

The rest of the file didn’t fair as well with the archer. The details were abundant and blunt. Brainwashing and torture were so, so common in the reports left on Barnes. Clint had switched from plain coffee to coffee and vodka.

By the time early morning came around, Clint was well done with the file. It was still open to the very last entry on the table in front of him though. The archer had his head in his hands, silently hoping that every person involved in HYDRA would never get off clean from all the shit they’d done.

He needed a distraction though, something to keep him from spending the next few hours in shock or terror.

He couldn’t pack much, he knew that, so he settled for the necessities for this “mission”.

By three in the morning, Clint settled down to get whatever sleep he could. It came to an end only two hours later when he awoke to find Natasha sat next to him in his bed. She patted his shoulder, “We leave in twenty and no more.” She stated before standing from the bed, “You can sleep in the car for another two hours if nothing important comes up.” She continued as she left his room, the door staying open.

He joined Natasha in fifteen minutes and got two and a half more hours of sleep.

April 1, Croatia
Getting here was so, so fun!

If anyone reads this (I hope not), I hope you understand what April 1 is because even I know what it is.

That first line was pretty lame and now I’m wishing I didn't know what this day was.

Not much to report on, but I found a working bathtub that I could use. I also hung out with this little cat for a few minutes today as well. Gave it some food and managed to find a blanket for it. 

I wonder if Steve Rogers’ Bucky ever had a cat. I don't think he did.

(on the bottom of the page: a messy, simple drawing of a cat written in pen)

Chapter Text

James Barnes woke up screaming again.

He didn’t settle down until after the sun rose and he slowly ate a granola bar. He wondered for a fleeting second how long it would take for his body to shut down from lack of nutrients, but he pushed the thought away after he couldn’t decide whether or not he’d be okay with it.

He pinched the plastic wrapper of the granola bar in between his metal fingers. The pinching became ripping until all that was left of the wrapper was shreds. With a sigh, he pushed the remains into his jacket pocket and placed his hands on the windowsill. He didn’t have much of a view in his shitty motel, mostly just a wire fence, but he thought it was better than the street.

Although not wanting to, James decided he couldn’t repress his nightmares. After sucking in a breath, he let his mind wander and his grip tightened on the wooden windowsill. It was always the same kind of things, torture, blood, victims, but each time the nightmares hit him harder than normal, he couldn’t help but notice the details of each scene.

He almost felt as if he could taste the blood that had coated his hands or could smell gunpowder mixing with gasoline. It was even better when his own screams echoed through his skull after he woke up. James remembered the sight of a bloody man falling from his grip and down to the alley below James, except this time there wasn’t a dumpster to catch the man and James heard the crack of a skull and saw the blood seep from the back of the man’s head instead.

He ponders on that night sometimes, at least once he could recall whatever was offered to him. The situation only got even more shitty as it haunted him. Maybe he kept going back to the memory because of Steve.

James let out a shaky sigh. Yeah, he could settle for blaming Steve for this one.

He knew he would face the man at some point. If his memory served him right, Steve Rogers was a stubborn and persistent asshole who wouldn’t let up until he finished his “mission”. The word on its own was the cause of a chill to rush down his spine.

James pushed himself away from the window, pulling the blinds down and sitting down on the bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, feeling all too like a little kid who was scared of the dark (although James found that the dark was much more comforting in the moment since the mirrors looked black and he couldn’t see his arm).

He let go of his defenses the best he could for a few minutes, burying his head into his knees and letting out a shaky breath that left him sobbing. He stayed quiet though, he couldn’t risk anything.

But he still couldn’t just let go because he was worried and nervous and stressed and trained to be on alert all of the goddamn time.

And of course he felt the need to be embarrassed to act so human. He let out a barely there chuckle at the realization. James knew he was just a big mess of a person. He made quick work of standing up and wiping away his tears and gathering his things.

Croatia, you’ve been a fairly good host to James Barnes, but when he’s feeling fucked up there is no way he’s staying in a shitty motel room.

He left no trace of himself in the room and slipped out the door, pulling the hood of his, luckily, new hoodie and kept his head down as he checked out and made his move.

He never threw away his granola bar wrapper.

James didn’t always love crowds but he thought it was pretty obvious that he couldn’t just walk to Serbia. With such a conclusion in his mind, he found himself trying to catch a train. He scowled when he saw the price for a ticket and he hoped that the next seven hours on the train wouldn’t be all that terrible.

Although it went unnoticed to James, he hadn’t made the mental effort to think of how much of a bad idea riding on a train could be.

As he waited to board, he kept his eyes low but continued to assess his surroundings. There seemed to be a lot of families or pairs on this train, which meant a fair amount of people to James. His eyes flicked over a little girl eating a small package of crackers and James pushed down his own hunger. He didn’t know if he’d ever get an actual meal again, but it was something he would take gladly and greedily.

Everything had become a hope rather than a necessity for him.

Boarding came much quicker than he expected. Sooner the better, he decided.

James found himself lucky, in his opinion, as his row of seats lacked any other members (he assumed that all those families and pairs had made efforts to sit with each other).

He pushed himself up against the side of the train, right where the window was. He almost looked small, younger maybe. His hood was still pulled up and based on just the color of his clothes he screamed intimidation.

James watched the other people take their seats.

A family there with a young daughter, another with two sons, and a couple who held each other close.

James furrowed his brows at the couple. He swore he saw a flash of red on the guy’s neck and some red on the woman’s hand. He felt an uncomfortable sense of familiarity with the color, for more reasons than he knew.

There were more couples and more groups or families and James catalogued each person and their demeanor. How they held their drink, their bags, if their clothing was thick or thin, where their attention was and about a million other things James made a note of. It should be an exhausting practice.

Eventually, all were seated and the train had actually started moving.

James considered sleeping through the ride, but he was quick to dismiss the suggestion. He had nothing to read, but he had his journals and a few pencils.

James forced himself to look out the window, not wanting to ponder on that scrawny kid who liked to fight bullies.

He knew that Steve could use these seven hours up well though, just with a piece of paper and a couple pencils.

Did Steve draw still? God, James sure hoped he did. It was something he knew Bucky’s Steve enjoyed.

James felt uncomfortable and restless. He had gotten used to having space to himself far too quickly, he knew that. When his thoughts came down to Bucky and Steve or the Soldier and his victims, he didn’t want to just stay inside or stay in one place. He had gone up to the roof of some places, had gone on a walk or just paced the floor.

He leaned heavily against the interior of the train, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the moving view outside of the window.

Seven hours on a train and then he would be spending a day on his own before traveling yet again.

God, he was tired.

James spent the next hour in what he felt was a numb, mindless state. He pushed down any of his lingering thoughts and settled for breathing and watching.

A tap on his shoulder was enough to startle him into standing and backing himself up against the wall behind him. James’ hand had snuck under his jacket and had taken hold on the gun in between his back and waistband. He hadn’t pulled it out yet, but he was already screaming at himself in his head for even allowing someone to come near him.

What he expected to see was some visibly threatening person with a scowl (sounds pretty familiar when he looks in a mirror), but he didn’t expect to see a girl no taller than four and half feet tall.

James watched her carefully, taking in her dark doe eyes (way too innocent than what he’s used to), tan skin with the usual childish chub and the dark hair tied up in a low ponytail.

She wore a pale blue sweater and jeans and she gave James a smile once she noticed his attention on her.

The girl raised her hand and waved, a timid action. James still didn’t let his hand fall or allow himself to relax. God knows how young a HYDRA agent could be. James hated that he even has to consider such a thought.

“Mama ma trimis să-i salut. Era îngrijorată că nu te simți bine.” She said slowly in Romanian, smiling up at James.

Why would her mother worry about him, James wondered. He looked away from the little girl and scanned the area, finding the eyes of a man and a woman who were watching James and the girl. The woman smiled at him and waved, just like her daughter, but the man did the same.

Too kind.

“Your mother was worried about me?” He asked, looking back to the child. At least HYDRA had given him the knowledge to speak to almost everybody.

She nodded and took a step back into the aisle, “You remind her of her American friend. We were just visiting him.” She explained easily.

James was getting the feeling that he never wanted to know this much about this family. How could they be so trusting?

James nodded, letting his hand drop from his gun. He stuck his hands into his pockets instead, “You can tell your mother I am fine.” He replied, taking another look at those kind parents.

The little girl smiled and nodded before skipping off to her parents.

James hoped she was having a nice childhood.

Before he could even sit down, the little girl’s mother was walking over and smiling at James, “I hope we did not bother you,” she started, “We just know a man who is from America and acts like how you did a few minutes ago in some ways. Our friend says it is what happened to him because of war.”

James nodded and swallowed down the anxiety that was creeping up, “She was no bother.” He decided to say.

Her look turned sympathetic in that moment, pausing before speaking, “I have found that people deal with their problems and recovery in many different ways.” She took a long look at James, “I only hope you are dealing with your trauma well.”

The woman walked away after she spoke, leaving James surprised with her open assumptions.

He noticed the family’s eyes were still on him, so, hesitantly, he raised a hand and waved back at them before sitting down in his seat.

He couldn’t tell if he felt more or less tense after those interactions.

It seemed that he didn’t get much time to think it over before he got another visit from the little girl, this time with a cookie in her hand that she offered to James. He declined in the most kind manner he could, but she only smiled and left it on the seat next to him wrapped in a napkin.

She returned again some time later, this time with a small apple. She placed it next to the cookie without James responding.

He would take a long look at the seat next to him each time she left. Slowly, he reached out and picked up the apple. He turned it in his hand, the metal one, and put it back down in the seat before he could do much with it.

He was hungry, yes, but he never took food from a stranger if he could help it.

He momentarily thought of a young version of Bucky Barnes stuffing food in his pockets.

The little girl returned again.

And again.

And again.

One time she brought her father over, who quickly apologized for if their visits were annoying (James assured that they weren’t a bother, which surprised James even more with his honesty. For some reason, the little girl wasn’t bothering him) before talking about the son he was going to visit in Serbia. Apparently, their son had moved away a few years back and they visited him whenever they could afford.

He was a smart man, apparently, one who helped fix up neighboring houses’ appliances and helped his own family out when needed. He had to be convinced by his parents to move out so he could continue on with his adult life.

A caring man, the father said.

They both left though, not before leaving a piece of paper with a smiley face on it.

The visits didn’t last much longer than a minute or two and James didn’t speak much for them. He would nod and hum when appropriate but didn’t tell the family to go away.

Maybe they were just a nice distraction.

The next time the little girl approached, she was holding a journal that she quickly opened and faced towards James. There were little doodles on the page, some of plants, some of animals or food.

“I like drawing.” She started, pointing at a drawing of a cat, “That’s a cat that lives by our home. He is very small and playful but I’m not allowed to bring him home.” She paused and pointed at a little flower, “And that’s a flower that I saw before we got on the train.” Her doe eyes flashed to James, “Do you like drawing?”

He paused for a few seconds before shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated before the words came out, “A friend of mine was a very good artist.”

His words elicited an excited gasp, “Do they draw flowers too? Oh, or do they like to make up pictures?”

James paused, wondering how much he should be giving up, “People,” he started, “And the environment. Yeah, he was always drawing the buildings or the neighbors. He didn’t draw that often though, since he didn’t have the things to make the beautiful pieces he imagined.”

She nodded and quickly flipped to another page in her notebook that held a drawing of a tree. It seemed to have much more effort put into it, especially with the leafs, “I like drawing random stuff, or at least that’s what my brother said.” She commented, “He can’t draw well though, so I think his description isn’t great.”

James hummed in acknowledgement, allowing her to speak for a few more moments before she was saying goodbye and walking back to her seat.

It took her awhile to head back over, James noticed. He wondered if she was ending her visits and he was surprised when he felt even a little disappointed.

She did return though, with a single page of her notebook held carefully in between her small fingers. She thrust the paper out towards James when she arrived, smiling the entire time. He took a long look at the page, taking in the cartoon apple with a smile and the cartoon cookie that was next to it on the paper. They were holding hands, he noticed and there were some Romanian words scrawled at the top in childlike writing, ‘Apple and Cookie like to take the train’. He held back a chuckle and looked back to the girl.

She shoved the page closer to James, “I made it for you!” She said happily, briefly glancing at the apple and cookie that sat untouched in the seat closest to her.

“For me?” James asked slowly. She nodded and waited for a moment before placing it down in the seat.

She left quickly after that and returned to her parents.

James didn’t touch the drawing but he did keep his eyes on it for however long the girl wasn’t around.

She waited until he acknowledged her before she spoke, “I have another drawing for you.” She stated, her tone still cheerful.

She placed this one on top of the apple and cookie one and continued to do this until the pile had gotten up to double digits. The papers weren’t full sized, looking to be all be from paper that was torn up into fourths. Pocket sized?

After placing down the tenth drawing, she spoke again, “The train ride is almost over, so my parents want me to take a nap so I’m not upset when we get off the train.” She explained easily. James was impressed with how easily she had been speaking the entire ride, but he wasn’t all that shocked, “Thank you for keeping me company and I hope you enjoy your trip!” She gave him another wave, of which James returned before she could turn around.

She skipped off again and James wondered if she was actually going to get any sleep.

He surely didn’t.

James didn’t touch the items in the seat to his left until the train started slowing down. He debated if he should leave the food. After he had packed away the drawings into his backpack and his eyes caught into the carton apple and cookie though, he carefully packed the food away as well.

He stood up and waited for everyone else in the compartment to leave before he made move to step into the aisle. It seemed the family had the same idea, but he motioned for them to continue on.

He managed what he hoped was a nice smile and waved goodbye. The adults both gave him a tired, kind smile while their little girl perked up and waved back excitedly, “Goodbye!” She called back as her family started forwards.

His smile dropped once she turned, but he acknowledged the happiness that had bubbled to the surface for a short second.

James’ expectations were correct he found. He really was the last person off the train.

He let out a long breath and glanced around.

James was quick to start up his plans again, now on the search of more transportation, not a train, that could assist him in his travels for even a brief time.

He left the station and continued on, but didn’t realize how his train ride had been some sort of calm until he arrived at a bar.

He pushed down a smirk. That family may have not been HYDRA, but they had been damn good at keeping him occupied. He was glad that at least this time their intentions were, most likely, good.

James took a long look at the parking lot in front of the bar and the few cars parked on the street.

Next stage of the plan: steal a car.

James huffed out a short breath and paused before he connected the clips of his backpack straps, hoping that he could depend on the plastic clip to keep his backpack on his person.

Entering the shitty bar was easy enough. Look intimidating and broody and you make a mark on the crowd, James found.

He took a seat at the bar, angling his body to face both the bartender and the rest of the room.

Not too busy and most of the occupants of the building seemed pretty out of it, but who wouldn’t notice their keys getting nicked?

His answer came in the form of a man coming out of the dirty looking bathroom. He had on a leather jacket and held a cigar between his lips, but his attention seemed elsewhere. And, of course, his keys were fucking clipped to his belt loop.

James wondered if he had ever met a guy who preferred cigars.

The man walked slowly, and with his height, he seemed like the kind of guy who would either beat you up or let you get away with whatever dumb shit you tried. Maybe he just didn’t care, James didn’t know. But, he clipped his keys to his belt loop so maybe that meant something.

The man fell into the perfect spot: walking towards the bar. James stood up after a few seconds and busied himself with the gloves on his hands, keeping his head down and walking at a pace that was bordering on fast.

He hadn’t expected the collision to be so easy, especially since most people would actually move out of a person’s way, but James was at least a little surprised when he came into contact with his target.

He didn’t make much of an act out of the situation, just quickly unclipped the keys in the short second their bodies touched before pushing himself away and mumbling out an apology in Serbian.

James made sure he kept a steady pace as he left the bar.

He grinned to himself, just a little.

James took a long look at the keys in his hand, knowing that if there was a remote that using the lock and unlock feature would attract too much attention. This set of keys lacked a remote though, so James picked out which key was a car key, there were three, before determining the most used one.

Before he could do much else, a voice rang out through the parking lot, “Y’know, it ain’t that kind to steal an old man’s keys.”

A man, older (maybe mid to late thirties?) and very clearly American.

Well that’s never good.

Before thinking, James spoke and held up his hands in effort to seem innocent, “Мислим без проблема.” James held back a wince at his own voice. Why the fuck would he tell this guy he meant no trouble after stealing his keys?

James decided he was truly a fucking dumbass.

The man chuckled, “So you know English, but you’re respondin’ in Serbian? Gotta give me a clear answer, Bub. Either you’re giving back the keys or we’re gonna have some issues.”

James let the words settle for a few seconds (had he heard the nickname “Bub” before?) before he chose to speak, “I ain’t no easy man, buddy, so I’m keepin’ the keys and you’re gonna go back in that shit bar.” He didn’t lower his hands though, knowing what kind of response that usually earned.

The man took a few steps forward, his shoes audibly hitting the ground, “So you’re a funny man?”

James chuckled, “I’ve heard worse.” He shouldn’t be looking for a fight, right?

But the man kept coming forwards until he was just a foot or two behind James. James didn’t let anymore space sneak through, his twisting around being quick and his punch coming at the guy just as fast. He started with throwing a punch with his flesh fist, but he left himself stunned when his fist landed on the guy’s very, very hard jaw. If he were some average guy, James would be on the ground howling in pain.

The man barely moved, his head only tilting in the slightest way.

James made a big show of lowering his fist and clipping the keys to his own belt loop. He held back a sigh. He didn’t want to deal with this kind of shit.

Either quick or slow, that’s how it was gonna go.

He first managed to get the knife out of his sleeve and dig it into the man’s side. He expected him to fall, to show that he was hurting, but James was only more frustrated, and confused, when the guy only flinched and tossed a glare at James.

James clenched his jaw and brought his left fist forwards and took another hit at the man’s face. It landed again, this time with a quiet clang of metal and the broken flesh on a cheek.

Now the man reacted, a heavy, actually heavy, punch on James that pushed him back a few inches.

Obviously not your average joe then.

James scanned his surroundings and took a measured step to the side before starting up the fight again. If they were going to fight, they weren’t going to gain a crowd of drunk people.

The man had quick reactions, James catalogued, and didn’t seem to have much reaction to any hits he endured. James’ eyes caught onto the spot where his fist had torn a cut on the man’s face, where the skin was now completely fine. No scars, no opening.

Fuck.

James moved on though and continued on with his fists, taking in the other man’s hits, and waiting out until the guy made any moves for any other weapons.

The man dug a fist into James’s side just as James threw a punch at the side of his head. James moved with instinct, understanding the programming HYDRA dug deep into his head.

But the guy just wouldn’t go down and took each punch as if it didn’t occur. He also just entirely recovered which made this even more difficult.

Finally, once they had made it into some alley, James pulled out another knife and left a long slash over the guy’s chest before digging it deep into his shoulder. As he made moved for the gun in his waistband, James tensed as he felt the familiar, sharp pain of a knife leaving a cut on his leg.

James couldn’t say that was all that pleasant.

He came back with the gun this time, digging the metal into the man’s chest and pulling the trigger. He expected the bullet to hit the ground, covered in red, but instead all he got was that quiet sound of metal hitting metal.

The man reacted just a quick, grabbing the gun and twisting it out of James’ grip and just tossing it aside. James actually furrowed his brows before he clenched his jaw and threw himself at the man.

He wondered if the guy had any more knives on him, but decided he didn’t really care.

The man wasn’t making nearly as many moves as James, at least until he pushed James up against a wall and got a good look at James.

The man fucking grinned, “Heard you died, Barnes.” He said slowly, “But I guess you’re just like your buddy.”

James’ head hit the concrete as a fist made contact with his face, “I ain’t got a buddy.” He grumbled, digging yet another knife into the man’s side. He was getting real sick and tired of his knives just getting pulled out and tossed aside.

Another punch to the face, “Or do you not go by that anymore? Heard you got a new little name.” Another cut on his flesh arm and another knife from James, “The Winter Soldier, huh? Ghost story my fucking ass, you gotta kill count larger than Barnes ever had on his own. What’re you doing in Serbia, Bub? Last time I saw you, you were fighting in a war.” He taunted, that grin curling up again.

“That’s not me.” James chose to push out because god damnit he didn’t want to be that thing. He got out of the man’s grip and maneuvered the man to be the one up against the wall. His metal fist wrapped around the man’s neck, “Who are you?” He asked lowly.

The man didn’t hesitate, “Guess you ain’t got the memory you used to have, Barnes. What was it? Brainwashing, I heard.” He paused and now there was another cut on James’ leg, “Name’s Logan.”

James loosened his hand slightly, hating the memory that just had to pull up at the name. He channeled the feeling into his metal hand, tightening his grip again. He sucked in a breath, “Logan?” He repeated, as if to himself.

He didn’t get much time to recovery from the memory before he was pushed up against a wall and with what felt like a knife digging into his throat. He was proved wrong when his eyes caught onto the man in front of him again.

“Since when do you have metal fucking claws?” He breathed out, keeping his eyes on the metal sticking out of the man’s, Logan, fist. Long, metal, sharp.

“Since when do you got a metal fist?”

James clenched his jaw, taking a mental note of the small space Logan had left between his claw and James’ throat, “HYDRA ain’t cheap, it’s the whole arm, buddy.”

Logan paused, “So you a HYDRA goon now? Aren’t they what you fought with Rogers?”

“I’d never willingly fight for those bastards.” James replied slowly, fingers itching for his spare gun.

Logan retracted his hand and took a step back, his claws still out to the world.

James watched the man for a moment, “How the hell are you still alive?”

He wondered if he was like Steve Rogers (he doubted it).

“A good diet and some fucked up genes go a long way,” he replied, “But you’re the one with a past with HYDRA and the one with a metal arm.”

“And you’re the one with metal claws,” James pulled out a grin, “Can’t say the metal arm thing is that shocking anymore.”

Logan looked James up and down, “I fucked you up pretty bad Barnes, yet you’re still standing.” He hummed, “I’d offer you a drink but if you’re anything like Rogers, it’s just another empty offer.”

James nodded slowly, “And you’re standing just as well.” He eyed Logan carefully, noticing how he stood tense and ready, bloody, but uninjured.

James wasn’t as well off. He was hurting a little bit, but he knew that none of the cuts would be life threatening in the end. He would need some new clothes though.

Logan nodded and raised his fist as the metal started disappearing.

In a mix of fascination and disgust, James watched as the metal moved back into Logan’s skin, “Kind of a gross thing, huh?”

Logan glared at Barnes, “I ain’t the one who fucked with HYDRA.”

James glared back, “I already said I wouldn’t get involved with them if I could help it, so maybe take your claws and fuck off, Logan.” James took a step forwards.

“Metal ain’t all that pretty in the end, is it Barnes?” Logan chose to say. He stayed quiet for a short moment, “I won’t ask how you’re still living or what you did with fucking HYDRA, but I’ve seen weirder shit than a man who is living instead of being dead. Suck it up and move on, Barnes, because I won’t deal with a guy who shys away from his fucked up issues.”

James gave a low chuckle, “I don’t have the option to run away from my issues, buddy,” he tapped the side of his head, “That shit is in my head and won’t ever fucking quiet down.”

Logan shook his head and pulled out another cigar from god knows where, “You think my head isn’t fucked up?” He was quick to light the cigar, “But I ain’t spending the night comparing my issues with another old man’s.”

He took a look at the open end of the alley, “I’ve gotta meet someone in the states by the end of the week, Barnes, so I’m not sticking around to chat any longer.” He stated.

James nodded, briefly sticking a hand over a cut on his thigh that was throbbing in just a little bit of an annoying way.

Logan started towards the end of the alleyway, pausing briefly, “You still good with a rifle, Barnes?” He called back.

James chuckled, “Too good.” He said grimly.

When he looked up, Logan was gone and James realized that the keys were still hooked onto his belt loop.

He waited a fair amount of time, fighting back any pain he felt and gaining his bearings. He left the alley though and eventually found the old truck that the keys belonged to.

There was no Logan in sight and the car was very obviously cleaned out recently. James noticed that he was left with a few cigar stubs, a few pieces of trash and a torn up flannel.

James just tossed the cigar stubs out with the trash before getting into the driver's seat and putting his backpack down on the seat next to him.

Thank god for his backpack’s plastic clips.

Chapter Text

April 8, Romania
My trip here was quiet once I got a car in Serbia.

I only had to spend a day traveling before I arrived in Bucharest, thank god. I don’t think I would have been able to drive for a week straight.

I exchanged cars as frequently as I could during the drive, but I had to spend far too long in the truck I got from the bar. Hopefully Logan isn’t some dumbass who leaves tracks with his truck.

But, based on how he just left, I’ve got a feeling he’s doing something like me.

Is that a good thing?

I actually felt bad ditching his truck, but only a little bit. The guy still left a few nasty marks that definitely didn’t do me any good.

I’m writing this from what I hope is the last car I have to “borrow”.

This one has got some money luckily, which makes up for the weird cheese smell (I don’t want to know the cause), but until I actually get to walk around again it won’t be as important.

One thing I can say confidently: New York is chaotic, but it’s probably comfortable if you’re a local.

You see a lot when you’re hiding from some super soldier and an entire organization.

So pretty much the entire fucking world.

Dunno where I was going with that thought, but I guess I was getting all nostalgic or something. Maybe I was reflecting or whatever.

Being your own enemy is not fun, I can tell anyone that.

Moving on (but not really).

I have heard at least ten different languages in the past week. I knew 100% of the selection.

Worrying? No.
Helpful? Fuck yes.
Causes a slight pit of anxiety from all the worry from HYDRA? I don’t even need a second to say yes to that one.

Knowing however many languages I know is useful, but kind of fucking terrifying if you don’t even remember learning those languages.

I’ve got a couple nightmares and flashbacks to write down now, so I’ll be parking this car somewhere a little more hidden before I get to diving into my hopes and dreams or whatever.

April 8, Romania
It’s been a few hours since I ditched my last car, which actually ended up being my last borrowed car like I hoped.

Just hopped a fence and broke into an abandoned apartment by the way.

I also don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or if I’m even going to live through the fucking night. I wrote about it earlier, it might not be legible, but maybe restating it will help.

I got this flashback of this little redhead girl. Small, green eyed and throwing knives.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe her name was Natalia.

God, she was young and throwing fucking knives.

Even better: she wasn’t even throwing the knives at me, she was throwing them at a person who was tied to a chair. Lots of blood and a lot of screaming.

But it just keeps getting better: she looked right at me and handed over her left over knives and sat silently until someone dragged her away.

Little Natalia with red hair and green eyes was trained to be a killer.

I don’t want to open up that door again, so let’s write about Steve Rogers.

He will try to find me, I know that.

He is determined and Bucky’s Steve didn’t ever give up.

One day it would either be him or HYDRA that showed up on my doorstep, or whatever place I was trying to sleep in.

I don’t think I can keep running, not from Steve Rogers at least.

HYDRA I could hide from and keep away for a time, but Steve Rogers would never give up even if it killed him.

Maybe I want him to find me with the way I’m thinking.

Steve Rogers could very well be trying to find me just so he could put a bullet through my head. I doubt that though.

No matter what, it comes down to one thing: I’m tired.

Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of everything I’ve had to deal with.

So I’m staying here in Bucharest.

Someone finds me? Either they’ll get me or I’ll be bleeding on the ground along with whoever gets me.

I would rather die than let HYDRA get their hands on me.

So maybe Steve Rogers is the better option in the end.

He’d be nice enough to make it quick, right?

America’s sweetheart may as well be Canadian with how his supporters depict him at least.

Would it be smart to do a little more research on Steve Rogers’ little team?

April 9, Bucharest
A cut out of The Avengers at a recent press conference
A close up shot of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark standing hand and hand as they walk away from a restaurant
A blurry image of two young adults, one female with brown hair and a male with brown-white hair (“unidentified”)
A small image of a man and a dog (“Hawkeye and unidentified pet?”)
A very blurry photo of Black Widow entering a car
Clear photo of Black Widow, professional quality (labeled “2013”)
Small image of Bruce Banner accompanied by a slightly blurry image of a large, green man (“Bruce Banner and “Hulk”, side by side”)
Phone quality image of The Avengers with their weapons and armor, all injured, bloody and dirty (labeled “New York, 2012”)

Team Members, information available from experience and untraceable research (note: limited research material)
Anthony Edward “Tony” Stark, A.K.A Iron Man
Born: May 29, 1970
Nationality: American
Abilities: Genius-level intellect; proficient scientist and engineer
CEO of Stark Industries (former)
Weapons manufacturer (former)
Parents: Howard Stark (deceased), Maria Stark (deceased) (December 16, 1991 (?))
Creator of Iron Man suits
Arc Reactor (note: research)
Important: associated with The Avengers

Steven Grant “Steve” Rogers, A.K.A Captain America
Born: July 4, 1918
Nationality: American
Abilities: superhuman strength, speed, agility, stamina, endurance, reflexes, durability and extraordinary regenerative capabilities
Weapons: Shield (blue, red, white star)
Parents: Sarah Rogers (deceased), Joseph Rogers (deceased)
Former fine arts student
Soldier in World War II
Important: associated with The Avengers

Black Widow
Insufficient information available for a full report
Important: well trained, large weapon range, identifiable red hair, associated with The Avengers and formerly SHIELD

Thor
Insufficient information available for a full report
Important: “Asgardian”, preferred weapon is a large hammer that seemingly shoots lightning, seemingly an enhanced being, associated with The Avengers

Hawkeye
Insufficient information for a full report
Important: archer, well trained, associated with The Avengers and formerly SHIELD

Bruce Banner, A.K.A Hulk
Born: December 18, 1969
Nationality: American
Abilities: Genius-level intellect, master scientist, physician, multilingualism (Banner) and invulnerability, superhuman strength and durability, accelerated healing factor (Hulk)
Parents: Brian Banner (deceased), Rebecca Banner (deceased)
Important: associated with The Avengers

Samuel Thomas “Sam” Wilson, A.K.A Falcon
Born: June 8, 1985
Nationality: American
Abilities: Winged jetpack (allows flight and enhanced sight), expert acrobat, expert marksman, expert martial artist, expert tactician, master pilot, well trained with multiple weapons
Parents: Paul Wilson (deceased), Darlene Wilson (deceased)
Important: associated with The Avengers, former United States Air Force pararescue airman

Ant-Man
Insufficient information for a full report
Weapons: Ant-Man suit (origin?)
Abilities: can change size and strength
Important: associated with The Avengers (new addition)

Unidentified:
Female, brown hair and dark eyes, white
Male, brown-white hair and light eyes, white
(Note: Black Widow and Hawkeye lack any traceable footprints in the world, no connections besides The Avengers and SHIELD, possible wipe of information?)

April 10, Bucharest
A doodle of two stick men. One holds a shield with a star in the middle and his eyebrows are drawn in to show anger. The other man holds a bow. An arrow is laying on the ground in between them and dotted lines show the direction of the fallen arrow: make contact with the shield.

April 10, Bucharest
This apartment building is mostly abandoned and run down.

Just how I like it.

(It's got running water though, so that’s pretty damn nice)

April 13, Bucharest
There’s a dog barking next door.

Its woken me up every night and I’m seriously considering switching apartments.

Either that dog is shit at following rules or their owner just doesn’t give a fuck.

Would it be damaging to my secret hiding thing to go and tell the owner to shut up their dog?

Yes, very much so, so I’ll suck it up and go eat an apple.

Chapter Text

“Do me a favor, Natasha, and remind me why we couldn’t take a quinjet, please.” Clint grumbled as he took a long look at the traffic surrounding them.

Natasha glanced over at him from her seat next to him and rolled her eyes, “Too recognizable and parking would be a bitch.”

Clint sighed and let his head fall back onto the seat, “Would’ve been a lot more fun of a trip.”

Clint heard Sam snort, earning the archer’s eyes on the backseat of the car where Sam and Steve sat, “Wanna share with the class, Sam?”

Sam grinned and nudged Steve, who, Clint noticed, was struggling to not grin. The two remained silent though and Clint realized he felt like he was talking to Cooper.

He quickly pulled his attention forwards after that.

The ride remained silent overall though, most likely from the early time of morning. Eventually, Natasha poked her head through the little space in the glass separating the four avengers and Happy in the front seat. She exchanged a few words with him before she pulled back and the panel separating the driver and guests shut. She was quick to unbuckle her seatbelt (what a hazard, Natasha) and turn her body to see the three men.

“We only have an idea of where Barnes is at, let’s make that clear.” She started. Clint noticed the obvious atmosphere shift in the car.

Clint hummed, urging her to go on.

“After D.C, he disappeared, but in our last outings, we were fairly certain that Barnes stayed on the east coast at the very least and left the west coast alone. Personally, I believe he left the states a long, long time ago. I’m sure at least one of you agree.” Natasha continued.

Clint took a short look at Steve, noticing how he had shifted into his “Captain America persona” or whatever Tony was calling it, “He’s a trained assassin, trained by HYDRA, so either it’d be a terrible idea or an amazing idea to stay in the states. He would be risking time on cameras if he stayed in the states, so he would leave the states where he has less of a chance of being seen by the American government. There is a small chance he is still lingering somewhere on the east coast, but I wouldn’t place any bets on that option.” The archer paused, “It’s more of a matter of what his end goal may be.”

Natasha hummed, “And that's where our ideas end.” She stated, “His memory is fucked and I’m confident that he knows his cover has been blown. I would guess he would either fall back into old habits and try to find a HYDRA base or would become a solo act. Hiding though, permanent or temporary, that’s a must.”

Sam huffed, “Sometimes I wonder if this guy is just running us in circles.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, “So, Clint, we’re picking up where we left off,” he paused and took a look at Clint, “That just happens to be Massachusetts.”

Clint looked between the three, “Do you actually think Barnes would be in Massachusetts?” He asked slowly.

Steve shook his head quickly, but hesitated, “It was an option.”

Clint opened his mouth to continue the topic, but Natasha redirected the conversation, “We’ll be taking a plane to Massachusetts first and spend a day there at a safe house. It’s there that we have all of our data and belongings from our last outing and now we need to catch you up and find a new destination. From there, we’ll be getting onto another plane and continuing on our little tracking mission for our assassin.”

“Ex-assassin.” Steve mumbled.

Natasha and Clint shared a look before each held a hand up, “Guilty,” each shot out.

Sam let out a short chuckle as he took a quick look at Steve and his troubled expression.

Clint settled back into his seat and took to leaning his head back against the leather of the seat, “I expect a full and thorough run down once we get to the safe house.”

He waited until he heard a confirmation before directing his attention away from the three.

As usual, the airport and the flight were shit for Clint. He got stuck sitting in between a whining toddler and the toddler’s parent (who refused to switch seats with Clint).

According to Natasha, whose seat was comfortably sat in between Steve and Sam, that because he was a last minute addition to their little trio, he had no way to get a seat even close to them. For a trained ex-assassin, spy and Avenger, he wanted to call bullshit. Based on the wicked grin she had given him when he sat down only caused a scowl to grow on his face.

Massachusetts wasn’t special either and the safe house was like any other safe house he has stayed in (besides his own of course, because he actually had coffee readily available).

Natasha was the one to sit him down and start the conversation about what they had found and what they predicted. Steve was the one who dragged Sam in and complained about not being included. In the end, Clint wondered if maybe Natasha had left Steve out on purpose based on his downturned lips and furrowed brows that popped up by the end of the conversation.

The three were able to answer his questions well though, and that’s what Clint cared about. He understood that they started tracking down Barnes pretty quickly after his encounter with Steve. He also got the helpful fact that Sam was actually found through Steve messing with civilians in his free time rather than an actual mission (since when did Steve actually joke around with people he didn’t know? maybe Clint just needed to pay more attention to the guy). They were quick to refresh his memory on all the shit Barnes went through with HYDRA, much to Clint’s displeasure, but were just as quick to fill him in on where they planned on heading.

“So, Ireland?” He asked, tapping a finger on the side of the water bottle he had been given.

Sam hummed, “Good job on listening, birdbrain.”

Clint raised a brow slightly, “I think you’d rather have me confirming our location rather than getting on a flight to Fiji.”

Sam grinned and Clint left the short conversation at that.

“Ireland, and Europe, is our next guess, yes.” Natasha confirmed.

“And when is our flight?” Clint questioned, pausing and uncapping his water bottle. He took a quick sip and silently hoped his seat on this plane wouldn’t be all that bad.

“Early tomorrow morning, so we’re ending this conversation in just a few minutes and getting out shit together,” Natasha said, “We’re gathering our stuff we left here before first and then sitting down for whatever you think is a civil meal before catching a couple hours of sleep.”

Clint hummed and went quiet for a few minutes, “One last question,” he started, moving his gaze from his best friend and to America’s Sweetheart, “Where the hell do you think Barnes is right now?”

Steve seemed to think it over for a few minutes, “I hope he’s eating well and not wearing shitty shoes.” He seemed to be going for the optimistic side, Clint noticed.

Clint leaned forwards, “Rogers, where do you think Barnes is now? Not what you hope, but what you think is a logical answer.”

Steve went quiet but held his gaze with Clint. The archer let the silence settle for a few seconds before standing and grabbing his water, “Just remember to keep that in your head, Rogers. We don’t know where he is right now, and we can’t always hope for the best.” He turned and walked to the kitchen, “But I’ll start dinner while you three gather your shit.”

“How do you think Lucky is doing right now?” Clint asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, twisting in his seat to look at Clint in the backseat, “Your dog is probably being spoiled, even more so than before, by Pietro and Wanda. That boy is obsessed with your dog.”

Clint shrugged, “I’m a worried parent, Sam, I will stress.”

Sam chose to shake his head and turn away.

“But onto a different, equally important topic, am I sitting with the cool kids today or am I being shunned again?” Clint questioned the group.

Natasha grinned, “Just wait and see, Clinton.”

The archer rolled his eyes and watched the airport come closer and closer through the car window.

Eventfully, the driver was able to drop them off and the four gathered their bags and entered the airport.

Clint took one look at the lines and held back a groan as they headed straight towards them, “You would really rather wait in these lines than use a quinjet?” Clint whispered to Natasha.

“It’s called traveling in style.” She whispered back, her eyes trained on the front of the lines.

Clint held back another groan.

Clint was almost positive that Steve would be the reason their cover would be blown.

Example A, his idea of a disguise is sunglasses or glasses and a baseball hat. Maybe it could work when walking through New York, but going undercover was entirely different.

Example B, the guy at TSA who was checking their tickets was taking a very long look at Kyle’s (Steve!) ID.

“Either you’re actually Captain America, or I’m really high right now.” The TSA guy said, slowly.

Clint could actually see Steve gulp. Really aiming for discrete.

The TSA guy just grinned though and handed back the ID. He sent Steve a wink, “Captain America doesn’t fly economy, so I hope you’re a good buddy, Kyle.” He said quietly.

Steve nodded quickly before stepping forwards to continue on with security.

Sam leaned closer to Clint, “That dude is not gonna be keeping this job for much longer, I can tell you that.” He whispered.

“Agreed.” Clint mumbled before handing over his own ID. The guy didn't have any more comments to share with the group and let them through.

Clint was aware of two things at least: one, everyone but the redhead of the group lacked weapons (possibly) and two, Clint was not looking forward to that weird sound that came out of his hearing aids when he went through the metal detector.

Luckily, there was no loud beeping when Natasha went through the detector and the same went for Steve. Clint quickly let the worker know about his hearing aids before he lowered the volume on his hearing aids. The sound that came through his ears as he stepped through the machine was not a pleasant one, even earning a wince from the archer, but he was pretty sure he’d rather have that than a full body pat down.

He let out a quiet, but relieved, breath once everyone in their group had gotten through security successfully, but the four were quick to keep moving once they gathered their belonging and Clint was hearing at a normal volume again.

“And now we wait around for our flight for three hours.” Clint commented, following the three other Avengers as he took a careful look at his surroundings. His eyes lingered on the food court they were going to come upon soon.

“You’re so unhappy today, Shane.” Steve replied with a grin.

“And you’re a darling, Kyle.” Clint shot back.

Natasha (Abigail) tossed a look back at Steve and Clint, “Don’t go and upset Hank, boys.” She reminded them.

Sam shook his head, grumbling about his new name.

Clint sighed, “Can we at least get some pizza? You had us skip breakfast like the asshole you are.”

“Pizza with anchovies, how about that?” She dared.

“Sandwiches?” He countered.

“Sandwiches with mayo and peanut butter?”

“Burgers, please?”

“Burger wi—”

“Sam’s ordering a pizza right now.” Steve pointed out, causing the two to stop and turn towards the food court. Clint spotted the man easily and smiled widely as he saw Sam hand over some cash to pay.

Clint settled for raising a middle finger at Natasha, even if she could break it in just a few seconds.

“You’re on thin ice, Shane.” Natasha commented as she passed by Clint and started towards Sam.

Steve and Clint followed her after a moment or two, but once they reached the redhead she was quick to tell them to go and find a table while she kept an eye on “their wandering friend”, also known as Sam Wilson.

Steve took the order and was quick to get to it, specifically looking for a table that had six seats at most (requested by Miss Romanoff herself).

Clint and Steve found exactly what they were looking for and took to sitting and waiting. The only difficulty: Clint was quite enjoying himself in his efforts to keep the silence between team members to a minimum.

“So,” he started, “What’s it like being a married man?”

Steve glanced to Clint, “Not married, Barton.”

“So is Tony your friend then?” He asked with a grin.

“We’re dating, not married.” Steve clarified.

“You two are attached at the hip when you're together, you may as well be married.”

“Should I be saying the same about you and Natasha then? Or you and Pietro?” Steve countered.

Clint raised a finger, “Natasha would only marry me if she were desperate for love, which she isn’t from what I know, and Pietro is just not an option, you strange man, it’d be like getting with…” he trailed off, “Okay summary of this is that I’m very single and lack options, so thank you for the reminder, my dear captain.”

Steve held up his hands, “You started it, Shane.”

“Yeah, okay, Kyle.” Clint replied, rolling his eyes.

Steve let it drop for only a few seconds before he cleared his throat, “You really don’t have any options?”

Clint clicked his tongue, “Sure looks like it.” He took a long look around before he pulled his legs up and sat criss cross on his seat, looking back to where Steve sat across from him.

“What about…” Steve trailed off and instead pointed at his chest, specifically over his heart. It only took a second or two for Clint to realize the insinuation, having to think back to the times the team had trained with Steve (also known as when Steve comes in wearing a tight shirt and leaves lacking said shirt but quickly gaining the attention from wandering agents and Tony).

Clint shook his head, “If you need proof, you’ll have to get me into the bathrooms but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me dropping my pants in front of his husband.”

Steve seemed ready to correct whatever Clint was thinking, but Clint was continuing on, “See? You must agree that having your words on your hip can be embarrassing and not sexual. Can’t wait to let Nat know.”

Steve still stayed silent until Clint carried on again, “But to answer your question, I have not met my soulmate and am not grossly in love with said person.”

Steve seemed disappointed by the archer’s words, “Maybe you could go out and meet someone though? Meeting Tony helped me out a lot when I was first coming out of the ice, even if we didn’t get along at first.”

“Here’s the difference,” Clint started, tapping a finger on the table, “You and Tony are soulmates who were into each other from day one, even if you fought. Hell, you two were obvious enough that the team made bets on who would break the sexual tension first. But me? I am a mostly deaf archer with a dog. No soulmate or any interested people in sight.” He shrugged.

Clint saw the moment that Steve turned sympathetic, “Doesn’t that get lonely though? I mea—”

“Sam doesn’t have a soulmate,” Clint pointed out, “If he can deal, so can I.” He paused, “I’ve gotten with plenty of people in my life, I’m sure I can manage being on my own or somehow finding someone who actually wants to get on with me.”

Clint was glad that Sam and Natasha popped up in the moment.

Clint greedily took a few slices of pizza and one of the plates the two carried over.

“So, what were you two getting all worked up about?” Sam questioned, taking a seat next to Clint and grabbing his own plate. Natasha sat down in the spare seat next to Steve (he noticed that he and Nat were the only two who waited until someone else ate before taking a bite out of their own food.)

Clint rolled his eyes and chose to take a bite of his food instead of answering. Steve seemed happy to fill them in, “Just chatting about our archer’s lack of a love life.”

Natasha snorted, “That must have been fun for you, Shane.”

Clint shot a glare at her, “What? You want me to chat about your love life too?”

She shrugged and watched him closely, “Won’t be terribly long until everyone knows, I think.”

That comment alone left Clint a little speechless and wondering what the hell he missed when it came to Wanda and Natasha’s situation.

Sam pointed at Natasha briefly, “I would get into that comment, but I quite like looking the way I do right now and keeping all of my fingers, so I’ll move back to Steve’s comment.” He looked to Steve, “Explain, please.”

“Clint isn’t spoken for, and more importantly, hasn’t met his soulmate.”

Clint mentally prepared for this shitty conversation.

Sam hummed and looked to Clint, “You got a soulmate?”

“I have the words for one.”

Sam nodded, “But you’ve been with other people before?”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Dumb question, we can move on.”

Sam shrugged, “Unless you’re desperate for affection, I don’t think it matters.”

Clint grinned, “Thank you,” he told Sam simply before looking to his other buddies, “We have heard Sam’s conclusion so I believe we can now drop the subject.”

Natasha shook her head, “Look, I can’t help with the soulmate thing, that’s a natural thing, right? But I also doubt that it’s holding you back from getting with other people.”

Clint sighed, “I’m thirty and practically the parent to both a dog and sokovian twins, I like to think I’m doing the single parent thing pretty well.” Clint briefly wondered what Cooper was up to too.

The response earned a roll of eyes from Natasha, but a snort from Steve.

Clint gave a dramatic sigh, “Fine, you want something from me? Yes, I have dated and loved people before. Yes, I have not met my soulmate. Yes, that kind of sucks sometimes, especially when we have happy couples walking around all the time. Yes, I am fine and not in desperate need of love unlike what Steve thinks.” He took a bite of pizza.

“Thanks for sharing with the class, Shane.” Sam said.

Steve seemed like he wanted to continue and convince the archer to throw himself into a relationship, but Clint assumed he bit his tongue and held back from the way he pulled his gaze away and took a bite of his pizza.

It took a lot less time than Clint expected for the four of them to finish the pizza, which left them with a majority of the three hours left.

Clint made sure they stopped at a Starbucks before heading to their gate to wait out for their flight.

Sam was the one to start up a discussion this time, “Alright, I’m gonna ask, do we have a backstory?”

Steve furrowed his brows and looks back at Sam, “What?”

“Obviously we’re not the Avengers on a mission right now, even if Steve looks exactly the same with his “disguise”,” he paused, “So what? Are we a group of buds on a trip? A weird couples retreat? A—”

Natasha hooked her arm with Steve’s and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Well, Kyle and I are grossly in love, but you and Shane are…?” She trailed off.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, “Shane wishes he could get with a man like Hank.”

“Shane wishes he could get with a man that didn’t refer to himself in the third person.” Clint pointed out.

“That sentence kind of defeats the point, Hawkguy.” Sam pointed out, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“So I assume Shane and Hank are the third and fourth wheels on Abigail and Kyle’s romantic adventures.” Steve chose to summarize.

Natasha hummed, “I can roll with that.” She mumbled before painting on a smile and tugging Steve closer to her, “God, this trip was so needed.” She drawled.

Steve rolled his eyes and flicked the bill of her cap. She decided to dig her fingers into his side in retaliation.

Sam nodded slowly to himself, watching the two interact, “Try that on me and I’m throwing my backpack at your face, Shane.”

Clint hummed, “Try that with me and your pizza will be coming back up.”

Sam’s face screwed up, “Gross,” he mumbled.

As expected, the line for the Starbucks was long in both time and length.

Clint took to narrating the adventures of Shane and Hank on their trip as third and fourth wheels. He was only shut up once Steve looped an arm around his neck in what looked friendly but was way too tight.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha ordered for herself and Steve once it was their turn to order. Surprisingly, Sam chose to order a drink lacking caffeine (very unlike the archer).

“I actually plan to sleep.” He answered easily when questioned by Clint.

They arrived at their gate after they received their orders and Clint couldn’t say he was looking forwards to waiting even longer. Why did they have to arrive so damn early?

Natasha didn’t waste any time, as she settled into the seat next to Steve and rested her head on his shoulder, “No wonder Tony gets all upset when you hold back from hugging him or anything. For a man made up of muscle, you’re like a pillow.”

“Side effect of the serum?” He questioned aloud, already switching his attention to the phone in his hands (Clint noticed it was different from the one he used around the tower, but he guessed he was texting Tony anyways).

Clint made a move to rest his own head on Sam’s shoulder, but only pouted when Sam shoved his head off of his shoulder, “What a bad fourth wheel.” Clint mumbled.

Clint diverged his attention to the scene outside of the window behind them instead once he realized that he was lacking many other options.

He watched each person move around on the ground carefully and mentally catalogued his plans for the upcoming days (there wasn’t much).

How was Lucky anyways? Clint only hoped he was feeling nice. Had Pietro even cared for a dog before? Oh god, Clint was really hoping that he wasn’t a dumbass when he dropped Lucky off. The archer only settled a little bit once he realized that Bruce was still around.

Before his thoughts could shift over into the dangerous territory called James Barnes A.K.A The Winter Soldier (he had a feeling he should have a real long think about that sometime soon, but he was sure he’d rather do that once he was in a bed alone and ready to cry his eyes out if needed), he took to trying to keep the silence nonexistent again.

After being told to shut up so many times, as they walked onto the plane he didn’t hold back a comment, “Shane, Abigail, Kyle, you up for joining the mile high club today?”

Personally, he thought the groan from Steve and the disappointed sigh from Sam was worth the elbow to the ribs from Natasha.

Chapter Text

Clint huffed out a breath, pulling an arrow out from the corpse on the ground. The archer shook his head and briefly swiped the arrowhead over the agent’s jacket before sticking it back into his quiver.

“Rogers all ready to go?” Clint questioned aloud, turning to face Sam.

Sam hummed in acknowledgement, “He and Romanoff should be heading out soon. HYDRA caught us by surprise but they’re still dumbasses.” He replied, stepping over a body and walking over to Clint. Sam wasn’t wearing his wings in the moment, or his goggles. Too much attention, Natasha reminded them. He was still decked out in his armor and guns though, of which Clint was glad for. Even Steve had to dress a little more inconspicuous, but mostly settled for wearing the new suit Tony designed for him. Much more darker, much more stylish (in Clint’s opinion).

“Any progress on the ‘assignment’?” Clint questioned, examining the cut on his arm. Could be worse.

Sam shook his head, “Nothing we didn’t already know, but that’s not all that surprising since we were fighting some amateur agents who just got lucky. I knew Steve was a little too confident that this base was empty.”

“And that, Falcon, is why we put our brains before our hearts,” Clint paused, looking around at the messy HYDRA base, “But Rogers was pretty damn certain. I’m glad Romanoff went in with you two and I stuck around out here. Guess those baby agents got their heads out of their asses and called for backup, unlike the experienced HYDRA goons we ran into last week.”

Sam snorted, “Who knew Ireland would be crawling with HYDRA agents.”

“Well, you know what they say, gingers don’t have souls.” A certain redhead’s voice rang out. Clint looked in the direction of the familiar voice, finding Natasha walking out of the base and pointedly looking at a dead agent whose head was full of red hair.

“That explains a lot, Nat.” Clint commented, briefly motioning at the woman’s hair.

She rolled her eyes in response and glanced back at where Steve was trailing behind her, “Steve is a little down in the dumps right now, if you can’t tell.”

“Reason?” Sam questioned.

“They had a Chair in one of the rooms that Steve got to and a HYDRA agent got a few words in before I put a bullet through his head.” She explained.

Clint hummed, watching Steve carefully as he reached them, “Can we conclude that Ireland is a bust?” He asked bluntly, “We’ve been around for two weeks, which is about two weeks too many to be untraceable.”

Natasha nodded, “This was the only other base that we had plans to visit, but I haven’t gotten any leads on our little buddy just yet,” she looked between the men, “We’ll decide tomorrow morning and plan our next fun trip.” With that, Natasha turned and started leading them away from the base.

The three didn’t hesitate to follow her, but Clint noticed how Sam hung back a bit to walk in step with Steve. Clint chose to speed up.

“You think Barnes enjoys a good drink and a lively fight with a local?” Clint asked, grinning.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “We’re really digging deep into those Irish stereotypes, aren’t we?” She replied, letting the archer get away with his joke, “I think you need to get out more and leave movies and their stereotypes alone.”

Clint shrugged and let the silence settle for a few seconds, “You think Barnes would actually stick around Ireland?”

Natasha sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, “I don’t think Barnes would stick around in a place littered with HYDRA agents.”

Clint hummed, knowing that was the clearest answer he would be getting out of her.

Eventually, the four arrived at their motel room.

Sam packed away his weapons pretty quickly after the door shut, whereas Clint kept a hand on his bow tightly and let his eyes wander around the room. He didn’t comment on Natasha’s still tense stance or the way her fingers rested on the trigger of her gun and how her hands wandered close to her widow bites.

Steve, unlike the others, took to taking a seat on the plush chair in the corner of the room and getting straight to business, “Nat,” he addressed the redhead, “How likely is it that we find a hit on Barnes in the time from now to tomorrow morning?”

“Can’t say, Cap,” she answered, “Depends on how hard I work and how well Barnes has been hiding.”

The supersoldier nodded and reached up, taking off his cowl and placing it down on the carpet by his feet.

Although (perhaps) insensitive, Clint pondered on how his hair looked so nice after taking out a HYDRA base.

“Anyone hungry?” Sam questioned the group.

Clint’s hand shot up, bow still in hand. He tried to ignore the way Natasha shifted her stance and how her hold on her gun adjusted.

Sam nodded, “And with that,” he sent a pointed look at Natasha, “Clint and I will be stepping out to go get some dinner,” he took a look at Clint’s apparel, “After birdbrain changes.”

Clint rolled his eyes, muttering something about “an underappreciated style”, before turning and making his way to the bedroom where his clothing was.

Leaving Natasha and Steve alone was something Clint hoped wouldn’t be a bad idea. In other words, he hoped Steve wouldn’t have a breakdown.

Having changed, Clint took a quick look in the mirror. He sighed, a few new cuts here and there. He took a long look at the cuts on his face. A little too deep, he decided and settled for digging through Steve’s things to find a few bandaids.

Huh, it’s been too long since he’s had a bandaid on his nose. Placing the bandage on his nose, over the cut he wasn’t thrilled about, Clint threw away the mental count of “Days Clint Has Gone Without a Nose Injury”.

Stepping out of the room, he made a beeline for Sam, hoping to speed up the process of getting dinner.

Natasha’s voice rang out as the two went to open the door, “I’ll be leaving once you two are back, but make sure to get enough food for me too.”

Sam pulling on Clint’s shirt collar to get out the door was the only thing that kept him from questioning his best friend and her sudden decision.

Sam didn’t get out of it though.

“You don’t think she’s ditching us to go on her own little mission, right?” Clint questioned at they moved down the street.

Sam shrugged, “I don’t know her nearly as well as you do, but—”

“And she was the one who got me to be apart of this whole mess. If she’s out, I hope you know I am too.” Maybe the archer was spiraling and being overdramatic (Clint didn’t care either way), but he couldn't be surprised if Natasha felt she could find more information on her own in the moment.

Sam sighed, “What I do know is that Natasha is confusing, so for all I know, she’ll be out of Europe and back in New York by the time we get back with dinner.

Clint huffed out in annoyance. He hated when Natasha got all mysterious and cryptic on missions. How Coulson ever let her get away with being cryptic with Clint, her constant mission partner, was unknown, but Clint put it down to favoritism.

Sam bumped his shoulder with Clint’s, “What I’d like to know is when she made up these plans on going somewhere, but,” he paused, “How about instead of stressing each other out, we go get food and face whatever Natasha is planning?”

Clint sighed, “Better not be shitty food.” He grumbled.

He didn't enjoy the way Sam laughed at him.

Natasha was applying lipstick as Clint and Sam returned.

“Hey boys,” she greeted, eyeing them in the mirror with her back facing them.

“Well, you’re obviously not getting dressed up for greasy food.” Sam commented, eyeing her carefully. Clint did the same, but perhaps not with the same intentions.

Her short hair was curled, her makeup perfect and complimenting the black of her (short and tight) dress, high heels on her feet and a handbag on the dresser in front of her.

Clint let out a breath, placing a bag of food on the coffee table, “No, Nat’s going to work.” He concluded.

Natasha capped her lipstick, taking one last look at her appearance before turning to face her friend, “I’m going to find more information about our dear friend.” She corrected, turning briefly to grab her bag, “You boys can eat and rest up, but daddy’s got to go to work.” She smirked.

Sam shook his head and dropped his bags onto the coffee table with Clint’s, taking a seat on the couch, “Man, I feel sorry for whoever is going to fall for you tonight.”

Natasha tugged at the hem of her dress, “Make that two people who are going to be falling hard,” she commented, “These certain contacts are two men with no morals and egos bigger than their wallets,” she paused, standing up straighter and eyeing her appearance in the mirror once more, “So, details should come easily and most likely, so will they.”

Clint stifled a laugh as Sam questioned the redhead, “Steve coming along with you?” He asked, eyes trailing around the room where only three-fourths of their quartet was.

She snorted, “Steve is currently showering to brood about being left out of my plans. Cap is great and all, but there is no way I’m bringing him with me,” she paused, eyes finding Clint’s, “Or any of you.”

Clint rolled his eyes, ready to defend why he should be going at least, but Natasha was quick to continue, “Sam is too identifiable as an avenger, as is Steve. And Clint, you’re loyal.” She explained, “You were loyal to me, then SHIELD and now the Avengers. Nobody would give me any information with you around, even if you swear on Lucky that you won’t be ratting anybody out.”

“First time in a long time I’ve heard you tell me that loyalty was a bad thing.” Clint responded evenly.

The redhead hummed, “With that, don't track me or follow me. Any of you do that and you’ll end up with a bullet in your leg, if I’m feeling nice.”

Sam’s brows furrowed as he nodded. Clint patted his shoulder as he sat down on the couch next to him, used to Natasha’s threats.

“Nat?” Clint asked, “Just assure me that you’ll come back uninsured from a simple meeting with contacts.”

She held eye contact, “I never make promises like that, Clinton. For all I know, these guys will show up with two dozen bodyguards that will try to take me down.” She shrugged and started towards the front door, “Just make sure to save me some food.”

And with that, Natasha left.

Sam was the one to break the silence, “I shouldn’t have been attracted to her threats, right?”

Clint snorted, “Now you know how I felt ten years ago.” He watched the door for a few more seconds, listening to the faint sound of water hitting porcelain from the bathroom and the breathing pattern of the person sat next to him, before he turned away.

The archer reached forward and opened up one of the bags, starting to unpack all of the food onto the surface.

“You're actually listening to her?” Sam asked slowly, most likely thinking about his previous conversation with the archer.

Clint shrugged, “I’m loyal, remember? Trust comes with that.”

Sam hummed in acknowledgement, “Maybe it’s because my best friend isn’t Natasha Romanoff, but I think my worry would overcome the need to listen.” He seemed to ponder his own words.

Clint opened up one of the containers, his nose scrunching up in distaste before he shoved the food over to Sam who took the food happily, “There have been many times where I went against what Tasha asked me to do. In ended in both good and bad ways for me. One time, she actually shot me in the leg for following her.” He grinned slightly at the memory, “I may not like being left in the dark, but sometimes I have to listen to Nat and stay in the dark.”

Sam nodded slowly, picking up a fork from one of the bags, “How long have you two known each other, anyways?”

With that, Clint let his grin grow, “Almost ten years, I think.”

“And how did two assassins become besties?”

“I was trying to kill her, actually,” he replied, “But I obviously didn’t. I was being paid quite a lot to kill her, back in my assassin days. Her side of the story isn’t mine to tell, but I can say that she was able to find an ally of sorts in me that day. I tried killing her, she tried killing me, but by the end of it, we were walking out of the scene together.” He paused, grabbing a fork of his own and not meeting Sam’s gaze, “Still got paid though, but split the money with Nat since she helped me get it from the guys.” The archer chuckled, “I can still remember the look on their faces when they saw Hawkeye and Black Widow, the one they sent to kill the other one, walk in.”

Clint saw Sam nod out of the corner of his eye, seemingly processing the story, “What about SHIELD? I’ve heard stories of what happened with you two.”

Clint opened up his container, “They got to me first and I decided to join them. Nat wasn’t sure about how to feel, but she disappeared off my radar until she came up in one of my missions.” He stuck his fork into his food, “Surprise, surprise, I was assigned to kill Black Widow but I brought her in to become a new SHIELD agent.”

Sam chuckled, “Sounds like an interesting ten years.”

Clint grinned, “You could say that.” He settled on saying, taking a bite of his food and allowing the silence to settle over the room.

Steve was the one who broke the silence this time, coming into the room dressed in sweats and a (way too tight) t-shirt. He grumbled as he took a seat next to Sam and grabbed a container of food and a plastic utensil, “Romanoff left?”

Clint hummed, “Tash left less than an hour ago dressed to the nines and ready to shoot someone.”

Steve nodded, “Sounds like Natasha.” He swallowed a bite of food before speaking again, “About today, with the agents, I wanted to go over how we handled the situation.” He commented, “Just an analyzation of our work.”

Sam sighed, “If we could avoid the Captain America speak for dinner, that’d be great.” He stabbed his food, “We can discuss logistics and strategies when Natasha is back, but right now we should focus on something a bit more positive.”

“Positive,” Steve echoed, eyes slipping between Clint and Sam. Suddenly, a mischievous grin grew on his face, “Like Clint’s love life?”

Clint snorted, “Now that is not positive.” He looked to Sam for backup, but found a shrug instead.

“Better than mission talk,” Sam excused.

“Why don’t we talk about Steve and Tony then? Or Thor and Jane? Or even Pietro and Lucky?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I don’t even have a soulmate Barton, let me live through other people’s love lives.”

Steve sat up straighter, “I still think you could at least get yourself out there.”

Clint rolled his eyes, mentally preparing himself for whatever bullshit his teammates were going to throw his way, “How about we avoid the topic?”

Steve hummed, “Humor me, Clint,” he started, “I met Tony through work, if we’re being honest here. Scott met Hope through burglary and his future boss or father-in-law, whatever Hank is, and Wanda even met her soulmate somehow, somewhere. I think you could meet your special someone if you looked.”

“But I haven’t, and we should just leave it at that,” Clint shoved some food into his mouth.

Sam shook his head, “At the very least, get laid, Barton.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “That's not an issue, thank you very much. I’d like to think I’m attractive and fit at thirty.”

“You talk as if thirty is old,” Steve replied, “Try being a hundred years old.”

Sam rolled his eyes this time.

Clint stabbed at his food again, “I can wrap up this conversation in five seconds, buddy,” he started, “I haven’t met my soulmate, some people have and some haven’t, and, yeah, it’d be pretty fucking cool to meet whoever my soulmate is, but I’ve accepted that maybe I’m not so lucky.” He paused, “Not only am I a walking disaster, but I used to be an assassin and am now fighting against the guys I used to work for once upon a time. You think that’s safe for a civilian to be involved in? There’s a reason I don’t go anywhere for the holidays or go and visit people outside of the team.”

Steve watched Clint carefully, which Clint would never admit would make him flustered if Steve weren’t pretty much married.

“Clint…” Steve started slowly, his “I understand and want to comfort you” voice creeping in.

Clint shot up from his seat, scooping up his food as he went, “I’ll be eating on Tasha’s bed if you need me.”

Sam caught him by the shirt though, yanking him back down into his seat, “Fine, how long do you think until Natasha will be back?”

Clint was glad for the topic change, “If we assume it takes her an hour to get to her destination and she left around…” he trailed off, taking a look at the clock on the dresser Natasha had previously occupied, “Seven o’clock, it already adds up to nine o’clock with her time going there and back. With that, I assume the latest she’ll be out and about is one in the morning, saying she sticks around these contacts for about four hours at most.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully before looking down at his food fully. Clint held back a sigh, already noticing the frown taking on his features.

Sam best him to the punch though, “Up for watching a movie, Steve?” He asked, moving around the bags and containers before finding the remote to the small television.

Steve perked up and nodded slowly, intrigued by the topic change, but still questioned it further, “I hope you both know I won’t be going to bed until Natasha shows up.”

“Seconded.” Sam called out.

Clint, struggling to speak with food in his mouth, swallowed down his bite quickly, and almost choked, in order to speak, “Third—Thirded?”

Sam chuckled, “Perfect, Natasha will be returning to three tired, most likely sad, and emotionally-clogged teammates.” He paused, turning on the television, “I can’t think of anything more enjoyable.”

Although he tried his best, Sam was the only one to sleep before Natasha returned. As much as he may have wanted to ignore it, he was sat in between a stressed ex-assassin and a supersoldier. Clint decided to also account for the fact that he ate a lot.

Steve seemed to be enjoying the movie they had on though, but Clint was more aware of the current time being two o’clock in the morning (an hour after his prediction). Look, his predictions could be wrong, he liked to doubt that, but he was usually not an hour off with time predictions.

Steve was most likely using the movie as a distraction with its moving pictures, colors and sounds in order to redirect his thoughts, but Clint couldn't help his eyes flickering from the front door to the clock on the dresser.

When the redhead did come inside, Clint was already reaching for a knife no matter who was entering. He still didn’t let it go until Natasha shut the door and walked past him to the dresser where she put her bag down.

She sighed and turned towards her best friend, resting against the wood behind her.

Steve and Clint seemed to be doing the same thing: checking for damage.

She may be deadly and very able to defend herself, but she was still Clint’s best friend and Steve’s friend and teammate.

Clint noticed how her makeup was still mostly put together, but her lipstick had been smeared and her hair had become slightly straighter than how it had been curled. Her dress was torn at the bottom and dirt and blood scattered the fabric (Clint was relieved to notice how all areas with blood lacked any evidence of injury). Her heels were held in her hand, of which she chose to drop on the ground in order to wake up Sam.

The man woke with a start and nearly choked when he saw Natasha.

“Good news and bad news,” she started, running a hand through her hair, “Bad news, I had to shoot them in the legs and waste a few bullets on dumbasses. Additionally, one of them broke one of my heels.” She paused and looked between the three, grin growing on her lips, “Did you three have a slumber party without me?” She questioned, instead eyeing the food and television.

Steve waved her off, “Good news?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Good news took some work, thank you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “They may have been dumb and got a few bullets in them, but they were helpful enough. They weren’t related directly to the information, but these guys are big gossips and have quite a few contacts around the world, specifically Spain in our case. They heard some talk over in Spain, about the asset of HYDRA, which translates into the Winter Soldier. Something about one of his ex-handlers spotting him and going into hiding. The handler only let his protection detail know and it just happened to be that one of them gets paid for letting a few cats out of bags when it comes to conversations with his boss.” she explained, “They didn’t know when Barnes was spotted or where in Spain, but it’s a bigger lead than we’ve had in awhile.”

“Why’d you have to shoot them then?” Sam asked, running a hand over his face tiredly.

“They got too curious. Unless they were in constant contact with him, nobody really has a reason to search for Barnes unless they have a death wish. One of my contacts tried to alert his bodyguards of my presence, but my bullet was faster.”

Clint listened closely, thinking over the information as Natasha spoke.

Steve, on the other hand, was standing up straighter and had grown much more serious (and hopeful), “So we go to Spain next.” He stated.

Natasha held up finger up, “Not so eager, Rogers. I can’t be sure this isn’t a planned set up. We wait until tomorrow night before moving out so we can have the day to confirm details of our arrival. I don't like putting so much time in between this, but it's necessary. From Spain, I’m not sure where to go just yet.”

When Steve opened his mouth to question the redhead further, she held up a hand, “Let me shower before we get any further into planning, Steven.”

She scooped up her shoes and bag and motioned to Clint, “Unzip me,” she demanded, turning her back to the three.

Steve quickly turned away at her words, seemingly much more interested in the television suddenly whereas Sam had already been drifting off in the past few minutes despite his protest.

Clint stepped over and quickly unzipped her dress, chuckling when he spotted Steve, “Did he help you zip it up earlier?” He questioned.

She snorted, “He was a complete gentleman, almost worryingly so to be honest,” she stated, shifting to hold her dress as she started towards the bathroom, “Got all flustered and apologized when he accidentally touched my back.” She pushed the door open and looked back quickly, “Don't worry, Steve, Tony won’t be disappointed. If anything, he’d have applauded you for zipping up a gal’s dress and feeling bad about it.” She let out a laugh as the door shut.

Steve grumbled and shook his head.

Clint grinned and patted Steve’s shoulder as he passed by to get to the couch again. He did the same to the sleeping Sam once he sat down.

Clint settled back into his seat as he heard the shower turn on, finally feeling more at peace knowing that his best friend was nearby.

He directed his attention to the television, distractedly watching the screen as he pondered on what the following day would bring.

Probably more traveling, and at least a few more baddies. Probably some weird weather and some nice food.

Clint mentally shrugged. He could deal with some bad guys if it meant good food and nice views.

At some point during his thinking, Sam has shifted to be laying across Steve, who had sat down without Clint noticing, and the archer (Clint was not happy he got stuck with Sam’s feet), which got him to thinking about Lucky again.

He should call soon, he thought.

Mentally, he checked the date as he briefly thought of the sokovian twins who were watching over his dog. He hoped he would be back in New York by the time their birthday rolled around. They may have weaseled out of a big birthday bash, but Clint knew their birthday wouldn’t be forgotten. He just hoped he could be around to tease them and nudge Wanda in Natasha’s direction.

Maybe he should have Cooper stop by the tower at some point. It would be the first time the entire team would meet him, but Clint thought that maybe Cooper would get along well with the twins and would love to see his Auntie Nat again.

He grinned to himself, thinking about the bubbly little guy with too much energy. He could admit it, he missed his Cooper and he missed getting to spend all of his time with him.

Clint may like shooting arrows for a living, but a kid was way more important than that to him.

His eyes skipped to Steve, who was watching the television carefully (definitely thinking too hard again). Before he could get too curious about what a Rogers-Stark baby would be like, a hand on his shoulder had him jumping to his feet.

Instead of coming face to face with a HYDRA goon, he came face to face with a smirking redhead who was sticking her hands into (Clint’s) a purple hoodie.

He eyed her apparel and rolled his eyes, “Stylish,” he drawled.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was quick to snag Clint’s spot but pushed Sam’s feet off of her when he shifted.

He would’ve fallen off the couch if Steve hadn’t grabbed him, which was way too humorous to Clint.

His struggling laughter was cut off though when Sam sleepily kicked him in the leg.

Clint, in turn, kicked him back before he settled down into a nearby cushioned chair.

Natasha pushed her wet hair out of her face, curling up closer into herself as Sam adjusted and sat up straighter, visibly looking more awake.

When Steve went to open his mouth, Natasha cut him off as she did earlier, “I’ve thought it through already, Steve, and we’ll leave tomorrow night. Clint has a safe house in Spain that we can stay in as we look for Barnes. We’ll most likely have to investigate a couple old HYDRA bases in order to get more information about Barnes’ possible intentions. With that, it gets complicated. Less leads than we had before most likely, but I’ll be switching over to security footage searching more often once we get to Spain.” She paused and tugged on a loose string on the hoodie, “Barnes is smart, secretive and clever. I don’t think this will be easy, but I never did. He’s most likely avoided security cameras and avoided much interaction.”

Steve seemed to process the information given, “I plan on moving along quite a bit when convenient.”

She hummed, “As do I.”

Clint raised a hand slightly, “Now that we’re making progress, I’ll need more information on Barnes himself, Tash. I don’t want to run into this guy and get electrocuted or something.”

She nodded slowly, “I can give you information by word, but that file was about all that’s left in writing. HYDRA is pretty thorough when they really want to hide details.”

Clint nodded in response, already making up plans and strategies.

Sam looked between Clint and Natasha tiredly, “Hey, have you two ever run into each other on separate assignments?”

Clint raised a brow, “You’ve got a big interest in Nat and I today don’tcha?”

Sam shrugged, “You two are two secret spies and I fly and shoot guns,” he rubbed at his eye, “Call it an interest in other lifestyles.”

Clint rolled his eyes, fondly, and moved to sit criss-cross in his seat, “Not including when we met and when Nat joined SHIELD, maybe once or twice.” He replied.

Sam motioned with a hand, requesting for information.

Natasha let out a breath, “One time, when we were doing independent work, we were both in California. Personally, I believe it was a set up to take us both out, but we were given the same job by the same guy: track down this scammer and take him out without any evidence.” She paused and glanced at Clint, “Clint surprised me that day though. He got their first and took the first shot. He killed the guy before I could, but I took out his bodyguards. We both came back alive and got paid double the amount in total and then we took out the client and his team.” She smirked, “One of my favorite memories from California.”

Steve looked up, “Any more positive memories of California?”

Natasha leaned towards Steve slightly, “Classified.” She mumbled, fully understanding the irritation Steve felt from the single word.

Clint shifted again, sprawling out on the chair until his legs were hanging off one of the arms. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “What about the one time? With the dumpster?” He chuckled to himself, not catching the way Natasha shifted and tensed.

Sam snorted, “A dumpster? Knowing you, I can’t be surprised.”

Steve hummed in agreement, “Go on, Hawkeye, I’d love to hear about what you did involving a dumpster.”

Clint ran a hand through his hair, “The hit was like, eight years ago, I think? I don’t know if it counts as Nat and I “running into each other”, but I think it’s a fun story, personally.” He waved it off, “Continuing on, I got this job to kill this business guy who did something bad to my client or something and I had to wait him out on a roof for the night. Took way too fucking long for the guy to show in my opinion, but the shot was way too easy.” He paused, “I thought I had gotten lucky, but some dick in black shot him first.”

Clint took in the expressions of his friends, stumbling over his words slightly when he noticed Natasha’s clenched jaw.

He continued though, “Called the guy out, shot a few arrows, dodged a few bullets. Ended up getting beat up and tossed into a dumpster. Honestly don’t know how the hell I survived the fall but Nat over there was the one to come dig me out of the trash and tell me off.” He chuckled.

Steve raised a brow, “Sounds like me in the 40s,” he grinned to himself, “I ended up in a few piles of trash myself and I had someone to pick me up too.” He seemed fond of the memories, but still recognized his own sadness.

Sam let out a breath, “Ever figure out who the other guy was?”

Clint shook his head, “Just knew he must’ve been an assassin or a mercenary. Had nice eyes though, if my memory is correct.” A part of him felt as if he had forgotten something about the occasion, but he pushed the feeling away as the event had been almost a decade ago.

His eyes found Natasha’s and he frowned when he saw her tense expression, “Did you happen to date my bully, Tash?” He joked. When his best friend didn’t counter with any jokes, Clint sat up, “Natasha?” He questioned.

She stood up abruptly and walked to Clint, grabbing him by the sleeve and tugging him up and out of his seat. Despite his quiet protests, she pulled him into their shared room and shut the door behind them.

“What the hell, Nat?” He asked, brows furrowed.

She shook her head, “Can’t believe I forgot about that,” she mumbled to herself. She sighed and ran a hand down her face, “Clint, you’ve got a lot more of a connection to Barnes than I thought you did. I don’t even know how you of all people forgot about his fucking metal arm, but Clint, it was the Winter Soldier who threw into a damn dumpster.”

Taken aback, Clint stared at Natasha, “There is no way I fought the Winter Soldier.” He stated.

She shut her eyes briefly, “Clint, I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“If I went up against the Winter Soldier, Nat, I’d be dead.”

She nodded, “Yeah, you would be.” She responded, “Which confuses me. Maybe he thought you’d die from impact or would bleed out, but you still survived.”

He nodded slowly, “Holy shit,” he mumbled. Clint ran a hand down his face, “Am I at risk of getting killed before you guys then? I mean, I escaped him once, I don’t think I can do that twice.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Let’s not think about how likely you are to die in this moment, Clint, please.”

Before Clint could tease her about her caring for Clint, Natasha continued, “More importantly, we have to break the news of your encounter to Steve and Sam.”

Clint hesitated. Yeah, that might not be fun. He could guess that Steve might get a bit pushy on what Clint remembered about his encounter, which wouldn’t always be helpful, “How do we do that?”

Natasha let out a long sigh, “Simple,” she started before she turned and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Clint to stumble after her.

“Steve, Sam,” she called out.

Clint swore to himself.

“I’ll be straight with you, Clint has had an encounter with Barnes as the Winter Soldier before,” she held up a hand as Steve started to stand, “And we’ll let Clint talk about it without interruptions, especially since this was almost a decade ago.”

Steve opened his mouth but faltered, switching his gaze to the archer, “Clint?” He asked quietly.

The archer groaned and leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom, “God, I barely remember that night in detail, but I remember a guy who was white, dark hair and blue eyes. Somehow I forgot about a metal arm, but I remember he was aggressive and well trained. I ended up in a dumpster with a broken hearing aid for a reason.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest (muscles!), “Did he say anything?”

Clint shrugged, “Don’t think so.”

Steve seemed to visually deflate at that, but Sam tugged at his arm, “Romanoff, does this help with any leads at all?” Sam seemed to already know the answer as he spoke.

“Probably not,” she said, “But it definitely confuses the Winter Soldier’s motives for certain cases. I always knew him as aggressive, tactile and never letting someone out alive.” She looked to Clint, “And yet, our little archer is standing right here.”

Silence settled over the four, but Clint kept his eyes on Steve. Before he could question the man, he was running a hand down his face, mumbling an “excuse me” and leaving to the bedroom.

Sam and Natasha seemed torn on whether or not to follow him, but Clint was already following the man, “Steve?” He questioned.

Steve seemed ready to shut the door on Clint, but he looked back at the archer. Clint felt his heart drop at the sight of tears in the man’s eyes. “Just give me a moment, Barton. I was just told that less than a decade ago you came face to face with Bucky and what HYDRA made him into.” He broke his gaze on Clint, “It’s just… difficult knowing that he’s really had to go through this for so long.”

Clint nodded slowly, trying to put himself into Steve’s place.

After Steve took one more look at Clint, he stepped into the bedroom and shut the door. Clint stared at the wood of the door, trying to recall the sight of that face when he was tossed off of the building.

White, brown hair, blue eyes and a metal arm.

How the hell did he not make the connection?

Chapter Text

Clint let out a shaky sigh, leaning heavily against the wall behind him.

The archer squeezed his eyes shut briefly, his mind too clouded with pain to clearly recognize the yelling and the gunshots in the distance. Opening his eyes, he risked a look down at his side and winced. He carefully pressed a hand to his side where he knew the injury was. A shudder ran down his body and Clint nearly stumbled to the ground from the flash of pure pain.

His breathing heavy, he pulled his hand away and took in the sight of his hand coated in his own blood.

“Hawkeye?” He heard.

His head dropped back against the wall as his legs struggled to hold him, causing him to slide down the ground despite his side’s protests.

“Barton, report!”

“Barton! Hawkeye?”

The archer listened closer, trying to come out of the fog.

“Clint?” Came a much quieter voice, feminine and commanding.

Clint picked up his head slightly, “Tash?” He asked aloud.

There was no one around him though, and Clint realized that the voice was pouring directly into his ear.

He heard a faint breath, “Barton, report.” She demanded.

He nodded to himself, taking another look at his side, “Uh,” he started, “Reopened stitches… A—Another injury somewhere there too, maybe.” He slurred.

He recalled the mission from a few days ago, specially the mission the Avengers called them back to New York for. Another set of dumb looking monsters that took a lot out of Clint. He remembered being in the same position as he was now, except he had been in an office building in New York and not leaning up against a brick wall in Croatia. He had gotten the usual injuries: bruises and cuts, but, before the entire thing could come to an end, one of the dumbass monsters took a claw to Clint’s side.

Maybe he should’ve taken Cho’s advice and stayed out of the action.

“What’s your condition, Clint?” Natasha asked, the sound of the fight coming out clearly.

His hand hovered over his side before he pressed down. He hissed out in pain, “Bleeding, which is expected,” he started, “But less important than whatever your doing. I’ve still got a few more arrows and a little cut hasn’t stopped me before.”

Silence entered his ears briefly until he heard a mumble, “Dumbass,” he grinned despite his pain, “We’re sending Falcon your way, Barton.” She hesitated, “Try to not bleed out by the time he gets there.”

He hummed and squeezed his eyes shut again.

He barely got a few minutes of silence before he heard a scuffle of feet. Clint opened his eyes and tried to notch an arrow quickly, barely getting the arrow ready before a person was coming around the corner of the wall.

He was ready to release the arrow, before Sam’s startled ‘woah’ entered his ears.

“Oh,” Clint started, quietly. He lowered his bow and gave a crooked grin. Despite the dirt and small cuts on his face, he hoped he looked a little better than he felt, “Hey, Sammy.”

Sam clenched his jaw and seemed to give a report to Natasha and Steve before he started forwards and took a good look at Clint, “Maybe we should listen to Dr. Cho more often,” he commented.

Clint snorted with a wince, “That’s what I was thinkin’”

Sam shook his head, mumbling to himself as Clint watched him asses his injuries.

“Rogers, Romanoff,” he addressed aloud, “We need to get Barton out of here soon.”

Clint heard the quiet response from Steve through his earpiece, “Romanoff and I can wrap this up in five minutes tops. Can you get him out of there on your own?”

Sam paused, “Not without risking a worse injury.” He looked to Clint, “Warning you, this will hurt,” he stated before pressing his hands to the archer’s side.

Clint winced, trying his best to prepare himself for the next five minutes.

But maybe he was in worse condition than he thought, as he thought he had a lot longer before he felt another pair of hands on his body.

“It’s been five minutes?” He questioned quietly.

“Three.” He heard Steve correct. The man himself was standing above Clint, the archer’s bow in hand, as Natasha and Sam took up Clint’s sides.

“We’re getting you up, Clint.” Natasha warned before Clint was hoisted up carefully and he gasped in pain.

He stopped paying attention after that, instead looking between his teammates and the ground.

He wondered if he was going to die this way.

There could be worse places to drop dead, he decided, like the shitty sandwich shop down by Lucky’s favorite park.

“You're not going to die, Hawkguy.” Sam countered.

Oh, so now he was talking out loud.

“God, you’re so lucky we aren’t far out from the safe house.” Natasha commented.

“Let’s keep moving, Avengers!” Steve called out, his voice too steady to be normal.

Aw, he cares.

Clint let out a shaky breath, “I shouldn’t be tired, Nat, right?”

A poke into his shoulder was his answer.

Sleeping would be a no, then.

He nearly tripped on the stairs he was taken up and he tripped on the doorway.

Much sooner than he expected, the archer found himself laying on his back and the sudden pain from his side being touched.

He needed to get Helen Cho a Starbucks card or something for having to deal with him when he was in New York.

“Trust me, we all wish Dr. Cho was around to assist your dumbass too.” Sam commented.

Clint looked to Steve and tried to grin at him, “Hey, Cap’n.”

He didn’t like the way only nodded at him before looking to where Natasha and Sam sat next to him.

Another feeling of pressure to his side.

He tried to think about Lucky, about that time he got Natasha to cry from laughing, about the first time he got to hold Cooper and when he hugged the twins for the first time.

Happy thoughts, Barton, he reminded himself.

Clint ran a hand down his face as Steve and Natasha gave him a rundown of the mission the next day.

“These guys weren’t even who we were after, so this situation could’ve been avoided so easily if we had just gone down another street.” Steve stated.

Natasha shoved Steve’s shoulder, “We don’t need Sad Captain America right now, we need Happy and Weirdly Fatherly Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked back to Clint, “Natasha found out that the little group wasn’t particularly fond of us after Sokovia. They had guns and a bomb on their persons, so I wouldn’t doubt that they were already people we’d have to take down.”

Sam walked into the room, holding a water bottle.

Natasha sighed, “We didn’t know about the bomb until you were tossed off of your perch by the force.”

Clint hummed, recalling the incident. He wasn’t even that high up, thank god. One of the guys was just able to get up onto the roof with Clint and set off the bomb nearby just as Clint got an arrow through the guy’s chest.

The houses around Clint were abandoned, luckily, but that didn’t stop Clint from being tossed off the edge of his little roof and directly onto his side that was packed full of stitches.

After that, his mind helpfully pushed out the memories even through the ache and bandages wrapped around his torso were enough of a reminder.

“Well, I didn’t die, so no hard feelings.” Clint replied, taking the bottled water from Sam and doing his best to take a sip with how he was laying down, “And you guys? Are you alright?”

Natasha hummed in acknowledgement, “They didn’t have such great aim.” She explained, “They were usually civilians on their free time, not agents.”

“Casualties?” Clint questioned.

Sam took the question, “The group is dead. Five of them total, but we only took down three. The other two got tied up for questioning but they managed to each get a bullet through each other’s heads.”

Clint hummed, looking to Steve, “Well, these past two days have been fun.”

Natasha snorted as she started towards the kitchen, stopping by the couch to ruffle Clint’s hair from where his head rest on one of the couch pillows.

“Any idea where we’ll be headi—” Clint started.

Steve shook his head, “We aren’t going anywhere until you can properly stand again,” he paused, “And even then, you won’t be going into a mission expecting to fight until you’re healed.”

Clint groaned, “God, you’re the worst, mom.”

Sam chuckled, “If he’s the mom, who’s the dad?” He questioned, taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs.

Clint perked up, “Natasha.” He replied easily, “She’s much more of father who shows me the ropes of life.” He glanced at Sam, “You're the annoying little brother.”

Sam raised a brow, “I’m the annoying little brother? Have you met yourself, Barton?”

Clint rolled his eyes, “I am the charming older brother.”

Before the conversation could go any further, Natasha returned with two bowls in hand. She nodded to Steve, “Wife of mine, could you go and grab the other two bowls?” She questioned, setting down the two bowls on the coffee table and setting down two spoons to accompany.

Clint wasn’t all that surprised that she heard their conversation.

Steve grinned and stood, “Sure, Daddy.” He replied, passing by Natasha as he went to the kitchen.

Clint gasped, “I told you, Tash! You owe me fifty fucking bucks!”

Sam, confused, opened his mouth to question the comment, but Natasha was quick to fill him in as she took a seat at Clint’s feet on the couch, “Clint bet me that Steve and/or Tony has a daddy kink.” She shrugged, “I’m not giving you anything until they admit it, Clinton.”

“I’m not admitting to anything!” Steve called out, “You two can be concerned about your own sex lives!”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “In other news, a helpful little birdie let me know that Lucky has a new bed and a new toy, courtesy of Tony and Pietro.”

“A little birdie meaning Wanda?” Clint countered.

The glare that Natasha threw Clint’s way was enough to keep quiet.

Sam looked up, “Sounds like by the time Clint is back in town, Lucky will be apart of the Maximoff-Stark family.”

Steve returned, “No way Tony would share a dog with Pietro.” He placed down the two other bowls and took a seat at the free chair.

They took a break from the conversation as they chose lunch over interactions. Despite wanting to be independent, Natasha assisted Clint in carefully eating his own soup.

Later in the day, as the sun set, Clint was tired of sitting around all day, especially without coffee.

Natasha had excused herself to the bedroom they all had been sharing an hour or two ago, but Clint was more focused on Sam and Steve’s conversation about the 40s. Something about Sam’s adopted family’s distant relative that always claimed to be friends with Steve.

Sam seemed ready to call bullshit on such a claim, but Steve started going on about a man he knew (Clint was certain that Steve was bullshitting Sam with the way he was grinning).

But Sam was, surprisingly, the one who caused the conversation to take a grim turn, “Did Barnes know him too?”

Steve visibly faltered, “For all I know, uh… Well, Buck has always been a really social guy, so maybe.”

Clint frequently doubted that Natasha didn’t have superpowers (okay, maybe only sometimes), but based on how she entered the room then in the moment and redirected the conversation to something more formal, he wondered if maybe she had luck on her side.

“Updates on Barnes,” she stated. Steve perked up and seemed hopeful, as did Sam, but after taking a long look at Natasha’s face and stance, Clint already had an idea of the news.

“Any new leads?” Sam asked.

Natasha hesitated before shaking her head, ignoring the way Steve visibly deflated, “Not any good updates besides the fact that I keep losing him.” She looked between the three, “To be truthful, I had three other leads under my belt,” she held up a hand as Steve seemed ready to scold Natasha, “But I always look into things before sharing. In just a few minutes, the leads went cold after trying to find more details. Barnes is extremely smart, so even if I hear word of him somewhere, I can’t find any details or get an idea of where to go next.”

Natasha took a seat on the arm of the couch. She trained her gaze on Steve, “I’m sorry, Steve.” She said quietly.

For a few moments, it seemed like Steve was going to leave in order to blow off some steam, but quicker than Clint could guess, Steve had grabbed his empty bowl and thrown it at the front door.

In those same seconds, Natasha had a knife slipped out from wherever it had been hidden on her person and Clint was already pushing himself up. He almost crumbled from the realization that in his injured and dressed in pajamas state, he was vulnerable and unarmed.

The next thing Steve did was punch a hole in the wall, which had Natasha holding the knife tighter and Sam unsure on how to manage the situation.

Clint acted before thinking though, “Calm the fuck down, Steve!” He yelled, “Destroying my fucking safe house won't do shit to help us!”

Steve whirled around to face Clint, “Then what will?” He yelled back, his anger coming through clearly.

“Well doing whatever your planning on doing, definitely isn’t!” Clint countered.

Steve clenched his jaw, so hard that Clint thought he’d break his teeth. He curled and uncurled a fist, “I have done everything I can, Barton, I have a reason to be upset.” He said slowly.

Clint didn’t want to admit that he was actually scared of Steve in the moment. Clint wasn’t a small guy, as he was over the six foot mark for height and had a good amount of muscle put on, but he knew an angry super soldier could take him down pretty easily, “You’ve got a reason to be upset?” He asked, “Barnes didn’t ask for you to find him, Rogers,” he paused, wondering if his next words were smart, “For all we know, he doesn’t want to be found.”

Steve watched Clint carefully and shook his head, “You would never understand this, Clint. You didn’t miss out on your life only to wake up in a new century. You didn’t watch your best friend die and you never went through the pain and joy I felt when I found out that Bucky was still alive.” He spoke clearly and firmly.

Clint pushed himself up, “But I know what it’s like to feel brainwashed, Steve, and I know what it’s like to feel like a fucking monster afterwards.” He shook his head and dropped back onto the couch, “I came out here with you guys to help, not deal with my own trauma.”

Silence met his ears before Sam’s voice rang out, “You better not leave, Steve. Sit your ass down.”

Clint watched the roof of the house as he heard the creaking of the floor and the settling of someone sitting down in a chair.

“I’ve been looking for Bucky for two years, Clint.” Steve stated. He paused, “Everytime I come close to finding him, he disappears again. Before I could find him in D.C., he was already gone. And when you were along for the ride, he was long gone by the time we got to Spain.”

Clint shook his head to himself, “I just hope this ends better than it’s going, Steve.” He replied. The only person he let into his life deep enough to know him after he was under Loki’s control was Natasha. He felt like shit all of the time and felt like he should’ve been given an actual punishment rather this just taken off of the job until his therapist cleared him for active duty after the battle in New York. He didn’t want to be around any of his teammates or around Coulson’s buddies. God, he could barely even stand being around Thor.

Clint knew that Barnes tried to kill Steve when he was under HYDRA’s control.

Clint wasn’t Barnes and he wasn’t Steve, but if he tried killing Natasha without his control he would want to stay far, far away even if she could take care of herself.

“I know my own experiences, Steve. Maybe Barnes doesn’t feel the way I did, how I sometimes still feel, but I’m just warning you that maybe he isn’t being found for a reason.” He paused, “We don’t know what he’s thinking.”

And Clint knew. He knew he might be wrong. For all he knew, Barnes wanted Steve to find him, but he didn’t know how to process that. Maybe he was hiding to only get away from HYDRA.

Clint secretly hoped that Barnes wasn’t experiencing what he felt years ago.

He heard Steve sigh, “I just need you to trust me, Clint.” He stated, “Finding Bucky is important. Not just for me, but if we don’t find him, someone else will.”

Clint hummed in acknowledgement. Even if he didn’t agree with the emotional side of their missions, he understood the need. Steve was right, if they didn’t find Barnes, someone else, someone like HYDRA, could get him first.

The statement almost reminded Clint of fighting over a toy. He reminded himself that Barnes was and always has been a person. There was no dibs or firsts when it came to finding Barnes.

He spared a glance at Steve, finding a frown on the man’s face.

The archer let out a breath and tilted his head to look up at Natasha where she was sat on the arm of the couch, “No good news?” He asked quietly.

She bit her lip, hesitating before shaking her head, “I think everything is going to be a guessing game unless I can get a lead soon.” She looked at the other men, “I knew Barnes was good, but I still hoped that I could keep a hold on his whereabouts at least a little bit.” She shrugged, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “We should make plans tonight though, even if we aren’t leaving immediately.”

Natasha looked at Sam for a few moments before her gaze switched to Steve, “The best I can offer you at this point is closure, Steve.” She said, “I’m positive he’s alive, but after awhile we’re going to have to end this little chase. Maybe that’s all I can ever give you: he’s alive right now.” She paused, “If he were dead, we would know by now.”

Steve broke eye contact and looked down, “Any estimates on when Barton should be ready to move?”

Clint raised a brow and raised a hand, “Give me three days.”

“Give him a week at the very least.” Natasha countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Steve nodded. Steve seemed ready to leave Croatia already, but Clint was pretty sure he would be readily taking up the offer to have a few days off so he could avoid bleeding all over another safehouse.

As silence settled over the group, Clint felt Natasha pat him on his shoulder before she got up and walked off. Sam ran a hand down his face and followed after Natasha after copying her actions on Steve.

Steve watched them leave before shifting his gaze on Clint. Before he could spout whatever emotional thing he was planning on saying, Clint dug a hand under the pillow behind him and pulled the television remote out, “Wanna pick something to watch?” He used the remote to motion at a stack of dvds on the ground by the small, old television.

Steve seemed to think over the offer briefly before he got up and sat down in front of the stack.

Clint let out a quiet breath of relief.

Mental note: stand your ground but don’t be a dick.

Steve had gone off to bed a couple hours ago, claiming that he planned on getting an early start, whereas Sam had fallen asleep on a mound of blankets in front of the television. Clint, on the other hand, was deciding to stay awake until he saw Natasha again. Earlier in the evening, she had spent something of an hour in the bedroom before she bid the group goodbye and stepped out of the front door.

Unsurprisingly, it took her two hours to come back.

Even then, when the left behind trio said their hellos, she gave them a brief wave before setting off to the extra room, something like an office and something like a blank room, Clint had.

And that, of course, has been a couple hours ago. Once knowing natasha was back, Steve had chosen the moment to go off to bed and Sam to start relaxing.

Clint, unlike the two, didn’t want to sleep until he knew Natasha was settling in for the night as well.

But, with an injury and the human desire to rest, Clint felt his eyes try to slip shut as his body demanded sleep.

He tried to scoot up in his seat in order to wake up more, but the pain in his side told him to stay in place and give into sleep.

Before he could make much of a decision, he heard a door click open and the quiet steps of Natasha. He looked up, coming face to face with the redhead. She seemed tired, but she was still dressed in the day’s clothes and her hair was still managing to stay curled.

“Hey, Tash.” Clint mumbled, trying to not wake Sam.

She bit her lip before she stepped away and over to Sam. She nudged him a few times with her foot until he stirred enough to be considered awake. She made sure he would stay awake by pulling the blankets out from under him.

Blankets in hand and ignoring Sam’s protests, she wandered off to the bedroom where Steve was sleeping.

A few minutes later, Natasha was dragging a half-asleep Steve out into the room with everyone else.

She didn’t waste any time before explaining, knowing her time was limited when there were three mostly asleep people in the room, “I’ve got a major lead on Barnes.”

And with that, the three men were wide awake.

Natasha shoved a hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a picture. She turned it to the three.

Clint struggled to see it at first, due to his position on the couch, but he got the gist pretty quickly.

The quality was shit, to start off, but that was Barnes. That image of a frozen Barnes hadn’t left Clint’s mind, but at least this Barnes was most definitely not frozen.

Security camera footage, Clint assumed.

In the image, Barnes was walking down a sidewalk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. A long sleeved shirt covered his left arm and gloves were on his hands, only peeking out slightly from his pockets. A cap was on his head and his hair seemed long and tangled.

More importantly, Barnes made eye contact with the camera.

“Romania,” Natasha stated, “Bucharest, to be specific, is where he was seen this afternoon.”

Clint opened his mouth to speak, but he shut his mouth quickly. Surprisingly, he was at a loss of words. He hesitated and looked to Steve.

The man was pale and Clint swore he was about to pass out if not for the way he looked ready to cry and/or smile wide enough to split skin.

Sam rubbed at his eyes, “This is insane.” he mumbled to himself.

Steve ran a hand through his hair (bye bye perfect hair) and let out a shaky breath, “We’ve got to leave soon then, Natasha, we—”

Natasha held up a hand, “We can’t go anywhere for a few days, Steve.” She reminded, glancing to Clint. She swallowed, “But we can leave before the week is up.”

Steve seemed ready to put up a fight but Natasha took the few necessary steps to place both hands on his shoulders, “Steve, please listen,” she started firmly, “We have an injured man on our hands. We are not leaving until he can stand without wanting to pass out and we are not running headfirst into this without any planning.” She paused, “Perhaps Barnes was only making a stop for the night.”

“Nat—” Steve started.

Natasha shook her head, “I think I can speak for all of us when I say we all want to leave now to find Barnes, but we have to be smart about this, especially when it concerns encountering Barnes.”

Steve nodded slowly before gently removing Natasha’s hands. He looked to the picture still held in her hand. Without having to ask, Natasha was handing it over to him and directing him back to the bedroom. She went inside with him for a few minutes, leaving Clint and Sam in a dumbfounded silence.

When she returned, she informed the men that they were giving Steve his space for awhile, but they’d know when they could head into the room.

Natasha took a seat at the archer’s feet as Sam sat on the floor in front of the two.

Clint bit his lip thoughtfully, “Sorry for holding us back, guys.” He said quietly.

Natasha swatted at his leg, “Shut up, Clint.”

Sam knocked on the couch, seemingly not wanting to risk jostling Clint like Natasha did, “Shut it, Hawkguy, you can’t control getting thrown off a roof.”

Clint still shook his head to himself. He gave a humorless laugh, “God, let’s just hope Barnes sticks around for awhile.”

Chapter Text

Nails clicking across the floor echoed down the hallway.

As the sound grew louder, a blur of blue and gold raced into the room, one faster than the other.

Pietro Maximoff skidded to a stop, his sock clad feet sliding across the floor as he laughed. Suddenly, a mass of fur was jumping up at him and pushing him to the ground.

“Lucky!” The sokovian yelled, “You are crazy, I swear!”

The dog replied by licking more vigorously at the teen’s face. The golden retriever only settled when Pietro took to petting the dog’s stomach, which merely gained an amused chuckle from the speedster.

Sat on the couch nearby, Vision watched the interaction with interest.

He recalled a conversation with Wanda where she spoke so fondly of her brother. Specially, her brother and his constant attachment to animals.

Speak of the devil (would that be the correct saying?), Wanda herself wandered into the room. She smiled at the sight of her brother and Clint Barton’s dog on the floor before she made her way over to Vision.

She settled on the couch next to him in silence before she kicked her feet up to rest on the coffee table and leaned heavily into Vision’s side, “I see my brother managed to get Lucky to himself for the afternoon.”

“Last time I heard from Tony, he was working hard on a new project, so I assume he is consumed by said interest.” Vision offered.

Wanda hummed before her hand wandered to Vision’s lap where a ball of white fur lay. Small, white, pink nosed and blue eyed was the cat in Vision’s lap.

Earlier in the day, when he was unsure of what just to do with a small ball of living fur, he only rest a hand lightly on the kitten’s back. Since then, he hadn’t moved in worry of startling the animal.

He watched, carefully, as Wanda’s hand trailed down the kitten’s back. He registered the vibrations of a small purring from the cat (a positive reaction) before he continued with watching Wanda repeat her action over and over again.

Slowly, calculated, Vision lifted a finger. He hesitated before scratching the kitten’s head. A faint smile grew on his lips as the purring returned.

He heard Wanda’s quiet giggle and his smile grew just a little bit more.

Wanda was nice, especially to him and her brother. She understood not understanding yourself in a way others did not. She had stressed that there were times she felt as if she had no control over her abilities whereas Vision was unsure of what he was meant to be doing most days.

But she was kind and Vision understood what it was like to adapt and learn.

Before Wanda, he had been treated with wariness, understandably so, but perhaps it was because of nearly losing her brother and needing a convenient shoulder to cry on, she went to Vision. She had not known him well, besides seeing Ultron’s wishes inside of his head.

But she taught him what it was like to have a friend and what it was like to be a friend. He was… grateful.

The kitten startled as Pietro and Lucky stumbled to lay down in front of the coffee table. Despite the table being in between them, the kitten seemed more startled from the invasion than Vision expected.

Lucky poked his head up, eyeing the kitten. Before he could think of doing much, Pietro had thrown a rope toy and the two were off again.

Wanda laughed as her brother slipped after Lucky. Despite being the (most likely) fastest man in the world, Vision noticed he had a habit of being quite clumsy sometimes.

Wanda turned to look at Vision once her brother had made his exit, “Have you given any thought on your new friend’s name?” She asked, her hand returning to its previous petting.

Vision glanced down at the kitten, “I am not so sure yet.” He replied, “Names are important, so I would hope I would not choose a name they would find unfit.” He thought aloud.

Wanda hummed, “What about ‘Cookie?’”

Vision’s brows furrowed, “Why do people name their pets after food?” He asked, “I learned that someone named their dog ‘Taco’, but I don’t see the appeal. You eat food, so why would you name a living thing after something you eat?”

Wanda grinned, “Because it’s cute, Vis,” she explained, “But I can see what you mean.”

Vision hummed and looked down at the kitten thoughtfully, “Do you think Pietro or Tony could be any help to finding a name? They were there when I adopted my new friend.”

Wanda shrugged, “I suppose it depends on if you want a dumb teenager or a dumb adult to name your cat.” She joked. Wanda retracted her hand from the kitten, pulling her legs up onto the couch and resting her head on Vision’s shoulder, “I have yet to know, so is your kitten a girl or a boy?”

Vision paused before he carefully lifted the cat just above his lap, just for a short moment, before placing him back down, “A boy.”

Wanda stifled a laugh and hummed, “Well, you only officially adopted him this morning, so don’t worry too much about a name.”

Vision nodded, despite his determination to find a name for his new friend (could he be his son, though?).

As Vision went on to pet his cat on the back, where Wanda had once been petting, Tony Stark stumbled out of the elevator and into the room, something that looked to be a dog collar in his hand. His eyes found the two on the couch, “Where’s the kid and the dog?” He asked, “I ordered this adorable collar and Happy just dropped it off and Lucky needs to take it out for a spin.”

Wanda pointed down the hall where her brother ran off to, “I wish you luck, Stark, my brother is having a great time with Lucky.”

Tony almost looked offended at the idea of Pietro and Lucky alone before he rushed down the hallway.

Vision watched him leave, “Now I wonder if Tony was in his right mind when he suggested I adopt a cat.” He commented, “I suppose I’ll rely on obliviousness instead.” He mumbled.

Wanda rolled her eyes, “If anything, blame Lucky,” she started, “It was at his veterinarian appointment that you met your buddy.”

Vision nodded and lifted the kitten into the air again, this time lifting him high enough to make eye contact, “You are loved and apart of the family, even if you have no name.”

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked slowly.

Placing his cat back into his lap, “I read a few weeks ago that when adopting a child, you must not treat them any differently than any other family member.” He was not entirely sure what the article was actually about, or if it was reliable, but he assumed letting someone know that you loved them couldn’t be so bad either way.

Wanda let out a breath and pushed herself up and off of the couch, “And with that, Vis, I am going to make some lunch.” She placed a quick kiss on his cheek before brushing her hand over the kitten’s back once more. She gave the two a smile before turning and making her way towards the kitchen.

Vision figured it was time to research names.

Laying on his (nonexistent) stomach on the floor of his room, clean and organized, Vision watched as his cat wandered around curiously.

As the kitten pawed at the leg of Vision’s desk, Vision shifted his head on his arms.

The kitten looked over to Vision.

“Albert.” Vision mumbled.

The kitten took a few steps towards Vision.

Vision moved an arm, laying his hand, palm up, on the ground in front of him. The cat wandered over, sniffing Vision’s hand quickly before he was butting his head into the red hand.

Vision smiled, “Hello to you too, Albert.”

Chapter Text

August 11, Bucharest
Ran out of apples this morning, but the market was open today, which is surprising since it has been raining very heavily for the past week.

Also, who knew smiling could get a discount on apples?

I stopped by another store to purchase some other foods as well. Not many people out because of the rain, but I heard talk of possible lightening and thunder so maybe that’s actually why.

I have a few things left to do before dinner, so I should be getting to that list soon or else tomorrow will be more complicated than needed.

Note to self: the apartment might be shitty, but a leaky roof is not acceptable (fix tomorrow).

In other news, Rocky was pretty happy today.
Kept looking around as if they were enthralled.

Damn thing even got me to smile today when they almost fell into the pile of apples at the market.

Speaking of the little nuisance, Rocky just a scurried out the window for the afternoon.

Hopefully Rocky won’t get stepped on.

Heading out for some salt now, so my list of things to do is on hold for an hour (or much more).

P.S. I missed the four month anniversary of my Bucharest stay, by the way, so wish me luck for the five month mark if we get there

James Barnes let out a sigh as he walked down another aisle. Salt shouldn’t be this hard to find.

The weather was below forty degrees in the moment, so James was dressed in at least a few layers.

Thank god for being able to withstand weird temperatures.

James scrubbed at his cheek, vaguely wondering if his beard was a little too long.

He looked back around the aisle and stopped in front of the bath section. His hand hovered over a package of razors before he rolled his eyes and dropped his hand.

Too much of a mess and too much of a risk, he decided.

Back on his hunt for salt, James wondered if he really needed salt for a meal.

He was cooking pasta though, and he had read somewhere the salt does something good for pasta.

Sauce, too, or butter and parmesan.

He had decide on a sauce and parmesan earlier in the day though.

Eventually, James Barnes was able to track down the impossibly small container of salt. Better than the huge container, he decided.

Before he could pay for his item, James snagged a box labeled ‘large dog biscuits’ in Romanian. Paying for the items should’ve been easy enough, especially with how the cashier was quiet and straightforward.

The cashier thanked him for coming in once James’ items were paid for, but James hesitated before flashing the woman a smile before he turned on his heel and left quicker than he would like to admit.

He chose to hold tightly onto his items in one hand, keeping his other free and facing the other side of the street.

Just a few blocks to go.

James ignored the way he continuously looked left and right as he passed any open streets or any alleys. Better to ignore such an ingrained habit than try to fix it, he thought.

The old apartment building flooded his vision fast enough though, as James huffed out a quiet, relieved sigh. He hadn’t realized just how on edge he had been.

He made his way up the stairs silently, matching his volume to the equally quiet building. There weren’t many tenants in the building, most likely because of its rundown looks and features, but to James, he couldn’t think of a better temporary home.

Even on his own floor (his?) there was only one other living person. The man, quite old, never left his home besides the days he had to throw out his trash. Even then, he never looked at anyone or gave anybody a second thought. He also had a consistent glare on his face, which James greatly appreciated.

James dug his freehand into his jean pocket, producing a scratched up silver key that he stuck into the lock on the doorknob. It took a little wiggling, but James eventually got the door unlocked.

He shut the door behind him slowly once he stepped inside, unconsciously scanning the area he could see of the little room he had in the apartment. Before he made his way to the dinky little kitchen that sat in front of his makeshift bedroom, he went through his routinely check of his perimeter.

James placed down his things on the kitchen counter once he was done, briefly sorting through the items before he heaved a deep sigh.

His hands curled around the edge of the counter as he recalled the directions he memorized earlier in the day. He even stole a pot for the occasion. With the thought, James reached forwards and pulled the pot onto the stovetop next to him. He just hoped the old thing worked. If it didn’t, James supposed he could try the stove in the abandoned apartment next door.

It came to a start though, so wasting no time, James pulled a couple of his water bottles from the package he came upon (stole) and filled the pot up with what he hoped was an appropriate amount of water before sprinkling in some of the salt he had brought back with him (bought).

Then, he waited.

He opted for hovering over the pot for the next half an hour before the water came to a boil.

He was careful as he poured the uncooked pasta into the pot and, once again, James waited.

He hoped not all cooking was this boring.

But, eventually, James was scrambling to appropriately drain his pasta (something he did not prepare for) and to heat his sauce in the same pot.

Once everything was over and done with though, meaning his pasta was in a paper bowl and the sauce and parmesan was evenly distributed on top, James was still in his spot on his makeshift bed.

He was… proud?

Of what?

He poked at his pasta and thought of a woman who told him that wasn’t something a young man should do at a dinner table.

Is making pasta an accomplishment?

It almost felt equal parts insignificant and satisfactory. Was this something Bucky Barnes did? He believed he could recall such a thing, but the memory was gone before he could even think of it.

He twisted the fork on instinct, mixing the pasta and its toppings. He twisted until he lifted the fork and a portion of pasta was tangled onto the plastic utensil.

James took a bite.

Then another.

And another.

He thought this was an accomplishment.

A grin creeped onto his lips, only slightly.

James sat cross legged on his bed.

He stared straight ahead, as if drilling holes into the kitchen counters.

He liked pasta and marinara sauce and parmesan. He also liked other things, small things. He liked some fruits, some snack foods, but now he also liked pasta.

James Barnes felt content for the night. If he could avoid any nightmares or another hole in the wall, then he could chalk the day down as ‘good’.

With such a thing in mind, James stood and made his way back into the kitchen, easily finding what he had been searching for.

His left hand curled around the box of dog biscuits before he was turning and leaving his apartment. All he did was make a quick turn before he was turning the knob to the neighboring apartment. What greeted him when the door opened was a short bark and a squawk.

“котенок,” he chided lightly, shutting the door behind him quietly. He hesitated before he shook the box in his hand, earning another short bark.

He hummed in acknowledgement, making his way over to where the larger dog lay in a pile of old clothes. Near the window, a small bird was sat, pecking some of the seeds James had left it in the morning. The bird, which, with some research that James chose to do, was a parakeet with a majority of green feathers. He wasn’t sure if the thing was all that fond of him, but James had chosen to, affectionately, name it ‘мусор’. He found it at least a little amusing.

The dog, on the other hand, James went for ‘котенок’, of which he found much more amusing.

He settled on his knees in front of the dog. The coat of the animals was a mix of grey and brown, with a white belly, but based on his teeth, James supposed he should have been scared of the dog when he first came upon him.

But the dog seemed unhappy and didn’t like to leave its clothes pile. James had started slowly when he first came upon the animal, only sitting in the room with the dog until the dog inched its way over to James.

He treated the dog the way he would have wanted to be treated. Given time, you can earn trust.

котенок lifted his head, nose twitching as he eyed the box in James’ hand.

“Doar o gustare pentru tine, câine…” James mumbled, reaching down and ripping the package open at the top. The treats weren’t the only thing he had purchased for the dog either, as a bag of food, tightly closed, sat in the corner near котенок.

James listened to the faint noise of the parakeet walking along the window.

James pulled one of the dog treats from the package and held it out for котенок. The dog took it after hesitating for a moment.

As he ate, James moved to sit criss cross. He had looked into what kind of breed котенок might be. He settled on something similar to a Pitbull.

Once the treat had been eaten, James offered his right hand out to the dog. It was only when котенок moved to rest his head in James’ palm that James initiated any movements. He ran his hand over котенок’s head and back, enjoying the company.

James sighed, “What am I going to do with you, Kitten?” He questioned quietly.

He scratched under котенок’s chin, content with the way the dog leaned into the touch.

He had decided when he met котенок and мусор that he would do his best to keep them alive, until he couldn’t. James had surprised himself one night when he found himself thinking of who might stumble upon the animals once he was gone.

Either way, he was enjoying himself in the presence of the animals, even if only one actually stuck around throughout the day. The parakeet and Rocky had a tendency to come around whenever was convenient for them, but not always convenient for James.

Of course, that didn’t stop James from purchasing dog food, bird seed and dog biscuits. He wasn’t sure what he could give Rocky, especially since he was some sort of lizard that liked to hang around James sometimes. Just like мусор, Rocky had a tendency to run away whenever they pleased.

James spent another twenty minutes, maybe, petting the dog before he brought out some food for him and bid goodbye to his animal neighbors.

He couldn’t promise them survival or comfort, but he tried his best.

Back in his own apartment, James went through another routinely check of the room before he moved along to the small bathroom.

Barely working and peeling wallpaper, but functional enough for James.

He stripped off his clothing quickly, avoiding the dirty mirror and stepping into the shower as he turned the water on.

Shockingly cold, which was expected, but James didn’t flinch.

He was used to the cold, right?

James curled his flesh hand around the soap he left on the shower floor. He merely held the item in his hands for a few moments, seemingly deep in thought all though his mind remained blank.

He went through the motions of a shower before he turned the water off. Despite the poor quality of the room, James leaned heavily on the wall and a deeper cold settled around him. His head tilted until it knocked gently against the wall next to him. James let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut as a bone deep exhaustion ran through him.

He wanted nothing more than to lie down, maybe take a look at his journal, but he just couldn't go.

Could he find comfort in the cold, or would that be just a little too dark?

James wondered how he could be placed on a sanity scale.

Only briefly though.

He couldn’t afford such a crisis in such an already emotional state.

He wondered if he was still legally considered dea—

James chose to sink to the floor instead of finishing his thought. His head found the wall again and his eyes remained shut, but now he was much colder and in a near panic.

And suddenly a loud thump outside of his apartment gathered enough of his attention to make him get up and out the shower, pull on his jeans despite the uncomfortable feelings, and pull a gun from who knows where. He inched his way closer to the front door, his apartment eerily silent.

But, with one look out the peephole, James heaved a sigh. Outside, in the hall, the old man was muttering to himself as he dragged his trash bag behind him.

James didn’t consider assisting him for even a second.

Thinking like a good neighbor was not a luxury he had felt he could indulge himself in.

James turned on his heel and was quick to gather his clothes, fold them and exchange his jeans for his other set of clothes: sweatpants, a shirt, and hoodie. After he spent a month or two traveling, he realized that with the changing weather and condition of his clothing, having a second set of clothing may be a good idea. Even so, there are times where both sets of clothes mix.

James lowered himself down onto his bed. His flesh hand curled around his gun that he had stuck into his waistband. Slowly, he removed the gun, ignoring the slow brush of metal against his skin. He laid the weapon in his lap before he reached a hand under his “bed” and produced one of his knives.

There were more weapons scattered around the room, some even closer than the gun in his lap, but after cataloging the weapons closest to him, he hid the gun and knife again before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Instead of getting a well deserved rest, James was staring up at the beige ceiling.

He listened closely to the brief clicking of claws against wood next door and the faint cough from the old man he could barely hear and the dripping water from his own ceiling.

Before James could fall asleep, he let out a quiet groan and got to work on the leak in his ceiling.

Even after that, he stared at his ceiling for another four hours.

August 12, Bucharest
котенок ate all of the treats I bought. Rocky also snuck in via window and мусор wasn’t in sight when I checked on my animal neighbors.

I can admit that I do not know how to care for these animals, at least not properly. I know they need food, water, attention, things like that. But that mostly applies to котенок. How can I properly care for a parakeet and lizard thing that aren’t always around? If they’re still living now, I guess they don’t need as much help though.

But, if that parakeet stops showing up, I will not be taking the blame. The thing is barely around anyways and I’m getting the feeling it doesn’t like me nearly as much as the dog does.

And Rocky is a lizard. The most emotion I get from Rocky is an occasional wiggle, I guess. When Rocky does make an appearance though, I’ve taken note of the fact that the small thing certainly likes parking its butt in my jacket pocket.

I’m not sure why, but I suppose there could be worse things.

I made another attempt at dinner in other news.

This time I even purchased some bread to go with the pasta. I would have tried out the butter and parmesan mix, but I still had sauce to spare. I think I did better the second time around?

I can't recall exactly how pasta should taste, but I think mine has enough taste as it is.

There was less hesitance this time around though.

Practice makes perfect, or at least I’ll practice until I run out of pasta to cook. Maybe after that, I could find something new to cook.

Would that be enjoyable?

Something with protein, I think. I have protein and other things that aren’t pasta when I can, but when you have little amounts of money and are trying to be untraceable, there aren’t many options all of the time.

I'm doing the best I can, I guess.

The old man took his trash out again today as well. I’m sure he did this just yesterday, and this is something he usually only does once a week. Whatever caused the change, I want no part in. Whether there was a cooked turkey or a human corpse, I don’t care. I’m already caring for three animals and myself.

Oh, and I’m trying to hide from pretty much the entire world.

I’ve got a lot on my plate and a corpse that’s not my doing is certainly not my business.

As I’m writing this, I can hear the old man returning to his apartment.

He slammed his door.

I wonder if he is in as foul of a mood as I’m constantly in.

Chapter Text

Clint started the day off with a warm cup of coffee, something he hadn’t had the luxury of enjoying for at least two days (he was not a wimp!). Natasha even got him a good cup of coffee, not some shitty substitute.

And to add the cherry on top, Sam ordered everyone something of a celebratory breakfast for their progress on finding James Barnes.

Hash browns hadn’t tasted so good in a long time for Clint.

It had been a few days since Natasha delivered news of Bucharest, but Clint was glad to see that Steve’s mood hadn’t dampened since then. Sam had to convince him not to run off to Bucharest in the same night though, which was why it had taken them a day of recuperating, and then two days to get to Romania.

The four had already come up with a partial plan for approaching Barnes, and they even had plans to get to Bucharest by the next night and go through with the plan not long after.

But, for now, Clint was laying on the roof of the apartment building next door to, or at least a block or two from, their motel.

He would confidently say he had been enjoying himself for the duration of their Barnes hunt, but a second of silence was even better sometimes.

He would have taken his hearing aids out too if he weren’t in unfamiliar territory.

His bow and quiver sat next to him on the roof, both in reach. Despite his eyes being shut as he enjoyed the warm breeze, he listened closely to his surroundings. In time they had been in Romania, the weather made an unpredictable jump. Clint had been more prepared for warmer weather, so coming upon rain a few days ago was not expected. It was even cold, which was something Clint also didn’t expect.

But, now, Clint was laying on the roof dressed in one of his old purple t-shirts and an equally old pair shorts as the weather had finally come around to what Clint had expected. A new bandage was on his nose again, this time being needed because Clint slipped and fucking fell into a coffee table.

Yes, he definitely knew he was a walking disaster.

At the thought, he scrunched up his nose before he gave a content sigh.

Clint had even heard from Laura and Cooper the other day, despite the fact he probably shouldn’t have any open contact with anybody on a mission, and got to hear all about how Cooper was auditioning for his school’s play and the lovely date Laura and her boyfriend went on recently. She was quite smitten with the guy, which Clint hoped would happen as he’s her soulmate, but still, Clint stuck to his promise of punching his teeth in if he hurt Laura or Cooper in anyway.

Look at that, he could be a good father and friend (take that, Harold Barton).

Aw and now Clint was thinking about Barney.

Last he checked in, the guy was still with the FBI.

Clint wasn’t all that sure he wanted to reconnect with him any time soon, but as long as Barney didn’t come begging or anything crazy that people do, he was okay with how things were going.

They had been through a lot together, but Clint still felt like he should be able to hold a grudge over the way Barney treated around the end of his time at the circus.

Whatever, that’s too much to unpack on a roof in Romania.

Happy thoughts… happy thoughts.

Ah, Pizza Dog.

And once again, last he heard Lucky was doing perfectly fine (of which he heard through Steve).

Clint opened his eyes slightly, letting out another sigh as he looked up at the blue sky. It had been awhile since he had taken a moment to appreciate a view, but Clint wasn’t actually sure he had been in this part of Romania before.

He was an adult, not exactly all that put together, but oh well, he could appreciate a view.

The archer lifted a hand, running it through his hair. Maybe he should ask one of his roomies if they’ve got a secret talent of cutting hair without cutting up a guy’s neck.

Maybe Sam could handle a pair of scissors pretty well. Or at least, Clint doesn’t think Natasha would feel up for cutting his hair in front of Sam and Steve and Clint doubted Steve would trust himself with his current goals in mind (Meaning: The Great Chase of James Buchanan Barnes).

And if none of them could, Clint might be attempting to pull off Barnes’ haircut for awhile once it got to the appropriate length.

Clint ran his hand through his hair again thoughtfully before he sat up and stretched out enough to get a few good pops from his back. He felt groggily suddenly, despite his lack of sleeping.

A good pondering can do that to you, he guessed.

Clint stood up either way and scooped up his quiver and bow. He pulled the quiver on and walked to the edge of the roof. He looked down at the ground, which was quite a few stories down before looking to the building next to him.

So either he could pull a Daredevil and jump from roof to roof or he could walk amongst the people of Romania.

He cocked his head, looking at the building next door thoughtfully. As much as he wanted to try jumping from roof to roof, he wasn’t sure he could pull it off without breaking an arm.

He wasn’t in the mood to get a lecture from Natasha, so, with a dramatic sigh, Clint hopped down to the fire escape closest to him before he started moving down the stories as quickly as he could. But, once he got to a height he was pretty sure he wouldn’t break his legs from, Clint pulled himself up onto the metal railing and swung his body up and over. He guessed correctly, at least, as he landed safely on his feet without much of a stumble or some weird pain.

Despite his bold choice of not taking on the image of Daredevil for a few minutes, Clint still couldn’t exactly walk down the middle of the street with a quiver and bow. Instead, he stuck to the alleys and more hidden areas (Meaning: The Long Way).

He arrived back at the motel in one piece though, and before he could let himself into their room, the door was opening and the archer came face to face with Sam.

The man gave a grin, “Welcome back, Birdbrain.” He greeted, “We all hoped you enjoyed your little morning outing. You even impressed Romanoff with managing to sneak off.”

Clint shrugged, stepping past Sam and into their one bathroom, one bed motel room. It was the best they could do in the late summer apparently.

Currently, Clint was being the great guy he is and opting to sleeping on the floor and giving up the bed and couch to whoever wanted it. Well, more like Clint fell asleep on the floor when they got the room their first night and he has yet to break out of the sleep positions.

So maybe that’s why Clint felt groggy; he was sleeping like shit.

Besides that, Clint was curious as to where Steve was as he looked around the room.

He finished his look around the room before he walked in further and stripped himself of his quiver. He set both his quiver and bow on the couch before he plopped down onto the bed next to Natasha, who was reading some Russian novel.

He heard the door click shut and the sound of Sam’s feet against the carpet as he moved around before Clint nudged Natasha.

“Where’s Cap?”

Natasha didn’t spare a glance at Clint, “Outside, close to that old pool by the other set of rooms.”

Clint hummed, “Any reason why or should I just stay out of it?”

Now she did look at him, “Not entirely sure if it's important or not right now, but I’ll keep you updated, Clinton.”

The name pulled a groan from the archer, “I would shoot you with an arrow for that if I could.”

“But you won’t!” Sam called from where Clint assumed was the couch.

Natasha hummed in agreement and Clint huffed out in annoyance before he threw an arm over his eyes.

As quiet settled over the room, Natasha’s hand fell to Clint’s hair. She didn’t move her hand at all, just let her hand rest on his head and barely curl into his hair.

Once again, Clint lost himself to his thoughts, but couldn’t get too far before the door slammed open and the three people in the room were jumping out of their seats.

Clint made a dive for his bow and quiver, getting an arrow nocked and aimed at the door in just a couple seconds. Natasha dropped her book and pulled a gun from god knows where while Sam shifted to get behind the part of the wall nearby that made a weak attempt of separating the living room and bed as it poked out only a few feet by the couch.

It didn’t matter in the end as Clint took in sight of Steve with his stance tense but his hands in the air in surrender.

Clint swore he could feel the relief in the room. In silence, Sam took a seat on the couch again and Natasha stowed her gun away. Clint put his bow and quiver down again too while Steve came in and shut the door, but the archer still kept hold of the arrow he grabbed. As he looked up though, he was wishing he was still holding his bow as Steve’s fist made contact with the wall next to the door. But seconds later, his fist was still against the wall as his entire body slumped and he let out a shaky breath.

Clint looked to Natasha for some assistance. She clenched her jaw before her hands rose and she quickly signed, ‘he was on the phone’.

Immediately, Clint was concerned.

Sam took a slow step forward, “Steve?” He asked quietly, “What’s going on, man?”

Steve’s hand dropped from the wall and in place, his head fell forward and rest against the wall. He mumbled something that Clint couldn’t make out. For assistance, Clint looked to Sam and Natasha, but it seemed they were just as confused.

“What was that, Steve?”

And suddenly, all the tension came back to Steve as he swiveled around with an expression that was a confusing mix of anger and despair.

He visibly hesitated, his mouth stuttering in its movement before he let out another shaky breath and spoke, “Peggy…” he started, head tilted towards the ground and eyes avoiding the three, “S—She’s gone.” He spoke slowly, but either to be understood or because he couldn’t bring himself to speak any different Clint wasn’t sure.

But then Clint understood.

In an instant, Sam had started moving and was making his way over to Steve. Steve wasn’t all that open about his emotions, especially with something like this, but he seemed defeated as Sam crowded his space and started speaking to him quietly.

Natasha didn’t seem like she knew what to say, but neither did Clint.

She opened her mouth though, which Clint didn’t do, “I’m… I’m sorry, Steve. I—I know she has always been very important to you.”

Steve nodded and squeezed his eyes shut before he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and pushed him back gently. Steve walked to the window and crossed his arms over his chest. His head dropped for a few moments of tense silence before he straightened up and started moving around the room. Immediately, he started gathering everyone’s things as he spoke, “Tony sent a quinjet that will be arriving soon and we need to head to the rendezvous point.” He spoke in what the team liked to call (affectionately, most of the time) the ‘Captain America Voice’.

Nobody moved at first before Clint sucked in a breath and scooped up his quiver and bow before Steve could start packing them away.

He was followed by Sam, who watched Steve carefully as he zipped his bag shut.

Natasha took an extra few seconds as she watched Steve carefully as he folded a stray shirt before stuffing it into his bag.

They were out the door in less than two minutes and at the rendezvous point in an hour.

They arrived at the Avengers Compound in the morning the next day.

Tony and Vision were the ones to greet them as they got off the quinjet.

With their bags of their belongings in their hands, they barely took a few steps towards the compound before someone made a move.

Tony, unsurprisingly, made a beeline for Steve. He didn’t immediately initiate any sort of contact before he mumbled something to Steve that was enough to get Steve’s shoulders to slump and to hold Tony’s hand tightly. They walked into the compound pretty quickly after that.

Smartly, Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Vision waited a few minutes before even thinking of going inside.

In that time, Vision wandered over and nodded to the three, “I am deeply sorry for the loss of Agent Carter. I am unsure of the relation any of you might share with her, but I hear she was an amazing agent, friend, mother, and wife.”

Clint hummed, “Nat and I met her once or twice when we first joined SHIELD. I knew very quickly she was pretty badass.”

Natasha hummed in agreement, but looked elsewhere with her brows furrowed. Clint had thought before that Natasha had met with Agent Carter more than a few times, but he also suspected Natasha had quite the respect for her. For both of them, it was an entirely different time nearly ten years ago.

Despite the situation, in a flash of blue, Pietro popped up next to Vision with a wide smile. He threw his arms up, “Old man!” He said happily, “Lucky is sleeping in my room upstairs and is very ready to become my permanent son.”

And with that, the tense atmosphere dissolved just a little.

Clint scoffed, starting forward and hooking an arm around Pietro’s neck, “You wish you could parent my dog.”

The comment only started a flurry of opinions from Pietro that “justified” his desire to be Lucky’s new dad.

Meanwhile, Vision, Sam, and Natasha conversed quietly as they made it up to the common area for the team.

Before Clint could finish speaking as they left the elevator, Pietro had run off and left Clint talking to himself. The archer rolled his eyes as he shut his mouth once he realized his situation and fell back to walk next to Natasha.

In the common area, Wanda was sat on the couch in between Thor and Bruce. Suddenly, Wanda let out a loud ‘Boo’ and threw a piece of popcorn at the television. The action earned an equally loud laugh from Thor and a snort from Bruce, all of which had yet to notice the return of their other team members.

Rolling his eyes, Clint cleared his throat, “Honey! I’m home!” He singsonged.

And then Wanda was perking up and her head was turning towards Clint. She smiled and stood up, rushing over and quickly pulling Clint into a hug, “Now look at who finally arrives.” She muttered before pulling away, “I hope you know that Lucky was looked after well.”

Clint hummed and nodded towards Natasha, “Oh, trust me, I know.”

The response pulled a blush from Wanda who very conveniently swatted at Clint’s arm and left the room just a few minutes before Natasha left as well.

Clint tossed his bag onto the coffee table, took Wanda’s place of the couch, and tossed his arms across the back of the couch, “Daddy’s home.” He muttered with a grin.

Bruce chuckled, “Well now I think Natasha’s humor is really rubbing off on you.”

Sam fell back onto the free couch, his bag hitting the ground just as his body made contact with the cushions, immediately mumbling about a shitty flight before drifting off to sleep. Vision quietly took a seat in a free cushioned chair before turning his attention towards the movie on the television with a tilted head. Clint watched with furrowed brows as a white cat popped out from under the chair, only to paw at Vision’s pant leg until the android picked it up and lay it down in his lap.

“So, we’ve got a cat now?” Clint questioned slowly.

Vision turned his head to Clint and nodded, “This is Albert.”

Clint hummed in acknowledgement before sinking deeper into the couch and choosing to just go along with whatever the fuck was happening, “Have I missed anything else of importance?” He asked the room.

Thor chuckled, “I would say so, friend Barton!” He started, “Tony has taken up a child of which he calls an intern. I hear he will be introduced soon.”

Bruce nodded, “It’s like Tony found what he likes to believe is a young, better version of himself. Heard that this teen is a kid genius though, especially with science.”

“How old is this kid?” Clint questioned, briefly wondering if Tony would choose a little ten year old as an intern.

Bruce shrugged, “High School aged, I think. Tony loves to talk about him, but he always catches me when I’m about to fall asleep on top of my work.”

Clint nodded, “Well maybe Tony getting a kid will brighten Steve’s day at least a little bit.”

Bruce nodded falling quiet for a short second, “I never met Agent Carter, but I’ve heard she was a pretty amazing person.”

“I may have not known her well, but I could never say she wasn’t.” Clint replied.

“But I can’t really imagine how Steve feels right now,” Bruce started quitely, “I couldn’t even begin to think of what it would feel like to lose the last person of your past.”

And that, is not something Clint thought about.

Clint was good as repressing his own complicated feelings and dancing his way out of dealing with other people’s messy emotions, so Steve’s situation is something that Clint would be zero help in. The best he could do is offer some ice cream or beer, which probably wouldn’t be terrible for anybody else, but with Steve, Clint wasn’t all that sure.

The conversation dulled just as Pietro ran back into the room, holding Lucky in his arms and a large smile on his face. He didn’t say anything as he placed down the rather excited dog, who immediately ran towards Clint and pretty much threw himself into Clint’s lap before he settled for laying on the archer’s feet.

Clint took it well though, as he pet Lucky the best he could before making sure to not move enough to annoy the dog. Pietro was just as quick to plop down on the ground next to Lucky and pick off where Clint left off when it came to petting Lucky. What Clint couldn't wait for though, was when he got to sleep in his own bed and Lucky got to sleep next to him again. His dog never failed to make him feel even a little better about his day.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Lucky wanted to spend a few nights with Pietro though, even if Clint wasn’t jumping for joy with the thought.

Clint only spent an hour or two catching up with Bruce, Thor, Vision, Pietro, and Lucky before his urge to get some coffee got a little too strong.

Strangely, Clint was relieved that the kitchen was in the same condition he left it in. He was concerned about his favorite mug that was sat in the sink in what he thought was the same spot he left it in. He wasn’t the one who knew how to work the fancy dishwasher though, so after sparing it another glance, he grabbed one of Tony’s spare white mugs that were mostly there for the super soldiers, gods, and green guys of the household on a bad day (Clint had once been on the receiving end of a white mug from Bruce and it wasn’t fun. The guy was chill most of the time, but Clint had a habit of pushing people to their limits sometimes).

But, just the taste of the expensive coffee Tony left in the machine was enough to make his mind go blank as he suddenly recalled his true meaning to life: coffee.

Sadly, his blissful moment with his cup of coffee was broken by a hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

When he turned, he came face to face with a smiling Wanda, whose pinkish lipstick was smeared slightly.

He ignored the little detail and offered a tired smile.

At the return of the action, her smile grew, “It is very nice to have the four of you back,” She started, “You’d be surprised by how different the compound is when its missing its favorite soldiers and assassins.”

Clint snorted, “With the amount of arrows I’ve stuck into the compound walls, I’m very confident when I say that if the building were living, it’d kill me first.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, stepping next to him and opening up and reaching into the mug cabinet. He watched as her hand trailed the shelf before her fingers wrapped around the handle of one of Natasha’s cat mugs, specifically the one Clint had gotten for her in Florida on a mission once. It even had its own little cat ears and a cute little face.

Wanda spared a glance at Clint as she filled her own mug with coffee. It wasn’t until after she took a sip and took a thoughtful look at the archer did she speak, “You know Natasha well.” She stated.

Clint hummed, using his own mug to gesture at Wanda’s, “Well, I know her well enough that she likes cat mugs enough to keep the ones I get her.”

Wanda let out a short giggle, trailing a finger around the rim of the cat mug. Sometimes she truly reminded Clint of a typical witch, just younger and more adorable (and maybe more deadly), “She sure does like her cat mugs.” She replied.

Clint took another sip of his coffee, wondering if Wanda was going to say something to blow Clint’s min—

“So you know her well enough to know how she feels about her soulmate?” she asked quietly.

Clint’s mind was not blown, but he guessed that this was real progress with Natasha and Wanda’s relationship then, “I didn’t expect for her to fall in love with a witch, but her name is also Black Widow, so what would I know.” he joked, his voice quiet.

The joke earned an honest grin from the Sokovian girl, “I’ll take that as a yes,” she paused, her eyes drifting to her mug, “I hope you know I only plan to stay by her side and love her, Clint.” she spoke carefully and slowly.

Clint hummed, taking another sip from his cup, “I know that,” he replied easily, “I also know that Natasha doesn’t really need me to give you a shovel talk since she is way more than capable of handling herself and anything thrown at her, but someday, somehow, I’m going to give you the best shovel talk you’ll ever hear.”

Wanda laughed, “And I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She smiled and glanced towards the couches where Pietro had promptly stolen Clint’s spot.

“Anybody else know about you and Nat?”

Wanda turned back to Clint, “Just you and Pietro, from what I know.” she paused, “I’m not quite sure what Natasha and I’s plans are when it comes to the team knowing of our relationship, but,” she shrugged, “As long as we both are happy and want to keep each other around, I am okay.”

With that, Clint grinned and placed his free hand on Wanda’s shoulder, “And now I will be the official third wheel to all events. As long as you and her are happy though, I can’t say being a third wheel can be all that bad.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, digging a finger into Clint’s side enough to earn a jump from the archer, “When you meet your soulmate, then we can go on double dates. That way, Pietro can become the… fifth wheel.” Wanda chuckled.

Clint hooked an arm around Wanda’s neck, pulling her into his side, “Ah, but you see, I am an old man that will be spending the rest of his life eating pizza with his dog.”

Wanda scoffed, “When you and your soul—”

“If.” Clint corrected.

“When,” Wanda said pointedly, “You meet your other half or whatever you wish to call them, I’ll be there to say ‘I told you so’.”

Clint released Wanda and instead ruffled her hair, “And I think you’ve got a girlfriend to go make out with.”

Wanda swatted at Clint’s chest before placing her mug on the counter, “And just to spite you, I take my leave to go find a certain assassin.”

Clint grinned, “Definitely to spite me, not for your enjoyment.” he replied, tone laced with sarcasm, as she turned and started towards the elevator.

Being the great person he was, Clint took one look at Wanda’s mostly full cup of coffee before picking the mug up and pouring the coffee into his own cup. His cup came to be filled to almost the brim, to which he muttered, “One for team” before placing Wanda’s (Natasha's) mug into the sink.

As he made his way back to the couches, he took a few careful sips of his coffee in order to get it out of the potential spill zone. He may be a mess, but he wasn't in the mood to go change his shirt because he spilled his coffee on himself.

Seeing as Pietro most likely had no plans to move, Clint took a seat next to Lucky on the ground, whose tail thumped once as Clint placed a hand on Lucky’s back.

As Clint sat, drinking coffee and petting his dog, he was pretty damn sure he was seeing his future. Except add vodka to his coffee and put him and Lucky on a farm somewhere.

And then there was a foot hitting Clint in the back of his head as Pietro practically sprang off the couch. Did he always have this much energy?

He pointed at Clint, “I forgot something very important Lucky and I planned,” He spoke seriously but his lips drew up into a mischievous grin, “Try not to run off and ruin the surprise while I’m gone.” There were some days that Clint doubted that Pietro was seriously almost an adult.

And then suddenly Pietro was gone and Clint was nearly falling on his side as his dog was also gone.

Clint groaned, “Tell me, Bruce, will I ever get my dog back?”

“Think of it as shared custody.” Bruce responded, shifting and falling back to lay across the entirety of the couch, which included Thor’s lap taking up the job as a pillow for Bruce’s feet.

The god didn’t seem to mind though, as he instead continued on with his conversation with Vision.

Clint ignored the loud snore Sam let out. He guessed that this was the first time in a few days that he didn’t have to play babysitter and therapist for two assassins and an on edge Captain America.

“Perk up Barton, I’m here now!” Tony called out as he stepped out of the elevator. Despite his energetic greeting, his stress was evident in the tense line of his shoulders and how his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Can’t tell if my day improved or got worse now that I’m seeing your face, Stark.” Clint joked, satisfied when he at least got an eye roll out of Tony.

Tony spared a glance at Sam before making his way over, “Surprisingly, I don’t have the heart to wake Sleeping Beauty up over there, so someone will have to share the lovely news with him later.” Tony paused, taking a seat on the edge of the couch by Bruce’s head and gave a weary sigh, addressing the entire room, “The funeral for Peggy is in a few days and Steve wants Clint, Natasha, Sam, and myself to tag along.”

Clint furrowed his brows, “Pretty sure its a little uncool to crash a funeral, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “I actually got an invite, birdbrain, but for the rest of you besides Steve, he just wants you to tag along and wait it out at the hotel so he can leave as soon as possible to resume his… mission.”

Clint hummed, “That must’ve been fun for you.”

Tony sighed, “Trust me, I tried to get him to stick around for even just a day after the funeral but sometimes he’s as self destructive as I am.” He ran a hand down his face, “I’m stuffing a sandwich down his throat and forcing him to sleep before you four go anywhere though.”

Clint hummed, “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The elevator opening again stole the room’s attention though as Friday’s voice rang out, “You’ve got a guest, Boss.” Clint swore she sounded smug.

And by the swear Tony let out under his breath it seemed Friday had the right for her tone.

In less than a second though, Tony was putting on a smile and was on his feet and swiveling around to face his ‘guest’, “Parker!”

Clint couldn’t exactly see much because of Tony blocking his view of the elevator but Clint was a little startled by the sound of the voice that came from the elevator. Pretty damn young, he thought, “Uh, h—hey, Mr. Stark.” The kid trailed off briefly.

And then Tony was walking forwards and hooking an arm around a teenager’s neck. Now that Clint could see, he could pick out a head of brown hair, a nerdy t-shirt and a pretty stuffed backpack. No older than fifteen, Clint decided.

Tony all but dragged the teenager over to the couches.

Clint decided to pick up a piece of stray paper on the coffee table, crumbling it into a ball and tossing it at Sam’s head, who startled awake.

Now that all attention was on the new kid, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes skipped between all of the people in the room.

“I forgot to give you all a formal warning of Peter’s visit, but here he is!” he released the teen and nudged him forwards.

Peter stepped with the nudge, as if it didn’t affect him, “Hey there, guys,” he started slowly, “Uh, my name is Peter Parker. I’m one of Mr. Stark’s interns and I go to Midtown high.”

“How old are you, kid?” Sam asked, voice groggy.

Peter looked to Sam, “Seventeen.” He answered easily.

Clint hummed quietly. So, older than fifteen.

Vision nodded, mostly to himself, “Mr. Parker, I hear you are what Dr. Banner says is a ‘kid genius’,” he started, “What do you favor in your studies?”

And sure, maybe Clint should have listened closer, but he wasn’t a genius, so pretty much everything Peter started rapidly talking about didn’t make sense.

Tony opened his mouth to add something to the conversation, but a sudden vision of blue and a bark cut him off. Clint looked to the area in front of the coffee table where a shirtless Pietro stood with a sweater grasped in one hand, which was also supporting Lucky in his arms, who was dressed in a similar looking sweater, “Barton, you have no idea how long it took to get this dog into a damn sweater, but look,” he shifted so he was standing pretty much sideways but Lucky’s sweater pattern was visible. It was very noticeably a Hawkeye sweater, all in purple and with a bow and arrow, “And I got one too, so Lucky and I can torment you with our friendship.”

If anything, Clint was pretty sure Pietro was doing the very least to annoy Clint at this point. He could be a twerp, but his friendship with Pietro was something he was pretty happy with. With the sweaters, Clint was pretty confident that they were something Pietro must’ve seen on amazon and bought with Tony’s credit card just because.

Pietro placed Lucky down, who happily trotted over and plopped himself down on Clint’s leg (aw), which only made Pietro’s shirtlessness more obvious to everyone in the room. Clint wondered if he was bothered by the fact that the black words on his torso were on clear display, although Clint doubted it.

Tony groaned, “Put on a shirt, kid. None of us want to see that.”

Sam snorted and nodded towards Peter, “Maybe someone does.” He commented.

With that, all heads turned towards Peter, whose face had turned entirely red at the comment.

Pietro now took notice of the other teen with a smirk on his face. He, very obviously, looked Peter up and down (which was not something Clint needed to see) before he took a few steps forward in order to be in front of Peter, dropping the Hawkeye sweater on the coffee table (offensive). Clint heard the chuckle from Thor and saw the roll of his eyes from Sam before he flopped back down onto the couch.

Despite Peter’s obvious blush, Pietro reached forward and gave an experimental tug at the end of Peter’s shirt.

“Watch those hands, Speedy.” Tony commented lowly.

With a roll of his eyes, Pietro dropped his hand but instead spoke up, “I like your shirt; its funny.”

Suddenly, Peter tensed up and his hand flew up to the back of his neck.

“You too.” Peter stuttered out, which only caused Pietro’s eyes to widen and for his gaze to shift to his torso where the words that once shown black shifted to look like a burn, only to suddenly settle as a red.

Clint wasn’t sure he had ever heard the living room so quiet. Pietro didn’t stumble or stutter like Peter did, who was still holding his neck, where Clint could only assume where his own words were.

Clint spared a look around the room, taking in the shocked looks. Tony even had his hands up in front of him as if he had wanted to do something but was at a loss.

Then in less than a second, the atmosphere shifted as Pietro let out a shaky breath, “Holy shit…”

Peter slowly lowered his hand before he swallowed, “I’m Peter… by the way.”

Pietro lifted his head to look at Peter, a smile growing on his lips, “Pietro.” He said quietly.

Once Peter started smiling, Pietro was quickly gathering Peter up in his arms, hugging him tightly and lifting him off the ground slightly. Peter laughed in response, arms wrapped around Pietro’s neck.

And now Clint felt like nobody should be watching such a private moment.

It didn’t matter much though as the two were gone in less than a second, with only a flash of blue as the evidence of their exit.

The room was silent after the teens were gone.

“Well, I certainly didn’t plan for that when I invited Peter to come and meet the Avengers.” Tony said.

Clint nodded, taking a long sip from his coffee, “Young love…” he muttered before downing as much coffee as he could and nudging Lucky until he stood up. Clint stood up with him, “And with that, I am going to go take my dog on a walk to digest my first day back in New York so far. Gotta get ready for a funeral, a mission, and now there’s a new couple!” He said as he walked to the kitchen and put his mug into the sink. He glanced around before he went to where someone hung up a couple aprons and digging through them until he found one of Lucky’s old leashes that he was pretty sure was there because Clint fell asleep on the couch in the common area with Lucky one night.

Clint whistled briefly to gain Lucky’s attention, waiting until the dog trotted towards him to hook his leash to his collar, “See you all later!” Clint called over his shoulder as he and Lucky started towards the elevator.

“Wait for me, Barton, I’m heading out too, but I’m going to check on my lovely boyfriend and make sure he’s doing… okay.” He said as he walked over to Clint as the elevators doors opened.

The three of them walked in and two requested their floor number before Clint spoke up, “Steve didn’t request to be left alone or anything?”

Tony sighed, “Oh, he did, but I also know him,” he started, “He only wants to be alone for a little bit before he needs someone to keep him grounded, even by just sitting with him.” He paused, “Don’t go spreading it around, Barton, but it seems I’ve got a heart and Steve Rogers owns it.”

Clint fake gagged, “Trust me I won’t. Everyone seems in love enough, so I don’t think they need to hear all about your relationship.”

Tony hummed in acknowledgement, “Glad we can see eye to eye, Hawkguy.” He stated as the elevator got to his desired floor, “See you when I see you.”

The doors shut shortly after Tony got off and it didn’t take much longer for Clint and Lucky to get on with their walk.

About an hour in though, Clint sat down in the grass and unhooked Lucky’s leash to let him wander around where Clint could see for awhile.

After a few minutes of making sure Lucky was settled, Clint let out a sigh and dug a hand into his jacket pocket where his fingers curled around a burner phone that he snagged from his bag before he put it on the quinjet.

Dialing the number he desired was easy enough, especially since he memorized it years ago. He didn’t even have to wait long before she picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey, Laura,” Clint replied, “It’s Clint.”

“Oh, hey Clint,” she seemed surprised, which didn’t really surprise Clint either, “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, despite her not being able to see it, “Not much. Just got in for a mission for a day or two before I’m out again.”

Laura hummed, “Not that exciting on our end either, especially since I filled your in with all the juicy details of our lives already.”

“As long as you and Coop are all good, then I’m happy.”

“And we happen to be doing great.”

A moment of silence passed.

“How would you feel about having a little family gathering sometime soon?” Clint asked.

“I would love it.” Laura responded easily, “But will this be happening here, or there?” Laura never really wanted to get involved in the superhero stuff, meaning what Clint really got up to on a work day, which Clint didn’t blame her for, and both agreed that Cooper should stay as far away from it as they could manage, but Cooper was eight years old and wondering why his dad could only pop in and visit every once and awhile. Clint only got to spend the first three years of Cooper's life as a full time dad before the Avengers came calling. 

Maybe it was time Cooper got to spend time as dad’s “house”. Maybe Tony could help ensure their safety too, since he seemed to be good at keeping things secure and under wraps. He would just have to make sure Laura and Cooper could for sure stay with him at the compound.

“Maybe it's time you come and visit me for once.” Clint suggested.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He heard Laura let out a short laugh, “Cooper is going to be ecstatic… and maybe I am too.”

Clint chuckled, watching as Lucky chased his own tail for a brief second.

Figuring out the details for the visit was easy enough.

Clint put his foot down on who was paying for the flight (Clint most definitely was since he didn’t want Laura to have to spend her own money on something he was requesting) and the day of their visit was figured out as Clint ran over to Lucky to get him to stop chasing a bird. He had a week or two until Laura and Cooper visited, he was pretty sure. But before he could double check, Laura had to say goodbye because she had to leave to meet up with her boyfriend and Cooper.

Just a week, or two, and he could finally see his family again.

He smiled at the thought, even as Lucky pushed him to the ground to lick his face.

Chapter Text

For just a second, James Barnes held his head high. He looked down again once he turned the corner though. The day was… a good one. James woke up, fed the animals next door, and ate a granola bar. He didn’t have a nightmare the night before and the day was clear. He felt okay.

He lacked groceries though, so James had set out to pick up at least some more granola bars.

Compared to the amount of cash he had on him when he first got to Bucharest, the amount hadn’t changed all that much. Not because he wasn’t buying anything, but, not that he was proud of it, pickpocketing and picking up any change where he could was pretty damn sufficient and kept his money stable enough.

It’s not like he could go out and get a job without being a legal citizen and being a worldwide criminal.

But he was eating enough to sustain himself, not exactly full meals, but enough to get him mostly through a day.

As James walked down the street, he shifted his right hand into his inner jacket pocket, fingers barely skimming Rocky’s head as he happily sat in his pocket.

The lizard was a curious one, but he didn’t really like the apartment building. James briefly considered calling the building “home”, but, as he avoided tripping over his own feet, he pushed the idea away for Future James. Rocky, sure, that’s something he can think about. The lizard is a curious thing, but as long as Rocky didn’t get stepped on, James supposed he was okay with the lizard’s habits.

Before he ran into anybody, James pulled his hand from his pocket and instead started hoping that no one would question a guy wearing a jacket in warmer weather. To say the least, James was looking forward to fall and winter.

But the store was coming up quickly, even though James’ worries didn’t melt away.

He had no exact shopping list in mind, but his budget was bright and present. As James picked up items, he mentally catalogued prices and everything that may make his purchase just a little too much.

James spared a glance at the line, letting out a quiet sigh at its length. He still got in line though. He may be a pickpocketer, but he wasn't an asshole who cut in line.

Even standing in line was strangely pleasant though, as he spoke about the weather and some politics he bullshitted his way through with some of the locals who spoke to him first.

And as James paid for his items and tossed a shallow excuse for a smile at the cashier, he left the shop feeling slightly lighter than he had in awhile.

The mood lasted until he passed a newsstand.

A newsstand filled with papers all about the Avengers.

James kept his head down as he bought a single newspaper, one that dated a few months back.

He didn't open it though, especially when his eyes locked onto a slightly dated paper that held a bolded, large-lettered, title in Romanian: “The Search for ‘the Winter Soldier’”.

James walked away.

James rushed hom—to the apartment building.

James Barnes locked his door behind him.

James Barnes lifted Rocky onto the window ledge and cracked the window only enough for the lizard to leave. The lizard did, quickly, and James shut and locked the window just as quick.

James placed his head in his hands as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, a newspaper on the surface.

He took a few minutes to himself, reminding himself of an echo of words. A jumble of words, with a mix of James, not a weapon, Buchanan, Barnes, and 1918.

He flipped the newspaper open when he felt barely different.

The front page hadn’t been as exciting, as the major title read: “The Avengers and New York”. Under the title, “Remembering the Battle of New York (May 4, 2012)”.

Pictured: a portal in the sky, over New York City, and a few smaller photos of the various original six Avengers, as the small caption explained. Only three photos though, one of Captain America and Thor, one of Iron Man flying through the sky with a… nuke, and one of the Hulk on the side of a building.

James noted the absence of two members.

It took flipping through a few pages before the story showed up, titled “The Battle of New York”, and columns of text and some scattered photos.

James had reviewed the battle, and other events he had missed in the past couple years (before he had to stop reading to keep from tearing his hair out) already, so he settled for skimming the article and paying more attention to the images.

Many of Iron Man, just under the amount of the ones of Captain America.

An equal amount of Hulk and Thor.

Less of the Black Widow and Hawkeye.

Based on the blurry photos of the two, James assumed they moved too much to be caught in a simple frame.

James read over the article two more time before he took a knife to the photos.

He had just enough tape to secure the photos of the Avengers in a page of his current journal. He added a few notes alongside the images.

Hulk does not participate in entire fight, abruptly shows.

The Black Widow sticks to ground, works with teammates well.

Thor causes destruction, but Hulk causes more.

Iron Man flew a nuke into a portal; many thought he died.

Hawkeye takes on the roofs.

James’ pen hesitates over the page, thinking of the description given in the paper about the event of Hawkeye falling through the sky.

Hawkeye takes on the roofs. Habit of jumping off said roofs (flings himself through windows).

Writing the notes, until James’s hand had a deep indent from the pen, felt nice to James. At least in the sense of getting his mind off the other newspapers at that stand.

James placed the pen down though, watching as his last letter written dries before flipping to a bookmarked page.

James slides to the floor with the journal in hand, the clear, colored, image of Steve Rogers staring up at James.

He doesn’t lingering on any certain thought, just thinks of the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. A part of him hopes he still has that Brooklyn curl to his words, or that he still writes with that delicate touch Bucky always wished he had.

James’ metal finger traced the edge of the paper, his eyes skipping over a cutout of an image from the 40s, of Bucky and (Captain America) Steve standing side by side. They’re smiling and Bucky has his arm thrown over Steve’s shoulder.

James yearns for an experience he doesn’t remember ever experiencing.

He flips the page before he can linger on the frustration.

A page of Steve and Tony, some notes accompanying it.

James hoped Steve was being treated well.

Another page and Natasha Romanoff is staring at James from the page. It took some time to find Black Widow’s name, but he could admit the accomplishment he felt when he discovered it.

Dressed in a black, tight dress and her hair at her shoulders and her lips coated a deep red. She doesn’t fully smile at the camera, nor does she frown. She smiles, barely noticeably, but the only evidence is the slight pulling up of the right corner of her lips.

James had a nightmare where a young girl learned to kill. A head full of red hair and a smile just like Black Widow’s. She was named Natalia Romanova.

James flips the page.

A mix of Hulk and Thor, simple and plain. There is hardly anything to know of the God, unless he is truly the same man that lies in fiction, and Hulk’s story revolves around Bruce Banner.

The next page is for Hawkeye, an archer who remains mostly unknown to James.

An exceptional archer, who throws himself off buildings and sticks to the roofs. Named Clint Barton, a fact that James had to remind himself of.

They met on a roof, years ago, and James tried to kill him. And he almost succeeded. God, he dropped him in a dumpster, he choked him, he hit him, he—

The man was alive, James was sure of that.

He wasn’t sure why (maybe he did know) but he knew the face of the man, knew that he was also Clint Barton, knows that he is alive.

James set the journal down on the ground and stood on shaky legs. He took deliberate, slow steps towards the bathroom, hands pulling his shirt up and over his head. The fabric dropped to the floor as James pushed the bathroom door open. He stood, silent, for a moment before he took the necessary step to be in front of the mirror.

His reflection was less than pleasing. His hair was noticeably unwashed, his beard longer than he believed he had ever had it, his cheeks dipping in more than he knew they should be, and bags evident under his eyes.

He wasn’t concerned with looks or hygiene or health in the moment though, instead he moved his eyes down to his torso and shifted slightly. The red against pale skin felt equivalent to a blinding light.

The messy writing and the way the words tilted slightly. The lack of space between letters and the certain hurried fashion of the scrawl was… was…

James didn’t know.

He recalled the pressure of his hand wrapped around a throat, the brief panic in blue eyes and the sound of crunching bottles and the ripping of garbage bags as a body made contact.

The voice that spoke so loudly, so clearly, rang through his head. The red scrawl came alive in form of a voice.

He ignored the voice in his head for a few sweet moments, letting his metal hand drift to his side. The action, and the entire situation he was in, felt familiar in a way James was unsure he should know of. A shiver ran down his spine as the metal met skin, but James did not shy away.

He felt a pull towards the words against his skin, but he lacked the understanding of them. He knew that there was something important there, something that should mean something.

But he didn’t know what it was.

James Barnes took a step closer to the mirror, his finger tracing the letters.

James’ hand stilled, settling just under the words. His thumb brushed over the sloppy, yet confident, ‘M’.

His memories were scattered from the time before he left HYDRA. But he remembered a time where he went to the roof for reassurance after a nightmare pulled him from his sleep and he remembered feeling possessive over something he wasn’t even sure he deserved.

A man with no face, but with brownish hair and blue eyes that James never forgot.

The man had a name, he recalled: Clint Barton, but, to James, they seemed to be separate.

But Clint Barton was important to James, somehow.

He yelled at James and in return James threw him into a dumpster. James earned a burning sensation and changing words on his side.

Clint Barton meant something and caused a change in James that pulled him in whenever he encountered it.

James let out a shaky breath and pulled his hand from his side.

He had questions, a million of them. He had questions for Steve Rogers, for Natalia, for HYDRA, for Bucky Barnes, for Clint Barton.

He wanted to know what happened to that kid from Brooklyn, what happened to that little redhead, why she was being trained, why HYDRA wanted him and just couldn’t let him die, why Bucky Barnes did everything he did, why Clint Barton was on that rooftop, why James never forgot him, who is Clint Barton?

He wanted answers. He wanted answers so, so bad. He wanted to know why he went through his days in the way he did. He wanted to know more about the archer, about Steve Rogers, about Natalia. He wanted to know and to keep knowing. He didn’t want to forgot and he didn’t want to repress and move on.

He wanted answers.

He didn’t know what to do though, so, instead, James Barnes slid to the floor and let himself become overwhelmed.

He let himself cry.

Chapter Text

London was pleasantly warm.

Clint Barton wouldn’t know this because his flight came in at five in the morning when it was still on the colder side and then was told to spend the day in a hotel room.

Same went for Sam and Natasha, but Clint was tired of staying in unfamiliar rooms.

The hotel wasn’t an issue in itself, but Sam’s muttering and Natasha’s silence wasn’t exactly making it enjoyable.

The three were tense to say the least. They flew in on a jet that Clint wasn’t surprised that Tony owned, but the entire flight included a sad Steve Rogers, a grieving and tired Tony Stark, a snoring Sam Wilson, a tense Clint Barton, and a stoic Natasha Romanoff.

Clint assumed she was keeping her thoughts and emotions to herself until further notice, meaning until they’re back on the Barnes business.

Clint settled into the couch pretty easily, but he would rather take Sam yelling than his muttering at this point.

He was tempted to take his hearing aids out, but he was also pretty sure Natasha would stick them back in his ear’s herself if it meant not having to endure whatever the situation was on her own.

Clint sat up, ready to call Sam out when Sam himself groaned and fell back into the cushioned chair nearby.

“When I decided to befriend Steve Rogers, I never expected to become a superhero and become this stressed.” Sam commented.

“Stressed about what?” Clint questioned, falling back against the couch pillows.

“If I need to stop him from punching a wall.” He replied evenly.

Clint paused before nodding to himself, “Makes sense.” He agreed quietly.

Now Natasha thought it was good time to include herself. Which meant abruptly standing and leaving the hotel room.

Not so much including herself as excluding herself, actually.

Clint watched her leave, eyeing the door after it shut behind her. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him as Clint let his head drop back again.

“You're not gonna check on your bestie, Hawkeye?”

Clint shrugged, “Natasha and I are close, but there are times where she doesn’t need a shoulder to cry on or a drinking buddy.” He paused, “Sometimes she needs quiet and sometimes she needs some time away.”

Sam nodded, mostly to himself, before he reached forward and picked up the television remote from the coffee table. Within a few minutes, Sam had turned the television on to some dramatic looking show.

Clint watched as the images moved across the screen, but he didn’t pay much attention.

He did know when Natasha entered the hotel room again, a couple hours later maybe, bringing the smell of pizza in with her.

She placed the pizza box on the coffee table silently before sitting down on the small piece of space on the couch by Clint’s feet.

The three ate in silence.

Steve and Tony’s entrance was as silent as Natasha’s, but Clint watched as Steve, hand clasped in Tony’s, made his way over to one of bedrooms. The two were visibly upset, sad, in a state of mourning. Clint never really asked, but he knew that Tony and Agent Carter had some sort of history, at least enough to get him invited to her funeral obviously.

The hotel room fell into silence again, besides the noises from the television, very quickly after the bedroom door shut.

Clint listened as an argument started up in Steve and Tony’s room.

He heard Tony yell something about his aunt and Steve yell something about Barnes.

He heard Tony’s frustration that leaked through his voice and Steve’s desperation through his.

He could see it too, when Steve marched out the bedroom door with Tony tugging on his arm, asking him to stay put.

“Steve, for one goddamned second, just stay here!” Tony had grit out.

Steve’s brows were furrowed in determination though, still trying to move forwards while gently trying to remove Tony from his arm. Sam jumps up though and separates the two, much to Steve’s pleasure, only to mumble something to Tony and drags Steve back into the bedroom, much to Steve’s displeasure.

Tony watched them leave, the tension never leaving his body.

Clint watched for a few more seconds before clearing his throat to get Tony’s attention, “Come drown your sorrows in pizza, Stark.” He called, briefly lifting his own pizza slice into the air.

Tony took one more second before turning and taking a seat on the ground in between the couch and coffee table. He took a slice, only silent for a few short minutes before speaking up, “I don’t know if you two are all that equipped in dealing with my emotions,” he started, “But I hope you two can understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.” He finished quietly.

Natasha hummed, “You mean trying to get Steve to mourn in the privacy of his own home, or at least London, instead of drowning his feelings in his chase for his Bucky.”

Tony nodded slowly.

Natasha hummed again, this time contemplative, “Which includes not leaving you behind.”

Tony doesn’t nod this time, staying silent until Clint nudges him with a finger, “She was like an aunt to me growing up.” He explained quitely.

Clint raises a brow at that. History uncovered, it seemed.

“And I’m just trying to get Steve to understand that I’m not trying to keep him from Bucky, and I’m not trying to do anything bad to him or his health. And every time I try to comfort him, Sam has to step in to keep him from actually running off. I feel useless, but I just want to help him and just want… just need him to be here right now.”

Clint understood a lot more then. Not only was Steve mourning a woman he loved, but Tony was mourning his aunt. But when Tony needs the person who understands his loss, that person is trying to run off.

Tony needed a shoulder to cry on but Steve wanted to repress and move on.

Sometimes, Clint wondered why they were matched up together. Time like these, Clint actually thought that maybe their future together wasn’t that bright. But then, he would see them on any other day and the good days made up for the bad.

He guessed it worked for them.

Clint nudged Tony again, “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good and supportive friend before.”

Tony gave a weak chuckle, “But you happen to not be a blond super soldier that I really want to sit with.”

Clint sighed, “Seems that you’re right,” Lazily, he gestured at the mostly empty pizza box, “But I supplied you with pizza, so maybe I’m doing okay.”

“Pizza that I bought.” Natasha clarified.

“That I offered.” Clint countered.

Natasha rolled her eyes, before her gaze landed on Tony.

Clint only needed to see his hand fall from his face a short second later, despite only seeing the back of his head from where he was sitting, before he was hopping over the back of the couch and walking towards the bedroom where Steve and Sam were.

In his time with the Avengers, Clint has at least come to know a few things: Tony and Steve are both self destructive in their own way, except Steve has a tendency to hurt the people that love him when he’s trying to put on a front. At least Stark is honest with his intentions, most of the time.

And yes, Clint wasn’t good at dealing with other people’s emotions, but there were times, such as Tony crying in front of him, that he felt a need to involve himself for even a few minutes.

He ignored Tony and Natasha’s call of his name before he was knocking on the door, a few short raps, “Coming in, hope you two aren’t all that busy.” And then Clint was twisting the doorknob and letting himself in, allowing the door to swing shut behind him after he stepped into the bedroom.

The sight in front of him was simple: Steve sat on the bed and Sam leaning against the nearby dresser. Steve’s brows were furrowed and his fists were balled up tightly in his lap.

Sam looked sympathetic, but he watched Steve warily, most likely put off by Steve’s current unpredictable attitude.

“Hate to interrupt the therapy sesh, but it happens to be that I need to have a chat with one Steve Rogers.” Clint explained, coming to stand closer to Steve than Sam.

“Clint?” Sam asked quietly.

Clint ignored him though, focusing on Steve, “I get it, Steve, you want to find Barnes. You miss Peggy Carter. But you can't just smash those two feelings together and expect a positive outcome.” Steve looked up at Clint, opening his mouth to interject, but Clint continued, “You’re free to mourn, Steve, and no one is going to judge you or anything, but remember that you have friends and a boyfriend with you.” Clint paused, “You’re not alone, Rogers, so don’t push us away when we try to help you out.”

Clint cast a look at Sam, “Right now, Tony is out in the living room trying to keep himself together for you, even though you’re in here getting a talking to from Sam.” Clint stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket, “I know what it's like to mourn; we all do. But, some of weren’t always lucky to have a Tony, or a Sam, or a Natasha.”

Feeling a little less confident and a little more dumb, Clint let out a breath and nodded once at Sam before turning on his heel and marching himself out of the room. He entered the living room to Natasha and Tony sitting next to each other on the couch. Tony was listening closely to whatever Natasha was telling him, his shoulders slumped.

Clint decided to leave the emotions to the other four people in the vicinity and left for the other bedroom where he and Natasha had set up (Clint somehow convinced Sam to take the single bed that the hotel supplied them with).

He could deal with emotions for only so long.

Fuck, he couldn’t really imagine being in Steve’s place, but he also didn’t want to imagine being in Tony’s place. The two weren’t the best at communicating, Clint knew that, but he would have thought they would try every once in awhile.

The archer considered falling face first into the bed, but he settled for pacing to get a little energy out before succumbing to his own frustrated and tired state.

Clint never believed that soulmates were always meant to be perfect, but he liked to believe that when they did work out, they may always work out.

Tony and Steve always had moments where they seemed to not really work, but the perfections made up for the imperfections in their relationship.

Clint wasn’t confident he’d stumble upon his soulmate one day, but if it did happen, he would hope they could at least be civil. It was kind of a lot to expect someone to be okay with his lifestyle, in every way, and it didn’t help that Clint was certain he was way too much of a disaster for anyone.

It didn’t stop him from pulling his shirt off, tossing it behind him and taking quick steps over to the full body mirror on the wall though. He sucked in a breath and hooked a thumb into his waistband, right by his hip, and tugged slightly.

His skin was paler there, due to his lack of time tanning nude, obviously, but it only helped in making the black words stand out even more.

The words wrapped around his hip in a single line of text. The words were written in a way that was much nicer than Clint’s. Cursive, to be exact. The letters curved rather beautifully and each letter of each word connected in a way Clint could never replicate. In between the words, the space was slightly lacking though, as if the words were written with as much elegance as there was haste.

‘so you’re a blondie?’

Clint groaned, walked to the bed and fell onto it facefirst.

When Clint emerged from his room an hour or two later, Tony was missing but Sam was back.

Before he could even ask, Natasha was speaking up from her spot on the couch, “About half an hour after you spoke to him, Steve came out and pulled Tony into a hug before pulling him off to their room.”

Clint nodded slowly, walking towards the couch. He considered vaulting over the back of the couch, but he decided to avoid possibly kicking Natasha in the face and instead rolled over the arm of the couch, laying down on the couch easily.

Within two minutes, Natasha was shifting and sitting in between Clint’s legs. He hadn’t expected the contact, but he supposed the day took enough of a toll on her that she was seeking out some extra comfort. It was something they could both seek out in each other.

Quietly, Natasha spoke, “Thor and Bruce say ‘hi’ by the way.” She ran a hand through her hair, just avoiding flicking it into Clint’s face. She leaned back against his chest again, “Wanda called.”

He expected her to say more, but couldn’t find himself surprised when she fell silent.

“I hope you two aren’t gossiping about my ass over there.” Sam called out, eyes locked onto the television screen.

Clint ginned at the comment, letting his head fall back against the couch pillows and letting out a dreamy sigh, “Oh! My true love, Sam Wilson, show me thy ass and you shall receive—”

“If you make a sex joke, I’m going to smack you, Barton.” Sam said, but he wore a similar grin.

Clint’s grin grew mischievous, “Kinky.”

Clint didn’t even try to avoid the hit Sam landed on the back of Clint’s head.

Clint wasn’t sure who convinced him of it, but Steve came into the living room the next morning, gathered the team, and announced that they’d be sticking around London for the rest of the week. Clint wondered if he was the only one that picked up Tony’s quiet correction of, ‘at least the rest of the week’.

They ended up sticking around for two whole weeks before an Avengers call served as enough of an excuse to pull them back into their typical schedule.

London served as an okay mourning spot, and slight vacation spot, though, Clint believed. Steve and Tony stuck around the hotel for a majority of the two weeks, leaving Clint, Natasha, and Sam wanting to give them their own space. The feelings only led to Clint making friends with a group of twenty somethings at a coffee shop by showing off his skill with shooting bottle caps into garbage cans. Clint went by there every morning, mostly to get out of the hotel room, and it turned out that the group of twenty somethings went just a little less often than Clint did.

Sam, on the other hand, chose to resume his morning runs, although lacking Steve, around the same time Clint left for coffee.

Natasha though, she took to spending the mornings that Sam and Clint left in her and Clint’s room. It was in the afternoon, when Clint and Sam returned that she would engage the group in something. Most of the time, they couldn’t get Tony and Steve on board, but the three would rather them work out their emotions than go on an afternoon stroll in the park while discussing the kind of dogs they see being walked by their owners or talking about small things they notice (specifically in French, which finding out that Sam spoke the language was quite the surprise for Clint and Natasha).

So, Clint enjoyed his time in London the best he could, but getting called back for Avengers business was kind of a relief.

But of course, the first mission back and Clint was the one who got knocked off a roof and had to be caught by Thor, who was covered in a suspicious substance that Clint was really hoping was not sewer water from when he and Natasha went underground for a few minutes to take care of the guy they were fighting during the fight. Either way, Clint was more than happy to get back into the Avengers business for their return.

And then he was woken up at four in the morning the next day by Natasha and was told to grab his stuff and meet her by the elevator.

He was all sorts of sore from the fight the day before, but he gave an annoyed groan, pressed a kiss to Lucky’s head, instructed Friday to let Pietro know he was heading off again, grabbed his previously packed bag and was off again on the Barnes hunt.

If Barnes moved and was no longer in Bucharest, Clint swore he was going to scream and fly himself back to New York just so he could get back to sleep.

Chapter Text

August 29, Bucharest
Got my shit together for about two seconds and shaved the beard off. Hopefully it doesn’t end up being a bad idea, but for once I’m doubting it. There were no clear photos of the Winter Soldier where his face is really shown off, specifically a bearded or clean shaven face.

My hair is something I won’t deal with though. It’s only a little past my shoulders now, so it's still manageable, especially since I wear a hat most of the time.

Appearance isn’t all that important right now, either way. Perhaps it used to be, to me, but it doesn’t seem all that important when you’re hiding away from the world.

September 10, Bucharest
Woke up pretty damn early today to a cat fucking screaming.

September 10, Bucharest
Correction: Two cats

September 10, Bucharest
I’m now housing a dog, a parakeet, a lizard, and two cats

September 11, Bucharest
Here’s the rundown:
There’s me (James), then there’s a dog (котенок), a parakeet (мусор), a lizard (Rocky), and two cats who look pretty much exactly the same so I assume they’re siblings (Tweedledee/Dee and Tweedledum/Dum).

It’s much more fun to name the animals in Russian, but those cats pulled a random memory about twins in a nursery rhyme, so Dum and Dee they were named.

September 12, 2018
A dog leash was surprisingly expensive, but I felt котенок should get up and moving if he can.

And he can, surprisingly.

He even wagged his butt, for the lack of much tail, and seemed happy.

Walking him was pretty enjoyable actually, even if котенок could only go so far before he started to pull back towards the apartment.

котенок seems happier now than when I first encountered him. Maybe company really does go a long way.

He even gets along with the cats, which I thought was an uncommon thing.

Speaking of the two, the cats adjusted to their apartment pretty easily. My funds took a hit from buying both dog food and cat food, but it's whatever.

The weather, in other news, is starting to finally chill just a little bit.

Thank goodness.

James let his flesh hand drift over the back of Dee, the cat’s purr earning a small smile from James. Dum popped up at James side then, sticking his head up into James’ armpit, much to James’ amusement.

They were primarily grey colored, with a few black stripes. And just like Rocky, James didn’t feel the urge to truly figure out whether or not these cats were male or female.

He decided to just enjoy the way cats rammed their heads into him once they get comfortable around him. James assumed they must’ve been someone else’s pets before they became strays, based on their behavior, which also went for котенок.

He never dwelled very long on why these animals were now strays, but he was hopeful that they would live out the rest of their lives happily, even if James wasn't involved.

He debated the topic for a moment. If HYDRA is the one to find him, he will not reveal the animals to them. HYDRA is heartless; they will kill whatever makes happiness.

Steve Rogers, though, maybe he would pity the animals. Maybe he would feel the need to help them.

If Steve Rogers is the one to find him, James will reveal the animals, but only if it’s Steve Rogers.

A part of James hoped that it would never come down to that though. A part of James hoped that he, too, could live out the rest of his life happily. Sitting there with the animals, he was not happy, but he felt a sort of enjoyment. Perhaps, given time, he could be happy in Bucharest.

He feared that if he is taken away from this life he created, he will never get the chance.

Six, seven, eight…

“The building is mostly abandoned,” Natasha explained, arms crossed over her chest, “If we have to go in by force, we will.”

Nine, ten…

“I can keep an eye on the perimeter outside the building,” Sam interjected, “Tell you three when Barnes is approaching, if he ever does, and can assist if any if this makes it out onto the street.”

“Does that mean you’re expecting a fight, Sam?” Steve questioned, brows furrowed in concern. He seemed confident, yet uncertain.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen…

Sam shrugged, “Barnes may be twitchy or uncertain. For all we know he’ll throw himself out the window out of fear because of us.”

Fourteen…

“It’s just a precaution, Steve,” Natasha explained, “Our primary plan is to talk to him. Secondary is if it goes south.” She ran a hand through her hair, brows furrowing in a way that only Clint recognized.

Fifteen, sixteen…

“I’m figuring out which apartment he’s hiding out in, and then I’ll station myself in the closest one to his.” Natasha continued, “Sam will be outside and be our eyes while you and Clint go in. Steve, you can remain non hostile, but Clint needs to be there in the situation that Barnes turns hostile.” She paused, eyes skipping to Clint where he sat on the couch, hands moving fast as he counted up his arrows, lacking the arrowheads, that were laid out on the coffee table. His quiver, specifically the one Tony had made him, was next to him on the cushions. The arrowheads were separate, designed to already be inside the quiver and hooked up to attach to the shaft when manually requested.

He was mumbling under his breath, counting along with each arrow that took a spot next to him.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…

“Clint?”

His hands stilled, finger hovering over the last arrow shaft. His eyes switched to Natasha as she spoke, “You listening over there?”

He hummed in agreement, nodding, “Sure am,” he started, “I go in with Steve and pretty much play bodyguard. Sam will be outside being our eyes outside and you will be stationed in the apartment nearby to assist if needed.” He explained, “We only want to talk with Barnes but need to be prepared just in case Barnes doesn’t want to talk.”

Natasha eyed him for a moment after he finished speaking before she nodded and turned back to Sam and Steve, her eyes skipping over to Clint one last time before she continued where she left off, “I have to admit, its out of the ordinary that Barnes is still in Bucharest. I… know how he was trained; he is never to be traced. Yet, here we are.” She tilted her head down, allowing her red hair to cover her face for only a short moment before she was straightening up again, “For all we know he could be gone by tomorrow morning, but somehow I’m getting the feeling that tomorrow is when this all comes to the end of the line.”

Twenty.

Clint picked up the last arrow, listening as Natasha spoke as he placed the arrow down next to him. He couldn’t take them all with him when they cornered Barnes, he knew that, but he’d rather be over prepared than show up to another fight with hardly enough.

“Any idea for why he isn’t packing up and leaving anymore?” Sam questioned.

Clint looked up as Natasha spoke, “He could be leaving as we speak.”

“Or,” Steve interjected, “He knows we’re coming.” He said, slowly.

“Why would he wait?” Clint asked, “He can't know what we want and last time he encountered you, Steve, he was trying to kill you, Natasha, and Sam.” Clint picked up his quiver, starting to place the arrows in gently even though he knew he would be checking over his bow and quiver before they left to get an idea of what they were about to run into the next morning.

“But maybe he wants to see us? To see me?” Steve sounded hopeful, more hopeful than Clint has heard from him in awhile.

Clint never put so much hope into a person or anything. He did that with Barney, and Barney left, and he hoped that his life would improve and instead his mom was killed.

But Clint settled for shrugging. If they don’t get through to Barnes, then Steve can be disappointed.

Clint didn’t need to be the one that says “I told you so”.

When each arrow was situated in his quiver, Clint placed it aside, next to his bow on the coffee table. He turned, angling his body towards the other three in the room. Steve seemed slightly distressed while Sam and Natasha seemed to be feeling a mix of emotions.

Clint sighed, “So, we go there in the morning,” he started, “Let’s move on from there and talk about the plan fully.”

Steve nodded, “We go over in the morning to scope out the building,” Steve repeated, “And then we wait until Bucky heads out, if he does, and move in ourselves. Natasha finds an apartment to lay low in, Sam stays on the roof next door, and Clint and I head in.” He paused, “When Bucky is coming back, Sam will alert us. We try to talk to him and Natasha comes in if she thinks the situation is going to turn sour, or if she feels the need, but she’ll be giving us a warning.” Steve shifted in his stance, crossing his arms over his chest, “Clint, you’ll be bringing in your bow and arrow, just in case, and should be ready for anything,” He seemed unhappy with saying such a thing, but obviously knew it was a necessity.

“If all goes well and Bucky seems okay, we bring him back to the compound and deal with his legal situation from there.” Steve finished.

Clint’s brows furrowed, head tilting slightly. Now, this part of the plan he hadn’t heard. “We just bring him back with us?” He waited until Steve nodded before continuing, “You don’t think he’ll have any issues with that?”

Steve seemed uncertain about his answer, remaining quiet before looking to Sam and Natasha, “Be ready for anything.” He mumbled. Steve turned then, heading to his bag where it rest on the bed he was sharing with Sam.

The room fell silent then, as the four took the cue and turned in for the night.

Clint swore he could feel the nerves for the next day filling the room.

Going through their routine before they left was simple enough. Natasha was awake before all of them, sitting on the couch with her breakfast sat on the coffee table in front of her. At some point while everyone slept, she had gone and picked up a simple breakfast for them.

The four ate in silence, each separating to prepare for the day in their own ways.

The room was quiet throughout the next hour, until Steve informed the three that they leave in five minutes.

Natasha led them to where Barnes was hiding out, but made sure to keep everyone out of view. They took to the route that was most hidden from public view, especially as the four were dressed in what they wore for Avenger missions.

Sam’s wings were tucked safely into their pack though, but the metal pack on Sam’s back was enough evidence of something. Natasha was dressed in her black bodysuit, but her widow bites were inactive and her guns were holstered. Steve opted for carrying his shield in one hand and his cowl in the other, but the stealth suit Tony had created for him was on full view. Clint had also gone for the route of something Tony had designed for him. He wished the all black getup had a some more purple in there, but he was still glad to see it at all. He usually enjoyed showing off his arms (he worked hard on them!), but he was pleasantly surprised by the long sleeve and short sleeve combination Tony had brought in.

All in all, he felt like they all looked pretty badass.

But then they were climbing up a fire escape to get to the roof of the building next door to Barnes’ apartment building. They couldn’t make any moves until Barnes left his building. This, they had no idea how long would take.

When they were all on the roof though, hidden from view the best they could manage, Natasha informed them of which apartment Barnes was living in, “There’s an elder on the same floor as him, though, named Cristian Botez. We just need to make sure he doesn’t get involved in any of this. But, besides Botez, the rest of the apartments in the building are mostly empty. I’ll be setting up in the apartment closest to Barnes’.”

Clint glanced around, taking a look at Sam. He was lying on his stomach, closer to the edge of the roof and his eyes on the street in front of Barnes’ building. Clint knew he was listening to the conversation, but his attention was very obviously mostly on Barnes making any moves.

“And I’ll be listening in on coms,” Natasha continued, “I’ll be making the call on if I’m needed, not you, Steve, and not you, Clint.”

Clint turned towards her, letting out a snort, “Trust me, this is not a call I wanna make either way.”

Natasha rolled her eyes in response, taking a look at Barnes’ apartment building, “Now, we wait. I can’t tell you if he’ll even leave his apartment today, but based on some images I was able to track down from security footage, it seems he’s made a habit of getting out most days.”

Steve nodded, reaching up and pulling the cowl on. He kept his eyes on Sam.

Clint kept his thoughts to himself though, keeping an eye out for any abrupt movements around him and from Sam, and instead mentally readied himself for what they were about to do.

He could shoot an arrow close up, Clint was confident in that, but if he had to make a shot at Barnes, he wasn’t sure it would end well for him.

He thought back to his last fight with Barnes, hopefully his only fight with him if this goes right. Then, Barnes was in full Winter Soldier mode and avoided all but one of Clint’s arrows, if he remembered correctly. Barnes even ended up tossing Clint in a dumpster after beating him up after he avoided all of Clint’s attempts at getting a hit in.

Clint was really hoping that this wouldn’t be a repeat of last time. But, for the first time in awhile, Clint was actually (kind of) nervous for this fight. He was an exceptional marksman, but, according to all of the reports on him, so was Barnes.

And then there was another issue. If Barnes turned aggressive, Clint knew that Steve wouldn’t want to fight Barnes. He would dodge, dodge, dodge, even if Barnes was coming at him with a million knives. If Clint engaged in a fight with Barnes, he wasn’t sure he could count on Steve to take Barnes out of the fight.

It was concerning, to say the least. Luckily though, there was Natasha. Natasha wouldn’t let Barnes even get close enough to get a knife in Clint’s gut, hopefully, but just because he trusted Natasha, he couldn't be promised no injures.

“Barnes is on the move.” Sam’s voice rang clear in Clint’s head, forcibly pushing away his doubts and worries. Now was the time that he had to be ready for anything, even if he really wasn’t.

Natasha, Steve, and Clint all started for the fire escape while Sam stood, rolling his shoulders back and watching as the three made there way into Barnes’ apartment building.

September 12, Bucharest
Heading out soon to get some dog treats and cat treats. Rocky is accompanying me on my trip to the store today, but I’m sure he’ll be looking to leave once we’re back at the apartment building. The cats were cuddled up together when I left their apartment a few minutes together too. It was really cute.

Chapter Text

“Barnes is on the move.” Sam’s voice rang clear in Clint’s head, forcibly pushing away his doubts and worries. Now was the time that he had to be ready for anything, even if he really wasn’t.

Clint followed closely behind Natasha as she started forwards, Steve taking the necessary steps to be leading the two. Clint let his eyes drift to the street, where he barely caught sight of a man walking across the street before walking north. He couldn’t tell if the man was Barnes though, for sure, but the long dark hair and baseball hat was a pretty good hint.

Clint looked back to his team, trying to focus on the task at hand instead. The three reached the edge of the roof, making it down to the closest fire escape before descending by way of the fire escapes and landing on the ground of the alleyway silently.

Natasha took charge then, motioning with her hand to prompt Steve and Clint to follow her. She led them to the back of the building, where a, presumed locked, backdoor was. Before anybody made any move to unlock the door, Natasha tested the handle and pushed the door open. Based on Natasha’s description of the building, Clint wasn’t very surprised by the lack of security. The three made their way inside quietly, but not slowly.

Before they got any further, a low buzzing noise sounded. Steve stilled, drawing the attention of Clint and Natasha. It was almost comical as he pulled out a burner phone and looked apologetic as he answered it. As Clint turned to shoot a look at Natasha though, Steve mumbled, “It's for you, Clint.”

And now that was weird.

Clint took the phone though, not even speaking before Tony was hastily speaking, “Hey there, Hawkguy, so there's this woman and a child requesting entry and she’s saying she knows you? I wanted to turn her away immediately but Friday dialed you guys.”

Well shit.

“Did she give a name?” Clint asked slowly.

Tony hummed, “Laura and Cooper. Well, if you don’t recogn—”

Clint cut him off, eyes widening slightly, “No, no, shit,” he cursed, letting out a sigh, “I know them; I just forgot to let you know that they were coming around and then fucked up.” He ran a hand down his face, ignoring Natasha and Steve’s inquisitive looks, “Just… Just let them in and bring them to my quarters and make Pietro bring Lucky ‘round. I can’t explain anything because that’s not a great idea for me right now, but thank you and bye, Tony!” And with that, Clint snapped the phone shut (aw, he missed that) and tossed it back to Steve.

He waved off Steve as he opened his mouth, “Not the time, Rogers.” He said, shooting a look at Natasha that he hoped meant “forget it and move on” to her.

It seemed to work well enough as she started forwards again.

God, Clint was going to get the lecture of his life when he got back. Oh, and now Cooper was meeting the team without his dad. Barnes better not be a fucking asshole or else this day was going to get even worse.

The time it would take for Barnes to return was unknown and they needed to get into position quickly. Ascending the appropriate amount of floors was a fast process, one where Clint took in the building. Old, worn down, and quiet. Clint couldn’t say he was all that surprised that this was the building Barnes chose.

During their time in the stairwell, Clint had nocked an arrow, preparing himself for whatever they may encounter. They made it to what Natasha said was Barnes floor easily enough though, stopping short when they reached the floor.

Steve took a long look around, as if he was only now understanding what was about to happen. Natasha, Clint noticed, took a much quicker look around the floor, but her gaze lingered on a certain door, of which Clint assumed must’ve been Barnes’.

Clint didn’t stray from the pattern. He took in the environment easily enough, finding himself reminded on his time before SHIELD momentarily. The floor was mildly dirty, the windows just as grimy and one even having a long crack. The wallpaper was peeling and Clint wondered if the ceiling was actually sagging or if he was imagining that. The doors seem aged, too, as there were chips in the old looking wood and the knobs were scratched and lacking much of its previous gold color that was barely holding on.

A tap of Clint’s arm pulled his attention though, as he turned to Natasha. She had gotten Steve’s attention too, somehow, and had gathered him close. Quietly, she said, “The apartment next to the window,” She pointed to said door, of which, Clint noticed, was the only one with a newer looking doorknob, “Is Barnes’ neighbors apartment, which we avoid.” She waited until she saw the men nod, “And I will be in the apartment across from Barnes and will be giving you a time limit, Rogers.” She sent a pointed look at Steve before she gaze switched to Clint, “Be my eyes on the inside, Barton.”

Clint raised a brow, “Usually you’re the one doing that, Nat,” he replied, a slight pull to his lips and a similar joking tone.

She didn’t seem amused, “Well it's my turn to watch from far away then.” She pointed to the door behind Clint, the one that Natasha’s eyes had lingered on, “Barnes is stationed there.” She looked to the door, “Don’t make a mess of things.” And then she was off, turning and heading to “her” apartment. She walked right in, the door unlocked.

The click of the door as it shut felt almost deafening.

It was Clint who turned towards Barnes’ door first, not wanting to waste their time. Steve beat him to it though, somehow. Steve tried the doorknob, finding it locked, unsurprisingly. This had Steve pausing, and it was where Clint jumped in, “Unless you know how to pick a lock, and not break down the door, step aside, Cap.”

Steve listened well enough, but he was a little closer than Clint appreciated when he kneeled to get eye-to-eye with the lock. As Clint lowered himself down, he settled his bow and arrow down next to him. He had almost thirty years of experience in picking locks (Barney taught him how to pick a lock way back then, but his time in the circus and as an orphan just perfected the skill), so the actions came easily. And, because Clint wasn’t picky, he went with the good ol’ paperclip, of which he had hooked onto the waist of his pants earlier in the day (he had a suspicion he’d be forcefully unlocking some doors). It was the one Natasha had been using to mark the place in her novel (Clint didn’t question it), so he mentally sent an apology to Natasha as he bent the metal out of place and worked with the lock.

And when the lock unlocked just a short time later, Clint wasted no time as he scooped up his bow and arrow and tossed the paperclip off into a corner. He wasn’t entirely sure if Barnes would notice it, but they were already breaking in.

Clint opened the door before Steve could, already knowing that the man would run in without assessing much if he didn’t want to think it through, so Clint walked in slowly with an arrow notched.

The apartment itself was small and in just as bad of condition as the rest of the building. But, there were signs of human life in it. The floor wasn’t as dirty, most likely due to constant movement, and the kitchen seemed somewhat stocked from where Clint stood. Or, at least, there was what looked like some packaged food and a pot or pan on the stove and a few water bottles, all either empty or filled, on the countertops. The light in the kitchen was still switched on, but the light fixtures in the walls and the lamp shoved in the corner were off. The door next to the fridge had its windows covered by newspaper as well.

Clint took a few more steps inside, gaze switching to his left. The windows’ drapes were pulled in, leaving the corner in mostly darkness. There was a small mattress on the ground, with a sad looking pillow and an open sleeping bag. Clint looked closer, finding what looked like a bundled up shirt and a spare hat.

Clint moved further into the apartment, only lowering his bow when he was by the fridge. Instead, he watched as Steve took it all in. His entire expression seemed displeased and stressed, his fist balled up at his side. And then, his body relaxed, just barely, as his emotions switched. Clint thought he looked sad, maybe.

He turned in a circle, before he walked around slowly. He even walked past Clint, into the kitchen. Steve’s hand drifted over the pot on the stove, but he didn't touch it, as if he was concerned about upsetting the current environment.

As Clint made a move to walk forwards, Steve’s eyes switched to him. Or, more like, his eyes found the spot next to Clint’s head. The archer stepped aside as Steve came forwards, his freehand rising and wrapping around something that lay atop the fridge. He lifted it slightly, letting two wrapped bars slide off before bringing the object down. His back was turned to Clint though, so Clint took the initiative and came up next to him and leaned against the counter. His fingers tightened on his bow briefly when he eyed the object.

A journal?

Clint leaned forward slightly as Steve opened the journal. The page was filled with writing, with what seemed like dated entries. The first one that caught his eye was dated all the way back in February and was marked as ‘Spain’.

He didn’t get that long of a look though before Steve was switching the pages. Of course, it opened on a bookmarked page where a picture of Steve was taped in.

Clint didn’t miss the way Steve's fingers tightened around the book.

Clint suddenly felt like an intruder as he peered over into the journal. Barnes’ life was not his own; he shouldn’t know Barnes’ deep, inner thoughts.

Clint settled for taking a step back and pushing himself up onto the space on the counter where the area was clear of Barnes’ items.

He adjusted his grip on his bow, notching his arrow again but keeping it low just as Sam’s voice came through his ear, “I’ve got eyes on Barnes,” He started, “He’s moving quickly too, so I’d say you only have three minutes.”

Clint rolled back his shoulders and let out a breath as Steve mumbled out a reply to Sam. Clint didn’t lift his bow though. He was pretty confident that it wouldn’t bring any good if the first thing Barnes saw was an arrow (a regular arrow, not even a fancy one!) aimed at his face. He was always prepared to aim and shoot though.

Clint wasn't sure how Barnes was going to react either way. Honestly, Clint just hoped he didn’t get shot in the face immediately. That would probably just piss off Laura even more than he had already succeeded.

Clint took a look at Steve and the journal. He had switched pages again, but this one lacked any Steve. Clint’s brows furrowed.

No, that page only had Clint’s face.

Okay, maybe not a headshot like Steve’s, but Clint could recognize blurry shots of himself in battle. There was some writing there too, but, of course, Steve shut the journal before Clint could get a closer look.

Steve turned, though, which had Clint cursing himself for losing his focus.

Clint turned his head.

Barnes was there, standing still only a mere few feet away. His gaze was stuck on Steve and his expression was almost blank.

Clint had seen pictures of Barnes, yes, but nothing prepared him for the living sight. Clint knew what it was like to feel unlike yourself and to feel like shit constantly, but he had avoided mirrors until he felt a little better after Loki.

Barnes seemed tired.

Clint looked closer.

Maybe a few inches shorter than Clint, with brown hair that was longer than it was in the picture Clint had seen all those months ago and a faint stubble.

Clint could barely recall his last interaction with Barnes from eight years ago, but even then, he never truly saw Barnes. He knew of his hair and the top half of his face.

But he didn’t forget his eyes.

Those blue eyes had been so cold then, so empty. Clint would have called them the eyes of a killer if he hadn’t been in the process of being choked back then.

But now? Barnes avoided looking anyone in the eyes, his eyes constantly skipping around the area of Steve’s face. Clint swore he could see fear in those blue eyes, but he wasn’t so sure. Barnes was hiding most of his emotions, Clint could tell, and he was doing it well.

But hiding his emotions was more human than what Clint had seen. Human didn’t always mean good though.

“Five minutes, Rogers, and then I’m coming in.” Natasha said, her voice coming through the com in Clint’s ear.

Barnes was wearing dark blue jeans, a, worn down, red Henley, three buttons undone, over a black shirt, and a hooded jacket. Gloves covered his hands and a black hat sat upon his head.

He seemed well put together, clothes wise, for a man on the run (and, listen, the guy may be an ex-HYDRA assassin, but Clint knew when a man was attractive. Even if it’s not the right moment).

Clint knew Steve was going to move before he did. Steve took a step forward, “Do you know me?” He asked slowly. Clint looked away from Steve, keeping his eyes on Barnes.

Barnes looked away briefly, letting the room fall into momentary silence, “You’re Steve,” He started, voice rough from what Clint assumed was disuse, “I read about you in a museum.”

If that journal means anything, Clint was pretty damn confident Barnes was a liar.

Steve seemed to think the same, “I know you’re nervous and you have plenty of reason to be, but youre lying.” He paused, eyes searching for something, “We don’t want to hurt you.”

Then, Barnes’ eyes shifted to Clint. Clint held back any visible reaction (or at least he hoped he did). Barnes didn't say nothing to Clint, just stared. Clint didn’t doubt that the man was studying the environment. He seemed to be growing more and more unsure and tense as the seconds passed by.

Clint and Steve had invaded his environment; Barnes should be a little upset.

Barnes’ head tilted very, very slightly, Clint believed, before his gaze had moved on and switched back to Steve. Inquisitive, maybe? For a brief moment, Clint wondered if Barnes recognized him, but he dismissed it quickly. No way that Barnes could recall a guy he saw for only a few minutes from eight years ago.

Barnes curled and uncurled his gloved hands, “That’s not a very good idea.”

Steve seemed pained by the comment, his face showing the displeasure. Barnes’ eyes skipped to Clint again, the atmosphere steadily turning for the worse. Clint shifted his grip on his bow, lifting slightly.

“You have two minutes,” Natasha reminded, voice dripping with the veiled threat.

Steve seemed unaffected by Natasha though, “You pulled me from the river,” He started, “Why?”

And then Barnes was becoming a real threat.

He slowly, deliberately, stripped the gloves from his hands. The metal glinted within the little amount of light in the room, Clint noticed, and oh fuck that was the same hand that nearly killed Clint already.

Clint clenched his jaw and raised his bow more, enough to be noticeable. He didn’t like where this was going, not at all.

“Clint?” Natasha’s voice asked.

“I don’t know.” Barnes replied, letting the gloves drop to the floor. He curled and uncurled his metal hand.

“One minute.” Natasha warned.

Clint noticed then, that Barnes had shut the door. Natasha entry wouldn’t be quiet and neat then.

“Yes you do.” Steve took a step forward.

Barnes shifted his stance and Clint recognized that stance. Steve was like prey walking into a trap unknowingly to get killed. Barnes wasn’t some soft being, he was the predator you wanted to avoid. And yet, there was Steve walking directly at him.

Steve had a chance but Clint wasn’t sure if he would even take it.

The arrow sliced through the shoulder of Barnes’ jacket.

Even as Steve yelled out Clint’s name in a mix of anger, worry, and panic, Clint didn’t care. Barnes wasn't going to just walk out of the building with them, he knew that.

And maybe Clint could take a metal fist to the face first, but he wasn't all that sure yet.

But it wasn’t a fist that came at Clint’s face, but a very sharp knife, of which the archer barely avoided, that landed in the cabinet behind him.

Clint looked over just as he saw Steve drop Barnes’ journal. But Steve was facing Clint for just enough time that Barnes was able to grab the journal and grab onto the old bookcase that was up against the wall. He tossed the piece of furniture at Steve and Clint easily, and Clint only heard the sound of a fist going through wood as he tried to avoid the bookcase.

Steve was moving before him, yelling Barnes’ nickname. Clint looked over to them, aiming an arrow at Barnes, who was now by the window holding a backpack and his journal.

He let the arrow fly as Barnes broke the window. Barnes dodged the arrow as he shoved his journal into the pack, avoided another arrow, and tossed them out the window.

Then Barnes was in the game.

There was a loud bang against the front door, catching Barnes attention enough that Steve could knock him to the ground. Barnes was pushing the man off and getting back up.

As Clint aimed, Barnes pulled out a gun and the apartment door came down and Natasha came in.

A bullet tore through the cabinet behind Clint and through the floor in front of Steve.

Those were warning shots if Clint ever encountered them.

Natasha was going into action though, dodging a punch from Barnes and getting one of her own in. She got enough room to try and get a kick in, but Barnes was grabbing her by the ankle and tossing her aside.

Clint was aiming another arrow before Barnes could even lower his hand. But then, Steve was pulling down Clint’s arm and the arrow wasn’t released.

“What are you doing?” Clint hissed.

“You can’t kill him.” Steve said lowly, hand still wrapped around Clint’s arm. He wasn’t sure if it was a threat, but Clint was seriously doubting Steve’s intentions.

Clint watched as Barnes took one look at the situation before he was running out the door, Natasha hot on his heels.

“I won’t if he follows the rules too.” Clint settled for saying, pulling his arm from Steve and running out the door himself.

Outside of the door, Natasha was fighting Barnes with her best effort. They seemed equal at first until he was hitting her hard enough to make her stumble. He took the opportunity and swept her legs out from under her.

Steve was running towards Barnes then and Barnes was getting a cut to his calf from an arrow.

Barnes was fucking fast goddamnit.

And then Barnes was jumping over the railings and tearing the railing off the edge with his metal hand, practically using it as a rope to go down a couple floors. God, Clint thought Steve was bad?

Oh, wait, there goes Steve jumping after him.

Clint chose to get Natasha up on her feet first. She seemed alright, to Clint, but she grumbled and shot him a glare, “You should be chasing them.”

Clint rolled his eyes and was quick to notch a grappling arrow and shooting up towards the railing on the floor above them. Without a word, Natasha was holding onto Clint and the two hopped off into the stairwell.

Using their momentum and angle, they managed to roll onto the other side of the floor where Steve and Barnes were stuck in a fight.

“Air assist is on standby.” Sam said into the coms.

Natasha was up and moving as Clint got up and took hold of his bow, “Appreciated,” Clint mumbled.

“Buck, stop!” Steve yelled, “You’re going to kill someone!”

Steve obviously doubted the abilities of a thirty year old man with a bow and some arrows.

Of course, that’s the moment Barnes punched Steve square in the face, hard enough to knock him back into the railings, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Barnes replied lowly.

Clint spotted Natasha attempting to creep up behind, causing Clint to let his arrow fly to gain Barnes attention. The arrow pinged against the railing next to Steve and Barnes’ eyes found Clint’s briefly.

Clint wiggled his fingers in greeting, a small grin growing.

Natasha jumped up onto Barnes’ back, getting one of her cords around his neck.

As Barnes knocked them back into the wall, Clint was rounding the corner and mentally thanked Tony as he went through the simple, quick motions that got his bow to switch into a quarterstaff. Clint swung the staff into Barnes’ torso. With Barnes’ attention divided between three people, the hit made contact. But then Barnes was moving quickly and suddenly Natasha was lying on the ground again. Clint wasn’t sure what Steve was up to or whether or not Natasha had hit her head, but Barnes’ attention was solely on Clint now.

The first punch Barnes threw, Clint managed to avoid. He even knocked Barnes’s arm backwards with the staff and swung it hard into Barnes’ side.

Clint spun the quarterstaff in his hands, cataloguing Barnes’ movements for barely a second before Clint was aiming for Barnes.

Barnes held up his arms, blocking the staff and Clint watched in mild irritation as Barnes’ right hand wrapped around the staff. Suddenly, Clint was being pulled into a punch and his staff was about three feet away and not in Clint’s hands.

Clint ducked, getting low enough to roll over to where the staff was. He got it back in his hands just as Barnes kicked Clint in the side, hard enough to send him into the wall.

Ouch.

Steve jumped in, putting a hand on Barnes’ shoulder and trying to turn him to face him.

Barnes responded with shoving him out of the way.

Clint glanced to the side, where Natasha was slowly pushing herself up and her eyes skipped to Clint’s for just a brief second before she pulled a knife out from the holster wrapped around her calf. Catching Clint’s gaze again, she nodded once before she was throwing the knife in Barnes’ direction.

Barnes dodged the knife with a simple step backwards, head turning to Natasha in a way Clint has only seen from animals.

And then Natasha and Clint were running at Barnes.

The man took it well, Clint begrudgingly admitted, but Clint just happened to aim for Barnes’ left. He expected to last a little longer with Natasha at his side, but as Clint made a move to dig the quarterstaff into Barnes’ stomach, Barnes metal hand was shooting out and making contact with Clint’s head.

Clint ended up on the ground, pain shooting through his skull.

He thought he might have heard Natasha yell his name or Steve yell Barnes’ but he couldn’t be all that sure with the way all of his sense latched onto the blaring pain in his head.

Clint rolled onto his side, taking in the… slightly blurred image of Steve jumping at Barnes as Natasha was slammed into the metal stair rail.

Barnes had run off, with Steve hot on his tail as they descended the stairs again.

And then Natasha was flooding his vision, pulling him up, “Come on, Clint, we’ve gotta keep moving.” She sounded concerned at least, but Clint was displeased to be only hearing her voice in only one ear.

Barnes better be able to afford a new hearing aid for Clint. You break it, you buy it.

Clint blinked a few times, until his vision cleared up a little bit. He assumed it was a minor concussion, maybe, but he’s had worse; he should be able to get past this.

Natasha pulled Clint along, down the stairs, until he was shaking her arm off and keeping pace with her. As they reached the floor below them, Clint switched his staff back into a bow, notching an arrow before Barnes was even in his sight. He and Steve were in their own fight, but Steve’s shield was still secure on his back.

Clint narrowed his eyes as Steve was pushed back. Steve could hold himself against most people, including Barnes if D.C. meant anything. The asshole was pulling his punches.

Clint let Natasha run at Barnes as Clint settled for making a dumb decision and hopping up onto the railing. He barely wasted a second before he was jumping to the other railing a few feet away, over the empty area in between the railings, and barely catching himself as he somewhat landed by Steve.

Clint notched an arrow again, eyeing Steve and his furrowed brows and all around stressed expression, “If you keep pulling your punches, you can’t expect him to not kill anyone, Rogers.” He kept his eyes on Steve as he released the arrow. It wasn’t a loud noise, but an arrow digging into skin was loud enough with Barnes’ quiet intake of breath.

But Steve’s expression was changing and then Clint was being thrown into the wall behind Steve.

Clint pushed off any of the pain he was feeling (kind of a lot) and barely caught sight of Barnes running down the hallway, dropping a bloodied arrow onto the ground as he went.

He heard Natasha’s voice (kind of), “Sam, he’s going for an exit. Southeast side of the building and don’t let him get away.”

Steve helped Clint to his feet, not saying anything about the way Clint stumbled and grabbed onto the edge of the window near them.

Clint lifted his head, slightly ignoring Natasha and Steve’s quick exchange of words, looking out the window.

“I’ve got eyes on Barnes!” Sam’s voice crackled through, “The bastard’s running to the edge of the balcony and I don’t think he’s planning on stopping!”

And just then Clint caught sight of Sam flying in.

James turned down the short hallway, barely catching himself before he slammed into the wall. He hadn’t been down this hallway before, but he knew where it led.

The building didn’t have many balconies but this door led to one of them. The space between the balcony and the roof next door could be worse and James had taken bigger risks.

His mind was running a mile a minute. The redhead, Natasha (Natalia?), would be getting to him soon if he stopped and Steve would be just as quick. Steve was pulling his punches though, his emotions getting the best of him.

James didn’t want to be taken. He didn't want to fight, but instincts are instincts.

The door at the end of the hall was wide open, the reason James didn’t know, but he was running out of it within seconds.

He wasted no time, pushing himself up onto the concrete slab used as a railing and using his momentum to launch himself off the building.

The roof of the other building was coming into his vision quickly, his backpack on the roof being a close second.

The bag was located by the edge of the roof in—

Something hit James in the side and suddenly he wasn’t descending towards the roof anymore.

A quick look upwards and James saw the man with… wings? Metal wings.

Wings or not, James used his weight to his advantage and swung himself to the side. The man nearly lost hold of James and he looked down just as James reached up and grabbed hold of one of the man’s wings. The two men took a dive towards the roof with the motion and the winged man’s panic came to light as James made quick work, too quick for the other man to put up any defense, of tearing the wing off.

James twisted them around as they fell, ignoring the way the man tried to hit him. But then the man managed to pull out a gun and aimed it as James.

Before he could pull the trigger, James let the man go, allowing each of them to fall to the concrete of the building on their own.

But to James’ surprise, the man managed to flip himself over and rolled onto the roof as James has done.

“I’m grounded and I’ve got Barnes on the roof,” the man said aloud, “Missing a wing.”

James could guess who the man was speaking to, so James eyed the man before he started towards him.

The gun was still trained on him and the man’s hands didn’t shake. James still had an extra gun and a couple knives still stored on his person and the metal arm he had was enough.

His eyes flicked to where his backpack lie a few feet away.

If he was going to be shot, he was going to get shot for a good reason.

So James made a dive towards his backpack, hissing out in pain as he felt the familiar pain of a bullet making contact. He heard the faint ‘clink’ as the metal hit the roof though, so James could guess he was either skimmed by the bullet or the bullet had torn all the way through. With the way he was feeling as he pulled on his backpack and clipped the straps together, he was sure he was merely skimmed.

The man with the (broken) wings still had his gun raised and pointed at James. He made no move forward through. He was no coward, James could give him that.

James rolled his shoulders back before he broke out in a run towards the opposite side of the roof, the sound of another person landing on the roof behind him almost deafening in his ears.

“That man is fucking crazy.” Clint commented as he stumbled into the hallway.

Natasha kept a firm hold on Clint’s arm, pulling him along with her brows furrowed.

Clint could see a few cuts and bruises on her and the way she was limping slightly, so Clint ignored the way his head hurt, the way his side ached, and the stinging from his (minor?) cuts and (not so minor?) bruises. Barnes had put him through the ringer so far, but Clint had gone through worse.

“We can talk about Steve’s sanity once we’re back in New York, Clint, but right now, we need to follow Steve and get to the roof.” She replied, pulling Clint through the door at the end of the hallway.

The sun was bright to Clint and he winced. He shook off Natasha though and let out a quiet breath as he understood what she was asking of him.

Clint got a grappling arrow ready and aimed, letting it fly and waiting until it dug into some metal thing on the other roof. With a brief look around the balcony, Clint reached up, despite his pain, and tied the rope from the arrow around the more sturdy looking pole of a light fixture in the wall. He only gave it a quick tug as a test before he spoke again, “Got something to hold onto the get across?”

As Clint switched his bow to a quarterstaff, he looked up as Natasha wrapped one of her hands in what looked to be some old jacket. She pushed herself up onto the half-wall that stood in place of a typical railing on the balcony. She tossed the loose end of the jacket around the rope and wrapped her free hand around it tightly.

Clint raised a brow, “How convenient.” He mumbled as Natasha took another look at him and jumped off the side of the building. Clint held his breath as she first started sliding down the rope to the other building, silently hoping she wasn’t about to fall to her death.

Clint hopped up onto the wall after her, sucking in a breath and really, really hoping his quarterstaff could withstand sliding down a rope with a man attached to it. He put the staff on the top half of the rope, holding on tightly to each side.

Either way, he hopped off the side of the building and held on as tight as he could.

Don’t look down, he reminded himself.

But the roof approached quickly and then Clint was letting go with one hand and rolled onto the roof.

He got up as quick as he could, switching his staff back into a bow and assessing the scene in front of him. Barnes was engaged in a fight with Steve and Sam, a backpack now on his shoulders. Natasha was running at them, the lines in her suit lighting up as her widow bites charged up.

Okay, so Clint felt a little useless. He was most definitely the most injured out of everyone on the roof and the most human (he didn’t care what Natasha said, she was badass enough to be superhuman).

And yet, he still ran at the fight.

“Buck, please! We just want to help!” Steve cried out, ducking as Barnes tried to punch him.

Barnes just knocked Sam’s arm away from him as the man threw a punch.

“Buck!” Steve called out again.

Barnes clenched his jaw, a slight frown evident on his face.

Clint tried to run faster.

Natasha was able to jump up onto Barnes’ shoulders and did her best to keep still enough.

Clint got an arrow loose from his quiver, nothing special about it, and redirected himself to dig the arrow into Barnes somewhere in order to slow him down.

He could heard the faint hiss of Natasha's widow bites and Steve yelling her name in warning.

And then Natasha was bringing her wrists down towards Barnes’ neck as Clint reached them.

Barnes as quick, startlingly so, as he made brief eye contact with Clint and got a hold of Natasha's forearms, her wrists suspended in air. Suddenly, Barnes was in Clint’s space and Natasha’s arm was moving and then Clint felt the shock of electricity flow through him. His entire body tensed up, the shaft of the arrow splitting in his grip as it tightened. His steps faltered and Clint fell to the ground, Natasha falling down with him.

Now he was really getting beaten down.

It didn’t last long, Clint knew that, especially since he only got hit by one widow bite, not two, and for not much time at all, but, shit, it still didn’t feel good.

And when Clint came back to himself, the soreness he felt in his body was extreme. But Natasha was pulling him up to his feet, concern clear in her eyes. He looked past her, seeing the way Steve jumped in between Barnes and Sam and took a metal punch to the gut.

“Rogers, get your head in the game!” Natasha yelled, hand wrapped tightly around Clint’s arm, “Take him down!” She never wanted to fully take Barnes down, Clint knew that, but he was much more than hostile at this point. Things could turn lethal very soon.

And yet Clint was the one shaking Natasha off again, letting out a quiet groan and reaching back to unhook a certain arrowhead from his quiver, placing his bow on the ground, “I’m gonna regret this.” He mumbled.

He waited for just a short second before he used up most of his remaining energy and ran forwards, ignoring the faint touch of Natasha’s fingers on his sleeve. Clint quickly pulled himself up onto one of the many metal structures on the roof and catapulted himself off and into Barnes’ back.

Barnes’ back was to him and Clint could never express his surprise when he was able to get Barnes down to the floor.

Clint wrapped his legs around Barnes’ neck, the men on their backs.

He had to wait though, even as Barnes’ flesh hand came up and tried to tear him off.

Barnes’ metal arm came up next, the plates shifting for just long enough for Clint to dig the arrowhead in between. It wasn’t deep enough to hold, but just enough to set the arrowhead off and send electricity through the arm.

The arm stilled and locked up, but Clint was distracted long enough for Barnes to lift them both and slam Clint down into the ground.

Clint released Barnes, only because he could see his three buddies just above them.

“Fuck.” Clint ground out.

Clint lifted his head just enough to catch the way Barnes balled up his fist and let his body fall back into the ground (and Clint since Barnes was still on top of him, but Clint was too sore and tired to really think that over).

Looked like Barnes was giving in, maybe.

Barnes let Steve pull him up though, and didn’t do anything when Natasha hesitantly, but quickly, removed Clint’s used up arrowhead and tied Barnes’ arms together behind his back. Natasha had Steve hold Barnes tightly as she went down and ties his legs together as well before she ordered Steve to get Barnes sitting on the ground.

Sam came over and helped Clint up, handing him his bow once he was standing and gave him a nod, “Smart thinking with the arrowhead, birdbrain.”

Clint nodded, wincing when he tried to roll his shoulders back.

“Someone could have gotten killed, Steve!” Natasha yelled as Sam and Clint made their way over to the three.

“Nobody was going to be killed!” Steve yelled back, but the look on his face begged to differ.

Sam walked behind Barnes, pulling his gun back out and holding it readily. He nodded to Clint.

“I know you didn’t want to hurt him, Steve, but he became hostile, too hostile, and all you did was yell and duck. Hell, Sam got pulled out of the sky!” Natasha continued, motioning with her hands.

Steve didn’t have much of a response to that, Clint noticed.

Clint sighed, pulling a normal arrow out of his quiver and notched it. He walked (limped) over to be in front of Barnes and aimed the arrow at him, breathing heavily.

Barnes wasn’t looking at him though, his head hanging down towards his chest. He seemed so still that Clint would have doubted he was even breathing.

Clint stumbled slightly, still suffering from all the injuries he had earned from the fight.

Barnes looked up, slowly, as if he was memorizing what Clint looked like. Hell, for all Clint knew, Barnes was.

Barnes’ eyes met Clint’s.

His eyes were much more of a bluish grey up close, the archer couldn’t help but notice. Barnes looked more human in this moment, staring up at Clint as his head tilted slightly. He was too calculating, though, to look as human as Laura or Cooper. He was like Natasha; human, but the soft parts were removed.

Barnes breathed in deeply as if steeling himself for something.

Clint’s brows furrowed as he watched Barnes, the sounds of Steve and Natasha’s arguing having become white noise.

“So you’re a blondie?” Barnes asked, quitely, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

Clint felt like his world was on fire.

The archer’s eyes widened and the burning he felt on his hip had him stumbling backwards, his arrow falling to the ground with no force.

He placed a hand over his hip, as if he was trying to stop a wound from bleeding.

No, no, no, no, no.

He was hallucinating. He had been knocked out and he was dreaming, right? This couldn’t be happening.

He caught the way Barnes’ expression shifted, the way his brows furrowed, how his head straightened and the way he tensed up.

The burning was excruciating, even if there would be no actual burn left behind.

“Clint?” Sam asked, sidestepping Barnes and taking a step towards Clint.

Clint shook his head and waved the man off, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to will away the burning. God how long does this have to go on?

Clint opened his eyes, immediately finding Barnes’. He seemed confused, Clint noted.

Clint kept his mouth shut though. He had never said anything to James Buchanan Barnes before, right? And now wasn’t the time to say a word.

Clint pulled his hand away from his hip and straightened up as the burning started to dissipate. He limped forwards and watched Barnes as he picked up his arrow and aimed it at Barnes again.

No attachments, Barton, the guy has tried to kill you two times now.

Barnes doesn’t stop staring at Clint though, which makes the situation even more intense. He wonders if Barnes remembers what a soulmate is; if he ever thought he could have one.

The archer shoved the idea down though. Clint was a disaster but he wasn’t going to try to hook up with an ex-HYDRA assassin.

At least—nope, he couldn’t even consider it.

Clint’s breath had turned labored, but he just took in a deep breath and worked on standing as Steve made his way over.

Clint had a soulmate.

Steve didn’t look at Clint, instead getting down to a squat and getting eye-to-eye with Barnes with only a foot or two between them, “I’m not leaving you here,” Steve started, “But I’m sure you knew that.” Steve paused before he reached up and unhooked his cowl, “You’ve got two options here, Buck: we take you home with us or SHIELD hears about you.”

Clint held back any comments or winces he could make at the comment. He practically gave Barnes no choice here, but with a quick glance at Natasha, he had a feeling Steve wasn’t the only one who knew what he was doing. She didn’t seem all that concerned though, with her arms crossed over her chest loosely and head tilted slightly.

But Clint wasn’t entirely sure what the best option was here. Either they give Barnes a choice or none at all.

Barnes broke his gaze from Clint and looked to Steve. Clint watched as Barnes visibly shuts down. Steve hadn’t noticed the change, but maybe Sam or Natasha had, but Clint knew the signs of someone giving up; the signs of someone feeling like they had no choice.

“I’m done,” Barnes mumbled, “Either you take me or they do, so I don’t got much of a choice.” Smart guy, at least.

Clint smothered his emotions for the time being.

“That’s not an answer, Bucky.” Steve replied.

“Either they lock me up like an animal or I have someone bringing me in, what do you think I’ll choose?”

Steve took a long look at Barnes before he nodded and stood up and pulled out his burner phone. He cast a look to Natasha before he walked off a few feet away to make a call.

Natasha walked over to Clint, “You’re going to the med bay when we get back.”

Clint shrugged, eyes still on Barnes and his arrow still aimed.

“You’ll be going to the med bay.” She repeated before she walked away to head over to same, her hand grazing his back as she went by.

Barnes was watching Steve. The man clenched his jaw before he looked to the ground.

Then the motherfucker looked up at Clint through his lashes and Clint was having a really hard time not thinking about how he just met his soulmate.

Barnes didn’t look away, but he did lift his head.

Now comes the strange, intense eye contact.

“Quinjet is on its way.” Steve called, “We’ve got Bruce piloting, unexpectedly, since Tony is in California for a business meeting, but apparently he’s leaving that meeting early now.” He walked over and stood next to Clint, “You can let up Clint,” Steve mumbled, “You don’t look so good. Take a seat until Bruce is here.”

Clint took one last look at Barnes before he chose to look to Natasha and Sam. Each gave him a nod before he lowered his bow and put the arrow back in his quiver. He trusted Natasha and Sam’s judgement more than Steve’s when it came to Barnes in the moment.

Clint did as told though and moved a few feet away before sitting down and leaning back on his arms.

It didn’t take long for Bruce to show, since Clint assumed he snagged the fastest quinjet they had.

He didn’t ask any questions as they loaded Barnes onto the quinjet either, just tugged on Natasha’s sleeve and demanded an explanation at a later date.

Before anyone could sit though, Barnes’ voice rang out, “Check my inner jacket pocket,” he asked aloud, “Right side.”

Nobody made a move.

Barnes looked at Natasha, gaze intense and expression stony, “Right inner jacket pocket.”

Something in Natasha's expression changed before she was taking quick steps over and reaching into the pocket with no hesitation.

What she pulled out was more surprising.

“Why do you have a fucking lizard in your pocket, Barnes?” She asked, eyeing the lizard that settled in her palm. It seemed living and well, enough.

“There’s more animals in the apartment next to… mine.” He lowered his head again.

Sam sighed, walking off the quinjet and motioning at Natasha to follow him, “Of course the Winter Soldier has pets, of course he does.”

Clint looked around the quinjet before he packed away his bow and quiver, his hand skimming the gun still holstered on his thigh.

He took the seat in the farthest corner from Barnes, right where he could see the entire quinjet, including the back of Bruce’s head from where he sat in the pilot’s seat, running a hand down his face.

Bruce glanced back, “So you guys don’t have any bags or anything?” He asked, “I’m not making anymore than one pit stop so plan now.”

If anything, Bruce was the most angry and most chill Avenger in Clint’s opinion.

An hour later, the team (plus Barnes and pets) had made one pit stop (they had to gather their bags from their motel room, by Bruce’s request) and were finally on their way back to New York.

So it turns out, Barnes had a lizard, a pit bull, two cats, and a bird.

Clint also learned that Sam was incredible at handling birds (oh, the irony).

Natasha had taken a surprising seat next to Barnes, the lizard moving within her cupped hands. Clint had taken to keeping the pit bull handled (Clint was very concerned with how thin the cats and dog were, but Sam had mentioned finding food and water left out for the animals so he assumed Barnes at least tried to care for them) while Steve kept an eye on the cats and Sam monitored the bird (did Sam say it was a parakeet?)

It was strange, to say the least.

To make it worse, Clint had to push himself to keep his eyes off of Barnes, even if he really, really, wanted to take another look at…

Another look at his soulmate.

Chapter Text

Clint ran his hand along Barnes’ dog’s back. Originally, he had gotten the dog settled in the seat next to him, but he quickly decided to scoot his head into Clint’s lap. The dog was very obviously a stray, but Barnes had also taken him in and done his best to care for him. So maybe he was an ex-assassin, but at least he cared for animals.

Right?

Steve seemed to be handling the entire situation pretty well, at least if the way he glanced at Barnes and smiled at the cats meant anything.

Whereas Clint was doing his best to avoid looking at Barnes and Natasha. Barnes because of the difficult soulmate thing and Natasha because she could see straight through him, most of the time, and would notice that something was off.

So Clint took to focusing on the pit bull next to him for the rather short ride back to New York.

Thank goodness for the speed of quinjets.

And Clint stuck to his decision of avoiding Barnes right up until the compound came into view and Clint glanced up quickly.

Barnes was staring right at him.

Clint looked away after a brief moment, not wanting to get caught up in any questions he may have for the man (do you happen to remember the time you tossed me into a dumpster? oh, and do you remember what a soulmate is? funny thing, you just met yours!)

So yes, Clint focused on the pit bull again and wondered if the dog had a name. He held back from questioning Barnes.

Clint had a feeling he was going to be holding back from doing stuff with Barnes a lot now (aw shit that didn’t come out right).

Bruce hadn’t spoken throughout the entire flight and neither had anybody else, so it had been quite the silent environment. Bruce handled the landing beautifully, Clint noticed, and Clint waited quietly for someone to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it was Steve who stood up first, a cat tucked under each arm. He let out a breath, “Tony said he would be meeting us outside the compound to help get Bucky inside,” he glanced around, eyes lingering on Barnes, “It’s risky trying to get Bucky into the compound and trying to… keep him under SHIELD’s radar, but Tony says he figured something out.”

Clint could only assume that Steve and Tony had been talking about Barnes much more than Clint expected.

Sam reached a hand out towards the parakeet, waiting patiently until walked onto his finger. Sam seemed experienced with birds, Clint noticed, which was rather ironic.

Natasha was the next to stand, walking to Bruce with the lizard still cupped in her hands. When she walked back though, the lizard wasn’t in sight. Clint could only assume that Natasha had pushed the lizard onto Bruce so she could fully monitor Barnes.

“And the pets?” Sam questioned.

Steve paused, seemingly thinking the answer over before Bruce let out an audible sigh, “I can get them in and down to Dr. Cho. She’s not a veterinarian but I’m sure we can pull something together. I’ll just need some assistance in getting the animals to her and I’ll tell her we found them when we went out for breakfast or something.”

Sam was quick to answering, “I’ll help you out, Bruce.” He said, “We can let the super soldier and assassins deal with this whole thing.” He glanced at Steve, “Besides, I need to get these wings off and check on the damage.”

Clint didn’t miss the look Sam tossed at Barnes. He didn’t blame him; Clint would do the same if Barnes ripped his bow in half.

Speaking of the man, Clint looked to where Natasha stood next to Barnes. The man had taken to looking to the ground, his hair coming down to cover most of his face. Natasha, on the other hand, despite the cuts on her face and the dirt that was smeared on her cheek, was standing straight as her eyes skipped around while she took in her surroundings.

Clint really thought his best friend was amazing.

“Let's get going then, Sam.” Bruce said as he slowly stood, eyes flicking to Barnes.

Clint stood next, doing his best to gather the pit bull into his arms first. The exchanging of animals looked much more easy than it really had been. The cats had been handed off to Bruce in fear of them trying to swat at the parakeet while the pit bull had been handed off to Sam. They would have let the pit bull walk freely if they were sure he wouldn’t run off or had injured himself at some point that would only worsen with walking. The cats though, they seemed content to be held, but had no desire to be seperated.

Steve chose to let Bruce, Sam, and the animals leave first, mostly in worry of the animals growing testy.

Clint watched them leave. Tony emerged from the compound then, his brows furrowed and stress evident on his face.

Clint swore he could feel the atmosphere grow tense.

Steve took one more look at Barnes before he stepped off the quinjet, meeting Tony halfway.

Clint moved backwards, further into the corner, looking between the possibly arguing couple outside and the two (other?) lethal assassins to his left.

He wasn’t sure how Tony planned to sneak Barnes into the compound, which held both Avengers and some SHIELD agents. But, if they could pull it off, Clint would probably… he’d probably just go to the med bay on his own.

Eventually, Steve turned around and raised a hand, motioning for the three to step out of the quinjet.

Natasha shot a look at Clint, one that had him pulling out his gun quietly.

“Встань солдат” the Russian flowed from Natasha’s mouth beautifully, but Clint took note of the chill that ran through her voice.

Clint watched as Barnes tensed up briefly before he complied, standing up, “Я не солдат.” He responded.

He wondered if Barnes was speaking truthfully. Barnes didn’t believe he was a soldier, unlike Steve. Clint could understand why Barnes would speak against Natasha, if the way he reacted to Russian and fights meant anything.

Natasha led Barnes out of the quinjet, with Clint following behind them.

In the back of his mind, Clint found himself doubting that Barnes would actually try to run off. With the way his shoulders were hunched in and the uniform way he was walking, it almost seemed as if he was expecting this treatment… or maybe he was used to it.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest when the three came to a stop in front of him.

He started speaking almost immediately, “We don’t have much time, but Friday is going to loop the footage on the floors with SHIELD agents for just long enough for us to get Barnes up to the Avengers level. Our floors have restricted access, meaning limited to me. If someone wants access to any of the security footage on that floor or anything secretive, they have to go through myself and Friday,” Tony gave a sigh, “We can house your bestie for… some period of time.” In that moment, Tony let his tired state show. Clint would never doubt that the mindset Steve has had for the past few years hasn’t been all that kind to Tony.

And then the genius was turning on his heel and starting towards the compound.

Natasha was the first to follow Tony, mumbling something under her breath that had Barnes tensing again and following her.

Clint nudged Steve as he walked past him, giving clue to the man that he should probably get moving.

Tony led them through the halls of the compound, quickly. Friday must have been giving him directions for the smartest way to go through some device Clint couldn’t see.

The elevator ride up to the common floor of the Avengers was silent, which was expected. It was also pretty uncomfortable too.

Of course, it didn’t help that Steve had taken to one of Barnes’ sides, which must’ve put Tony in a little bit more of an unhappy mood, while Natasha took up Barnes’ other side. Tony stood closest to the elevator doors, but somehow Clint had gotten shoved to be right in front of Barnes.

With any other guy, Clint probably would’ve enjoyed the idea of rolling his shoulders back while standing in front of a good looking guy, but in this situation, where he was struggling to stand on his own feet and was more battered and bruised than he wanted to be (oh and how his soulmate, who was the Winter Soldier, stood behind him), he didn’t feel all that in the mood for showing off his muscles. Clint slowly shuffled to the side, leaning heavily against the wall.

Tony had claimed that the common floor would be clear at this time in the day, as the twins were meant to be training with Thor and, surprisingly, Scott.

Their plan was to figure out Barnes’ plans for the rest of the day and the night (Meaning: who was going to keep an eye on Barnes and how they were going to handle watching over an untrustworthy assassin) before they separated.

But of course, their luck had run out after getting onto the elevator.

As the elevator doors slid open, the sounds of laughter and talking became very, very apparent.

“Shit,” Tony cursed under his breath.

Before he could do anything though, a certain Sokovian witch turned her head towards them, her lips pulled into a smile.

And suddenly her smile dropped.

Tony started mumbling something to Friday.

Clint saw her lips move, but he couldn’t make out what she mumbled. He could only assume it must’ve been something in sokovian with the way Pietro’s body stilled and he turned to face the elevator.

The elevator doors started to slide shut, but then they suddenly stopped.

Wanda stood, her hand raised just slightly, “Out of the elevator.” She commanded, voice cold and demanding.

Silence fell over the room and Pietro stood slowly, coming to her side.

Clint pushed himself off of the wall, brows furrowed in confusion. Nobody made a move. Clint started to speak, “Wan—”

But the girl cut him off, “Get off the elevator, Clint.” She wasn’t looking at Clint, the archer noticed.

She was looking behind him.

At first he thought she was looking at Natasha, but then he followed her gaze.

She was staring at Barnes.

Clint didn’t waste a second, stepping off and out of the elevator and towards Wanda.

Something was off and there was something here that only the twins understood.

Clint looked around.

Obviously the twins and Thor had skipped out on their training. On the couches, Thor was sitting up, looking between his teammates. Scott was sat next to him, looking uncertain, and Peter, of all people, was on the other couch.

The teen didn’t seem all that scared though, Clint noted.

Tony was the next off of the elevator. He was visibly unsettled though, and Clint started trying to figure out ways to diffuse the situation.

Natasha was next, but she walked directly in Wanda’s line of vision, saying something quietly to her in Wanda’s native language.

Wanda shook her head and replied, in English, “That man is dangerous, Steve, I suggest you get out of the elevator before I pull you off.”

“Wanda!” Clint called, concern finding its way into his tone.

Steve didn’t move, “I need more than a request, Maximoff.”

She complied, “That is the Winter Soldier, Steve.” She paused, “He was part of HYDRA; Steve, you’re bringing a HYDRA weapon into the compound!”

Barnes shifted, lifting his head and looking at Wanda.

Tony looked to Steve, “Off the elevator, Steve.” He said, voice firm, “Get off the damn elevator.” He was scared.

That got Steve moving, but he only stepped off the elevator.

Before he could question Wanda further, Pietro was speaking up, explaining, “HYDRA would tell us stories about the Asset. They said he would find us if we ran away, that he would kill us if we didn’t listen.” Pietro glanced back at Peter, whose mouth had dropped open slightly, before he shifted and looked to Barnes briefly. “If… if we stepped out of line, they said he would wake us up in the night with a knife to our throats and he would wait until the panic set in before he pushed the knife deeper. But that wasn’t how he would kill you, they said. They said he would do it slowly; that the asset would tear us to pieces before he let us die. Maybe he would let you suffer and slowly bleed out instead.” Pietro seemed almost lost in thought before Wanda shifted, catching his attention.

The boy swallowed, “Wanda and I lived in fear of the Asset while we suffered from HYDRA.” He stared at Barnes, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the one night they sent a man into my cell and let him beat me until I could hardly breath.” His voice had grown stony, “Sometimes I can still hear the sound of Wanda screaming, of my own—”

“Pietro,” Wanda protested, “Don’t.” She seemed pained by his words.

Pietro opened his mouth to speak again, but Clint cut in, “ We’re all on different pages here,” he started slowly, “Wanda, stand down, please, just for now. Barnes,” he hesitated, wondering if his next words would be any sort of useful, “Barnes went through HYDRA’s torture too, but for seventy years. They had complete control of him back then, but he got away from them, just like you two did. I… I don’t know if he ever hurt you two or was there when you two were with HYDRA, but we all need to talk things out for once.”

He looked around, “So let’s all just calm down and sit down or something.”

Nobody moved immediately, especially Wanda. She took a long look at Clint before she glanced at Barnes, who had pushed himself further back into the elevator wall, “I’m trusting you, Clint.” She stated, voice slightly unsteady, before she dropped her hand.

The doors started to shut but Barnes suddenly started forwards. He got through the doors quickly and stopped behind Steve.

The shutting of the elevator doors echoed around the quiet room.

Slowly, the group shifted closer to the couches, where Scott, Thor, and Peter had all stood up.

Steve took hold of Barnes’ arm and guided him towards the couches, right in front of television.

Natasha was close behind, standing off to the side with Wanda by her side. Once his sister had taken up her spot next to Natasha, Pietro moved back over to Peter, sliding an arm around the boy’s waist and pulling him close to him.

Clint settled behind the couch that Thor and Scott had been sitting on, hand still on his gun.

Eventually, Thor moved off the side, leaving Scott sitting alone on the couch before Tony plopped down next to him with a weary sigh.

Clint eyed Barnes, who glanced up and caught Clint’s eyes. Clint wondered if what he saw in Barnes’ eyes then was fear.

But Barnes looked away before he could think about it.

“This is Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier,” Steve started, “HYDRA stole him and tortured him for years. They took away his memories… and made him into a—a weapon. I want to help him, he deserves that much.”

He was met with silence until Thor spoke up, “As long as this man has no plans of harming us, I can be civil or be a friend, Captain.” He paused, “My brother, he…” Thor trailed off, almost as if he had forgotten about how his words may affect the team.

Clint held back any visible reactions to the mention of Loki. It had been years since the battle of New York, and even though Clint had dealt with it the best he could (he was pretty damn proud that most nights weren’t spent waking up in a cold sweat after a nightmare anymore), sometimes the mention of Loki caught him off guard.

Steve nodded, “Thank you, Thor.”

Peter shifted next to Pietro, leaning into his soulmate’s side and pressing a quick kiss to the other boy’s neck. He stuck a hand into his jacket pocket.

Tony sighed, “If we’re all settled here—”

A yell of Barnes’ nickname and a yell of Peter’s name overlapped each other as Peter ducked and pulled Pietro to the floor, a knife landing into wall behind Peter and Pietro.

Another crash sounded as red enveloped Barnes and he was slammed into the television, Steve stumbling backwards.

Clint ducked just as Scott launched himself over the back of the couch and Tony aimed a gauntlet (where’d that come from?) at Barnes while Natasha had aimed a gun at the man.

Quickly, Clint stood back up, gun ready and aimed.

Barnes was laying on top of the shattered mess of the television that now lay against the wall, where a Barnes sized down now lay. Steve was trying to pull Barnes up while Peter pulled Pietro up off the floor as he stood. Thor had gotten his hammer and Wanda’s hand were raised.

God, they can’t have two minutes without a disaster.

Clint looked down at where Scott was crouched on the floor. He put out a hand out towards him, which Scott took and allowed himself to be pulled up, “What a way to be welcomed back, huh?” Scott commented quietly.

Clint hummed in agreement.

“What just happened?” Tony questioned the room.

“It was my fault, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry.” Peter rushed out as Pietro gathered Peter in his arms. In the next few seconds, Pietro released Peter briefly only to place his hands on Peter’s jaw, as if checking for any injuries.

“How can this be your fault?” Tony questioned.

Peter hesitated, “I put my hand into my jacket pocket,” he started slowly, letting Pietro run a hand through his previously neat hair, “Bruce told me I shouldn’t do that in these kind of situations, but I forgot.” He motioned to Barnes weakly, “He threw a knife at me because he thought I was going to do something, I think.”

“Barnes,” Clint started slowly, lowering his gun, “Is that true?” He tried to asked.

The man himself was standing now, his hands, noticeably, not longer tied. Barnes startled when Clint addressed him and the man looked up, panicked.

He curled and uncurled his metal hand, his mouth opening to speak but nothing coming out. He looked down again, “I’m sorry.” He struggled to get out.

Clint had a feeling Barnes would be saying that a lot.

Slowly, Natasha lowered her gun, “I think it’s time you introduce Barnes to your quarters, Steve. We’ll talk more later.”

Steve nodded, looking to the group, “I’m sorry. This… wasn’t meant to go like this.” He took hold of Barnes’ arm, ignoring the way Barnes tensed, and started pulling him towards the elevator, “I’ll get onto patching him up and dealing with—”

Tony cut him off, lowering his gauntlet, “I’ll be dealing with Barnes’ legal situation and everything, Steven.”

Steve hesitated before he stepped into the elevator, “Thank you, Tony.”

The doors shut behind them.

Nobody moved for the next few moments.

Natasha looked to Tony, “Give him time, Tony.” As she spoke, Wanda rushed towards Pietro. He wasted no time before finally releasing Peter, wrapping his arms around her and mumbling something to her in Sokovian.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, “Maybe today would have been a good idea to follow the rules.” He attempted to joke.

Thor hummed in agreement, placing his hammer onto the coffee table, “I agree with you there, friend.”

The elevator doors slid open again, revealing Bruce, Sam, and Vision. In Vision’s arms, his little cat was curled up.

Bruce walked into the room, “Dr. Cho called in a veterinarian and…” he trailed off, looking at the mess Barnes left behind. He sighed, “The vet should be here in an hour or two to look at Barnes’ pets.”

“He has pets?” Pietro questioned, brows furrowed.

Tony groaned, pulling out his phone and starting towards the elevator, “Of course he has pets,” he mumbled, “Be ready, people, Pepper is supposed to be staying in New York for a few days and already there’s a disaster! She’s going to strangle me and leave me to rot one of these days.”

As the doors started to shut, Tony called out, “Everything will be replaced by tomorrow morning, so please avoid destroying anything else!”

Clint holstered his gun and ran a hand down his face, his arm aching with the action, “And with that, I’ll be on my way to the med bay.”

Natasha nodded, taking Wanda’s hand as she wandered back over to the redhead. Clint guessed that meant they were being more open now.

Pietro took hold of Peter again, sitting them down on the couch as Peter pressed a kiss to Pietro’s hair, while Thor and Scott made their way to the kitchen.

“Good. I already told Dr. Cho to expect you, so she’ll be waiting.” Sam replied.

Clint hummed, starting towards the elevator, only to be stopped by Vision taking hold of his arm, “Would this be a bad time to tell you that a woman named Laura and her son, Cooper, are waiting for you in your quarters?” He asked quietly.

Clint cursed under his breath, “Thanks, Vision.” He shook off the android’s hand and walked into the elevator, letting the doors slide shut, “Hey, Friday?” He called.

“Yes, Mr. Barton? Would you care to speak about this Laura and Cooper?”

Clint rolled his eyes, “You’ve gotten even more sassy since I was last home, huh? Go ahead and let Laura and Cooper know I’ll come see them within the hour.” He ran a hand down his face, “Let me tell you, Friday, trying to keep your kid separate from your superhero life is pretty damn difficult.” He joked.

“Laura said that Cooper says hello and that he is very happy to see Lucky again.” Friday paused, “She also says that she hopes you have a good excuse for as to why you weren’t home when they got here.”

Clint groaned, “Hopefully getting beaten up by a super soldier is a good enough excuse.”

The ride down to the med bay was fast enough and Helen Cho was as pleasant as ever, at least. Turns out he had a minor concussion and all the fun cuts and bruises that he could get from any fight. Clint would say he got pretty damn lucky, even if one of his hearing aids was done for.

Dr. Cho had one of his older sets though, which was something she said Natasha had advised her to do.

He placed the hearing aids into his ears and ran a hand through his hair. Wow, he felt pretty disgusting.

Dr. Cho offered him a smile, “Check in with me within the next few days so we can check in, Mr. Barton.” She said, “With the condition you’re in, I’d say you’re pretty lucky nothing is broken. If whoever you fought hit you just a little harder, I could bet you’d be coming in here with broken ribs if that bruise on your side means anything.”

Clint chuckled, “Well, let's be glad I’m not here with broken ribs, then.”

Dr. Cho let out a short laugh before she directed her attention to her computer, of which she had been involved with before Clint had come in to make sure he wasn’t about to combust or something.

“Have a good day, Mr. Barton.”

“You too, Dr. Cho.” Clint called as he exited her area of the med bay.

Dr. Cho wasn’t a permanent addition to the compound, apparently, but Bruce had invited her to stay for awhile in order to study some new developments each had made in their own work. She had explained her newest project to Clint during his stay, something that could make new human tissue.

The only reason she was assisting Clint was the same reason Bruce ever tried to pitch in: convenience.

She and Bruce weren’t the same kind of doctor as the ones that usually had to clean up Clint, but apparently a few SHIELD agent trainees had gotten into a pretty nasty mess and the doctors were currently involved there.

It was nice to catch up with Dr. Cho, either way.

Clint stepped into the elevator as Friday’s voice rang out, “Time to head to your quarters? I assume you would be glad to hear that it’s been less than a hour since Laura has received your message.”

Clint hummed, “It’s not a bad thing to hear, that’s for sure, and you’re right, Friday, it’s time to go see two of my favorite people.”

“Two of your favorite people?” Friday questioned as the elevator started moving, “I do hope I’m on that list.”

Clint chuckled, “You’re up there with Natasha, Fri.”

“Oh, I’m honored.” The AI replied, tone falling to a monotone (learning more about sarcasm, maybe?)

“Not higher than Lucky though,” he continued, “I’m pretty sure my dog reigns king over everything.”

“I’m sure Lucky would be very glad to hear that.”

Clint chuckled as the elevator doors slid open. He waved a hand in the direction of one of the cameras in the elevator, assuming Friday was smart enough to catch it, before he stepped off.

He stopped walking briefly, letting the doors shut behind him before he moved again.

Laura was there, sat on his couch, her legs pulled up towards her chest and her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Clint felt a slight tug on his heart at the sight of her. She was dressed in one of Clint’s old shirts and a pair of his sweatpants.

She was beautiful, as always.

She seemed at home here, in an environment she had never been in before.

Clint supposed she had been here for awhile though.

He let out a quiet breath and started towards her, “Now who is this amazing human being in my living room?” He questioned.

A smile grew on her face, though she continued looking down at the book in her hand, “I don’t know, what’s your name again?” She asked jokingly. She used her free hand to place her bookmark into her book before she set it aside and looked up at Clint, “Hi, Clint.” She greeted, a smile on her face.

Clint took it in. Laura would always be a person of comfort in his life, he knew, along with Cooper. Laura had always understood him from the moment they met, which was something he hadn’t been used to. Laura was the person he let close enough to stick around even longer than Natasha.

“Hey, Laura.” He replied.

She looked him up and down, smile dropping, “Did you seriously get beat up before coming here?”

Clint smiled sheepishly, “Maybe I tripped over a curb?”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, “Cooper fell asleep on your bed with Lucky, so you’ve got a few minutes to clean yourself up. Which means, please do.” She nudged him with her hand, avoiding his bruises and now bandaged cuts, “I’ll want an explanation later, if you can actually give me one.”

Clint sighed, “I hope I can too.” He turned and started towards his bedroom, “I better get a hug when I’m all cleaned up, Laura.”

He heard her laugh, “You'll be getting hugs from both Coop and I.” She confirmed.

When Clint opened the door to his room, slowly and quietly, he looked straight to his bed. Cooper was there alright, with his head resting on Lucky’s back. The two were laying on Clint’s pillows and each were asleep.

Clint was silently glad that it looked like someone had washed his sheets recently (he had a feeling it was Laura).

He was quick as he grabbed a hoodie and sweatpants from his dresser and shut the door behind him just as quietly as he opened it.

Once in the bathroom, Clint turned on the water and stripped out of his clothing quickly as he avoided the mirror. The next few days were going to be about Laura and Cooper, not Barnes. Barnes was something he could deal with in the future but he was not going to interrupt family time.

But maybe he could talk to Laura about this. She has a soulmate now, right? So maybe she could help him out with sorting out this mess.

Clint waved the thought away and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over him.

Because of the Barnes mission, it had been even longer than he wanted it to be since he had last seen his family. He supposed it was alright it some ways, especially since Laura did have her soulmate now.

It didn’t make it okay though, he decided.

He wasn’t a shitty father, right?

He really hoped he wasn’t.

Maybe it ran in his genes though. A shitty father could equal a shitty son, Clint considered.

Clint wanted to stay in the shower until the water ran cold, but the idea of Cooper waking up and not getting to see his dad immediately was enough to get him moving.

After he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off and getting dressed, he quickly rebandaged any of his bad cuts and hoped for the best as he stepped out of the bathroom, his hair wet and body bruised.

The first thing that happened was a short blur running full speed at Clint. The little blur slammed into the archer’s legs and wrapped itself around him, gaining a smile from Clint when the little blur, Cooper, looked up at his father with a large smile, “Daddy!” He yelled.

Clint chuckled and bent down, pulling Cooper up into his arms, despite his body’s very obvious requests to just sit and relax, “I was wondering where my son was,” Clint started, “I was starting to think Lucky had a taste for humans.”

Cooper laughed, loud and happy, and wrapped his arms around Clint’s neck, “I was napping with Lucky.”

Clint hummed, adjusting his grip on Cooper, and started towards the living room where he was sure Laura was still present.

“Have you and Mom had a good time while I was gone?” Clint questioned, “I wanted to be here when you got here, but—”

“Mommy said you were saving the world, so it's okay. I brought the cars you got me, too! Mommy said I needed to wait until you were home to bring them out, ‘cause she didn’t want to make a mess but Lucky was here so it was fine and I got to play with him for awhile until we fell asleep.” Cooper explained quickly.

Clint grinned, despite the slight tug he felt on his heart. Laura shouldn’t have to make up excuses for him, at least not to Cooper.

“And now that he’s home,” Laura called out as Clint and Cooper entered the living room, “I’m sure your Dad would be perfectly fine with you bringing out your cars.”

Cooper gave a quiet gasp before he moved around in Clint’s arms until his father placed him down on the ground. The kid was running off before Clint could say a word.

Clint looked to Laura. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow, “So, I heard that you held our son back from living out his childhood.” he jokingly commented.

Laura rolled her eyes and walked towards him, “All I told him was that I didn’t want to welcome you home with a mess and he agreed.”

Clint lowered his voice, “When I came home from saving the world?”

Laura sighed, “What else could I have told him? Neither of us really knew what you were up to.” She waved a hand and glanced away briefly, “But you’re here and you’re fine, from what I can tell, so its not important anymore,” she paused, “At least for now.”

Clint uncrossed his arms and instead reached forwards and pulled Laura into his side, a familiar gesture, “Trust me… you’ll know the truth pretty damn soon, I can tell you that.” And that wasn’t a lie. Laura and Cooper would be meeting the team eventually and someone would slip up about Barnes, or maybe Barnes himself would fuck up.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Cooper came barreling into the room a few short seconds later, his backpack held close to his chest, “I need to show you the stuffed animal Garrett got me, too!”

Clint raised a brow briefly, “So, his name is Garrett?” He directed the question at Laura, taking advantage of Cooper’s rush to pull all of his toy cars out of his backpack.

Her eyes widened slightly, “I never told you?” She asked quietly.

Clint grinned, “Garrett and Laura.” He snorted, “Doesn’t sound as good as Laura and Clint, in my opinion.”

She stuck a finger in his side, earning a choked gasp from the archer, “Of course it doesn’t; you said my name before yours, so it’s already better.”

Clint rolled his eyes and wandered over to where Cooper had set up his toys in the open space behind the couch. He couldn’t remember exactly how many cars were in that special pack, but from the looks of it, it was a lot more than he was expecting, probably.

Clint lowered himself onto the ground next to Cooper, instantly relaxing when his son immediately leaned into his side. He couldn’t see Cooper nearly as much as Laura saw him, but for now, at least, Cooper didn’t feel bad about that.

One day he would, Clint thought, but that was an issue for future Clint.

“Which one’s your favorite? Last you told me, it was that purple one with the black stripe.” Clint said, gesturing vaguely at the group of cars.

Cooper let out a short laugh, “That was Mommy’s favorite,” he corrected, “But its one of my favorites.”

“But what’s your absolute, complete, nothing else can top this, favorite?”

Cooper seemed to think it over before he pointed at some car in the group, “The yellow and black one is my favorite ‘cause it looks like Bumblebee.”

“Like the Transformer?” Clint questioned.

Cooper nodded against Clint, “I watched the movies with Mommy and Garrett.”

Clint glanced at Laura, who was smiling at her son. Clint made a mental note to ask Laura about “Garrett”, “Bumblebee was my favorite character too.”

Cooper pushed himself off of Clint and looked at him with wide eyes, “Really!?”

Clint chuckled and nodded, “I personally think he’s the coolest.” He paused, “Laur, you think Bumblebee is cool, right?” He asked.

She tore her eyes away from Cooper, seemingly processing Clint’s question before responding, “Very, very cool.” As she spoke, she came over and sat in the free spot on Cooper’s other side.

“Does your Bumblebee do anything cool?” Clint questioned.

The question caused Cooper to dive forwards and scoop up the car. Eagerly, he started talking about how the doors opened on the car and all the races the car had been in.

It was refreshing, to say the least.

Later, Clint was able to catch up with Cooper and Laura, slightly. Mostly, Laura evaded talking about Garrett too much with Cooper in the room and Cooper got to talk about how school was going. Sadly, the school play had been cancelled, due to the director suddenly stepping down and the funds being shortened recently as well. Cooper was disappointed by the situation, but Laura was quick to remind the boy that he was going to audition for the spring play and audition for some child theatre group.

Clint held back from wondering too much about when Cooper had gotten into theatre.

Laura had also gotten promoted recently and she had also just helped throw a party for Cooper’s class.

It was nice to hear about such mundane things, at least before he’d had to explain his new injuries to Laura later once Cooper was asleep.

“Hey, how did you get Tony to let you in?” Clint asked once there was a lull in conversation.

Laura shrugged, running a hand through Cooper’s hair as the boy fiddled with a red toy car, “I said that we knew you well and he asked if I had gone to your sister’s wedding and I told him you didn’t have a sister.”

“And then he just let you in?”

Laura grinned, “Maybe it was my charm and our adorable child that got us in, Clinton.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Sometimes I really wonder whether or not Tony considers his safety when he’s at home.”

Laura laughed before she continued, “But then he guided us to the elevator and just dropped us off here.”

“So, besides Tony, did you meet anyone else?” Clint asked curiously, a grin growing on his lips.

Laura looked away from Clint as Cooper handed a car off to her, “We haven’t been here as long as you’re probably imagining, Clint.” As she spoke, she bent down slightly and placed the car Cooper gave her next to the one he had situated on the floor. Without speaking, the two seemed to line the cars up to race and did just that once Cooper stated the countdown.

Clint smiled at the sight, relishing in the pure joy his family could cause.

“So,” Clint dragged out, “Did you want to meet the team?” The idea made him nervous, obviously, but Clint assumed Laura and Cooper would be staying for at least a week and he most definitely was not going to keep them locked up in his quarters for their visit. He wanted them to be welcomed in his… home, if that could be a proper word for a compound.

He wanted them to know more about his life, even if there would most likely always be things they just couldn’t know. He wanted to have them understand him more than they had, if that was possible.

Cooper perked up at the question, “Meet who?” He asked excitedly, obviously not previously listening to the conversation.

“My work friends.”

“Work friends?” Cooper echoed, brows furrowing. Within seconds, his eyes lit up, “You mean your superhero friends?” He questioned excitedly.

Clint nodded as Laura let out a laugh. Cooper jumped up, knocking the toy cars off his lap with the process, “Can we go now?”

Laura stood, hand brushing her son’s shoulder, “First, we need to get changed out of our pajamas, Coop.”

“Mom’s right, Coop,” Clint agreed, standing, “I would love to just go down in our pajamas but I’ve made the vow to never disagree with your mom.”

Laura snorted and took hold of Cooper’s hand, “If we have to get ready, so do you, Clinton.”

Clint groaned dramatically, but let her lead the three of them to his bedroom. He hadn’t thought about it before, but he figured Laura must’ve gotten herself and Cooper settled in his bedroom hours ago.

She shut the door behind her and released Cooper, letting him jump onto the bed to pet Lucky.

She kept hold of Clint’s arm though as she led him to where her luggage was up against the wall, next to his closet, and pulled him down the ground with her. She quickly unzipped the luggage and pointed to one half of the luggage, in front of Clint, “Help Coop with his outfit, please.”

He complied easily enough, starting to sort through the options. The kid was dressed in a onesie in the moment and Clint would admit that he wanted his kid to look like the coolest eight year old in the compound when he met the team.

“Hey, Coop, buttons or no buttons?” He called, laying out a checkered button up and a dinosaur sweater on each knee.

Within seconds, Cooper was leaning heavily on Clint’s back, peeking over his father’s shoulder in order to see the options. He let out a dramatic sigh (aw, just like his daddy) before he plopped down to his knees next to the luggage. He started picking through his packed clothes, keeping them folded, at least, before he pulled out another sweater, this one a nice green. He wasted no time to unfold it and proudly showing it off to Clint.

On the front of the green sweater, a large image of a cartoon version of the Hulk was displayed. He looked angry, for sure, but Clint supposed the cartoon version of Hulk was a little less angry.

The archer held back a laugh, imagining Bruce’s reaction, but questioned Cooper anyways, “Your favorite Avenger is the Hulk?”

“Mommy said she wanted to get me one of you, but they didn’t have one.”

Clint raised a brow, “Not very surprising,” He commented, “So Hulk is your second favorite?”

Cooper nodded happily, “We learned about Dr. Banner at school one day and he was so cool!”

Oh thank goodness.

“So you like both Bruce and Hulk?” Clint pushed.

Cooper nodded again, “Mommy said that there wasn’t one for Auntie Nat either.”

That had Clint looking to Laura. Had she given him a full talk about who Clint and Natasha were exactly?

Laura seemed to pick up his train of thought and she subtly shook her head.

“Well, Auntie Nat is waiting for us…” Clint trailed off, starting to think about just how they were going to explain Auntie Nat’s relation to the Avengers in a fluffy way.

Cooper hugged the sweater close to his chest as Laura plucked a pair of jeans from their luggage for Cooper, handing them off to Clint.

“Let’s get changed, bud.” Clint said, turning his body towards Cooper.

Cooper rejected any of Clint’s help, starting to talk about how his Mom had started letting him dress himself for school, even if she mostly picked out his outfits.

Clint smiled the entire way through and tried to hide his surprise when Cooper surged forwards once he was changed and wrapped his arms around his Dad. Clint reciprocated and let Cooper break away a few seconds later.

He wandered off to go back to petting Lucky afterwords, and out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw Laura smiling.

“Can I go play with my toys?” Cooper called from the bed.

“Go ahead, hunny.” Laura answered, waiting until Cooper had left before going back to her own search for an outfit.

Clint stood, going to his own closet to grab a pair of jeans, “Just to be on the same page, Coop doesn’t really know what Natasha and I do?”

Laura shook her head, “He just knows that you two help save the world in some way. He sees your face on TV sometimes, Clint, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t know nothing.”

Clint hummed in agreement, stepping away from the closet and starting towards the open bedroom door. On his way, he stopped by his dresser and grabbed a pair of boxers, “No, no, it makes sense.” He replied, “It’s just… I never thought about what he might think I do or how I’m ever going to explain it.”

As he changed, Laura seems to still be picking an outfit, but she might’ve just been thinking. She stood, a few articles of clothing in her hands, as he buttoned his jeans.

She paused as she looked at him, “Those are the jeans I got you for Christmas, right?”

Clint glanced down at himself, “Think so.”

Laura chuckled, walking to the bed and placing her clothes down onto it. Clint made the decision to fall backwards onto the bed, startling Lucky before he placed his head on Clint’s stomach.

Laura snorted at the sight, pulling her shirt (Clint’s shirt) over her head and pulling one of her own t-shirts on. One that Clint remembered buying her a long time ago. He was pretty sure it was when they had just moved in together at the farm with Cooper and he had finally gotten enough money to get her a nice gift. The shirt had been something he had seen in a store window as he was leaving the mall with her gift.

It was visibly worn, now, but in a way that meant she had cared for it.

She changed out of the sweatpants next, into a pair of jeans that she tucked the shirt into. She didn’t bother moving her old clothes from where they now lay in a pile, but she did walk around the bed and pull Clint from the bed, apologizing to Lucky as she did.

He didn’t seem to care much as he plopped back down onto the bed as Clint and Laura left the bedroom.

Leaving Clint’s quarters was easy enough. Cooper looked great in his sweater and jeans and Laura made sure to push his dark hair out of his face. Everyone had changed and put on shoes and Friday hadn’t said a word as they started traveling down to the common area by the elevator.

“Are you excited, Cooper?” Laura asked her son, who was standing just in front of his parents with a a large smile.

He only nodded very quickly with an even larger smile, if that was possible.

Laura glanced at Clint. He was nervous, but mostly because he felt his two worlds were colliding. He could imagine this turning out bad, but he also knew it wouldn’t.

It would be a lot of explaining, but they could handle it.

He felt Laura intertwine her fingers with his, the gesture giving him the comfort he realized he needed, “Well, I’m excited to meet all the hot heroes and to see Nat again.”

Clint didn’t get to react to her comment though because, as usual, the sound of talking was the first sounds to enter the elevator as the doors opened, but it didn’t still like it had when Barnes entered.

Cooper didn’t step out first, instead waiting until his father took his hand and led his family out into the common area. No one turned to face them, except Natasha, who took in the sight as the corners of her lips turned up very slightly.

Clint didn’t think much before he spoke, “Hey team, I’ve got some news if you’re interested.”

And then the entire room of people was turning to face Clint and his family and the chatter fell dead.

“Gentlemen,” Clint started slowly, “This is Laura and Cooper.”

Laura raised her free hand to wave, “I know all of your names.” She said in way of greeting. She wasn’t wrong, but Clint supposed that the silence they were met with was a little startlingly.

Tony tilted his head, “You’re not pregnant are you now, Hawkeye?” He attempted to joke.

Laura gave a slight laugh and gestured to Cooper, “I already did that.”

Tony’s eyes widened, “That’s yours?” He questioned loudly.

Natasha hopped off her perch on the couch and looked to Cooper, who lit up, “Auntie Nat!” He yelled before he was letting go of Clint’s hand and running at Natasha, who was quick to bend down and gather him into a hug.

“I was wondering when my favorite Barton would show up.” She joked.

“You’re married?” Tony yelled, eyes growing wider.

Clint raised their interlocked hands, “Exes, actually.”

Tony faltered, “Divorced?”

Laura shook her head, “Never married.”

Tony seemed surprised, but didn’t respond.

“So, no one, is going to say something about this?” Sam asked aloud, gesturing with his hands wildly, “The Walking Disaster, Clint Barton, has a child.”

Natasha led Cooper back over to his parents, but didn't release his hand.

Thor nodded, “It is quite the surprise, yes, but this is a pleasant surprise I say!”

Clint took an actual look around the room. Peter and Scott had gone home, it seemed, and Steve and Barnes weren’t around. Wanda and Pietro were sat in front of the television together, although it wasn’t turned on, and each shared an expression of surprise as they looked at Clint. Thor was stood behind the couch Sam and Bruce were sat at and Tony and Vision were sat on their own sides of the other couch.

Pietro sat up straighter and tilted his head, “Is he wearing a… Hulk sweatshirt?”

Bruce perked up and leaned forwards, as if taking a closer look at Cooper’s apparel. Cooper looked at Bruce then and his eyes widened. He pulled on Natasha's hand and she barely took a look at his expression before she was releasing him and letting him run towards Bruce.

Bruce seemed startled by the sudden change, but he took is well enough as Cooper started speaking, “Hi, I’m Cooper!” He greeted, “You’re so cool! And—and you’re on my shirt!” He pointed at his sweater happily.

Bruce hesitated, looking back at Thor and to Clint before he sucked in a breath, “You like Hulk?” He asked slowly.

“And you!” Cooper added.

“Oh,” Bruce breathed out. He smiled, “Then, uh, hi, I’m Bruce.”

Cooper seemed satisfied by that and decided to plop himself down on the floor in front of Bruce. He waved at his dad.

Wanda furrowed her brows, “Can we have an explanation, Clint?”

Vision raised a hand, the one not petting Albert, “I second that.”

“I… third that.” Pietro said, brows pulling together.

Clint sighed and Natasha patted him on the back, “At least let us sit down, guys.”

Tony was quick to stand up and offer his spot, Vision following after.

Once everyone had settled the best they could, and Clint and Laura had sat (and Cooper had taken to sitting in Natasha’s lap on the chair she chose to sit in).

“Just tell us whatever you can, Barton, because that’s the only thing that’ll clear this up.” Sam said, sitting up straighter.

Clint looked at Laura and she smiled at him.

He let out a breath, “We met when I was nineteen and she was eighteen. I was still with the circus then and Laura had just graduated high school.” He started.

Laura cut in, “My friends wanted to go to this circus that was in town to start off the summer. I wasn’t going to stay in Arizona for college, so my friends wanted to do something before I started moving in with my brother on the east coast.” She looked around the room briefly, “So I went to the circus with them.”

At this point in the story, Natasha said something to Cooper that was enough to get him to want to leave somewhere more exciting, “Cooper and I are going to go play with Tony’s bots, so we’ll see you later.”

She and Cooper walked to the elevator, not waiting for a response, but Cooper did wave goodbye before the elevator doors closed.

Tony didn’t even protest, so Clint continued, “I was thinking about running away from the circus as that point but I didn’t know about what I wanted to do. But, I saw Laura and her friends before the show started and saw her again in the crowd. I thought she was beautiful and I liked the way she held herself in front of everyone. And after the show, she approached me.”

“I thought Clint was cute.” Laura explained, “And I decided, worse comes to worse, I never see him again because the circus will leave town. But, I went up to him and we started talking. I even let my friends leave without me because I didn’t want to leave just yet. Clint was everything I was looking for in anybody.”

“And she was what I knew I needed in my life.”

“Are you soulmates?” Wanda asked quietly.

Clint hesitated before he shook his head and continued on, “I invited Laura into my trailer and we talked until her parents started wondering where she was. That show was the first of three shows we were going in Laura’s town and she came to all of them.” He paused, “She made me realize that I couldn’t go on with the circus; it wasn’t my future.”

“I offered him a place to stay,” Laura added, “If he was going to leave the circus before he left town, my friend needed a roommate and my brother’s house had an open room. I never knew if my plan would have worked out in that moment, but next thing I knew, Clint was showing up at my parent’s house with his bag, his bow and arrows, and a cut on his face.” Laura looked to Clint and sighed, “I spent that summer pretty much living with the friend who needed a roommate just so I could be with Clint, who took the room my friend was offering, but we weren’t a couple.”

“We weren’t soulmates, but it felt like we were.” Clint cut in, “I thought that maybe the universe got it wrong, or maybe we needed a while before our words turned red, but that wasn’t the truth.” He said, “I followed her to the east coast though and her brother was kind of enough to let me stay with him and Laura for awhile until I got enough money to get an apartment.”

“Did you get a job at the supermarket or something?” Tony prompted.

Clint snorted, “I became an assassin.” He corrected.

“For SHIELD?” Pietro asked.

Clint shook his head, “I didn’t join up with SHIELD for a few more years then. But, I got an apartment and whenever I wasn’t on a job, I was spending time with Laura.”

“And we didn’t become a couple until he was twenty and I was nineteen.” Laura said.

Clint nodded, “And a few months after that, Laura moved in with me and found out about my career.”

“And you stayed together?” Vision pushed.

Laura nodded, “I was upset because he hid it. It sounds dumb that I wasn’t upset about the actual job, but I loved him so much that I got past it a lot quicker than I expected. I just didn’t want there to be a time where he would disappear and it would be because he died on the job and I’d never know.

“But when we had been living together for two years, I found out I was pregnant.”

“I stepped away from my job. I wanted to, needed to, be with Laura and I couldn’t just die and never see our future together.” Clint said.

“But you weren’t soulmates,” Vision recalled.

“To me, that didn’t matter.” Clint answered, “But SHIELD got into contact with me about two years later, when I was twenty four and jobless. Not many people want to hire a guy who didn’t finish high school and Laura was finishing college. SHIELD knew about my past and knew that my funds were starting to go away, so they offered me a job and Laura and I decided I should take it.”

“We never fought, not really. And we were happy with our little family. He supported me and I supported him. Even my family supported me with Cooper. But, during that first year with SHIELD, I don’t know, just… something changed so that we didn’t feel the same love we used to feel for each other.

“We broke up but we never stopped living together and we never stopped loving each other in some way. At some point along the way, we moved into an actual home and Clint had to be gone more because of his job.”

“I hid Laura and Cooper away from everyone though, so they could still have a normal life. Eventually, I joined up with the Avengers and now we’re here and Cooper is eight years old.” Clint finished.

Pietro tilted his head, “But you never married and you still love each other today?”

Clint nodded as Bruce spoke, “Did either of you ever find your soulmates?”

The room fell into silence at first, until Laura nodded, “I met mine about a year ago. He’s amazing and he knows that Cooper’s father will never not be involved in our lives and he’s okay with that.”

“I have yet to meet the guy though, but apparently he makes my family happy so, he’s okay.” Clint continued.

Thor nodded, “It is a nice story, nonetheless,” He started, “I am glad your son is growing up well and the two of you share no ill will towards each other.”

Clint smiled, “Thanks, man.”

“God, this is going to take awhile to process.” Tony said, running a hand down his face, “But, good for you, birdbrain.”

The elevator dinged again, and Clint expected to see Natasha and Cooper, but Steve was there.

“Holy shit.” Laura muttered.

Tony snorted, obviously hearing her response, “I agree.”

Steve seemed tired as he addressed the room, “Could I speak to Clint and Sam, please?”

Clint gave Laura’s hands a squeeze and stood as Sam did. He released Laura’s hand, “Have fun with the Avengers, Laur, I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

She smiled at him and nodded, “I’ll get all the stories of you almost dying, sweetheart.”

Clint groaned as he walked to the elevator with Sam. The elevator doors shut behind them but Steve didn’t request a floor, “I already checked in with Natasha,” He started, “And also learned that Clint has a child, but I’m not going to dig into that right now.”

“Thanks for that,” Clint interrupted.

Steve nodded, “She’s doing fine and avoided getting seriously injured. I also got a rundown of your injuries from Dr. Cho, Clint, so I hope you plan on taking it easy.” He looked to Sam, “And how are you?”

Sam shrugged, “Doc said there was nothing broken. I expected worse from Barnes, to be honest. I guess he knew how to make everything hurt and avoided breaking all of our bones.”

Steve tensed at that, “Speaking of, Bucky is in my quarters. He won’t talk and he won’t leave my bedroom. He lets me be in the room with him, but he moves away if I try to touch him. Friday is monitoring him as well.”

“What about the pets?” Clint asked.

“Being checked in with and having their situations sorted out.”

Sam hummed, “As long as they can live out their lives happily, I’ll be happy.”

“Is that all, Cap?” Clint cut in, “I’ve got a room full of superheroes that are currently talking to my ex about all the times I almost got myself killed.”

Steve seemed ready to question the situation but obviously thought better of it, “That will be all.” He said, “I’ll be in my quarters with Bucky, if I’m needed.”

As Sam exited the elevator, Clint briefly thought about if he should tell Steve about Barnes being his soulmate, but with the way Steve seemed ready to break down, Clint thought better of it.

He smiled at Steve and walked off the elevator, back to Laura and his team.

Barnes wasn’t going to interrupt family time.

Chapter Text

The park was much more quiet than Clint had been expecting for a Saturday.

Cooper practically had the entire park to himself, besides a few stray kids and their parents, and Natasha, Laura, and Clint.

Clint had taken up pushing Cooper on the swings as Natasha and Laura under a tree and caught up. It had been awhile since they had seen each other, longer than Clint and Natasha wished for, but Clint knew that the time Natasha had with Laura during her stay would be well spent.

Laura and Cooper had been in New York for a few days now and the general surprise from the team had passed, mostly. Cooper had taken to jumping between each team member whenever he could. Wanda and Pietro had become a quick favorite though, as they were always around and ready to entertain the eight year old. Bruce was still a favorite, but Cooper didn’t seem bothered by his lack of presence, most likely due to his work. He was also quite fond of Albert (and by extension, Vision), and liked to tell Thor and Sam stories from school. Tony and Steve weren’t around Cooper as much though, as they tried to sort through their personal shit and Barnes’ situation.

Thor had noticed Laura’s attraction to pretty much the entire team though, and developed the new habit of kissing her hand whenever she entered the room. If Thor weren’t taken and Laura hadn’t found her soulmate, Clint thought he might have to worry about Laura hooking up with their resident Asgardian.

Clint supposed the team, not so much Wanda for obvious reasons, got to see a new side to Natasha. Maybe a new side to Clint too if they paid enough attention.

Peter had also showed up and ended up getting an arms full of Cooper. Clint didn’t hold back his surprise of the nerdy looking teen being able to hold the eight year old for an extended amount of time.

But Clint was also sure Pietro had actually swooned at the sight of Peter holding a child. Mark Clint’s words, Pietro was going to cry buckets when he and Peter eventually (most likely) settled down.

“Look how high I’m going!” Cooped yelled excitedly.

Clint laughed and pushed Cooper again as he came down.

Clint hoped Cooper never lost his happiness.

After just a few more minutes, Cooper requested to come off the swings and had to silently wait through the next minutes in took for the swing to slow down.

But once he hopped off the swing, he was off, running towards Laura and Natasha and falling into Laura’s lap.

Oh how Clint wished he had that kind of energy.

He followed after, much slower, and picked up the ending of Laura and Natasha’s conversation as he sat down in front of the women, “You just turned him down? Usually you at least lead them along a little bit. Color me surprised, Nat.” Laura said.

Natasha waved Laura off, “A girl can change.”

Laura snorted, “I didn’t stop playful flirting with people until I met…” she trailed off before her eyes widened. She wrapped her arms around Cooper as he sat up in her lap, “Have you settled down, Romanoff?”

Natasha hesitated before she shrugged and broke eye contact, glancing at Clint.

Laura’s gasp was pretty damn loud, in Clint’s opinion, but after taking a look at Natasha, Laura didn’t push it. He was sure they would be talking about it later, when they weren’t out in public where Natasha felt entirely unguarded.

She looked to Clint though, with wide eyes and a questioning gaze. He shrugged as well, not meaning much by the response but Laura seemed to take it in a different way, “You haven't gone and gotten yourself someone too, have you?”

Clint stilled at the question, despite his best interest. If he were prepared for the question, he would have held back his reaction as much as he could to avoid Natasha’s questioning, but his reaction was enough to earn a raised eyebrow and tilted head from Natasha.

And it seemed like Clint too long to respond as Laura gasped again and playfully smacked his arm, “Have you really found someone, Clint?” She asked before her voice softened, “Have you met your soulmate?”

Clint shook his head quickly, “No, no, I haven’t. Clint Barton is still very, very single.”

Natasha’s expression screwed up, “Gross, don’t refer to yourself in third person.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but he was still tense and awaiting a switch in conversation. The switch came from Cooper, who perked up and looked at Clint, “Daddy, have you ever fought a crocodile? Jackson said his dad has.”

Clint let out a dramatic sigh, “I haven’t fought a crocodile, but I have fought a lot of robots and weird lizard things.”

Cooper smiled, seemingly pleased, before he slumped back down into Laura’s lap.

“So, Laura,” Natasha started, almost menacingly, “How are you and Garrett?”

Laura smiled softly at the mention. Clint was glad that he didn’t feel some weird flash of anger, “He’s amazing.” She replied, almost dreamily, “He’s caring, smart, and so understanding. He also knows how to cook, so that’s a plus.”

“What does he do for work?” Clint decided to add to the conversation.

She glanced down at Cooper briefly, “Well, he’s the brother of Cooper’s teacher from last year. He teaches middle schoolers and has a pet ferret named Queenie after the band. He also doesn’t know that Clint is Clint Barton. Despite liking to watch the news, I guess Garrett doesn’t really pay attention to Avengers news.”

Natasha chuckled at that, “The day he finds out will probably be pretty damn amazing then.”

Clint let out a short laugh in response.

From her pocket, Natasha’s phone dinged.

As she opened her phone, Cooper chose to lay down across his mother’s lap, rubbing his eyes and holding back a yawn. Cooper had woken up early, due to his excitement for their plans to hang out with Auntie Nat at the park. They had also gotten lunch before the park, so Clint guessed Cooper was ready to lay down and nap when given the chance.

“I have training with the twins in an hour,” Natasha voiced, “Kind of forgot until the reminder popped up.”

Laura hummed in acknowledgement, “Well, I’m pretty sure this little guy,” She smiled down at Cooper, “Is about ready to fall asleep here, so maybe its time to head back.”

Clint nodded, slowly standing and then helped Laura (and Cooper by extension) stand.

Laura handed Cooper off to Clint, by Cooper’s request, and the three started towards the exit of the park. Laura was quick to hook her arm with Natasha, reminiscent of a pair of teenage girls, as she continued to speak of Garrett. Clint listened in closely, even though he wasn’t excluded from the conversation with the way Laura and Natasha stayed in pace with him. He didn’t know a whole lot about Garrett, and Clint was pretty damn sure he’d be sticking around. So, Clint would love to know a lot more about this guy before they eventually met.

“Coop and I surprised him after school a couple weeks ago, too, and his reaction was adorable.” Laura continued fondly, “Garrett has this terrible class of eighth graders at the end of the day and he said that seeing Coop reminded him that there are good kids in the world, so the surprise was well timed for sure.”

Natasha snorted, “That’s always a good reminder.” She agreed.

Cooper shifted in Clint’s arms, sleepily contributing to the conversation, “We got ice cream too.”

Natasha raised a brow, “Sounds like a pretty good day, then.”

Cooper nodded before he leaned his head back onto Clint. Laura continued to talk about other things about Garrett or the things she, Garrett, and Cooper had gotten up too and that was when Clint felt a small stab of jealousy.

Ever since joining SHIELD, Clint had wanted to be around Cooper more and more, but Clint also never wanted to give up his career because that would mean losing their income at the time. Clint lacked both a very reliable background and a high school diploma, which meant either being a stay at home Dad and pushing Laura to work for a majority of the day (away from Cooper just as Clint had been) or he could stick with his job and keep his family above water.

So he stayed with SHIELD and came home to Cooper and Laura whenever he could. But, somehow, and maybe it made the whole situation worse, Cooper never complained, even when he could speak and understand the fact dad wasn’t around as much as mom. Laura would express her frustration of the lack of Clint, who she considered her best friend and life partner, even if they weren’t together romantically.

And then SHIELD shifted into the Avengers and Clint couldn’t stay with his family anymore; it was dangerous. So they packed up and Laura and Cooper moved from one house to the Barton farm. Laura and Cooper liked it, of course, since Clint, Laura, and Cooper had spent many days there for vacation and had made into something of a home.

They had stayed in Iowa too, so Laura and Cooper hadn’t been taken away from their friends.

But Clint had to leave, and that was the hardest part.

He promised to come around whenever he could, but his life with the Avengers was different than his life with SHIELD. With SHIELD, his name wasn’t heard around the world and no one would come after him to make a statement or a bargain, but with the Avengers, his name was known and people were after him if he was defenseless. And if Clint is in danger, whoever he’s living with was also in danger.

It sucked as much as it was amazing, because Laura and Cooper understood. Cooper always knew his dad would be coming back, because Clint had been doing it throughout his entire life, and as long as he checked in, Laura knew he wouldn’t disappear from their lives. Laura and Cooper weren’t jumping for joy with Clint’s departure, but it had to happen.

So Clint moved in with the Avengers and Garrett joined Laura and Cooper’s life.

It had gone from Clint and Laura to Clint, Laura, and Cooper. But now, even if Laura wanted to deny it, her life was Laura, Cooper, and Garrett.

Garrett was around to be in Cooper’s life when Clint wasn’t, so sure, Clint was glad Cooper had an everyday dad (if that was a correct title), but he wasn’t entirely happy that it wasn’t Clint.

But Clint choked down the feeling and faced the obvious: Laura was happy.

She had always been happy, but now, she didn’t have to depend on Clint and his tardiness for a source of Cooper’s father figure.

Garrett was most likely never not going to be part of Laura and Cooper’s life, and Clint had no issues with that, but Clint wished he was also a part of it. At least, more than he was now. He wanted to be around as Cooper grew up and as Laura lived her life.

So maybe, Clint was reconsidering his life. Kind of.

“So, Nat, will I ever learn anything about this lover of yours?” Laura questioned as they got into their car, Cooper secured in the backseat with Natasha and Clint sat in the driver’s seat and Laura in the passenger seat. Laura knew boundaries, but with Natasha, she had a habit of doing what Clint does; dig until you got burned.

As Clint turned onto the street, the car remained silent, not counting Cooper’s quiet snores. Natasha took to falling quiet when Laura dug too far, rather than yell as she did with Clint.

Natasha straightened up in her seat, Clint noticed in the car mirror.

“You don’t know her well yet, but I think someday you will.” Natasha said quietly.

Laura raised her eyebrows at that before they furrowed. Laura was smart when it came to people and unless Clint didn’t know her at all, she was probably already very sure about who Natasha’s significant other was.

From what Laura knew, there weren’t many females in Natasha’s life, besides the one she met in the compound.

So the car remained in silence until Clint clicked on the radio as they drove.

“I’ll be with the twins if you need me.” Natasha said as she stepped off the elevator before Clint and family. The elevator doors slide shut after she stepped off and the three were starting towards the common floor.

Cooper was in Clint’s arms again, sleeping soundly still.

Laura sighed and placed her hand on Clint’s back, “So, Wanda and Natasha?”

Clint shrugged, “You know about the same as I do.”

They arrives on the common floor soon enough, the doors sliding open to an unexpected silence. Most of the Avengers were training, most likely, though, so Clint supposed the silence made sense.

Laura settled into the couch, switching on the television and smiling up at Clint as she held her arms open. Clint obliged, slowly and delicately placing Cooper in the space between Laura and the back of the couch. Almost immediately, Cooper curled up against her.

Before Clint could sit down, someone pulled on Clint’s arm and somehow the archer knew who is was before he even turned around.

“Can I talk to you, Clint?” Steve requested quitely.

Clint sighed and looked to Laura, who rolled her eyes and waved her hand, “Go have your superhero talks, Clint, we’ll still be here.”

After another moment of hesitation Clint nodded, “Be back soon.”

Steve wasted no time before he was pulling Clint to the elevator. Clint stayed silent at the doors slid shut and Steve used some code to request to not be listened in on and recorded by Friday. Steve waited a few moments after that before he spoke again, “What I’m going to tell you stays between us, Barton.”

Clint raised a brow and leaned back against the elevator wall, “If you and Tony are getting married, I request flower girl.” He joked.

The mention of Tony had Steve tensing up though, and that had Clint worrying. Last he heard, Tony had gone out for breakfast with Pepper in the morning. Nothing happened to them, right? But the look on Steve’s face was something closer to guilt rather than worry or sadness.

Clint straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, “What did you do, Steve?” Clint demanded.

Steve clenched his jaw and looked away briefly, “I didn’t do anything, but… I know something that Tony doesn’t.”

Clint didn’t want to dance around whatever was happening, “Just say what it is, Rogers, because whatever it is, is obviously not good.”

Steve waited another moment before he let out a quiet breath, “Tony’s parents… you know how they died, I know that, but, what you heard isn’t the truth,” He paused, “They were murdered and they were killed by—” Steve cut himself off, as if steeling himself, “They were killed by the Winter Soldier.” He grit out.

Clint’s eyes widened and his arms fell to his sides, “Barnes killed them!?”

Steve shook his head wildly, “The Winter Soldier, not Bucky.”

Clint ran a hand down his face, “The same body, Steve. Barnes didn’t do it but he was the one to do it.”

Steve was visibly pained by Clint’s conclusion and probably would’ve fought Clint on it if they weren’t on a time limit from Friday. Clint understood what happened to Barnes, at least the most he could, and sure, it wasn’t Barnes who did all that shit, but it was the same body. To Tony, it was likely he’d want to take out his anger on Barnes when he found out, even if Barnes wasn’t exactly the one to do it.

“So Tony doesn’t know, I’m guessing?” Clint said.

Steve shook his head and stayed silent.

Clint sighed and shook his head, mostly to himself. It was stupid for Clint to think Barnes wouldn’t somehow be apart of his life, huh?

“How long have you known?”

Steve hesitated, “Since a little after D.C.” he confessed, “It was in that file Nat gave you but, we decided to take out that part when we gave it to you.”

Clint was taken aback by the confession, “You’ve known for over two years? A—and Nat knows?” Clint shook his head, “And neither of you thought it was a good idea to tell him two years ago?”

“I think Natasha has known more about Bucky than she ever let on, and I think she knew about Tony’s parents for a little longer than I have.”

“You are dating him, Steve, hell you’re soulmates and you never told him this fucking huge thing?” Clint replied. Clint wouldn’t be surprised if Natasha knew, but it also wasn’t Natasha who was trying to hunt down Barnes in the beginning. Natasha would never be innocent in anything she did though, and Clint was pretty damn sure she had always known that.

“I was worried he would…” Steve trailed off.

“What? Not help with your chase for Barnes? Or would turn him into SHIELD?” Clint countered, “Listen,” Clint hesitated, questioning what he was about to say for once, “We brought a fugitive into the SHIELD compound, whether you like the title or not. I… I could care less about what happens to Barnes at this point,” (Did he care?) “But Tony has already done a lot for Barnes, and he deserves the truth even if it ends terribly.”

“I know, I know, its just… its like my two world are colliding and I might be losing one of them from this.”

“Then you deal with it like a big boy, Steve,” Clint replied, “You chose to hide this from Tony.”

As Clint finished speaking, Friday seemed to come back online and the elevator doors slid open. Clint stepped without much of another glance at Steve.

Steve stayed silent as Clint left and the door slide shut again.

Cooper was still asleep and Laura was still laying down on the couch, quietly watching some old movie.

She didn’t say anything as Clint settled down at her feet, nudging her leg until she laid her legs on his lap with a grin. It was like a second nature as Clint pulled the blanket from the arm of the couch and laid it out on his lap, mostly on Laura, and he leaned back into the couch.

These were the times Clint wished he could experience everyday.

The team ordered in pizza for dinner, at Cooper’s request.

During dinner, Barnes didn’t show, nor did Steve, which wasn’t all that surprising.

Natasha sat next to Wanda though, earning a small grin from Laura. Clint didn’t doubt that Laura and Natasha would be quietly speaking about Wanda very soon. Pietro had spent the dinner on Wanda’s other side, bringing up Peter when Bruce mentioned the experiment that blew up in the labs the day. Apparently, Peter was stopping by the labs in a couple days to work with Bruce and Tony. The kid had been out of town for a school trip, Clint heard, so he was unable to stop by recently.

But besides Peter, the topics for dinner weren’t all that grand. Vision spoke about Albert, Thor mentioned a sight that he and Jane had visited during their last date, and Cooper got to talk all about his day (which was actually very, very entertaining for Clint).

Once dinner was wrapped up and finished, Clint and Laura made the decision to retire upstairs, mostly to keep up with Cooper’s sleep schedule.

Cooper started getting ready for bed once they had gotten to Clint’s quarters, mostly because Clint promised he could watch some television before bed.

Clint followed Laura as she walked to the bedroom, Lucky happily trotting over with them.

Lucky parted ways with them though, in order to sit next to Cooper as the child brushed his teeth in the bathroom.

Clint kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, falling back onto the bed as Laura swiped one of Clint’s shirts and the sweatpants she had left on top of her luggage.

Clint, on the other hand, had left some clothes he could sleep in on his bed that morning, so he settled for changing into that soon.

Clint found himself watching Laura as she moved around the room though, vaguely reminded of the time they first lived together.

Laura didn’t seem to care that Clint was just watching her, mostly because she did the exact same when Clint was in her position. It was some source of nostalgia for the two, if anything. There was nothing romantic or sexual in the action, but maybe something closer to comfort in a way.

Laura changed into her sleep clothes before she took a seat on the bed, up against the pillows. Clint got up at she sat down, going through the motions and changing for bed. He settled down next to her after, each waiting for Cooper to finish in the bathroom so they could finish getting ready.

Later, when Cooper was settled in front of the television on the couch, Lucky curled up next to him, Laura and Clint had taken up the bed in Clint’s room.

It’s when Laura is reading her book and Clint’s head is on her shoulder that he thinks about their day. Or even the moment they were sharing then. It was domestic, to put it simply, and it was something he and Laura had always taken part of. “Laur?” He asked quietly.

Laura hummed in response, eyes still on her book but her attention clearly divided.

“Have you…” Clint started slowly, “Have you ever thought about what your life would have been like if we never broke up? Or if I had never joined up with SHIELD?”

Laura set her book down, the corner of the page now folded, on the nightstand next to her. She let out a breath and turned to face Clint, moving down further down the bed in order to be face to face with the archer, “‘Course I have.” She answered easily, “We’ve known each other for more than a decade and have a child together, how could I not?”

Clint shrugged, “Sometimes it’s weird, you know? I’ve thought about what if this was our life, but then it never really matters, right?”

Laura was silent for a short moment before she reached forward to run a hand through Clint’s hair, pushing it out of his face, “I’ll always love you Clint, you know that.” He nodded in response, “But I don’t think we would have worked as a couple for forever. I’d like to think we would, but, even if it sounds dumb, we were never each other’s soulmates, but I like to think we’ll always be like… life partners in a best friend way.”

Clint nodded, “I like that,” he agreed, “And you’re right; I don’t think we would have worked like a couple, but it’s a nice thought.”

Laura hummed in agreement, “We’ll never abandon each other, I’m confident in that.”

“Me too.”

Laura took hold of Clint’s hand, intertwining their fingers, “And you’re an incredible dad. I know you worry about that kind of stuff, and that’s good, but sometimes you need the reminder I think that you aren’t doing a bad job.”

“I feel like I could be around more.” Clint admitted.

Laura shrugged, “You could, and you know that, but we aren’t demanding it. Sometimes you just can’t and I’ve always known that and Cooper has too.”

Clint was quiet for a moment, “My job has kind of always gotten in the way, huh?”

“You're doing what you love though, right?” Laura countered, “And if that’s the truth, you can’t be so negative. “

“But was it the reason we broke up?”

Laura rolled her eyes, “You’re so sour, aren’t you?” She joked, “but it was probably part of it, but also we should have known we’d never be together for forever if those words on our bodies mean anything.”

“We've always had a good time together though.” Clint commented.

“You’re completely right,” Laura agreed, “I mean, it was exciting from the beginning. I helped you run away from the circus.”

“And to this day, I’m still happy about that.” Clint said with a smile.

Laura nodded and raised their clasped hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to where their hands joined, “And to this day, we know we’ll always love each other, in one way or another.”

And that? Clint loved that.

Laura was a constant. Cooper was a constant.

They were the ones who made his life better, all the time.

Laura switched subjects though, her eyebrow raising slightly, “What I am curious about is whether or not you did meet someone?”

Clint held back from tensing up and instead rolled his eyes, “I haven’t met anyone, Laur.”

She tilted her head, eyes flicking to his hip, where she knew his words lie, “Not just anyone, Clint.”

Clint looked at her for a moment, truly thinking of whether or not he should tell her the truth, or if it even mattered now. “I… haven’t met anyone, Laur.”

Laura smiled softly, “I hope they’re nice.”

Clint paused and shook his head, “They’re isn’t anyone.”

Laura leaned forward, as if she were a teen telling a secret, “I saw your words, Clint. If you wanted to hide them, you shouldn’t have been changing in front of me.”

“I…” Clint trailed off.

Laura scooted closer to Clint, “I know what it's like; it's scary.” She explained, “But in the end? It will be worth it, Clinton.”

Clint glanced away, “I’m not sure you’ll be right with this one.”

“I know you like to believe that the universe hates you and you grew up thinking the soulmate business wasn’t all that great, but from my experience, I don’t think this will end in flames.”

“And if it does?” Clint asked carefully, wondering why he was actually considering it even working out.

Laura shrugged, “It goes bad? Coop, Nat, and I will be there to pick up the pieces.”

Clint could live with that.

Lucky barked from the other room and barely any time passed before Cooper and Lucky were jumping onto the bed, almost entirely on Clint and Laura.

Cooper wiggled into the space between Laura and Clint, the adults having to release each other's hand in order to let their son get comfortable. Lucky, obviously feeling left out, scooted into the space right below Cooper, in between Laura and Clint’s legs.

At this point it was a mess of paws and limbs, but it was family.

“Fri, lights please?” Clint didn’t use Friday for the lights very often, but it also wasn’t often that he had company like this.

As the night started moving along, Clint thought he was the only one awake, but Laura’s voice quietly tearing through the silence begged to differ, “Hey Clint? I’m glad that you’re happy here.”

“And I’m glad you’re happy.” Clint responded quietly.

Clint wasn’t sure if he was always happy nowadays, but compared to when he was a kid? It was a big improvement.

Chapter Text

James Barnes avoided Steve Rogers’ gaze.

He was sat on the edge of Steve Rogers’ bed, still dressed in the clothes he had come to the compound in. His wounds had mostly healed by the time he could get any medical attention Steve Rogers could give him, so he lacked any bandages or obvious injuries, but his shirt was still bloodied.

Steve Rogers hated that.

James could sense the displeasure the moment he had entered the bedroom those few days ago. And yet, Steve Rogers had stayed in the bedroom with James for as long as he could before he was called away or left to check in with his team.

James didn’t know how to act here. This wasn’t his home, this wasn’t his apartment in Romania. There are no pets next door and no bag of journals under the floorboards.

Where was his bag?

But James had not tried to get away. There was something deep in his mind that was pulling him towards Steve Rogers. James had the memories of course, of two best friends, but he had never felt like those were his memories.

Feeling a pull towards Steve Rogers did not equal safety though; James still had to build that on his own.

So James sat, right on the edge of Steve Rogers’ bed as he listened to the man talk. James kept still and avoided the searching glances. James tried to listen to the faint noises of people on the floors below and above him.

“Clint’s kid got some potatoes on the ceiling actually,” Steve Rogers commented, glancing out the window and away from James for a few short moments, “The roof isn’t low in the common area either, so it's no surprise that this kid is Clint’s child.”

Steve Rogers fell into silence then, a sigh escaping him.

Perhaps this felt like talking to a man in a coma, to Steve Rogers.

James did not know how to feel about that. But, this was the first time Steve Rogers had spoken about the archer.

The archer, Clint Barton, was the man who came along to take James. He was a good fighter, James had noticed. He also cared for Natasha Romanoff (Natalia.), deeply, and had seemed upset with Steve Rogers.

James hadn’t wanted to speak to the trio that came after him then, but as Clint Barton stared him down with one of his arrows aimed at James, he felt an urge to say something.

The reaction he got was not what James would call pleasant at the very least. He avoided looking at James after that, mostly, but James was not able to always do the same.

“He’s the archer?” James asked quietly, surprising both himself and Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was visibly startled by the sound of James speaking, but he recovered quick enough, “Uh, yeah, he is. He’s been on the team since the beginning and is an incredible archer.” Only compliments it seemed.

James hummed, quietly and considering, “And he has a child?” James clarified.

Steve Rogers nodded, “It was a surprise for me too, but he’s a good kid. His mom is here too and the two of 'em are great company.”

Should Steve Rogers be telling him these things?

“And he’s…” but James trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to ask.

Steve Rogers seemed to understand the struggle on James’ side, strangely enough, as he redirected the conversation, “You two would probably get along well, I think. He’s a bit of a mess, but he could talk to someone for hours about good aim or a good shot. I know that’s something you liked; how well a certain gun could shoot.”

James didn’t love guns like that. Maybe Bucky did.

James tilted his head more towards his chest, “It wouldn’t work that way.”

Steve Rogers’ head tilted slightly, “What makes you say that, Buck? You’ve never even met the guy—”

“I tried killing him,” James cut in, hands curling in his lap, “Twice.”

Steve Rogers didn’t like hearing that, James could tell, “Well… well I’m sure Clint would understand—”

“It wouldn’t work that way.” James stressed.

Steve Rogers readied himself to counter the statement out of the corner of James’ eye, and James tensed, unsure of how Steve Rogers would react but then Steve Rogers… deflated.

The fight left him and he slumped back into the cushioned chair he sat in.

Steve Rogers shook his head, mostly to himself, “You aren’t in danger here, Buck.”

He wasn’t Bucky anymore.

“There’s never going to be a time where there’s no danger, Rogers, and that’s just how things are.” James mumbled.

“Don’t think like that, Buck.”

“What else should I think? That because the Avengers came and grabbed me I’ll be safe forever?” James dug his nails into his palms, body screaming for James to get up and do something, to punch something, ‘“Here’s the truth for you, Rogers,” James continued, standing suddenly with new found anger. He towered over Steve Rogers as he stood and other man sat, “I was HYDRA’s toy and they’ll always want their toy back. I can’t do anything to keep them away forever unless I want to keep running away. And that… that’s something I can’t do anymore.”

Steve Rogers had a sympathetic look on his face and he stood slowly, “We’ll keep you safe—”

Emotion flooded into James, “Oh fuck off, Rogers.” James felt anger, just anger.

Steve Rogers opened his mouth to respond but held back. He broke his gaze briefly, “I just want to help you, Bucky.”

James clenched his jaw and looked away from Steve Rogers. He chose his next words carefully, although a sane James Barnes would have chosen the words much more carefully, “I ain’t him, Steve.”

“Who?”

James loosened his fist slightly, “I haven’t been your Bucky for more than fifty years, Steve, and if that’s hard to swallow, you better get used to it.” James sat down on the bed again, heavily. He uncurled his hands entirely, the slight sting of pain not coming as a surprise.

The room was quiet, silent really.

Steve swallowed and looked away from James.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and left the room.

James spent the next few hours staring at the healing cuts on his palms and regretting everything he had done in the past seventy years.

It was night when Steve Rogers returned.

The room remained silent as Steve Rogers shut the door behind him and walked over, placing a plate filled with a few pieces of pizza on the bed next to James.

Steve Rogers took a seat in his chair again.

When James didn’t pick up the food, an instinct buried deep within keeping him from doing so, Steve Rogers didn’t try to hold back his disappointment.

The man stood, walking back to James and grabbed a slice of the pizza. He took a bite, not too large or small, before he let the pizza drop back down to the plate.

James was sure that if Natasha Romanoff was who she truly was, Steve Rogers had gone through this act before with Natalia. Maybe even with Clint Barton.

James ate quietly and quickly, habits breaking through.

“I just want to help you, you know.” Steve Rogers commented.

James stilled.

“It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I saw you again in D.C.,” He continued, “But I understand this won’t be as easy as I may have thought it would be. So, if it's what you need,” He said slowly, “I can have Tony set you up with a room, to give you your own room to think, and all you need to do is let me know, okay?”

James nodded once, eyes catching how torn up Steve Rogers seemed.

Some old memory dug it’s way up into James’ head, the faint image of a newly large Steve pinning after some pretty lady. Carter?

“Do you…” James started slowly, “Do you remember the time you and… that you… the time you got those people out of HYDRA’s cells?”

Steve nodded quickly, almost as if urging James to continue.

“And you and that woman were close and I… and Bucky asked you about her and you got all red. She must’ve liked you too if the way she looked at you meant anything, but you were scared to get rejected. Bucky had to listen and was thinkin’ about the little you and how you never changed. It was… nice to know that not everything had changed after I got drafted.”

James knew that Steve Rogers didn’t like the difference between James and Bucky, but it was something he needed to get used to. Times like these though? Maybe he and Bucky were similar with the way they felt about the people who cared about them.

James was working on Steve Rogers becoming Steve again.

The entire thought was strange, but now Steve was smiling.

“And yet here we are and I’ve got no girl.” Steve attempted to joke, although some sort of sadness slipped through. James wasn’t dumb. If that woman was alive during the war, it wasn’t very likely she was still walking around happily in their current time.

“You’ve got Stark’s kid though, don’t you?” Something about the Stark family was eerily familiar, despite knowing of the family’s members.

Steve’s expression switched to something much more soft as he nodded, “I do and he's one of the best things to happen to me.” Steve hesitated, “One of these days, you and him will meet and I can only hope you’ll get along.”

Maybe James hoped for the best too.

James was not as strong as Steve, if you didn’t count the arm.

James could recall bits of conversation, of a copycat formula of the one they injected into Steve. James was strong, but everything he could do was done better by Steve. The thing James had on Steve though? The mental state.

In some ways, the difference in mental training was the best and worse thing.

Steve had not been resting well since James came around the compound, and neither had James.

Steve had to crash at one point or another, and the same went for James, but it hit Steve first. He was worn out from everything happening in the past days, but he held out for longer than others may expect. His crash came when James moved from the bed and to Steve’s chair.

Now, James was awake and looking back and forth from Steve where he slept on the bed and to the windows.

James could smother the feeling of tiredness, but knew he would have to succumb to the need in the upcoming days.

James watched the rise and fall of Steve’s chest for a second longer. Did little Steve used to snore? He couldn’t quite remember, but big Steve didn’t snore, so perhaps it didn't matter anymore.

James itched for a pencil and his journals. He wanted to write about what had been happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask where his journals were or if Steve had even kept them.

Natasha had removed the backpack on the plane ride to New York and James hadn't seen the backpack since.

Maybe with a journal, he’d be able to think about Steve’s offer. He was sure Tony Stark wouldn’t approve the idea for awhile, which was smart, but James knew he couldn’t invade Steve’s space like this for much longer. Hell, James knew he couldn’t invade Tony’s space anymore. James was able to tell very quickly that Steve hadn’t been in his own quarters for awhile when James stepped foot inside for the first time.

James sighed and curled up into the chair. For now, he would settle for keeping an eye out for Steve he supposed.

Chapter Text

Steve had started off the day with a discussion of the fate of James’ “pets”.

James was confident that he could not care for the pets, not really. He was not a fit pet owner with the way he closed off and hid himself away. Pets need an owner that can take care of them constantly. Dogs need to be taken on walks, cats need to played with, and birds need attention. James couldn’t do much for them.

He had almost tried to hold onto котенок, as the animal was one of the first he came across, but he took another, closer look at the pit bull and had to come to terms with the fact that he needed a home that could be there for him for the rest of his life.

Steve had noticed the way he watched the dog and tried to offer a resolution. He explained that Clint Barton (it seemed that the archer was pretty convenient to talk about) had his own dog, to which he occasionally handed off to other team members to care for in his absence. It seemed like it worked well, but James couldn’t risk it.

So he told Steve to finalize an adoption process for most of the animals.

Steve already had homes ready to go for the animals, surprisingly. There was an agent Steve said he knew that was familiar with birds and that she was very open to taking in the parakeet. Sharon, James thought her name was.

The cats were going to another agent, of whom James believed was name Maria.

And finally, Steve had planned for котенок to go home with yet another agent who was married with a couple kids.

James wordlessly let Rocky crawl into his hand though and Steve hadn’t done anything. He wasn’t sure if the lizard would be sticking around either, but maybe James could just enjoy a few days with some quiet company.

The rest of the animals, though, would be leaving within the week, and James left them with a silent goodbye (and a few little pats for котенок and the cats. мусор just hopped away when James got close. They had always been a little distant).

As James left the animals behind him, Steve at his side and Rocky comfortably sat in his hand, he tried to ignore the thought of all of these animals going away in life with new names and new families. It was for the best, even if it was startlingly source of sadness.

Later in the day, after the sun had set and Steve returned from the team dinner and had retired to bed, James stood from the cushioned chair.

Throughout the day he had grown tired of the plain environment of Steve’s quarters. He was enclosed in a space with large windows, but a lack of life.

And Steve was away from Tony with each night he stayed with James, and James could admit the thought made him feel bad, slightly.

He wanted to know his surroundings, and not just Steve’s quarters. He was unsure of what his residence looked like or what the layout of the accessible parts of the compound was like besides Steve’s quarters.

James recalled that Steve had mentioned a common area many times. Besides that area, James could only assume most of the other rooms were bedrooms.

So James let Rocky slip into his jacket pocket (of which was one part of the new clothes James was given. They weren’t bloodied or worn down. Yet) and started towards Steve’s bedroom door with a trained silence.

He shut the door behind him just as quiet and moved towards the elevator in the room. James was unsure if he had access to the elevator, admittedly, but he could run a few tests.

The doors slid open though and James stepped in.

The doors slid shut behind him and James was surprised and concerned by a lack of buttons for the floors in the walls.

A voice rang out, earning a startled jump from James, “Desired floor?”

A… talking elevator?

James hesitated before he spoke, “Common area?”

A ding sounded as the elevator began moving. No other disembodied voices spoke throughout the ride at least.

The lights of the common area were shut off, James noticed, when the doors slid open. It was late, but no later than eleven in the night. James supposed he couldn’t be surprised by the lack of people occupying the room. He was content with the detail though.

James walked off the elevator, slowly taking in the area. His vision was exceptional, and he could make out the layout of the room well enough. He began walking along the edge of the room, pace moderate and hands free.

By the large windows, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the dark sky.

He continued on.

Once he was satisfied with his brief check of the room, James paused.

The television was out of question. Too noisy and too prone to breaking if his last interaction with it meant anything.

There was no point to just sit at the couch either. It would be exactly the same as sitting at the edge of Steve’s bed. Instead, James wandered to the kitchen, where the lights were still turned off but the moonlight glinted off the metal in the area.

James reached into his pocket, letting Rocky crawl onto his hand. He let out a sigh as he glanced around the kitchen, hand held steady for the lizard.

He didn’t get much time to ponder though, as the elevator dinged and James saw just a brief flash of light spilling from the elevator before he ducked behind a counter.

James was tense then, mind filling with all the possibilities of who could be after him in the moment or if his choice to leave Steve’s quarters was an action worth punish—

“Lucky?” A tired, small voice called out.

A child? Clint’s kid, right?

James waited a few seconds in tense silence, listening to the light sound of the child’s footsteps. The steps were getting closer though and James peeked around the corner of the counter.

He caught sight of the small child, most definitely younger than ten years of age. He had a head full of what seemed to be loosely curly hair, with pale skin, and the expected looks of most children. He was looking around curiously, looking for something or someone called “Lucky”.

James shifted slightly, body stilling when he heard the slight shifting the floorboard made with his movement. The boy’s head turned to James quickly, unexpectedly so.

James ducked back around the counter, already aware that the child knew someone was in the room with him.

The footsteps grew closer, “Hello?” The child called.

As James slowly grew more and more caught up in his thoughts, the sudden sight of the little boy in front of him took him by surprise. James was just glad he held back the instinct to grab a weapon.

But the child wasn’t even looking at James. He was looking a Rocky.

James opened his mouth but cut himself off as the child smiled, “My name is Cooper, what’s their name?” The child asked quickly, pointing at Rocky and still not looking at James.

James hesitated, “Uh… Rocky.”

“Like the fighter?” “Cooper” asked.

James was unsure of who that was, “Sure.” He answered either way.

Taking James by surprise, Cooper plopped down to the floor in front of James feet. James’ legs were pulled up towards his chest now and his hand was by his knees, palm facing upwards with Rocky sat silently.

“Cool. I’ve always wanted a pet lizard,” Cooper mumbled, “How old is Rocky? He looks really cool by the way.”

James had no clue how old the lizard was (or if it was actually a male), “He’s, uh, one.” He supplied, deciding a lie wasn't all that terrible here.

Cooper smiled and looked at James. James was surprised by the action, unused to someone looking at him with such innocence in their eyes, “That’s cool.” He replied easily before a thought seemed to strike him, “Have you seen Lucky?”

“Who?” James asked slowly.

“My dog.” Cooper replied easily.

James shook his head, unsure, “I haven’t seen any dogs recently.”

Cooper sighed, “I was hoping he would come sleep in Daddy’s room tonight but I guess not.” He paused briefly, and leaned in slightly, as if telling a secret, “Are you one of Daddy’s superhero friends?”

James shrugged. Hell, he was pretty sure Clint Barton didn’t feel anything close to friendship for James. He knew he wouldn’t if he were in Clint’s position.

Cooper’s attention was grabbed by Rocky again as the lizard moved around James’ hand for a few steps.

Cooper didn’t get long though, as the elevator dinged again and the lights in the entire common area switched on.

“Cooper?” A feminine, worried, voice called.

Cooper popped up and peeked around the counter, waving, “Hi, Mommy!”

“Coop? What’re you doing up? We all went to bed a couple hours ago.” She was walking closer as she spoke and James tensed with each step.

But as she turned the corner and saw James, she gasped, loudly, and jumped slightly. She wasted no time before she stepped back and pulled Cooper back into her legs. She was silent for less than a second, “Who the hell are you?”

James’ eyes widened slightly at the confrontation, “J-James.”

She seemed suspicious already, something he could understand and found valuable. He was worried nonetheless.

“Mommy, look at his lizard! His name is Rocky! Like the fighter.” Cooper said excitedly, holding onto his mom’s hand and pointing at Rocky.

She nodded slowly, distracted, eyes skipping around James’ being.

“Coop, what were you doing down here?” The woman chose to ask her son.

“Lookin’ for Lucky.” Cooper said simply.

The woman nodded again before tugging on Cooper hand, obviously aiming to get him to leave to the elevator. He’d be weirded out by a strange man taking to his son too.

“He’s with Pietro tonight.” She answered, her eyes still on James.

Cooper seemed disappointed by the news, but just leaned into his mother’s side.

“Good night.” The woman said slowly, to James before tugging her son away gently.

“Night, James! Night, Rocky!” Cooper called back as they left to the elevator.

James was in shock, slightly, by the interaction, but after a few minutes of silence, and the lights switching off, James got up slowly and walked to the elevator himself. The doors slid open and he stepped inside.

He expected the disembodied voice to ask for his desired floor but he was shocked to hear otherwise, “Did you enjoy your late night chat, Sergeant Barnes?” The voice almost seemed smug.

The elevator was moving already though and James was left in silent shock over his nightly plans and interruptions.

When the elevator doors opened again, he was surprised to come face to face with Steve’s quarters, and more importantly, Steve himself.

He looked as if he had just woken up, but he took one look at James and nodded towards the kitchen, “Maybe its time for a late night snack, Buck.” He excused the distraction.

James went along with it though, letting Rocky crawl into his jacket pocket again.

Perhaps James was glad that Steve seemed to understand him better than he originally thought.

Chapter Text

“So,” Tony started, watching Cooper as he sat on the floor with Wanda and Pietro as they all played with Cooper's toy cars, “Despite the surprise, you’ve got quite the kiddo, Barton.”

Clint grinned, “The kudos goes to Laura here, Tony, but I gotta agree.”

Laura rolled her eyes, digging a finger into Clint’s side briefly, “Don’t listen to him; he’s a great dad.”

Tony didn’t seem to care either way, “Well the little guy obviously likes Clint’s other “kids”.” He added, tone slightly joking surrounding Clint’s other “kids”.

“I agree,” Thor commented, walking around the couch and taking a seat next to Tony. The god was still dressed in what must be sleepwear for him: a (very tight) t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. With Thor sat next to Tony, Tony seemed even smaller than usual, Clint noticed with amusement, “The three get along very well.”

Clint nodded distractedly, grinning as he watched Cooper, “And that’s something I’m very happy about.”

“Anyways,” Tony started again, changing the topic easily, looking to Laura, “It's your’s and mini Barton’s last day here. Any special plans?”

Laura smiled, “Cooper actually wanted to stick around here.”

Tony’s brows furrowed, “He’d rather stay in a concrete building instead of going out to play in a park or something?” Tony paused, as if thinking it over, before he waved a hand dismissively, “Y’know, I see the appeal.”

“If you wish to stay here for the day, than I am sure myself and the rest of our friends will make sure your day is incredible.” Thor replied.

“I wouldn’t doubt that for a second.” Laura replied easily, shifting on the couch so she could lean against Clint.

“Speaking of friends,” Clint cut in, “Where’s Miss Potts?”

Tony sighed dramatically, “Pep had to go back to California because no one can do anything successfully without a Pepper in their life.”

“Makes sense.” Laura muttered.

Clint snorted, leaning back into the couch, “Your life would probably be shit if Pepper wasn’t a thing, so I completely understand that, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes in response, crossing his arms over his chest and falling back into the couch.

“Thor?” Bruce called from the kitchen. The man had been cooking lunch in the kitchen with Vision for the better part of an hour. Clint turned in his spot, catching sight of Bruce poking his head out from around the wall, “Did you still want to help set the table?”

Thor stood quickly and nodded. He bid a short goodbye to the group before walking off to the kitchen.

Laura watched the god leave before she turned back to Tony and Clint, “Weirdly enough, I didn’t expect to see Thor set a table up for lunch dressed in pajamas when I came to visit.”

Tony chuckled, “It happens more often than you think then.”

Laura shrugged, “I mean, with those tight shirts, I can’t complain about seeing him.”

Tony laughed, loudly, at the comment, clearing having not expected such the comment in the moment. It wasn’t until he sobered up that he spoke, “Oh, Laura, you and Pepper would get along perfectly.”

As Laura and Tony found themselves in a conversation surrounding Pepper, Clint looked away as the elevator dinged. The doors slid open and Natasha walked out, dressed and ready for her day in dark jeans, heeled boots, and a black t-shirt. So, she was much more ready for her day in comparison to Clint and his baggy and slept-in clothes.

She made a beeline for Clint, sitting down next to him on his free side. She leaned into his side, similar to Laura but Clint knew her intentions were entirely different. He let out a sigh as Natasha tilted her head, whispering into his ear, “Steve plans on bringing Barnes down for lunch.”

Clint thought such an event over briefly before he whispered back, “D’you think that’s a good idea?”

Natasha’s gaze shifted to Cooper. The boy was now sitting in Wanda’s lap as he explained the next part of their car race to Pietro, “I don’t know,” She whispered back, “Do you?”

Clint wasn’t sure.

Natasha leaned away though, still staying close to Clint as she shot a smile at Tony when he greeted her.

Clint looked to Cooper again though. Would Barnes being around his kid be a good idea?

Clint didn’t want to say that Barnes was entirely unstable or that he could be entirely trusted, but when it came down to it, Clint was going to be weary no matter what.

Cooper and Laura deserved a good last day, and if Barnes ended up ruining it somehow, Clint didn’t know how he’d feel.

He was sure he’d be upset, but he worried that the words drawn on his hip would influence his judgement. Clint had heard of that kind of thing happening. Clint had even seen it occur with Steve and Tony.

But maybe the fact that Clint hadn’t said anything to Barnes would just make it worse. Was that a thing? Maybe it would be a good idea if Clint actually kept himself up to date on all things soulmate related.

But Clint couldn’t control what Steve did either way.

If Barnes ended up coming down for lunch, perhaps Clint could only hope that things would go well.

There seemed to be some sort of weight to this lunch now, at least to Clint. But, once again, maybe the whole soulmate thing was influencing his views on things.

Natasha nudging Clint pulled him out of his thoughts though. He heard the end of Bruce’s words, calling the room to lunch. Clint stood with Natasha and Laura, rolling back his shoulders and attempting to push most of his concerns down.

Clint took the initiative and walked to Cooper, letting Laura take her seat at the table first.

Clint didn’t take his own seat until Cooper was settled in and ready for lunch. The archer took his seat next to his son, who was sat in between his parents then. Natasha slid into the other seat next to Clint. Vision and Sam had taken up the heads of the table while Pietro took the last available seat on Clint’s side of the table, his sister sat across from him and Thor and Bruce next to her. Clint noticed the two empty seats in between Bruce and Tony though and he wondered whether or not they’d actually be filled.

With a child in the mix of the team, Bruce had kept the meal fairly simple.

Most of the conversation had tilted towards Laura and Cooper, as the past few days with the two still had yet to satisfy the team’s curiosity.

“Do you ever plan to move to New York?” Vision questioned, the table in front of his clear because of his lack of need for food.

Laura paused, glancing towards Clint. He had been curious of the topic too, but he was sure of the answer and he would never try to change it. Clint would never tear his family from their life in Iowa and, by association, Garrett.

Laura shook her head, “It’s not in our current plans, no.” She answered.

Vision nodded, losing his interest in the conversation as Albert pawed at Vision’s sweater.

“And Cooper’s lived in Iowa his entire life, right?” Sam cut in, “We’ve only heard bits and pieces of Clint’s life in Iowa.”

Laura hummed in acknowledgement, placing her fork down, “He has. The Barton farm is a pretty nice place for a little boy and his friends to run around,” she smiled and glanced at Cooper, “I’m sure when he’s a teenager he’ll start hating the farm, but Clint and I always thought the farm might be a nice place for him to grow up.”

“Who knows,” Tony commented, “Maybe he’ll end up being a famous farmer instead.” He joked.

“Oh, I’m sure of that.” Clint replied with a grin.

Next to him, Cooper was mostly silent, but he had been smiling for most of the conversation. Clint could tell he was still feeling small around people he didn’t really know, but Clint also knew that Cooper was going to end up spouting something that would only start up a new, and possibly better, conversation.

Pietro chuckled, “Well, if he ever moved to New York, he will have a lot of people welcoming him.” He motioned around the table vaguely.

The idea had Clint feeling all sorts of emotions, mostly happy of course, and based on Laura’s smile, she felt the same.

Wanda nodded, “But right now,” She redirected the conversation to more present events, “I hope he has had a great time here.”

Cooper glanced up from his food and smiled at Wanda, almost shyly, with a nod.

Most of lunch went on like this, and most people didn’t pay much attention to the lack of a teammate at the table. Steve had been less present in general since Barnes’ entry into their lives, which wasn’t very enjoyable for anybody sat at the table.

But before Clint could venture any further on the thought, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. As everyone's heads turned towards the elevator, a smiling Steve and blank faced Barnes stepped out. Steve had a hand around Barnes' arm, almost dragging him to the table. The change in the atmosphere of the room was obvious, but no one made any comments as Steve sat Barnes down next to Bruce.

Bruce tensed up slightly with the new addition to the table, but based on the expression he quickly smothered down, Clint guessed that both Bruce and Hulk were weary of Barnes in some sense. Maybe Hulk wanted to beat Barnes up.

Barnes was looking down at the table, his hands in his lap and hair falling in his face. He was dressed in some new clothes, obviously not Steve’s if the shirt meant anything. He was still dressed in some variation of the outfit they found him in: a long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

Steve released Barnes and pat him on his right shoulder before he quickly left for the kitchen. The table remained silent in Steve absence and Clint didn't miss the way Barnes tensed up with each passing second. Steve returned though, with two plates filled with food. As he sat in between Barnes and Tony, he placed one plate down in front of Barnes and one in front of himself.

Clint couldn’t tell if Steve was purposely ignoring the state of the team or not but he watched carefully as Barnes’ head shifted slightly to Steve. He didn’t do anything until Steve took a bite of each thing on his plate.

The man still didn’t eat though.

Clint had a pretty good idea of as to why. With how silent the table was, no one could miss the quiet sigh Steve let out before he reached over and took a bite of each item on Barnes’ plate.

Old habits die hard, Clint knew.

Each person at the table had paused in their eating and Barnes still hadn’t started. But, for some reason, Clint watched Barnes as he stuck his fork into his food. The sound earned a very slight flinch from Barnes, but the man seemed to be listening closely.

So, Clint stuck the food in his mouth and wasn’t surprised when Barnes slowly lifted his flesh hand and took hold of his fork and took one slow bite of food. But after the first, the man hesitated before eating at a much quicker pace.

Slowly, the rest of the table returned to their own food but the conversation had long since died out.

Clint bit his lip and looked to Barnes again.

Did he feel bad for the man?

Clint wondered what the rest of the table thought.

Bruce stood, slowly, with his cleared plate in hand. He shared a look with Natasha as he stood before he walked off to the kitchen. Natasha stood as well, mostly full plate in hand, and walked around the table, taking a seat in Bruce’s previous spot.

The discomfort Barnes gained then was obvious but the way he let out a breath and became partially less stiff was not expected.

Clint watched curiously as the man slowed down in his eating. Part of Clint wanted to question Natasha about the situation, but he was pretty sure he'd never get a straight answer.

When Bruce returned, he easily took the free seat next to Clint.

Clint felt a tap on his arm and he turned to face Laura as her hand returned to her lap. She nodded towards Barnes, the action mostly concealed, questioning. But, she also raised her hands and signed, ‘it is rude to stare’.

The action didn’t exactly go unnoticed around the table, but it didn’t matter much if the lack of response from the team meant anything. Clint chose to just nod in response.

Lunch was starting to end for most of the team, Clint noticed, so he returned to his food and tried very hard not to look at Barnes. Couldn’t a man be curious though?

But just a couple minutes later, Clint looked back to Barnes and held back his shock when he made eye contact with Barnes. The man was looking at Clint curiously.

Clint hoped Barnes would look away first, but the archer tore his gaze away first, feeling partially overwhelmed with the surprise and interest in Barnes in the moment.

Clint shoved down the emotions again and held back from tapping his foot on the floor.

“How is Rocky?” Cooper questioned. Clint looked up again, following Cooper’s gaze immediately and finding himself staring at Barnes again. The other man looked away from Clint and to Cooper.

The table was more silent than before, if possible.

Cooper continued, straightening up and leaning forwards as he engaged in a one sided conversation, “Oh!” He exclaimed, “After I went back to bed, Pietro sent Lucky down to us because the elevator lady told him I was looking for him!” Cooper explained, “And Mommy said that Rocky was cute too.” Despite the fact that Cooper jumped around between subjects, Clint’s eyes widened at the meaning to Cooper’s words.

He shifted, looking to Cooper entirely, “When did this happen?” He asked carefully.

Laura cut in, “Cooper wandered off last night to find Lucky and I found him in the kitchen with James over there and they were talking about James’ lizard.” Her brows furrowed, “Why is this such a big deal? They just talked about pets, Clint.”

Clint opened his mouth to explain why, but he stopped himself. This wasn’t something he could just drop on Laura with the man sat right there.

Tony chimed in, “That doesn’t exactly explain why Barnes was wandering around in the middle of the night.”

“Tony!” Steve started up, “He isn’t some caged up animal!”

It took only that before the two were arguing about Barnes.

The argument pushed Sam to try and intervene, but he was ignored easily enough. Clint glanced away from his son and Laura to catch the way Natasha looked at Barnes and how her hand had curled around the knife Bruce had left there from his meal. How did Clint not notice the knives all around the table?

But then Vision was trying to talk to Steve and Tony to calm the situation and Pietro commented something that had him and Wanda yelling at each other in Sokovian. As the yelling continued around the table, Thor stood suddenly, only to be ignored by everyone but Clint, and walked around the table. He pulled Bruce up to stand and the two walked off to the elevator quickly. Clint didn’t miss the faint green the started to show in his hands.

Bruce was good at keeping Hulk at bay, but it was a hard thing to do.

Cooper tugged on Clint’s sleeve. Concerned eyes looked up at Clint when he turned, “Sorry,” Cooper mumbled.

Clint shook his head and brushed Cooper’s hair out of his face, “It’s fine, Coop, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Clint looked to Laura, who was saying something to Sam then, before his gaze moved to Barnes again. He looked smaller, as if he had curled in on himself.

The man looked up suddenly again, straight at Clint before shifting to Cooper. Barnes looked… sad?

But before Clint could question such a thing, Barnes stood and mumbled a shaky apology before he rushed off to the elevator.

Tony didn’t try to hold Steve back, instead shaking his head to himself while the rest of the room slowly quieted down.

Clint watched as Steve slipped into the elevator before the doors shut. Clint found himself starting to stand, only for Natasha’s words to stop him, “Садись, Клинт.”

Clint stilled before he obliged and sat back down.

It wasn’t his job to check in with Barnes.

Clint couldn’t say he was ready to say goodbye to Laura and Cooper.

But the two had to leave to the airport and Clint wasn’t going to force them to stay in New York.

Clint sighed, taking hold of Cooper’s hand as they made their way to the elevator, pulling a suitcase behind him. When they started descending floors, Laura leaned into Clint’s side, one hand on another suitcase and the other coming around Clint’s waist, “Think of the good part of this,” She started, “Now that we’ve been here once, we’re destined to come back.”

Clint snorted, “I would hope so,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, “And if not, you better have room at the farm for one thirty year old and a one-eyed dog.”

“We always do.” Laura replied, smiling up at Clint.

He smiled back, despite his current feelings of her going away.

Cooper tugged on Clint’s hand, “Can I tell Garrett about Auntie Nat and Lucky?”

Clint hesitated. Cooper didn’t truly know much about Natasha, when it came down to it, so what would be the harm? “‘Course you can, Coop.”

Cooper smiled at the reply, “And when Mommy and I see you again, I’ll tell you about Garrett’s ferret.”

Clint chuckled, “I can’t wait to hear all about his ferret.”

Friday took this as her turn to cut in, “Your presence at the compound will be missed dearly, Laura and Cooper.”

Cooper looked up at the ceiling, smile growing, “We’ll miss you too!”

Laura hummed in agreement, “We’ve had a great time here, Friday.”

“And with that, I wish you two a nice flight.” Friday replied as the elevator doors slid open.

“Thanks, Fri.” Clint called back as he stepped off the elevator with Laura and Cooper. Before they could start down the hallway leading to the exit where the team and Happy were waiting, Cooper stopped suddenly, “I forgot the red car!” He exclaimed, tugging on Clint’s hand.

The elevator doors stilled at Cooper’s words, “If it is convenient for you, I can monitor Cooper and lead him to your quarters, Agent Barton, while you bring your luggage outside.”

Clint looked to Cooper, “You alright with that, Coop?” He waited until the boy nodded before he continued, “And you promise to behave, grab your car, and then come back?”

Cooper nodded, “Promise.”

Clint looked to Laura, who nodded, “We’ll drop off the luggage and come right back here to meet him.”

Clint nodded and looked back to Cooper, “Be quick, Coop.”

With that, Cooper stepped back into the elevator.

Clint and Laura went along with their plans, dropping off the luggage to Happy and returning to the elevator. It didn’t take much longer for Cooper to return, as he rushed out of the elevator shortly after Clint and Laura arrived, “All ready to go!” He stated, already starting towards the exit.

Clint furrowed his brows at the behavior, but followed his son.

When they were outside, the team was quick to start their goodbyes. Pietro, Wanda, and Natasha took a little extra time saying goodbye to Cooper while, surprisingly, Tony and Bruce took some extra time with Laura (along with Natasha after she said her goodbyes to Cooper).

Clint noticed, though, that Cooper had his hand stuck into his jacket throughout the goodbyes. Once Cooper walked over to his father again, Clint got down to his level, “You all good, Cooper?”

Cooper nodded quickly, his hand still resting in the inside of his jacket.

Did he snag something of Clint’s? The thought didn’t upset Clint at all, as long as it wasn’t something dangerous or something that actually wasn’t Clint’s.

Clint nodded to Cooper’s jacket, “What’s going on there?”

“Nothin’” Cooper replied, glancing away from Clint.

Clint raised a brow, “I’ve been trained to spot a liar Coop, come on, bud.”

Cooper hesitated before he pulled his hand out.

What was surprising was the lizard sat in his hand.

“Why do you have a lizard in your hand?” Clint asked slowly, disbelieving.

Laura wandered over, “He has a what?” With Laura, the rest of the team trailed behind her.

“Is that Barnes' lizard?” Sam questioned.

Clint’s eyes widened, “Where did you get the lizard?”

“You can’t just take people’s pets, Cooper.” Steve said sternly, walking closer. He only stopped when Laura conveniently stepped in front of him.

Cooper shook his head, “I didn’t take him though!” He rushed out.

“So what, did someone give you it?” Laura questioned.

Cooper nodded this time, “James told me I could have him.”

James? So Barnes wasn’t fully going by Bucky? Clint must have not caught the correction during lunch.

“Hey, Fri, can you confirm?” Tony called out, pulling his phone out from his pocket.

“I can indeed confirm that Sergeant Barnes offered his lizard to Cooper.” Friday replied from Tony’s phone.

Clint furrowed his brows in confusion, “So Barnes is handing out animals now?”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, Cooper.” Steve stated.

Cooper looked to his mother, “Can I keep Rocky?”

Laura seemed to think it over before she sighed and nodded, “Uh, sure, Coop.”

Cooper smiled and looked at Steve, “I’ll be keeping Rocky.”

Clint stood up and turned to Laura, “This is completely fine with you?” He checked in.

She nodded, “As long as the airline will let us take the lizard on the flight,” when Cooper turned away to show Natasha the lizard, she leaned in towards Clint, “And, if not, I guess I’ll be getting a lizard from the pet store for Coop.”

Clint snorted and nodded, “This goodbye just got a little strange, huh?”

Laura hummed in agreement, “You’re not wrong.” She agreed.

“Don’t want to interrupt,” Happy called out, “But it's time to head to the airport.”

Laura sighed and looked to Clint. She stepped towards him and pulled him into a hug, of which he reciprocated happily, “I’ll miss you, Clint.” She mumbled.

Clint held onto her tightly, “I’ll miss you too, Laur.”

She held onto him a moment later before she pulled away, only to lean forwards and kiss him on the cheek, “Since you’ll have a lot of freetime now, maybe its time to look into the soulmate thing.” She told him quietly.

Clint bit his lip, “Maybe.” He replied, just as quiet but slower.

Maybe.

Perhaps he would have to if this lizard business was going to be spoken about.

Cooper wiggled his way in between his parents, stealing Clint’s attention. The archer was quick to get down to Cooper’s level and pull him into a hug, “Be good for your Mom and Garrett, please.” He started, “And take good care of your new little friend.”

“I’ll miss you, Daddy.” Cooper replied quietly.

Clint’s heart broke a little bit at that, “I’ll miss you too, Cooper,” He started, “But I know we’ll see each other again soon.” Clint continued, “I’m not letting you and your mom get away that easily.” He joked.

Cooper let out a short laugh and pulled away.

Clint smiled at his son, “Love you, Coop.”

Cooper smiled back, “Love you too.”

Clint stood, ruffling Cooper’s hair as he stood, “I’ll see you soon, Coop.”

Cooper nodded, taking his mother’s offered hand.

Laura smiled, bittersweet, “Bye, Clint.” She said before she turned to everyone else, “Bye, guys.”

Various goodbyes were thrown back before Cooper spoke up again, “Bye, Daddy.” He said to Clint before copying his mother’s actions and words, “Bye, guys!” He called back as he and Laura started towards the car.

The same goodbyes were given to Cooper as they were to Laura. Clint watched as they got into the car and waved goodbye as they drove off.

God, he was really going to miss them.

When he and the team returned back inside, Clint watched Steve as he left to his quarters.

Maybe it was time for Clint to act like an adult and talk to people.

Specifically one James Buchanan Barnes.

Chapter Text

Each tick of the clock was pushing James further and further away from sanity, in his opinion.

The night before had been tough to say the least. Lunch the previous day had left James in a negative mood, so much that he had locked Steve out of his own room while he chose to suffer alone.

He had fucked up, that’s what he had done.

He didn’t mean to; he didn’t want to, but he did.

Who the hell would be okay with their child being around James? Clint Barton wasn’t, that was for sure. The woman and her child, Cooper, must have not known who he was, but he was sure he lost any positive opinions from them after that lunch.

James hadn’t expected a new start or unbiased opinions about him from the Avengers and friends, but he had hoped that maybe he could have avoided causing more tension between himself and the team.

But he had, and he had ruined their lunch.

James took to tapping his foot against the wood floor, hands bunched together in his lap.

Steve had returned from his morning workout just a few minutes previous, and James listened as the shower switched off and the sound of water hitting tiles disappeared.

Steve stepped out of the bathroom, his footsteps doing some good in blocking out the sound of the clock ticking.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, stopping by the couch James was sat at.

James held back a wince at the nickname, again.

Steve stepped closer, “How’re you doin’?”

James stopped tapping his foot and remained silent.

Steve bunched up his workout clothes in his arms and sat down on the coffee table across from James sitting on the couch. James wondered if the coffee table could withstand a super soldier’s weight for an extended amount of time like this.

At James’ silence, Steve’s expression became more and more concerned, “You don’t have to feel bad about yesterday, Buck, I know they all understand.”

James shook his head, mostly to himself, “Understand what, Steve?”

“They understand that you’re going through a hard time. You leaving lunch shouldn’t be a big deal.”

James squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head down towards his lap, “That’s not the issue here, Rogers,” James started, “The issue is that I fucked up lunch because I shouldn’t’ve been wandering around.”

Steve sighed, “Clint and Laura won’t be upset about the Cooper thing.”

“And everyone else?” James countered, “Nobody wants the Winter Soldier talking to their kid, Steve, and there’s no way your team liked the idea of me wandering around at night.” James said bitterly.

“Then I’ll talk it out with them.”

James laughed humorously, “I ain’t gaining their trust any time soon, Steve, I hope you know that.”

“Don’t say—”

James stood suddenly, walking behind the couch in order to put some distance between himself and Steve, “You can’t change everyone’s minds about me!” He yelled, “I’ve done too much to deserve their forgiveness!”

Steve stood too, “Bucky—”

“And the longer I’m here, the worse and worse I feel, Steve.” James admitted, “Because all I’ve done is go from hiding in Romania to hiding in your bedroom because no one wants me here.”

“I do,” Steve replied, quietly.

“And you’re the only one.” James countered, turning away from Steve and leaning back against the couch. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Steve was the only one who had wanted him here to begin with.

He was the only one who saw some sort of good in James, if there was any at all.

For a brief second, James thought of Natalia and Clint Barton. Natalia? No, she was Natasha now. She knew too much of what the Winter Soldier did and she could never see him as anything but the Asset who trained her or the Soldier that could be controlled through words.

Why would James think of Clint Barton?

The man had been nearly killed twice by James. Why would James even come close to thinking of him in the moment?

As Steve started towards James, James recalled the first time he came upon Clint Barton, removing the dark parts the best he could.

He felt angry that night, angry over words.

James had avoided looking at those words on his side since he saw Clint Barton again. The words felt too personal, but they were also something that James would rather not speak of than ask for information of.

Steve slowly placed a hand on James’ flesh shoulder.

James had noticed that too; Steve didn’t like the metal arm.

A part of James resented Steve for that. James knew he would never be Bucky Barnes again and that he’d never have two flesh and blood arms again. It wasn’t like James could recall a true time in which he didn’t have his metal arm though. Perhaps he would prefer the metal over flesh either way.

“Buck…” Steve started slowly.

God, and the nickname. James didn’t know why he let Steve call him that. Maybe pity? Some sort of longing for Bucky’s past?

“When I first joined the Avengers, nothing made sense.” Steve continued, “But before that, I was even more confused and upset. I took to making my way through every punching bag this old gym had. Once they introduced me to the gym for the Avengers, I did the same until Tony told me there were new punching bags that wouldn’t immediately break like the old ones did.”

James was still looking for the meaning behind the story.

“But I still went for the old punching bags until I realized all I was trying to do was find some sort of achievement there. I didn’t know what I was doing, not yet at least, and the world still didn’t make sense. But once I knew what I was doing with the Avengers, I didn’t need the punching bags that broke.” Steve smiled, “Tony was pretty damn glad to hear that he didn’t have to keep ordering as many punching bags after that.”

“I’m sure you’d love to talk about how much you love your fella,” James started, “But I don’t need to spend the day hearin’ about Tony Stark and your love for punching.”

“Let’s go down to the gym and get you set up with the punching bags, I mean.” Steve offered. James thought it over. Before he could think for long, Steve tugged on his arm, “I assume you’re alright with breaking a sweat in those clothes.”

James glanced down at himself briefly. He supposed Steve was correct. Steve had been the one pushing James to wear all of the clothes that had appeared “randomly” rather than sticking to one outfit, so he supposed sweating in his t-shirt and sweatpants wouldn’t be horrible.

Getting to the gym should have been much more tricky, James thought, but Steve had confirmed that the Avengers’ gym was separate to the SHIELD gym.

Keeping James around seemed too easy to James.

But Steve shut the door behind him and pointed out the closet the held the two types of punching bags. He let James choose one of the regular punching bags and instructed him on how to set everything up.

It seemed vaguely familiar to James, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of Bucky or the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know either.

James was about to start punching, but Steve grabbed his fist and pulled him aside in order to wrap his hands, “We may be a little stronger than most of the world, but I learned that doesn’t always mean you have to hurt.”

James allowed him to wrap his hands, watching the actions closely.

James didn’t think this had ever been done to his hands before.

Bucky took better care of himself in comparison to the Winter Soldier.

The Soldier was the one who spent his time punching and training; Bucky only did that before his death.

Steve patted him on the shoulder with a smile before he settled back against the wall, motioning to the punching bag.

James walked towards the bag.

He started slowly, only punching a couple times and trying to gain his bearings.

But before James knew it, he was throwing punch after punch at the bag until it was thrown off the hook.

James almost stumbled forward with the bag, but he caught himself.

He stared at the punching bag on the ground more than a few feet away from him.

He didn’t know if he liked that.

Steve was silent behind him and James risked a look behind him. Steve was looking at the punchin bag too, but his gaze shifted to James.

Slowly, James straightened up. He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated briefly, “Steve… W-would you mind giving me some space for a while?”

It was a stupid request; Steve would be an idiot to take it.

But Steve nodded and pushed himself off the wall, “Sounds good, Buck” he replied, “Friday will let me know if anything happens but let her know when you’re ready to head back up.”

No full freedom. Perhaps that was better.

James nodded and started towards the closet holding the punching bags. He listened as the door shut behind Steve.

James could only assume that Steve understood that James felt vulnerable in the moment.

James was good at ignoring his emotions, but he had a feeling that he could only hold on for so much longer.

Steve didn't need to be around to see the fall.

Part of James knew he shouldn’t start going through the entire supply of regular punching bags, but he grabbed another one, putting it over his shoulder. He hesitated before he took hold of another bag.

He left one by the wall nearby and set up the new regular punching bag.

After the first punch was thrown, James lost himself again. His mind went blank, although he knew that everything would come rushing back once he left the gym. But maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he was expecting.

But the punching bag was tearing.

James stilled, coming back to himself.

A long whistle sounded from behind him and James found himself pulling the knife hiding under his pant leg and throwing it at the source of the sound.

The knife made contact in the wall next to the person’s head.

Next to Clint Barton’s head.

Clint Barton grinned at James, despite the situation, and took a step away from the knife. He reached forwards and flicked the handle, “Impressive.” He mumbled to himself.

Then Clint Barton turned to face James.

James was unsure of what to do but his eyes flicked all around Clint Barton’s person.

He was dressed similar to James, but his (blond) hair was nothing less than a mess.

Had he just woken up?

For a second, James considered the idea that maybe Clint Barton had been looking for James, but he smothered the idea.

Clint Barton was still grinning, “Guess I’ve got a thing for people who wanna kill me.”

His grin disappeared and James wanted to know why.

James didn’t flinch or move, but Clint Barton bit his lip and looked away.

James didn’t know what to do.

So James turned away and head to the closet, purposefully ignoring the punching bag he had already pulled from the very same closet.

He grabbed one of the reinforced bags and made quick work of replacing the old bag. He tried to ignore the feeling of Clint Barton watching him.

James listened as Clint Barton started moving, his steps echoing in James’ mind. James raised his fists, readying himself to start punching again, but waiting until the archer stopped moving.

The man stopped walking when he came upon James’ right and leaned back against the wall there.

James waited a second before he went back to punching. Was he okay with Clint Barton watching him? (But not Steve?)

It wasn’t until James started to lose himself again that he stopped, taking hold of the punching bag to stop it from moving and looking at Clint Barton.

His eyes were very blue.

James looked away from him briefly.

He hesitated, “I know it’s a good sight,” James started slowly. Throwing out a comment like this felt familiar, but strange nonetheless, “but did you have a reason for watchin’ me?”

Clint Barton shrugged. He looked back at James for a moment, expression vague, “I wanted to say thank you.” He explained.

James’ brows furrowed, “Thank me?” He echoed.

Clint Barton hummed, nodding. “For the lizard,” He explained, “You made my kid pretty fucking happy.” He continued, “I didn’t even know Cooper liked lizards that much, so thanks.”

James nodded, slowly, breaking eye contact briefly, “Rocky couldn’t stay here; I couldn’t keep him here.”

Clint Barton waved a hand dismissively, “Still made Coop happy.”

James nodded again, unsure even then.

Clint Barton pushed himself off of the wall, ending up closer to James than before. James didn’t find himself stepping backwards.

Clint Barton glanced towards the door, “I’m Clint, by the way, but I’ve got a feeling you already knew that.” He stated.

James did know that.

“James,” James replied quietly.

Clint nodded and grinned again, nodding towards the punching bag, “Good luck with working off whatever you’re trying to work off.”

And then Clint was walking off and leaving the gym.

James stared at the door after he was gone for a couple of seconds.

He felt… weirdly okay.

James dropped his hands from the punching bag before one drifted up to rest on his side, where the red words lie.

There was some sort of connection there, something.

Something happened between them all those years ago, besides the fight, that was making Clint much more important to James.

James let out a shaky breath and turned back to the punching bag.

He was slow at starting up with his punching again, but even after he got into a steady pace, he found himself less interested than before as his mind centered on one archer instead.

Eventually, James called it quits, and told Friday just as much. He still didn’t quite understand Friday, but he merely followed what he had seen Steve do before and spoke aloud.

Within in a few minutes, Steve was entering the gym with a smile, “Feeling better?” He asked.

James shrugged and looked down at the mess one of the punching bags had left. Steve seemed to catch the meaning behind the glance, as he made his way over to the punching bag closet and emerged with a broom.

He handed it off to James, who gathered the remains of the punching bag into a neat pile, at the very least. Steve didn’t offer anything else, so James handed back the broom and allowed Steve to lead him out of the gym.

The elevator ride back to Steve’s quarters was silent, but James wouldn’t be surprised if Steve could tell that James was deep in thought.

Once the two were back in Steve’s quarters, the elevator already shut behind them.

James had made up his mind on the trip back to Steve’s quarters, so, as Steve started turning back towards him, James, with shaky hands, lifted his shirt and turned his side towards Steve.

At the sight, Steve stilled completely, expression dropping.

James didn’t like the reaction, but it didn't surprise him, “This means something, right?” James questioned quietly.

Steve was visibly shocked, ”It… it means a lot.”

James nodded, slowly, feeling more and more exposed with each passing second, “They used to be black, I remember that.” He continued, “But, something happened and they turned red.”

“Buck…” Steve trailed off.

“And I know I used to know the meaning behind this, but now I don’t know, but I have to know.”

“You really wanna know?” Steve questioned, “It’s a big deal and I don’t wanna upset you.”

James nodded his head, “I need to know, Steve.”

Steve chuckled weakly, “‘Motherfucker, you ruined everything’…” Steve recited quietly, “Whoever said that must’ve been pretty damn pissed.” He mumbled.

Chapter Text

Oh, God, what was he doing?

This was a dumb decision.

Clint Barton was about to do something dumb.

Clint let out a breath and ran a hand down his face. This shouldn’t be this hard, but maybe he should just go to Natasha?

But he can’t go to Natasha because she would be able to figure out the entire story and then it would be an even bigger mess because who knows how Natasha will react to that.

So Natasha was a no, even though at this point she’d have some sort of idea about what she was talking about. And Wanda was in a similar boat, as Natasha’s soulmate, but then she’d tell Pietro and then Pietro would come back to him and ask him about it and by that point the cat would be out of the bag.

So Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha were all big fat no’s.

And there was no way Clint was going to Steve about this, not when his best friend was the person of interest.

Maybe he should just go to Bruce.

But Bruce would probably just tell him to go talk about his feelings or some shit and that wasn’t something Clint could properly handle… probably.

So that was why Clint was standing outside of Tony’s lab, questioning his decisions.

Tony had to be the best option though. Hopefully.

Clint could hear the faint music coming through the walls, but he knocked on the doors before he could doubt himself further.

The lab was mostly soundproof, but the sudden stop of the music and Tony’s call for Friday was loud enough.

It didn’t take long before the lock sounded from the door, and Friday spoke, “Welcome, Clint. Tony is awake and mostly aware of the world around him.”

Clint held back a snort, for Tony’s sake, and did his best to calm himself down before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The lab looked exactly the same as it had the last time Clint had been down there, which was when he broke his last pair of hearing aids with no backups left, but there were a few new projects.

At the thought, Clint scratched behind his ear, vaguely wondering if it would be too much on Tony to ask for advice and new hearing aids.

Clint glanced around, finding Tony sat at one of his workbenches, with a hologram open in front of him and his workspace filled with different parts for whatever he was working on.

The archer walked over slowly, but he doubted Tony hadn’t seen him coming over.

“Now, what is our resident Robin Hood doing in my lab?” Tony questioned, still looking at his project and hands busy.

Clint shrugged, “Still figuring it out.” He settled on saying. He wanted to see how Tony was doing before he dropped his news on the man.

Tony hummed in acknowledgement, “Well, if you’re looking for a certain something, it’ll cost you extra.” He joked.

Clint rolled his eyes, looking around quickly before grabbing a nearby stool and dragging it over. He plopped down into the seat, catching the attention of DUM-E, who Clint waved at.

The bot rolled over and poked at Clint’s thigh in, what Clint assumed was, excitement.

Clint distracted himself with DUM-E for a few minutes, until the bot got distracted by another one of Tony’s bots.

“Made up your mind yet, Legolas?” Tony questioned.

“What’re you workin’ on?” Clint asked instead, feigning a current interest in whatever the fuck Tony was fiddling with.

“Something for Peter.” Tony answered after a moment.

“A gift?”

Tony scoffed, “I wouldn’t give my intern a gift, Barton.”

Clitn doubted that, at least for Parker.

Clint nodded though, “Then what’s it for?”

“A ‘You’re doing good, kid’ kind of thing.” Tony replied, hands pausing briefly.

“Yeah that is definitely not a gift, Tony.”

“Look at you keeping up, birdbrain!” Tony said, sarcastically, “I’m dropping it off to the kid later today with no gift receipt so he can’t feel bad and return it,” Tony paused, “But he still will and I’ll make Friday block him from getting into the compound until he accepts the package.”

Clint hummed, “What a kind boss, you are.” He leaned closer to Tony to get a better look at the device but he couldn’t get a grip on what it was, “Care to explain what the fuck that thing is?”

“Inside joke.” Tony explained.

Clint rolled his eyes, “Helpful.” He muttered.

Tony nodded before he spoke again, “Any reasoning behind your visit yet, Barton?”

“How’re you and Steve? Cutest couple ‘round the compound, huh?” Clint replied, looking around the lab to avoid Tony’s nonexistent stare on him. The man was still looking at his little project and yet Clint was still avoiding catching his eye.

Tony tensed briefly, and Clint wondered if maybe his diversion went a little too deep, but Tony replied, “A certain brainwashed assassin is causing some drama, but for some reason I love the blond dumbass.” Tony said honestly.

Clint opened his mouth to say something else, anything to keep conversation, but Tony cut him off. He set down his project and twisted in his seat to face Clint, “But I’m doubting you’re here to talk about Steve and I.”

“What makes you say that? Maybe I want to make sure everyone's relationships are clean and holy.” Clint excused, feeling as if he was almost joking with himself at this point.

Tony snorted, “Then you’re going to be disappointed because everyone here is fucked up and in no way holy.” He paused, “Are you feeling lonely, Barton?” Tony joked, “Because I’m sure Natasha can work her scary best friend powers and get you a one night stand.”

Clint waved the reply off, finding himself growing frustrated, “Not looking for that.”

“Then a relationship?” Tony pushed, resting his head on his hand on the tabletop next to him, “Or—” Tony cut himself off as his eyes widened, “You don’t want to get back with Laura, do you? Because that’s all sorts of wrong since she’s got her boyfriend an—”

Clint groaned, loudly, “That’s not why I’m here, Tony!”

“Then why the hell are you here, Hawkguy, because I’m a little lost here.” Tony replied, looking away from Clint and picking up a mug nearby. He looked into the cup, sniffing the liquid briefly before he took a large sip.

“Because—” Clint stopped himself. Did he really want to tell Tony this?

Clint groaned again before he stood. Dramatic way it was, then.

Clint lifted his shirt, revealing the lower half of his torso and causing Tony's eyes to widen. As the archer hooked a finger into the top of his pants, Tony spoke, “Woah, woah, Cl—”

His voice faltered and he stopped speaking as Clint pulled down his pants at the edge just enough for the red words to be visible.

Tony stared at the spot for a few moments before he waved a hand dismissively, “Shut the show down, Barton, I’m practically a married man.” He joked weakly.

Clint did as asked, fixing his clothes and sitting again, “I’m sure Steve would love to hear you say that.”

“I’m sure he would, but we aren’t here to discuss Steve.” Tony replied.

Clint nodded and let the room fall silent for a few moments.

“So why are you here?” Tony pushed.

Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I can’t go to Natasha because I don’t think she’d like the details of my situation. Can’t go to the twins because Wanda and Natasha are… close and Pietro just met his soulmate and I worry that he’d end up spilling the beans on accident.”

“And Laura? You didn’t ask her?” Tony asked, surprise leaking into his tone.

Clint nodded, “She figured out that I met my soulmate because she saw the words but she didn’t push and I didn’t give, so we didn’t talk about it much.”

Tony took another sip of his coffee, face scrunching up, “God, she would’ve been the perfect candidate for this and yet you’ve come to Tony Stark for advice.”

“I figured you would give me a straight, unbiased answer.”

Tony hummed, nodding. He stayed silent for a moment, “They know you’re their soulmate?”

Clint shrugged, “I mean, I would think they would? I didn’t say anything after they spoke to me for awhile, but when I did, they didn’t do anything.”

“Maybe they’ve got a high pain tolerance.” Tony shrugged.

Clint bit his lip in thought, “Don’t doubt it.” He mumbled. Which was true, he couldn't doubt that Barnes had a particularly high pain tolerance.

“Does your soulmate have a girlfriend or a boyfriend or something?”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

Tony nodded, eyes skipping to Clint’s hip, “Based on what I saw, I can only assume they must’ve known who you were before you even met.” He guessed.

Clint thought of Barnes’ journal, where there were pictures of his face. So Barnes already knew who he was, most people did these days. But, in that moment, Barnes decided to speak to him for some reason and Clint didn’t say anything back.

“But what kind of advice are you lookin’ for, Clint?” Tony questioned, placing his mug down with a sigh.

Clint shrugged, “Anything, I guess. Just… something that can help with this mess.”

Tony ran his hand down his face, “Sure, sure,” He replied.

“Just think about it as practice for the future Stark-Rogers kid.”

Tony held up a hand, “We aren’t talking about that right now, Barton.”

Clint grinned, despite the situation, “I guess you could’ve gotten better practice with Peter if Pietro wasn’t so forward.”

“I will call security and have them parade you around the compound, Clint.”

Clint chuckled, “You know very well that wouldn’t embarrass me, but I’ll let up.”

Tony shook his head, mostly to himself. “Listen, Clint, when Steve and I figured out we were soulmates, we didn’t really like each other and Steve was still mourning Barnes and what he never got with Peggy. For me, Pepper had just broken things off with me. It was a perfect situation, I know.” He started, “But we were on a team together and had to talk once in awhile. After time, everything just changed and suddenly we were always spending time together and ended up where we are now.

“I’ve heard of it happening. The whole, you meet them and suddenly everything makes sense and you two click. Sometimes it doesn’t happen and it doesn’t end well, I mean, it happened with my parents.” Tony paused, “But that’s only one example. Look at Peter and Pietro, they’re constantly around each other and finish each other’s fucking sentences and they haven’t even known each other that long. And Wanda and Natasha have this weird little connection thing. They hid their relationship really well but it was kind of hard to ignore the way they started acting when they were in a room together.

“Steve and I understand each other well too and even when we fight, we always come back to each other, somehow. There’s just something there.” Tony sighed, scratching at his chin, “What I’m trying to say is that avoiding your soulmate won’t do much good in the end. I’m betting that if you two start talking, you’ll end up like all the other couples on the team.”

“So I just need to talk to them?” Clint asked quietly.

“Worse comes to worse, you’ve got the team and you’ve got Laura, Cooper, and I’d say whoever Laura’s involved with.”

But Barnes meant Steve and Steve meant Tony and Tony meant the rest of the team.

If he tried talking to Barnes about this and it failed terribly, Steve would side with Barnes and that left Clint at a disadvantage in his work and friends. And if Steve taking Barnes side put a strain on Tony and Steve, Clint wasn’t sure he would be able to handle being around most of the team anymore.

Clint put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut, “God, Tony, I’m not sure I can do that with my soulmate.”

“Clin—”

“What would I do if Steve hated me afterwards, or Natasha thought I was betraying her or some crazy shit?” Clint continued on.

“Why would—” Tony tried to cut in, brows furrowed.

“What if me trying to talk to him fucks him up even more or something? I know what it’s like to be there and I can’t make his life even fucking harder, Tony.” Clint said.

Tony put a hand on Clint’s shoulder, tightening his grip briefly in attempts to be comforting, “Clint, buddy, you aren’t making much sense.”

“Well, Tony, how the hell would you tell the fucking Winter Soldier that you’re his soulmate? ‘Oh, hey man, sorry about how terrible your life has been but do you wanna fuck?’ God, Tony I’m screwed.” Clint muttered, tone dark.

Tony stilled in front of Clint, shock obviously hitting him. Clint shook off Tony’s hand.

“As in Bucky Barnes, right? We aren't talking about some cheap copycat or a stripper?” Tony clarified, speaking slowly, “Like Bucky ex-assassin, ex-HYDRA, murder-y glare Barnes?”

Clint nodded before he dropped his hands from his face, head still tilted down.

“Wow,” Tony mumbled. A moment of silence passed, “Fuck, Clint, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Same here, Stark.” Clint chuckled humorlessly.

Tony waited until Clint eventually looked up, “Maybe just follow the advice I gave you, Clint,” Tony suggested, “Pretty much don’t do what I’d do: ignore him until someone starts yelling.”

“It won’t be that easy, Tony.”

“Did I ever say it was going to be easy, Legolas?” Tony countered, “Relationships in general are hard, but a relationship with a dude that barely knows himself? Hard and probably not a very good idea.”

“Then why the hell would I follow your advice?” Clint asked, brows furrowing.

Tony shrugged and glanced at the hologram that was still up next to him, “Go with whatever you wanna do, Barton, but… I don’t know, maybe knowing someone can be there for him that isn’t Steve might be a little nice. Would you have liked that after Loki? To have more than just Natasha?”

Clint thought it over. It had been hard to be around anyone then, even Natasha, but she stuck around and was able to help him through it. He had longed to be included in the mix of a group the team had formed though.

Maybe someone reaching out to him then, not just Natasha, would’ve been nice, even if Clint would have ignored them. Clint had gone through something that was only similar to what Barnes had gone through though.

Barnes had spent two years away from HYDRA apparently. Maybe he wanted to be alone during those two years, or maybe he thought he deserved to be alone, but for all Clint knew, he might have appreciated some human company.

Tony took Clint’s silence as answer enough, “But what about you? You’re okay with everything he’s done?”

“He didn’t really do it though, right? That’s what everyone thinks and I guess I think the same.” Clint paused, thinking it over, “But I guess it was the same body who did it all, and Barnes is the one whose gotta deal with the fallout.”

“And?”

“I guess I understand having to deal with deaths that are your fault but everyone says they aren't.” Clint settled on saying.

Tony shifted, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, “Did you ever look into what big names Barnes took out?”

Clint nodded and straightened up in attempt to look a little less… small, “I did, but I doubt it was a full list; just the ones HYDRA wasn’t scared of someone seeing.”

Tony nodded slowly and looked away from Clint. He twisted in his seat, reaching out and starting to mess with the hologram as the images changed.

Clint stayed silent and chose to not even try to keep up with whatever Tony was bringing up.

“He killed my parents.” Tony stated.

Clint startled, nearly falling out of his seat, “What!?” He asked, shocked at the sudden switch in conversation.

Tony shrugged and waved his hand, the hologram coming to rest in front of Clint. The hologram showed a few shots of a road and what looked to be a car crash. Clint could make out the story well enough to get the basics: Tony’s parents had crashed and Barnes was walking to their car. He killed the two easily enough and stole something from the trunk of the car.

He put a bullet in the camera that recorded the mess.

“He took a case that was filled with super soldier serum samples.” Tony waved his hand again, summoning the hologram back, “Looked into it and apparently whatever project they wanted the serum for failed. Terribly.”

“Barnes he…” Clint trailed off. Steve had told him about this already, once, but hearing Tony talk about it was different, possibly more startlingly. Clint didn’t know the exact details either, before.

“Pretty sure Barnes wasn’t supposed to get caught on camera for that either, so it makes me wonder about what the little assassin’s tactics were.” Tony took a sip of his coffee, looking at the hologram thoughtfully.

Clint looked too, specifically at the sight of the Winter Soldier pointing a gun at the camera.

Funny to think he’s been on the receiving end of the Winter Soldier’s guns before.

“But I’m sure Steve already cornered you and poured his heart out about this, huh?”

Clint startled again, but Tony continued on, “Friday,” He explained, “Doesn’t always trust everyone.” He turned to face Clint again, “I’ve known for about a year and it was because Friday caught a snippet of conversation between Natasha and Steve about it.”

“And you never asked him about it?” Clint asked slowly.

Tony shrugged, looking away again, “Part of me thought Steve wouldn’t ever find Barnes.” He said, “Part of me wanted Steve to tell me himself, because if I brought it up, I don’t think I could have handled the situation in any good way a year ago.”

“And now its been two years since he’s known.” Clint ventured.

Tony chuckled humorously, “Yep,” he started, “And in a way, Barnes being here has made it all a little worse.”

“Which is understandable.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, “But I don’t know why I’ve stayed silent about it for a year, but with how often Steve has been gone, I’ve had time to think about it.” He explained, “I looked into the Winter Soldier more and Friday found me a file. It explained all the gory details and then I thought about it. Barnes really didn’t get a choice. I can be upset with him as much as I want, and I will be, but honestly? What point is there in making Barnes suffer for something he didn’t choose to do?”

Clint supposed Tony was a lot more mature than most people thought, but Clint was surprised by Tony’s reaction to the news for other reasons.

Clint knew that Howard Stark didn’t end up being a kind man, but Maria Stark did her best for Tony, according to the man himself.

“In conclusion, Barton, I’m gonna be rightfully upset at Barnes when all of this unravels, but I’ve had time to think about it and to make it hurt less. Let’s just say it will take awhile until Barnes and I can be buddies.”

“Yeah,” Clint muttered, trailing off, “But you and Steve?”

Tony faltered at the question, “You know, Clint, if we weren’t soulmates I think I would have kicked Steve out of my life by now.” He said, “But, every damn time one of us gets upset, something switches and we’re okay.” Tony shrugged and looked to Clint, “You know what they say, ‘the universe works in mysterious ways’.”

Clint couldn’t imagine being in Tony’s shoes, and he couldn’t imagine reacting the way Tony was reacting.

“But, Birdbrain, I’ve got a feeling the universe can’t exactly save us entirely after this.” Tony admitted, “I love him, always will, but even now, I’m working on looking at him and not thinking about him lying.”

Tony patted Clint on the shoulder, “But don’t let my sob story stop you from getting some, Barton.”

Clint nodded, slightly taken aback, and letting the joke pass.

The archer watched as Tony switched the hologram back to what it had been originally set at when he entered the lab and Tony resumed his work.

Clint took that as his cue to leave, but he planned on doing so silently.

As Clint stood and started walking away, Tony’s voice rang out, “There are some new hearing aids waiting for you in your quarters, Clint,” He paused, “And good luck with Barnes.”

Clint stilled, “Good luck with Steve and Barnes, Tony.” He called back before he stepped out of the lab.

After the door shut, Clint heard the lock switch and the faint sounds of music making its way through the walls again.

Clint figured that the best way to deal with his emotions and thoughts was going back to his quarters, ordering some pizza and watch Dog Cops with Lucky.

Clint made his way to his quarters easily enough, and sure enough, the new hearing aids were sat on his coffee table with a piece of paper signed by Tony.

“Friday?” Clint called out.

“Yes, Clint?” Friday replied, voice slightly hesitant. Clint was sure the reasoning behind the hesitance was because of his conversation with Tony

“Regular order of pizza please, Fri.” He requested as he walked to his room and grabbed some of the first clean clothes he saw and moved to the bathroom.

Friday confirmed his order as he shut the bathroom door, her voice cutting off.

Clint made made quick work of taking out his hearing aids and stripping down. He let out a long sigh, planning to avoid the mirror until the red against his hip became too apparent.

Clint bit his lip and gave into looking into the mirror, eyes going to the words immediately. He had been avoiding seeing them since they turned red.

It was too much to think about then, but now, it felt a little easier.

Clint trailed a hand over the words, faintly thinking about what Barnes may be thinking about or what he may be doing.

Clint stilled when he realized his own thoughts, looking to his face in the mirror instead. Clint did his best to smother his thoughts and instead stepped into the shower.

Chapter Text

Clint leaned back against the wall in the elevator as the doors slid shut. He raised his bow in his hand slightly, “Make your best guess, Friday.” He called out in place of Friday’s usual request of a floor or desired room.

The elevator started moving, “I hope you enjoy lunch in the kitchen.” Friday answered back, voice tilting more towards a monotone.

Clint snorted, “Tony must be very proud of how far you’ve come in conversation.”

“We had a conversation very similar to that as he delivered Mr. Parker’s gift actually.” Friday replied.

“Oh, so it really was a gift?” Clint questioned, although he already knew the answer.

“He would deny the accusation, but based on what I know about celebrations and gifts, I would assume what he gave to Mr. Parker would be considered a gift.”

Clint hummed in acknowledgement, “Did Peter like whatever he got?” He decided to ask.

“Very much so, but he did try to return it once he realized what it was, but he did not go as far as to let Boss leave his apartment and instead kept him from leaving until Boss finally convinced Mr. Parker that he could keep the gift.” Friday answered easily.

Clint grinned. He hadn’t met Peter too many times, but from what he could tell, he probably had Tony wrapped around his finger most days.

The elevator dinged, signaling that Clint had arrived to his desired floor.

“Nice chat, Friday.” Clint said as he stepped off the elevator and into the hallway leading to the range.

“It was my pleasure, Agent Barton.”

Clint let out a sigh as he glanced around the hallway. His plans were to get in some range time in order to get him to focus on something else, specifically not Barnes. He started down the hall that led to the range. He heard faint footsteps from around the corner of the hallway, and Clint expected to see some of the baby agents or someone like Maria Hill, but Clint was a little more than surprised when he turned the corner to find Peter leading a group of kids that looked to be his age.

The group, made up of four including Peter, stopped when they saw Clint, but Clint just chose to smile and keep walking towards them. He didn’t have much planned for the day, besides training with Pietro later in the day, so he didn’t have to rush past Peter and his friends.

In fact, speaking of Pietro, Clint kind of wanted to get to know Peter a little bit better. Especially if he was going to be around more often.

“Hey, Parker.” Clint said as he approached, adjusting his grip on his bow to play up the archer part of his life. He knew how to get attention and he would admit just that.

Peter smiled at Clint, albeit a little nervously until he seemed to get ahold of his emotions and rolled his shoulders back partially, “H-Hey Mr. Barton.”

Clint smiled back and glanced at Peter’s friends. One was a girl, expression visibly bored but her interest somehow clear. Her dark curly hair was pulled back out of her face, mostly, and she had a journal tucked under her arm.

The other two were boys, but the one on Peter’s other side was smiling widely at Clint. His hair was falling into his eyes slightly, reminding Clint vaguely of Cooper, and after a second longer look Clint guessed he was Filipino. Clint held back a laugh at the way the kid stilled when he caught Clint glancing at him.

Behind Peter was the other boy, who seemed much more calmer than his friends, besides the girl. There was something familiar about him, but Clint supposed there were a lot of skinny white boys in the world. What caught his eye were the dark bags under his eyes.

“So,” Clint started, “You gonna introduce me to your friends, Pete?” Clint supposed he could play up the friendly nature between him and Peter if it made his friends a little happy or something.

It seemed to do the trick with the way the boy next to Peter nudged Peter.

“Oh!” Peter exclaimed, “Yeah, yeah, that’d be a good idea.” He glanced at his friends before he pointed at the girl, “That’s Michelle Jones,” He pointed to the kid next to him, “That’s Ned Leeds,” he pointed to the kid behind him, who had moved closer to the wall, “And that’s Harry Osborn.”

Clint’s brows furrowed, looking at “Harry”, “Osborn?” He questioned.

The teen raised a brow at Clint and shrugged, “In the flesh.”

Clint nodded, “Stark’s okay with an Osborn being here?” Clint asked Peter. He was sure there was some sort of thing between Stark Industries and pretty much every other company.

“Mr. Stark was fine with me bringing my friends by, including Harry.” Peter defended, seemingly slightly offended.

Clint held up his hands in defense, “No hard feelings on my end. Hell, I don’t even keep up with Stark Industries many rivals.”

Harry snorted, but didn’t comment any further.

Michelle raised her hand slightly to gain Clint’s attention, “So, Hawkeye,” She addressed. She pointed at his bow, “Were you about to go to the range and practice your shooting?”

She seemed vaguely interested at least.

“Oh crap,” Ned muttered, suddenly looking apologetic, “Sorry if we got in your way, Sir.”

Clint waved it off, “I don’t have much going on so this chat is greatly appreciated, but you are correct, Miss Michelle, I was about to go shoot some arrows.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but based on the look on his face, Clint was sure he was going to apologize about something, so Clint interrupted, “So, are you giving your buddies a tour, Parker?”

Peter nodded, “And, uh, we were going to head up to hang out with Pietro and Wanda too.”

Clint hummed in acknowledgement, “Just make sure Pietro comes down for training on time. I know he likes you way too much, more than I need to know, but I don’t need to hear him use you as an excuse for being late again.”

Peter blushed at the comment and behind him, Harry grinned and nudged Peter with his foot.

Peter laughed nervously, “Yeah, I’ll, uh, make sure he heads down on time.”

“Good,” Clint replied before he glanced behind the teenagers and to his bow. He thought it over briefly, “You guys wanna watch me shoot some arrows before Pietro inevitably steals you away for the day and shows up late to training?”

Ned’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly, “That would be so cool!” He coughed, seemingly slightly embarrassed, “Uh, yeah, that would be an honor, Sir.” He corrected himself.

Clint grinned at the response.

“Would be fun to see someone enjoying themselves for once.” Michelle muttered, “Unlike that sad sack of shit, Harry.”

Harry’s head popped up, glaring at Michelle, “I can buy your entire school, MJ.”

“Do it, Osborn, at least maybe then they’ll have some decent books.” Michelle shot back.

Peter clapped his hands together, gaining the attention of his friends, “So, the range?”

Clint smiled at the four, “I’ll make sure to show off my best tricks for your friends, Pete. Maybe then I can take over Pietro’s spot as favorite Avenger.”

Harry grinned, “That won’t happen until Peter isn’t getting dicke—”

Almost too fast for Clint to catch, Peter landed an elbow into Harry’s side. Harry winced, doubling over and swearing under his breath.

Clint thought it was best to get the group moving towards the range after that.

James had formed some sort of workout routine with Steve, of which didn’t actually include Steve, mostly, in the last couple of days.

James still felt that when he was using the equipment and reached that blank state of mind, he wasn’t the safest to be around. Steve had pushed and made sure that sometimes he could join in with James, but James decided that those were going to be the days where he would take it easy.

But it was only the first day of his new routine and about two days after Clint spoke to him for the first time.

James increased the speed on the treadmill as his mind wandered. He was doing his best to avoid the blank state of mind at least.

Steve had been surprised when James had asked him about the words on his side, and it had taken a little bit of pushing for the man to explain much.

Just as it had begun to frustrate James, Steve had given in and started explaining what the words meant. He had even pulled up his shirt and showed the red words he had. They read, ‘ Captain ’ and James had found himself waiting for a much longer explanation than he had walked in expecting.

But Steve had started off with the story of how he had met Tony Stark and how they moved into a relationship together. James listened closely, interested in what he didn’t know, but he hadn’t been all that sure for why that related to him.

But Steve had started saying something about soulmates, about how he and Tony were soulmates. It all made sense to James long before Steve finished his explanation.

Steve had said that most people in the world were born with words somewhere on their body and when they met their soulmate , the words turned red.

Which meant that James had met his soulmate and for some reason, he didn’t find himself surprised.

As he sat on Steve’s couch, listening to him talk about the different couples in the compound who were soulmates, James was thinking about a memory that had hit him full force one night, enough to get him to cry.

Maybe he had been purposefully keeping the memory fuzzy, because as he thought about it more and more, too many things kept making sense.

Clint Barton had been there the night the Winter Soldier killed another man for HYDRA. Casetta was his name.

But Clint Barton must have been there for the same reason and he was upset when James was the one to kill Casetta.

He yelled at James, he yelled the words that James had a hard time forgetting and the fact that Clint spoke them had made him so very, very angry.

And he nearly killed Clint Barton that night.

The Asset did not speak much then though, and James Barnes hadn’t said anything back.

Steve said that the words only turned red when your soulmate says them.

James retraced his memories, letting Steve’s voice fade into the background.

Because he hadn’t spoken to Clint Barton that night, right? He hadn’t.

But he had spoken to him when Steve found him in Romania.

James brows furrowed as he recalled the memory. He couldn’t quite remember why he said what he said, but he remembered seeing all the pictures and videos of Clint Barton and when seeing him in person, James decided that the pictures and videos hadn't done him justice. For one, the archer’s hair wasn’t brown; his hair was blond. His eyes were also so very blue and he—

James had cut off the thought.

But James had spoken to Clint and Clint had spoken to him, despite the years between the two events.

When Steve had asked James if he knew who his soulmate was, James had said he didn’t.

He supposed he did though, even if he had yet to understand it.

James was tired of the treadmill. He slowed it down until it stopped and he stepped off, momentarily forgetting what Steve had planned for him to do next.

But James’ momentary pause was enough for him to lose his surroundings and suddenly there was a woman leaning against the door.

Natalia tilted her head at James, “Повеселись?” She questioned.

Well he certainly wasn’t having fun now . James tensed at the language, despite her question.

Natalia caught the change though, eyes narrowing the slightest bit that only few could catch.

“Guess the assassins in this place have a habit of watching me, huh?” James muttered.

Natalia caught the comment easily enough, but she didn’t comment on it, “ You didn’t answer me. Are you having fun ?” She asked again, keeping the conversation in Russian.

James shrugged, keeping an eye on the redhead, “Hard to have fun when you’re me.” He mumbled.

Natalia (Natasha?) rolled her eyes, “ No Russian? ”

“I prefer English these days.” He replied, turning and walking to where he had placed a water bottle when he had walked in earlier. He didn’t think he really needed the water yet, but it was nice enough distraction.

“ The James I knew only liked Russian. ” She pushed.

James squeezed the water bottle, hard, at the comment, “You never knew me.” He stated firmly.

“ I’m afraid I did, at least the man you once were .” She started towards him, stopping a few feet away from him, “ I never knew there was such a human side to that James though. ”

James shook his head, “That thing was not James.” He muttered, “He never was and he never will be, no matter how hard you wish.” He turned to face Natasha (Natalia?), “You knew a weapon, not a man.”

He started towards the treadmill again, looking for a distraction when she spoke, “So you remember me then?” She questioned, switching to English. Her voice had a hopeful tilt to it, James thought.

“I remember a young girl with red hair and knives. She was less of a child and more of a weapon.” James answered.

“Then I suppose I have changed.”

James turned to face her, “Have you?” He asked doubtfully, thinking of that young girl.

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, but remained looking at James. He knew that habit of hers. She wasn’t comfortable anymore; out of her element, even slightly. It was a habit he tried to train out of her. It was a habit she had only around James.

He wondered if she did the same around Clint.

“I‘d like to think I’m not the same little girl anymore,” She replied after a moment, “Or that maybe I have a heart again.”

James looked closely as Natasha, noticing the new smile lines around her lips and the pink to her cheeks. She lacked much purple under her eyes and her eyes were brighter than he remembered.

“I’d like to think that the Red Room no longer controls me.” She mumbled, her true emotions flickering through.

James fell silent, mind continuing to go back to that young girl.

He shoved down his own emotions, faintly remembering the way these conversations used to go between them, “Why are you here, Natalia?”

He hadn’t meant to let the name slip, and based on the flinch Natasha gave, she hadn’t been expecting it or enjoyed it.

Natasha looked away, expression hardening, “The animals were sent away to their new homes. I was told to inform Steve first but I came here instead to tell you.”

James nodded, thinking about those animals he had housed, specifically Rocky and his new home. He could only hope that they lived good lives now.

“You’ve never told anyone about your time in Romania, have you?” Natalia asked, stepping closer to James.

He tilted his head, “Why would I?”

She shrugged, “I was hopeful that maybe you were talking more than I thought.”

James narrowed his eyes at her, “ You act as if it's easy. ” He hadn’t meant to switch into Russian, but he had, and based on the way Natalia’s eyes lit up, she was pushing for the change.

“ I never said that ,” she countered, Russian falling from her lips, “ Perhaps I was expecting more from you, James. ”

“ You weren’t the only one then .” He replied, briefly thinking of Steve.

Natasha rolled her eyes, stepping closer again, “ Perhaps I was expecting the Asset again, and not the man I never met. ”

“ And which do you prefer so far? The man who can’t look at anyone or the weapon that would kill you if you stepped out of line? ” He countered, frustration building.

Maybe that was what Natasha wanted.

“ I don’t know yet, but I hope you’d know, James. ”

James looked away, not wanting to give her the answer she was looking for. She knew already though, James knew, but he didn't need to look her in the eyes as he walked right into her trap.

Maybe he wanted to be pushed to the limit again.

“Why are you staying here?” James questioned, switching back to English.

She looked at him for a moment. Something in her switched with the slight change in her posture, “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for your company?” She asked quietly.

“I would not.” James bit back.

Natasha kept her eyes on James, “My team is occupied, especially Clint and Wanda.” She admitted, “And I’ve been wondering what happened to you, James. All I hear are the negative parts.”

James flinched slightly at the mention of Clint and he wondered if Natalia purposefully ignored it.

“I’m not good company, Natalia.” James muttered, looking down at his water bottle.

He caught the way her stance changed and the step she took sideways, “ Do you remember training me, James? ” She questioned suddenly, the Russian words coming back.

“I told you—”

Natalia stepped up to him, gaze menacing, “ I asked you a question, James, and I don’t want your bullshit answer. ”

James found himself instinctually matching her stance, straightening up to be at his full height and trying to gain the advantage already, “ I remember a young girl— ”

Natalia glared at him and swung her fist froward, aim messy. She wasn't surprised when he caught her fist easily, “Bullshit!” She yelled.

“What do you want me to say, Natalia?” He yelled back.

He tightened his grip on her fist and he was rewarded with Natalia ducking and aiming at his legs. He was out of practice fighting with Natalia and she managed to get him to release her fist. She followed it with jumping up and catching him around the neck.

He quickly followed with grabbing her and swinging her off of him and down to the ground. He found himself raising his metal fist, but he held back.

Natalia rolled away and stood, stance still tense, “Something, James, I want something that means you remember who I was!”

She ran at him and James could point out each mistake with their fight so far. He used her momentum against her and landed a hit on her abdomen, hard enough to get her down to the floor. He followed after her, pressing his forearm to her neck.

He opened his mouth, faltering. She stared up at him, eyes hard and demanding.

He wasn’t sure what he remembered, not clearly or at least not in the order she was looking for.

“Tell me, James.” She muttered, voice halted slightly from the pressure on her neck.

A flash of red hair against white snow and his name over and over again. Gunshots and lights and it all ending in his arm freezing up and him falling to his knees in the snow. Natalia was hit hard enough to knock her out.

James blinked, trying to will away the echoes of Russian curses, “We tried to run away.” He pushed out, “It was your idea and you… you were scared.”

James thought that maybe those were tears building in Natalia’s eyes.

“But you wouldn’t leave without me, even though I didn’t get it, Natalia.” He continued, “And… and I went with you but I can’t remember why.” James leaned away from Natalia, hand against her throat coming to rest beside her head, “You were so young, Natalia, so, so young.” He mumbled, brows furrowing.

Natasha, Natalia, she kept her eyes on James, despite the tears that were threatening to drop.

“But we weren’t fast enough, not smart enough, and they… they took us back but I…” he trailed off.

“They took my memories of that night, James.” Natasha whispered, a couple tears trailing down her face, “But I remembered and I couldn’t find you.”

James held back the emotions he was feeling because those were something he couldn’t deal with, “Did you try?” He asked quietly, “Did you try looking for me?” His voice broke at the end of his words.

She nodded and James wondered how often she showed this side of herself. She reached up and tapped his shoulder, the metal one, and James understood immediately. He rolled off of her, laying down next to her.

She didn’t hesitate before she tangled her hand with his, flesh and metal, “I’m sorry, James.” She whispered.

James squeezed her hand, mind flooding with memories of that little girl who was scared.

So, so scared.

Chapter Text

Clint sighed as he lay his head against the kitchen counter. It was one of the mornings where he had pulled up a stool in front of the coffeemaker and was occasionally taking sips from the coffee pot.

He was scheduled to join in on training with Scott, Sam, Pietro, and Wanda soon, just a mere hour away, but he was still having trouble with staying awake.

As if sensing someone thinking about him, Scott’s voice rang out, “Oh, hey, man!

Clint lifted his head enough to spot Scott walking into the kitchen. He was already dressed in his Ant-Man get up, besides the helmet. He started towards the cabinet a little way away from Clint.

“Hey, Scott.” Clint replied, voice dripping with his obvious desire for sleep.

Scott seemed to be feeling the opposite though as he plucked a plate from the cabinet and picked a bagel from the basket Bruce had left out on the counter. The man himself had been called down by Helen Cho, so he left the Avengers to fend for themselves for breakfast. It only made Clint realize that the Avengers were really dependent on each other when it came to food, strangely enough.

“Hard time waking up?” Scott questioned, moving to the refrigerator and pulling out the cream cheese, “Trust me, I’ve been there and you’re doin’ the right thing with downing the pot of coffee.”

Clint hummed in agreement, “Did you already have your pot of coffee?”

Scot shrugged, “Hope and Hank forced me to cut down a little bit. Hank said it had something to do with the Ant-Man stuff, but I’m starting to think he just wants me to suffer.” He took a bite of his bagel.

Clint sat up, just enough to take a sip from his coffee pot. Scott seemed ready to keep the conversation going, but Sam’s call for him cut him off, “Tic-Tac, time to get moving!”

Scott visibly deflated, although his excitement for getting to start his training was evident. He took one more quick bite of his bagel before throwing it into the trash sadly. He placed the plate in the sink as he walked past Clint. Clint snorted, “I did warn you that you should never volunteer for setting up for training.”

“I think I liked you better when you were half-awake and couldn’t speak!” Scott called back as he left the kitchen.

Clint chuckled to himself and dropped his head back down onto the counter, letting out a breath and letting his eyes shut briefly.

He was at least somewhat positive that he wasn’t going to fall asleep on the counter.

He was held back from reaching that fate when another person entered the kitchen. Clint didn’t question the person much since he was sure most of the Avengers were awake by then, but the footsteps also seemed lighter than most of the Avengers, or at the very least much more quiet.

Clint opened his eyes slightly, swallowing his surprise at the sight of Barnes uneasily opening a few cabinets, brows furrowed. Now would you look at that, a wild soulmate had been spotted!

Clint already hated the joke before he thought of it.

Clint watched as a look of relief passed over Barnes’ face as he opened a cabinet. He slowly pulled out a mug, shutting the cabinet quietly. He glanced around the kitchen until his eyes came to rest upon Clint and the coffee pot.

Barnes grip on his mug visibly tightened, but he didn’t do much else.

Clint supposed that even super soldiers couldn’t resist coffee after a while.

Clint opened his eyes more, not shocking Barnes in any way. Of course the man knew Clint was awake and watching.

Clint raised the coffee pot a few inches off of the counter, “Lookin’ for this?” He questioned, voice still altered from his sleep.

Barnes’ clenched his jaw before he nodded quickly.

Clint hummed in acknowledgement before he set the pot down and let it go. He supposed he could spare some of his coffee for the man, “It’s got some Barton germs in it now, but feel free to take a cup.”

Barnes head tilted inquisitively, “Barton germs?” He muttered.

“Sometimes one cannot be satisfied by just a cup of coffee.”

Barnes nodded and made his way towards Clint, slightly unsure even then. He switched the mug from his right hand to his left, so he could reach over Clint for the coffee pot with his flesh hand. Considerate, but unneeded to Clint.

Clint watched as Barnes poured himself a cup of coffee and set the pot back down.

Clint wondered when the last time Barnes had coffee was. Maybe Barnes didn’t know either if his look at the coffee meant anything.

Barnes took a sip, still having yet to leave the kitchen.

Clint looked closely as Barnes’ expression morphed for barely a second. Guess he’s not a huge fan of just coffee.

As Barnes went to take another sip, Clint sat up and stretched, catching the man’s attention. Clint gestured lazily at the refrigerator, “You could try some milk in the coffee too. Or some sweetener.” Clint suggested.

Barnes stood in his spot for a few seconds after the suggestion before he did as suggested, taking a moment before he pulled out both milk and sweetener.

Clint sat and paid close attention as Barnes started adding things into his coffee. The archer wasn’t exactly sure why he felt the need to keep what was going in that cup of coffee in mind, but he knew he had. Clint watched in amusement as the man’s coffee continued to lighten and lighten until Clint was sure the bitter bite of the coffee had subsided.

Clint thought it might be a little ironic that Barnes, once only seen as the Winter Soldier, didn’t like his coffee plain and dark. But maybe it made more sense in the end.

Barnes put away the milk and sweetener carefully before he returned to his coffee. He shot a look at Clint as he took the first sip, the look on his face being yet another look of relief but now laced with joy.

Barnes hesitated before he opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off as Steve rushed into the kitchen.

“Buck, we need to talk.” He said quickly, not giving Barnes a moment to respond before he grabbed onto Barnes’ arm and tugged him out of the kitchen.

Clint twisted in his seat to watch them leave, “Bye, uh, James!” Clint felt the need to call out.

Barnes head shot up at the goodbye, but Steve was already pulling him into the elevator.

“Steve?” James asked quietly as the elevator doors slide shut behind them.

Steve didn’t reply immediately. He looked away from James, fists curled up.

“Fri, privacy please?” Steve called out instead.

“Captain Rogers, I’m afraid I cannot—“ Friday started.

“Override code—“ Steve said before he started listing off a code filled with numbers, words, and singular letters. James caught the code easily, but something about the way Steve listed the code seemed like something James couldn’t replicate. Maybe that was the point.

Eventually, there was a ding and James’ eyes flicked to the wall where a small camera lay.

There wasn’t much time to question the confidence Steve had in that code, before Steve was moving onto speaking with James.

“Do you remember Howard Stark?” Steve questioned quickly, his unease and obvious nerves putting James on edge.

“Stark’s dad?” James asked first. He could recall a man who looked similar to Tony Stark, but he was a man who James didn’t know. Steve knew him  well enough, but James didn’t think Bucky had the guts to get to know Howard Stark very well. Or, at least, he didn’t want to get involved in Howard’s strange life. “Think it’d be pretty hard to forget the man when his son’s the same—”

“And Maria Stark?” Steve asked warily.

James’ brows furrowed. He knew the name, but he also knew that she must’ve been Tony’s mom then—

James paused. Something itched at the back of his mind, something that he felt he should know but just couldn’t remember.

“She’s uh… Tony’s mom, right?”

Steve nodded quickly, “Do you remember anything about them, Bucky?”

James was ready to shake his head, but his mouth moved before he could stop himself, “They’re the parents of Tony Stark. They, uh, they died December sixteenth of 1991. Howard Stark was involved in the creation of SHIELD and he created Stark Industries…” James trailed off. Maybe HYDRA left a lot of unused demands in him. He held back a shiver at the thought. He wouldn’t spill information to anyone who asked, right?

“Bucky, I already know the shit they have printed in books and museums, what I need to know, is what you remember about them.”

“Steve, I don’t know what you’re lookin’ for here.” James admitted, growing uncomfortable with the tense emotions flowing off of Steve.

“Damn it,” Steve muttered to himself, “Buck, what were you doing the day they died?”

James also told wondered if his mind was waiting for the question before he could recall that day. He didn’t like that it was because of Steve that James had to spend even a minute recalling his days with HYDRA.

“I dunno, Steve,” James replied, voice growing tight, “I was with HYDRA then; on a mission.” He continued, “They sent me out somewhere for something and i had the orders to do whatever needed to get it and—and…”

James’ eyes widened as he ran the memory through his head.

Blood, a lot of it and a cry of ‘Howard’. He choked the man, no the woman. Maria. Maria Stark.

“Please. Help.” The man looked up at the Asset, “Sergeant Barnes?”

But that wasn’t the right order, no, he killed the man first and then the wife. She called out for Howard, but it was too late, he was dead and his blood was staining the upholstery of their car.

The case felt heavy in James hand as he used the other to wrap around Maria’s neck, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, it would be done soon and they’d come back for him. They always do it so it doesn't matter.

Why is it so loud? He can hear every short breath and feel every move of her neck but there she goes and she stills and h—

“Bucky?” Steve asked slowly and quietly, kneeling in front of The A— James.

James looked up at Steve, eyes wide and scared.

When had he sat down? No, when had he curled up into himself in the corner of the elevator? When had he dented the metal bar above him?

“I’m so sorry, Buck, I didn’t know you’d react like this.”

Why had Steve forced him to remember this?

“Why am I still here, Steve?” The Asset— Buck- James forced out, “Why is Stark not kicking me out?”

Steve stilled and the next words he spoke had James’ breath skipping.

“He doesn’t know.”

“Since when does our elevator not work?” Pietro called out as he stood in front of the elevator. “Friday?” The sokovian called out.

“I apologize, Mr. Maximoff, but the elevator is currently unavailable. I would recommend using the stairs that are located to your right.” Friday replied, voice monotone.

Clint perked up from his counter and watched as Pietro groaned and dragged himself over to the door. Now that Clint thought of it, he didn’t think he had ever seen the stair’s door open before.

It was a hazard to have no stairs and an elevator right? Or was Clint making stuff up?

Before Pietro could open the door, it swung open and Tony stepped out. He was dressed in an oil stained shirt and just as ruined sweatpants and he looked pissed.

“Who messed with the elevator?” He demanded.

Clint stood from his seat and walked out of the kitchen, coffee pot still in hand, “What's going on, Tin Man?”

Tony swiveled to look at Clint, “Someone has overridden Friday and she won’t tell me who!” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked to everyone else in the room, “I don’t want to point fingers, but only some of the original members of our boyband here have that code.”

Clint held up his hands, “I’ve been drinking coffee in the kitchen since I woke up and the only people that have come and gone are Sam and Scott.”

Natasha rose from her seat on the couch, “And apparently neither of them have the code.”

“How many people have that code, Tony?” Wanda asked, leaning over the back of the couch.

“Just two.” He admitted. His expression faltered and Clint wondered if Tony already knew who used the code, “But that doesn’t mean nobody else had it!”

“When will Friday come back up?” Clint asked instead.

Tony sighed, “The code is meant to override Friday for privacy. She can’t record conversations or video from whatever room they desire privacy in and in this case, wherever this person used the code, she shut down the elevator service.”

“Shut down for SHIELD too?” Natasha questioned.

Tony nodded, “You’re guessing all the right answers, Widow.”

Clint glanced around, “Well, Tony, take a look around and make an educated guess.” He thought about the way Steve pulled Barnes out of the kitchen and to the elevator.

Tony bit his lip and didn’t look around. He briefly shut his eyes, “Friday? When was the last time occupants of the Avengers space left a room?”

Pietro’s brows furrowed at the demand and Tony waved him off, “You would be dumb if you didn't think I had logs on that kind of shit, speedy.”

“Starting from twelve O’clock in the morning today: all occupants of the Avengers floors left their quarters between nine O’clock and ten O’clock besides Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. Captain Rogers then left to a meeting with Agent Hill at half past ten. Scott Lang entered through the vents three minutes after this and entered the kitchen and two minutes later left the common area with Sam Wilson. Sergeant Barnes left Captain Rogers’ quarters five minutes after this and came to the common room where he entered the kitchen with Agent Barton. Captain Rogers used the elevator to come to the common floor and… left the common floor with Sergeant Barnes.”

And now Clint confirmed his suspicions.

Tony clenched his jaw, “Thanks, Fri.” He mumbled.

“Would you like to recite a command , Boss?”

Tony bit his lip and nodded. He looked to the other Avengers, “Well, I didn’t mean to drag you all into my relationship drama.” He stated before his eyes focused on Clint, “Except you, Birdbrain, you’re coming with me.”

He turned on his heel and walked to the elevator, moving behind him for Clint to follow, mumbling something under his breath that had Friday replying in a tone that was somewhat happy, “Thank you for your request, Boss.”

Clint hurried to stand bedside Tony, “Why am I being dragged into this?” Clint asked quietly.

“I’ve got the feeling I might need someone to cry with or yell at later and it has to be someone who understands the situation.” He replied just as quiet, “Let’s say that you’re growing on me, Barton.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slide open. Tony wasted no time as he took hold of Clint’s arm and dragged him inside. The archer caught sight of Steve’s surprised look and how Barnes tensed and pushed himself back into the wall on shaky legs.

Neither said anything until the doors shut.

“How’s your morning been, sweetheart?” Tony asked as he settled against the wall next to Steve.

Clint unsurely stayed in front of the elevator doors, taking a sip from his coffee.

Steve looked between Tony, Clint, and Barnes.

Steve offered a smile, “Good so far,” He started. Clint could catch the lie easily, “Buck and I were just heading down to the training room.”

“Ah, too bad, because the Maximoffs, Ant-Man, and Sam are training today.”

Steve hummed in agreement, “Maybe we’ll head to the range then.”

Tony nodded and took Steve’s hand, having to force Steve’s fingers to wrap around his own.

Clint looked to Barnes as he noticed the man’s hand twitch. He was staring at the ground, hand curled up so hard that his knuckles on one hand turned white.

Clint was… worried? Yeah, worried. He didn’t question if the concern was for Barnes or for everyone else.

Tony leaned into Steve’s side, “Friday has had a weird morning though. She must’ve had a glitch because she shut down the elevator system throughout the entire compound.” He explained, “Weird, huh? I was able to go in and fix everything up but I’m still figuring out what happened there.”

Steve hummed, expression shifting to something more pinched only briefly, ‘Well, I know you’ll figure it out, Tony.”

Tony hummed in agreement and squeezed Steve’s hand, tightly.

Barnes shifted again, almost stumbling on his feet it seemed.

Clint saw his lips move and the way Steve flinched very, very slightly.

Barnes lifted his head slowly, eyes coming to Clint. He looked worried, concerned, maybe scared? But then he looked… apologetic.

He looked away just as quickly and moved his gaze to Tony and Steve.

“Steve?” He asked quietly, voice catching.

Steve immediately looked to Barnes, but his expression shifted from one of love for Tony, to one of nervousness.

“Buck,” He replied, voice low and carrying a warning.

Tony looked over at Barnes, body all too relaxed for the situation, “What’s going on, Barnes?”

It was like Barnes broke.

He looked up, hair moving away and revealing his torn expression. He shook his head and his lips turned down, brows furrowing, “Tony, I…” His voice shook, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

Tony tensed, dropping his previous exterior as the conversation shifted.

“I didn’t know,” Barnes pushed, “I swear I didn’t and I never would have stuck around if I did.”

“What’re you…” Tony trailed off, releasing Steve’s hand.

“HYDRA sent me on a mission to steal something and they told me to do whatever I needed to do to get it.”

Oh.

Clint looked to Tony, who had paled.

But Barnes didn’t stop, “The package was in a car and I made them crash and then I— then I killed them and I stole the package and left them behind and I’m so, so sorry, Tony.” Barnes hands were shaky and he chose to wrap his metal hand around the metal bar nearby to support himself, the metal folding under his grasp.

Tony stepped away from Steve, skin still pale and expression mostly void of expression, “Say it.” He demanded quietly, “Just say it, Barnes.” He repeated, louder.

Barnes obliged, “I killed Howard and Maria Stark on December Sixteenth for HYDRA.” He swallowed.

Tony nodded, although his expression shifted to one of slight anger and obvious anger. His expression had turned stormy as he walked up to Barnes. Clint watched as Tony raised his fist and slammed a punch into Barnes’ jaw.

Clint’s grip on his coffee pot tightened and he felt defenseless without his bow.

Tony shook his hand as he lowered it, “I already knew.” He hissed out before he backed away.

“You what?” Steve questioned in surprise.

“Yeah and you did too, Rogers!” Tony yelled, turning to face his soulmate, “And you’ve known for years and never told me!”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“Because I wanted you to admit that you knew! I wanted you to admit that you were trying to find and save your best friend who killed you soulmate's parents, Steven.”

Steve fell silent, eyes flicking to Barnes, “Tony, I needed to find him.”

“And I helped you when I knew, Steve! That’s what’s insane!”

“Then why did you?” Steve demanded.

“Because I love you!” Tony winced at his own words and shook his head, “Y’know, I actually don’t know, Steve. Maybe it was that or maybe I was just doing more than I should for someone, once again.”

“Tony, I…” Steve started.

Tony raised a hand, “I don’t want to hear it right now.” He cut in, “I just need to know that you know how this hurt me; that you know what you did is not something I can just brush away.”

Tony backed up until he was standing next to Clint, “Friday will let you know when or if I’m ready to talk.”

The elevator dinged again and when the doors opened, Tony stepped off without Clint. The archer was still watching the scene before him. He noticed the way Steve only watched Tony leave until Barnes shifted and then Steve’s attention was stolen. But he also caught how Barnes moved away from Steve’s touch and didn’t hold back a wince when Steve called him by his nickname.

Clint only slipped off the elevator when the doors started to slide shut again.

Clint stepped off onto the common area, where each person left in the room looked to Clint, all confused.

He waved them off and sighed, “Anyone want some of the leftover cake Peter and Pietro made?”

Chapter Text

Clint let out a long, tired sigh.

He turned the small, red car in his hands. Carefully, he lowered his hands to rest on his stomach, red car held tightly in one hand.

The archer let his head fall back as well, landing on the wood of the rafter.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to distract himself with figuring out the distance between himself and the ceiling. It wasn’t a hard question either, especially since Clint would stand and lift an arm to be touching the ceiling at this point.

Clint huffed out another sigh and moved to let his leg dangle off the rafter. Cooper and Laura hadn’t gone home very long ago, and Clint was already missing them, badly.

He didn’t realize that he had already fallen back into their old routine during their stay until he found himself getting ready for bed around eight o’clock on his own a couple nights ago.

After that, he took to spending some time away from his quarters in an effort to get back into his own routine.

Of which was a little difficult since Wanda and Natasha were celebrating their anniversary and Pietro had convinced Tony to let him go to school with Peter for the day. And,  of course, it was the one day that the rest of the team were all scattered with their own work around the compound.

Besides Clint.

He had entertained the idea of hitting up an old buddy or two dressed up in some horns and katanas, respectively, but Wade was doing some job in Italy, or something, and Matt was on lockdown from interacting with anything relating to Daredevil, according to Foggy.

So, being a normal thirty year old was out the window.

With that, Clint took Lucky out a long walk that ended with running into a flock of geese that, when Lucky was ready to play with them, decided to chase after Clint and Lucky. Lucky tired and happy, Clint settled for moping on his bed until he discovered the little red car stuffed under his pillow.

Clint chose to mope on the rafters of the range instead after that.

Natasha should be back within the next couple of hours, right?

Except she would be spending the entire day with Wanda and Clint wasn’t going to be the one who would interrupt her happiness.

He smiled at the thought, feeling a mix of pride and glee for his best friend. He knew it takes a lot for someone like her to show that much emotion, that much love, especially as he had been one of the first people she had been able to open up to. Wanda though, she was different. Clint was a friend, family, but Wanda was a girlfriend, maybe even something more if the future treats them right. She was a chance for Natasha to let go, to remind herself that she can love and be loved at the same time in a different way than it is with Clint.

And perhaps the same thing went for Wanda. She always had her brother, and only her brother, and Clint and Natasha were two of the first people who allowed them to have more than just each other.

Pietro had Peter too, and Clint swore he hadn’t seen the speedster ever smile so much. Peter let Pietro feel like the teenager he had never been able to be, all smiles, loud laughs, and hanging out until past midnight (Clint had to track the kid down just the other night when Pietro wouldn't reply to any messages sent to him and the archer ended up finding him at Peter’s apartment where they had fallen asleep on the couch together).

With the twins in mind, Clint thought of how they had been able to grow since coming to the Avengers. They had to grow up fast, early in life, but now Pietro was getting to live his life like any other young man, whereas Wanda had taken to her mature personality and had taken to becoming the best woman she could be. There were moments, of course, where she and Natasha acted the same as Pietro and Peter and had their moments of living the moments they had never been able to live.

And now Clint felt like a reminiscent father.

Speaking of fatherhood, Cooper, over Skype the night before, had let his father know that the next time he came by his father’s home, he was definitely bringing all of his toy cars and then a few stuffed animals so he could probably play with Pietro and Wanda (and Clint and Natasha, but Cooper was very obviously enamored with the twins).

Clint could admit that he came very close to crying like a baby at the sweet promise.

A smile found its way onto Clint’s face at the thought, only to droop slightly when he heard the door to the range open.

Clint tilted his head to catch sight of the intruder, not moving enough to make noise in his lazy attempt to be unseen.

Much to his surprise, it was Barnes—James that walked in.

The man was walking carefully, with precise and slow steps. He visibly scanned the area and seemed to shake his head, cursing himself quietly. The man stopped suddenly and pushed his hair out of his face.

He seemed troubled, in a way, but Clint wasn’t going to be the one to try to analyze this man’s current mindstate.

James took another step forwards before he hesitated and stopped, wrapping his arms around himself.

Even from above him, Clint had to tear his eyes away from Barnes’ arms because he was not going to think too hard about why he was just now noticing them and how—

Okay, Barnes seemed troubled, that was the idea.

Clint chose to follow Barnes’ line of vision and from what Clint could tell, James was staring at the door to where all the cool weapons were stashed.

James turned his head slightly to the actual shooting range and seemed to curl into himself slightly.

He pulled his arms tighter around himself and the archer caught the faint sound of Russian falling from the man’s lips.

James lifted a foot to continue walking, but he stopped and took a step back instead.

Suddenly, Clint felt like he was staring at the image of himself from all those years ago. It took awhile for him to pick up his bow and be comfortable with it again, after it all. Once he was able to though, he still had moments of doubts (of which still stuck around to the current moment but only not often).

So Clint was acting without thinking again.

The archer silently shifted so he was sitting, legs dangling off the side of the rafter. Red car still clutched in his hand, Clint sucked in a breath, hoping that he wasn’t about to snap his neck and that his circus days hadn’t completely left him, and fell backwards.

The sound of the back of his lower legs catching around the rafter was audible, but surprisingly, it didn’t catch Barnes’ attention, at least not visibly.

So there Clint was, hanging upside down from a rafter of the shooting range, toy red car in hand and gravity tugging his hoodie towards his head and hair hanging down like noodles.

What was he even doing?

But Clint was hoping that he wasn’t about to get shot and hoped for the best as he pulled his arm back and aimed, “Hey, Barnes, think fast!” He called out.

He tossed the car and watched as Barnes swiveled around and caught the car easily in his flesh hand.

The man seemed startled by his own reaction before he lowered his hand, clearly startled.

Still hanging by his legs, Clint took this as a chance to really take in the state that James was in. The man brushed his hair at least, which looked nice, admittedly, and he was dressed in dark jeans and a just as dark t-shirt. Really going for the edgy teen look, it seemed.

Barnes’ eyes flicked up and caught Clint’s. He tilted his head slightly, brows furrowing.

Clint grinned and lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers in greeting. He was sure his face was red as hell at this point from all the blood rushing to his face, but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to actually face this situation like an adult quite yet.

“What’re you doin’?” James asked, slowly. Clint tried to not like the slight accent that was appearing in his voice as much as he actually did.

“Hangin’ out.” Clint said before he could stop himself. Realizing his pun, Clint couldn’t hold back the snort he let out at his own joke.

Barnes rolled his eyes, of which was a lot more emotion than Clint was expecting to get.

The man’s attention was stolen though, as he looked away and opened his hand. When he saw the toy car, his brows furrowed once more.

Worry starting to surface, Clint hurriedly called out, “Careful with that, Barnes, I plan on keeping ‘er in peak condition.”

“Then why throw it at me?” James countered.

Clint, recalling the way he had approached the situation entirely, attempted to shrug, “I like attention.” He decided to say.

James seemed to be thinking over what to say next. Soon, though, he rolled his shoulders back and nodded to where Clint had hooked his legs around the rafter, “Well, if you don’t stop playin’ monkey soon, this is gonna be mine.” He pinched the car between two fingers and waved it in the air slightly.

A grin found its way onto Clint’s face again and he was surprised with how fast he swung himself back up to take hold of the rafter. He was aware that Barnes was watching him as he went through the motions and honestly Clint wasn’t all that ashamed if he purposely took the much more visibly pleasing and much more dangerous way of sitting back on the rafter. So what if he wanted to look a little good in front of his soulmate?

He swore he heard Barnes stifle a chuckle at least.

Clint took a short moment for himself to recuperate from the blood rushing to his head so that he wouldn’t fall off the rafter when he stood, but once he was able, Clint was up quickly and made a show of walking along the beam.

Soon enough, he reached the pile of rope left on one end of the rafter and Clint gently kicked the rope pile off the rafter, revealing the grappling hook that he shot up into the wood earlier in the day.

Sure, grappling arrows were meant for getting out of tight situations, but that didn’t mean Clint wouldn’t use them for his own fun sometimes.

Clint made quick work of getting situated to slide down the rope and soon enough the archer’s feet hit the ground.

With a smug, joyful grin, Clint turned around and faced Barnes.

The man raised a brow and Clint’s grin grew. He walked up to the man and held out a hand wordlessly. James tossed the car to the archer and Clint caught it easily, shoving it into his hoodie pocket soon after.

Caught up in the fun of the interaction, Clint opened his mouth, “Did you come here to shoot?”

Ah, shit.

Barnes didn’t answer, nor did he look unsettled.

The man looked around the room either way and shrugged. An attempt at being carefree and looking unbothered if Clint ever saw. But his response was more honest than the archer expected, “Considered it.”

Clint hummed in acknowledgement and found himself switching the subject easily, “Have you met my dog yet?”

Barnes’ brows furrowed slightly, most likely surprised by the question, before he shook his head.

Clint nodded and grinned. He started towards the door, motioning for Barnes to follow him. A small part of him considered going back to remove the grappling arrow, but he was sure that would involve Clint almost falling and breaking his neck once again and he wasn’t sure he wanted James, of all people, to see that.

Clint didn’t look back to make sure James was following him, and if the way James’ footsteps fell heavier than what Clint was sure was their normal volume, James was working with what Clint was giving him.

It wasn’t until Clint and James were in the elevator that Clint really realized what he was letting happen.

Lucky is someone that loves almost everyone and Clint was sure he was going to love James as well, but Clint was surprised that he was already letting this meeting happen already after the whole Cooper fiasco.

Clint spared a glance at the man next to him.

It almost felt like there was something about Barnes that was pulling Clint in, making him forget about some things and making him realize even more things, like how James’ eyes aren’t just blue but they’re also this kind of grey and how that shirt was doing wonders for—

So yeah there was something about James.

“Lucky is napping on the couch,” Friday informed them as the elevator came to a stop.

“If only I could live just like my dog,” Clint muttered.

The elevator doors slid open and Clint was the first to step out, Barnes following closely behind.

Lucky almost immediately perked up at the sounds entering the room. The dog nearly tumbled off the couch with his excitement as he pushed himself up to sit.

He seemed to be vibrating from excited energy as the two men approached, and Lucky whined as he clearly held himself back with the appearance of someone new from running into Clint’s legs like he usually would.

Clint looked back at James, who was watching Lucky.

“He’s a good dog, I swear,” Clint started, “A little dumb sometimes, but that just means he’s just like his daddy.”

James’ eyes flicked to Clint, “His name’s Lucky, right?”

A part of Clint was surprised with his remembrance of Lucky’s name, but Clint went along with it, “Yeah,” He answered before turning back to Lucky and starting towards his dog.

He knew James was still stagnant a few feet away and Clint took this as his chance to get at least a little bit of Lucky’s excitement out so he wouldn’t scare or startle James.

Lucky stood on the couch once Clint was in front of him and immediately lurched forwards to lick at Clint’s face.

“Aw, Lucky—” Clint was cut off as Lucky made a chance to lick at Clint’s mouth and the archer made way to distract Lucky with starting to quickly pet the dog.

Lucky went along easily, but was still consumed with seeing his owner again.

From the corner of his eye, Clint could see James watching the scene in front of him.

Clint, once Lucky seemed a little more subdued and was on the verge of turning onto James, pressed a kiss to the dog’s head and slipped a finger under his collar to keep him in place.

He looked to James, “First impressions?”

“Very excited, very cute.” Barnes replied slowly. He looked like he wanted to say more but held back.

“You ready for him?” Clint asked carefully, the unsaid question of ‘do you still want to do this’ going unsaid.

James nodded and rolled his shoulders back. Clint chose not to comment on the way Barnes placed his metal arm slightly behind himself and out of the way.

Clint nodded and looked to Lucky, “Don’t be rude.” He warned quietly before he gently tugged Lucky off the couch and had him sit just a couple feet in front of Barnes.

James took this as his signal apparently, as he started forwards. He caught Clint’s eyes briefly before he crouched down in front of Lucky.

He seemed slightly unsure of what to do at first, but Lucky made his mind up for him as he whined and quickly licked James’ cheek.

James seemed taken aback at first and Clint was ready to do damage control before Barnes snorted and reached forward with his flesh hand. He began petting Lucky on the head before the golden retriever broke against Clint’s hold and rolled onto his back.

James went along with the motions and started scratching at the dog’s stomach.

Soon after that, Lucky had fallen into a state of ‘you pet me and I’ll look cute’ and James seemed eager to comply. James had sat down next to Lucky and his attention was focused solely on the dog in front of him while Clint had similarly sat down and let the two get along.

Clint grinned at the sight and looked between the two.

Clint decided he was proud of Lucky for not turning on his ‘too much’ gene and throwing his entire body at James to be pet. Lucky had done something similar when he first met Cooper as well, had rolled over and let himself be pet instead of demanding to be pet. Maybe Lucky was better at reading the room than Clint, though.

And, weirdly enough, Clint was… proud of James?

Clint knew, it took a lot out of someone in such a state as James to recuperate to these kinds of things, things that you can’t really control.

So, yeah, actually, Clint was proud of James.

“How old is he?” James asked quietly, pulling Clint from his thoughts.

“Around four,” He replied, “But I’ve only had him for three.”

“Rescue?”

“In a way, yeah.” Clint answered honestly.

James looked to Clint, “In a way?” He echoed.

Clint hummed, nodding, reaching forward and petting Lucky behind the ear briefly, “He was also originally named Arrow actually, ironically enough,” He pushed on, “And he used to belong to this Russian tracksuit mafia.”

James took a long look at Lucky, “That how he lost the eye?”

Clint nodded and ran a hand through his hair. Might as well tell Lucky’s life story, “There was this tracksuit mafia that I was always dealing with and then there was this whole thing with an apartment building,” Might as well keep some details a little hidden right now, “But I saw how they were treating Lucky and I showed him a little kindness. He really helped me out later because of it. Went and attacked one of mafia guys who tried shooting me but he got repaid with getting thrown into traffic.” Clint chose to watch Lucky as he spoke, reminding himself that Lucky was safe now, “I got him to the vet and took ownership of him afterwards. He’s a real strong boy, and him losing his eye never stopped him. I renamed him Lucky after I brought him home with me and since then, he’s never left my side.”

James looked between Clint and Lucky, “Sounds like a nice ending though, huh?”

Clint nodded and grinned, “Guess so,” he agreed.

“It’s a really good thing you did, Clint.” James said after a moment and Clint found himself hanging on tight to the comment, especially the use of his name.

Clint waved the comment off, despite his feelings, “I’m just not a total dick.”

James rolled his eyes, hesitating for a moment, “Looks like Lucky got real lucky.” He muttered.

Clint groaned, although he grinned afterwards, “Lucky’s heard that joke a millions times now, Barnes.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true, Barton.”

After that, conversation died out again and Lucky rolled onto his stomach. Clint watched as he nudged at James’ leg. James went back to petting him, only with his flesh hand. Lucky whined and scooted forwards slightly. Barnes moved to accommodate the dog, only briefly letting his metal hand show. Lucky took that at his moment to shine. Pure joy on his face, lucky lurched up and licked James’ metal hand.

Clint’s eyes widened and James quickly pulled his hand back and away from Lucky.

“Shit, Barnes—” Clint cut himself off when he saw James slowly reach forward with his metal hand again, placing it on his knee with his palm facing towards the ceiling.

Lucky happily licked his hand again before he placed his head in James’ lap.

Clint swore he saw a faint smile on James’ face.

Clint felt the tension he didn’t know he was holding leave his body.

The archer settled back into his spot and starting petting Lucky slowly, looking between his dog and James.

The room had fallen silent once more, but Clint was okay with it.

The archer looked at Barnes again, head tilting slightly.

So maybe it wouldn’t be too much harm if Clint stared a little longer. Or if he started thinking about the whole soulmate thing.

So Clint… Clint took a moment.

James Buchanan Barnes. But to Clint, he was James or Barnes. To everyone else, he was Barnes, but to Steve, he was Bucky.

The man in front of Clint is, and might always be, more fucked up than the average person, most likely more fucked up than Clint had been after Loki.

And Clint understood that, and he hated HYDRA even more for it.

But James was here and was making more of an effort than Clint had ever made for the first few months after Loki.

The man in front of him was still using his hair as a barrier to hide his face, even as he petted a golden retriever.

The man in front of him was letting Lucky rest his paw against metal hand and using his other to pet Lucky almost to sleep.

The man in front of him is James Barnes and Clint understood that. He isn’t Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier and somehow Clint knew what that meant even now.

Clint bit his lip as he looked at James.

This man is his soulmate , even if James may not know it just yet.

And Clint was pretty sure he already wanted to keep this man around, no matter what they may end up being.

So Clint rolled his shoulders back, leaned forwards just a little more and smiled at James when he glanced up at the archer.

He didn’t know why, but he was already ready for the journey that was sat in front of him. He didn’t know why, but he was already ready to make sure James Barnes was okay, to make sure no one was going to hurt him again.

He didn’t know why, but he was okay with it.

“I’m beginning to think Lucky may like me more than you.” James mumbled, voice careful.

Clint smiled, “Wouldn’t be all that surprised.”

Just as he finished speaking, just as Barnes seemed ready to grin or something , the elevator dinged in warning and the doors slid open.

James didn’t get up or make any huge movements, but he did tense up and eye the elevator from the corner of his eye.

Clint looked to the elevator and his smile dropped at the sight of Tony Stark.

James seemed to catch on as well, as he curled in on himself more despite how visibly tense and uncomfortable he was.

Tony looked between the two, standing up a little straighter afterwards, “Hey, Robin Hood,” he greeted, already starting towards the archer.

“Tony,” Clint greeted.

“So, a little spider told me you might be in need of some new hearing aids soon,” Tony continued.

“I don’t think I really am—”

Suddenly, Tony pulled out a small case and tossed them to Clint, who caught them easily (and hopefully carefully), “Well, too bad, because you’re getting a new and better pair.”

Tony’s gaze shifted to James after that, of whom had been watching the interaction, “Hey, Terminator.”

James’ head popped up, but he didn't look at Tony. Rather, he swallowed and clenched his jaw, as if preparing himself for—

Clint, ready to try and clear the air, was beat out by Tony himself, “Haven’t seen that one yet, Barnes?” He started, speaking somewhat fast, “Terminator is this robot dude in some movies, even protects a kid at one point I think,” He continued, “So I guess we’ll be watching Terminator next movie night, huh?”

James merely looked back to Lucky, nodding faintly.

Tension still hanging in the air, Tony shoved his hands into his suit pockets, “And with that, I am off to California to support Pepper at this S.I. thing.” He explained, “So make sure Steve doesn’t go chasing after some Red Skull fake or something.” He continued, “Pete should be staying the night tomorrow night too for what Pietro is calling ‘supporting his boyfriend through tests and stuff’ so make sure Pietro doesn’t ruin Peter’s innocence, Barton.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Afraid we may be too late on that one, Stark.” He replied, joking.

Tony shot a, joking, warning glare at the archer, “You better hope that kid isn’t going to turn Pete into some rebellious asshole or else I’m throwing him out of New York.” His gaze shifted to Barnes, “Empty threat.” He explained.

“Maybe you should be giving Maximoff this shovel talk instead of me.”

“That means admitting that I care enough and I can’t let Pietro know that.” He started towards the elevator, “See you two later!” He called back before the elevator doors closed.

A few seconds later, Clint turned back to Barnes, surprised to already find the man staring at him.

Clint opened his mouth to speak but James cut him off, “This was nice, Clint, but I think I should heard back to…” He trailed off, almost uncertain. He patted Lucky before scooting away from him and standing, leaving a half-awake and confused Lucky.

“Oka—” Clint started.

“Bye, Clint.” James hurriedly said before he was rushing off to the elevator and was already gone within the next couple of seconds.

Clint fell silent for a few moments before he went back to petting Lucky.

Lucky stared up at Clint and the archer shrugged, “Yeah, that’s my soulmate, Lucky, you better get used to it.”

Lucky licked Clint’s hand in what the man could only assume was in thanks.

Chapter Text

James took a long look in the mirror.

He placed down his brush on the edge of the sink and pushed his hair out of his face.

He had woken up early, gotten in a workout and avoided another incident in the gym or range. He had come back just as Steve was leaving for his own workout and had sat on the living room floor for about half an hour before he pulled himself off the floor in an attempt to actually do something.

He had forced himself to take a long shower for once, aiming for using hot water too.

Self-care, that’s what he was talking part in. So, he had shaved his beard a little bit, like Steve showed him, and brushed his hair out and didn’t try to get through the process within seconds. But he suddenly stopped and just… stared.

The self-care thing was kind of nice.

James heard Steve come in from his workout and start moving around the kitchen.

James ran a hand down his face, leaning towards the mirror when he noticed that he looked a little less tired than usual.

A memory came to James, something recent rather than not, and an idea followed soon after.

James gave himself a small nod in the mirror and he stood up a little straighter. He took his time changing into the clean, soft clothes he had brought into the bathroom. The pajama pants were flannel and the hoodie was something Steve had personally given him a couple days ago after he went out to brunch with Sam and a woman named Maria Hill.

James took in a couple calming breaths before he stepped out of the bathroom and went looking for Steve. Unsurprisingly, Steve was standing the kitchen eating an apple as he read the newspaper that sat on the counter.

He looked up and smiled and James didn’t miss the tiredness in the expression, “Mornin’.” He greeted.

James nodded and walked forwards, urging himself not to stick his hands in his pockets or push his hair in front of him face.

This was his chance; this was being confident .

Steve seemed to catch onto the different atmosphere and placed his apple down, turning towards James with furrowed brows, “Bu—”

“We needa talk, Steve.” James pushed out, “About me and what’s goin’ on around here.”

“Okay,” Steve said slowly.

James made the next move and started towards the living room couch. Steve followed after him like a duckling.

When James sat on one side of the couch, Steve sat down as well, leaving some space between them for James’ sake.

“What’s going on?” Steve questioned carefully.

James sighed and motioned around the room, “I don’t think we should keep living like this, Rogers.”

“Li—”

“Let me speak, Steve, and I’ll explain.” James cut in.

Steve hesitated, but nodded nonetheless.

“I’ll always be grateful for you helpin’ me out, Steve,” James decided to start with, “But you helping me shouldn’t cut into your personal life so much. I’m not dense, Steve, I know that I’ve caused a rift between you and Tony and you two don’t deserve that. And me living here with you is only hurting everyone else who cares for you ‘cause you’re making your entire life revolve around me.” He explained, “So I can’t stay with you anymore, Steve, because I need room to grow, to be… me. And you need space because you’ve got a whole ass boyfriend, Steven, who you are letting get hurt because of how much you are hovering around me.”

“Bucky…” Steve trailed off.

“This isn’t your choice to make either, Rogers. I’m choosing to move outta here because I want to, not just because it’s hurting you or something, okay?”

Steve looked away, but nodded.

James sighed, “This is good. This is progress, right? Be happy, Steve.”

Steve nodded again and looked back to James, “I get it, Buck.”

James wasn’t sure where Steve’s head was now, but he knew that whatever was going on in that head wasn’t meant for James to push around.

James left it there instead and stood, “I’ll let Friday know then?”

Steve nodded again and stood as well, pasting on a smile, “This is good,” He repeated.

James sighed and opened his arms, surprised by his own actions but not surprised when Steve darted forwards and pulled James into a hug. He recalled a few memories, of much shorter hugs back in Bucky’s time with little Steve.

When Steve pulled away, he convinced James to have some breakfast with him at the very least and James complied as he realized his lack of eating.

So, there it was. One thing down.

James hoped that getting his own quarters would mean some progress for himself personally. It would surely do some good for Steve at the very least. Maybe it would mean attempting to repair the damage Steve made to his personal relationships.

Maybe.

After breakfast, Steve excused himself and James let him leave. He wasn’t really sure where Steve would go off to, but James was hopeful it was something beneficial for him.

Trying to ride his good mood and mind for as long as he could, James forced himself to change into some more presentable pants and head out of Steve’s quarters.

The gym and range were a little off limits for James, as he wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to run into a certain assassin and archer. At least, he wasn’t sure what it would do to his mood.

So, he decided to brave something big and head to the common area.

As he rode down in the elevator, he informed Friday of his living situation now and she seemed almost proud to James. But maybe he was just making stuff up.

The common area was daunting to say the least, but James was stubborn.

He went through his second set of calming breaths of the day before the elevator stopped.

The doors didn’t open immediately either once the elevator stopped and James was grateful.

When they did open, heart racing, James did a fast headcount.

Steve wasn’t there and neither was Tony, but Tony could still be in California. Sam was sitting on the floor with Lucky and the Android (Vision, right?) was next to him, holding a cat. On the couch behind them, Natalia sat with the girl that threw him into a TV while Thor and Bruce Banner conversed on another couch. Two men, both young and one with striking white hair, were almost lying entirely on one another on the same couch as Natalia.

And Clint was laying across the laps of everyone on Natalia’s couch.

Not everyone looked up when he stepped out of the elevator, but most significantly, Natalia and Clint did and their expressions seemed almost polar opposites. Clint shot him a smile, nearly goofy in a way, while Natalia had schooled her expressions into something blank, her eyes looking him up and down in an attempt to be threatening.

He noticed the nasty glare the girl with Natalia was shooting him, along with the dark look the white-haired boy was aiming at him, and James made the decision to go to where no one was.

He settled into doing something that was barely familiar: making coffee.

There was already a pot ready luckily and James tried not to question himself too much as he poured himself a cup.

He went through trying to make up the coffee up to his standards and then settled into leaning against the counter once he was happy with it.

Before he could get too comfortable, someone walked into the kitchen. Someone with particularly red hair.

She walked up next to him and poured herself her own cup of coffee, taking a sip of it quickly after.

He wasn’t surprised at her choice of black coffee. He wondered, though, if that really was the kind of coffee she actually liked.

She leaned against the counter next to him and James could feel his good mood leaving him.

He didn’t hate Natal—Natasha, but she was a reminder of who he once was. She already knew the ways to make him tick, the ways to get him to fall into old habits. She held an unfair amount of power over him. There was a time, he knew, when it was the opposite, where he held that power over her, but he had forgotten the ways he had done it and she climbed into his old spot.

He didn’t flinch at the Russian this time at least, “ This is new .” She noted.

James nodded, “New,” he echoed quietly, “ It also feels unwelcome .” He admitted carefully, switching to Russian.

“ They are scared, worried , James.” She admitted, “ They have heard the stories. They know what you have done. They just don’t know you yet. ”

“ And you do? ” James countered.

“ I would like to think I am getting there. ”

James fell silent and chose to sip on his coffee for a few moments, “ What are you planning here, Natalia?” He asked quietly.

She held back a flinch at the name and James understood where his unfair advantage lay. “ I am planning to make up for lost time. ”

“How?”

Despite his use of English, she pushed on in Russian, “ Small steps. Whatever it takes to feel comfortable. ”

“I am not him, Romanova.” He muttered.

She hummed in agreement, nodding, “ You are not. Let’s say that I am getting to know James and you are getting to know Natasha .”

He fell silent against, processing. He took another sip of coffee, “Why ‘Natasha’?”

“I am not Natalia anymore, nor am I a Romanova,” she tried to explain, “It's almost like how you are not Bucky anymore.”

What an observant little shit.

Suddenly, James felt like they had an audience. He glanced towards the couches and found himself making eye contact with Clint, who’s eyes, with the contact, widened and he dumbly ducked behind the couch again.

James held back a snort, catching himself too late and knowing that Natal—Natasha had already got him.

“We met about a decade ago, if you were wondering.” She noted, “And he is my family now.”

“He’s got a really large family, hm?” James let out before he could stop himself.

She turned to face him, smiling slightly, “A really large one.”

He nodded and looked to his coffee.

Natasha nodded along with him and James could tell she was trying to find out what he has been up to on his own, “You met his son, right?”

“Apparently, I did.”

Natasha hummed, “And you gave him a lizard.” She pushed.

“I did.” He replied, tapping a finger on his mug in anticipation (Of what, he wasn’t sure).

“You made him very happy, you know. And I heard that Clint wa—”

“Nat! Hey!” Clint was suddenly barreling into the kitchen, nearly slipping.

James lowered his metal hand back to his side after it went up in defense (and Natasha leaned back against the counter).

“Clint,” Natasha greeted simply.

Clint pushed his hair out of his face and his eyes skipped to James. The archer smiled and waved briefly.

James lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers in greeting, wondering if Clint would catch the reference to their past meeting (something James decided to go through with last minute).

Clint seemed to get it if the way his smile grew meant anything.

He looked back to Natasha, as if remembering why he was there in the first place. He quickly fell back into the hasty, urgent mode he entered the kitchen in. He lurched forwards and took hold of Natasha, “Training! Yeah, I needa train and I’m choosing you for that so let's get going, Nat!” He started tugging her out of the kitchen, only looking back briefly, “Bye, James!”

And then they were gone.

James nodded to himself, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Clint Barton, huh.

“Any reason for that , Barton?” Natasha questioned after the elevator doors slid shut behind them.

Clint shrugged, “Can’t a guy hang out with his best friend?”

“He can,” She started, “But not when he says he wants to train right after you said you were too tired to train today.”

Clint winced, recalling the brief conversation they had moments before James came into the common area. She had asked to train, and Clint had denied the request.

“Changed my mind.” He tried to excuse.

“Not very convincing.” She mumbled.

He rolled his eyes, “Then we’ll go out for breakfast.”

“We just ate breakfast about an hour ago.”

“Brunch.”

“Just ate an hour ago, Clinton.”

“Girls day?”

“Hilarious.”

“Natasha, come on .”

Natasha grinned, “What am I doing, Clint?”

“You’re… you’re denying me of best friend stuff!”

“Best friend stuff?” She echoed.

Clint nodded, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“Clint,” She started, “What happened out there was that I was talking to Barnes and you came in, all freaky, and pulled me into the elevator. What has you on edge?”

“Nothin’.” He replied.

“Is it Cooper and Laura? I know its—”

“Nothin’, Nat.” He pushed.

“Missing your twins? I can—”

“ Nothing , Natasha.”

“Does it have to do with Bar—”

“We are not talking about my brother right now.” Clint hissed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee, “Then tell me what’s got you all freaked out, Clint.”

“That’s Wanda’s shirt, right?” Clint asked instead.

Natasha glanced down at her shirt before she nodded, “It is—”

“So how is that? You must be really in love, huh? And I am so happy for you, Nat.”

“We aren’t talking about Wanda and I in the elevator, Clint.”

“Then we’ll go back to my place!”

Natasha raised a brow, ignoring him, “Tony said that Steve tried to ask him out on a date the other day. ‘Course, Tony said no and told Steve it was going to take a lot more and a lot more time before things were fixed between them.”

“Oh,” Clint replied, dumbly. He hadn’t expected Natasha to listen to him, but he also hadn’t expected her to completely switch topics.

She nodded, “And Peter just asked Pietro to his school’s prom this morning.”

“Yeah, Pietro said—”

“That it was one of the best things he has ever experienced.” She finished, “Those two are very cute together.” She noted.

Clint stayed silent for a moment before he nodded, slowly, “Yeah,” He agreed, “They are.”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee, “Bruce and Thor seem quite close, right? I wonder—”

“Nat, where are you heading with this?”

She grinned, “What’re your feelings on the new agent that just came in from the European division? I heard he’s got a thing for blonds.”

Clint furrowed his brows, “Nat—”

“There’s also that cute girl that works in that coffee shop Wanda loves so much. Apparently she’s a very big Hawkeye fan.”

“I know what you’re doing, Natasha.”

“I know,” she said dismissively before glancing up at the ceiling, “Take us to my quarters please, Friday. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Agent Romanoff, I wish you luck on your personal assignment with Agent Barton.” Friday chirped.

“Come on, guys.” Clint groaned.

The elevator slowly began moving, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re getting out there, Barton,” Natasha stated, “Call it being a good best friend.”

“I don’t need to get out there, Nat.”

She raised a brow and Clint knew she was getting the exact reaction she was looking for, but he was letting himself dig himself a hole for some ungodly reason.

“Why? You got someone hidden out, Clint?” She countered.

“No, but—”

“Then amuse me, Clint.” Natasha said.

Before she could continue, Clint was talking over her, “What’s the point in boning someone if there is someone out there, Nat?” He let out, wincing at the amount of information he let out.

Her head tilted in interest, “ Someone ?” She echoed, “You mean your soulmate?”

Clint rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “Well, yeah…” He trailed off uncomfortably.

“Since when does your soulmate come in between you having sex with someone?”

Clint huffed out a breath and tossed his arms up in frustration, “I dunno! Maybe… maybe Laura knocked some sense into me with all her Garrett stuff!”

“If that’s what happened, Clint, then sitting around without meeting new people isn’t going to help you find your soulmate.” Natasha pointed out.

“I don’t need to go look for him, Nat—” Aw, fuck.

“Him?” She repeated, straightening up.

Clint hated the way he forgot all his training and shit around Natasha sometimes.

“Natasha—”

“ Clinton .” She hissed, taking a step towards him, “ Him ?”

Clint’s shoulders dropped and he looked away from Natasha, “Natasha…”

“Have you met your soulmate, Clint?” She pushed.

He went back and forth in his head of how he could respond.

He couldn’t tell her, right? Who knows how Natasha would react. But if Clint tried to push the conversation off, Natasha would just look into the matter and Clint knew she’d find out on her own. Even if Tony scrubbed the footage from the lab the moment Clint left or something. She had done even more impressive things than recovering deleted footage or removed information.

But, just maybe, if he told her some vague information, she would hold off.

So Clint was working off dumb hope.

The archer ran a hand down his face, nodding, “I did.” He mumbled.

A small hand wrapped around his hand covering his face. Gently, Natasha pulled Clint’s hand away from his face. After she dropped his hand, she tilted Clint’s head away from his chest so he would look her in the eyes, “You did?” She asked quietly.

He nodded.

A smile grew on her face and suddenly she tugged Clint down for a hug, “This is great, Clint, so great.” She whispered in his ear.

The elevator came to a stop and Natasha was quick to unwrap herself from Clint and tug him to her quarters.

Admittedly, it had been a little while since Clint had been to Natasha’s quarters. The woman had always had a habit of appearing in Clint’s quarters whenever she pleased, and Clint had been the same until Natasha and Wanda started seriously dating (or at least when Clint was pretty sure they finally got together). After that, he didn’t come up to Natasha’s quarters very often since she usually found him first.

And, to say the least, her quarters looked pretty damn different.

Old habits kicking in, Natasha had never decorated her quarters much when she first moved in. She had settled with plain colors and limited designs; necessities only. She had a couple pictures strewn around the place, but none were too personal. A couple pictures from press conferences that all the Avengers were in and just one photo of Clint and Lucky from some day the three of them had been able to go to the dog park without interruptions.

For Natasha, then, having a stable place to sleep was enough.

Now, though, her quarters were the opposite.

Clint had to stop and take it all in, actually.

The walls, once plain, were decorated in a few colorful paintings (some more minimalistic than others) and a large, black and white, tapestry with some indie-hippie like design on it was hanging on one wall.

The floor plan, like everyone else’s quarters, was an open floor plan. A large rug sat under the furniture of the living room area, and the furniture, although the same as the last time Clint had seen it, now held a few nice pillows and a red knitted blanket.

Overall, the space had become… personal.

And Clint could guess why.

“Looks like Wanda’s really changed you, huh?” Clint joked.

Natasha glanced back at him, “For the better.” She said seriously. She took a seat on the couch and placed her mug on the coffee table in front of her, “Once she started… sticking around, she convinced me to “put some life” into my living space.” She explained, glancing around, “Now…” she trailed off.

Clint readied himself and walked over, taking a seat next to Natasha, “Feels like home?”

She bit her lip and nodded, almost as if speaking the sentiment aloud would mean it wasn’t real.

For a moment, they sat in silence.

“Wanda,” Natasha started, “She’s got all these plans for us and it’s worrying and scary but its so amazing, Clint. Did you know she’s always wanted to go to California?” She asked, turning to face Clint. The archer didn’t miss the excited glint in her eyes and how her face lit up at the mention of Wanda, “And then she was able to go there on that mission awhile ago that she went on with Sam. And now… now I think she dreams of living there some day.”

“Really?” Clint replied, grinning at the idea. Wanda… yeah, she would like California, Clint thought. “And you?” He dared to ask.

She seemed to think it over briefly, “I think… one day, it might be nice for a change in scenery.” She bumped his shoulder with her own, “But only if you and the rest of the team plan on visiting.” She joked, but Clint knew the truth in the statement.

Clint didn’t push for anything here, instead just smiling and preparing himself for the inevitable change in conversation he knew would be coming soon.

And it came very soon.

Natasha sat up a little straighter, quickly, and then her somewhat guarded expression came back up. A force of habit.

“So,” She started slowly, “You gonna tell me about him?”

“I’m not so sure…” Clint trailed off.

She rolled her eyes, “I won’t force you to tell me everything, Clint, but a name would be nice.”

“A name means you already knowing everything.”

Natasha shrugged, “Safety precaution.” She excused.

Clint bit his lip, “Well, you aren’t gonna like anything I tell you, Nat.”

“Why would I not?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was he going to do this? It couldn’t get worse than the time he told her he lost that file because he stopped to pet a dog, right?

“You probably won’t like him, actually. Or maybe you will, but you won’t like who he is, if you get what I mean, and then you might do some stuff that you might regret later, or maybe you won’t regret it but someone will be very, very unhappy. And then there’d be all the shit it’d cause with the team—”

Natasha flicked Clint in the side of the head, “A name is good, Barton.” She repeated, “And if you’re this worried about telling me, then you better know it only makes me more intrigued.”

Clint swallowed nervously and looked away from Natasha, reaching over and fiddling with the corner of one of the couch pillows.

He let a moment or two pass as he thought over exactly how to get the words out.

“Clint?” Natasha asked quietly, softly.

“Nat…” Clint started, just as quiet. He sighed and looked to Natasha, “His name is James.”

He swore he could see the gears starting to turn in her head as she nodded, “James..?” She left the question open.

“Buchanan Barnes.” He finished for her.

The open, soft demeanor she had just held shattered.

Her expression turned stony and her brows furrowed. She leaned away from Clint slowly, as if she was trying to see the bigger picture.

“Barnes.” She stated, voice monotone.

Clint nodded and swallowed nervously, unconsciously tapping his foot on the ground.

Natasha sat back against the couch and she shook her head, “Clint,” She started slowly.

Clint didn’t try to cut her off or try to argue against whatever she was going to say.

“You know what he’s done and who he is.”

Clint nodded.

“He’s not like you, not entirely.”

“I know, Nat. I’m not going to try and search him out for some cry buddy or some shit.”

“I know.” She stated firmly, “But he’s…”

For once, Natasha seemed at a brief lack of words before she recovered, “There’s more to Barnes than that one file you read about him is what I’m trying to say.”

“But you know it all?” Clint countered curiously.

She looked at Clint, “I do.” She confirmed, “Or at least a lot of it.”

“Then tell me what I’m getting into, Natasha.” Clint pushed, leaning towards the redhead in interest.

“What you’re getting into?” She repeated, “You can’t just jump into whatever this is head first, Barton.”

“Says who?” He countered childishly and surprisingly defensive, “I’m a grown man and I can’t just let my soulmate just… sit, I guess.”

“Trust me, he can wait.”

“According to you? What about according to him?” He replied, brows furrowing in frustration.

“Does he even know that he’s your soulmate, Clint?” She chose to say.

Clint threw his arms up, frustration showing, “I don’t know! But I’m not going to try to avoid him just because you say so, Nat! If he does know that I’m his soulmate, it’d be a real dick move if I just started avoiding him.”

“Clint, you need to think all of this through—”

“I don’t think I want to, Nat, not anymore.” Clint admitted, “What, I get hurt in the end? I’ve experienced that before. I nearly get killed? He’s already done that twice . Natasha, I can’t just let him fade away without at least trying to be around him.”

Her eyes skipped around his face and she sighed, “God, you’re a disaster, Barton.”

“Everyone knows that.”

She shook her head, “Just… Clint, you can’t be this comfortable with getting hurt.”

“I’m going into this knowing what I might be in for actually,” He explained, “And besides, no matter what happens… I’m pretty damn sure Barnes isn’t going to physically hurt me. At least not on purpose.”

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but Clint cut her off, “ And he gave my kid a lizard , Nat. Come on, that’s kinda cute, ain’t it?”

At this, Natasha rolled her eyes. After a moment, she ran a hand down her face before she scooted closer to Clint. She settled back into the couch, leaning her head on Clint’s shoulder as if the previous conversation hadn’t had such a heavy weight over the room.

“We met before I knew you, actually. Back in the Red Room.”

Clint didn’t dare speak up in the moment. He knew that whatever was about to come out of Natasha’s mouth, and everything that just came out, was important and big .

So he let her speak.

“He trained me, for awhile. I was just a little girl at the time. Maybe… somewhere deep in that messed up mind of his, I reminded him of his sisters or something, because I can’t think of why else he and I grew close during his time with me. He trained and fought me, hard. He didn’t go easy on me and that was incredible. He… he taught me a lot of what I know today, actually.” She paused briefly, staring at the blank spot on the wall in front of them, just between a picture of Wanda and Natasha (a new addition to the decor) and one of the Avengers at an SI event. “James was very important to me then and even now, he has some sort of weight in my life. He and I were scared, sometimes, of the lives we were living. And, you know the process of his brainwashing, I know you do, but while he was training me, they didn’t go through the process as often. His handlers got tired of having to reintroduce the protocol and myself everyday, so they let him keep his memories during the time we trained together.

“So, sometimes we spoke, when we had time in private. I told him stuff I was told never to tell anyone by my own handlers. I don’t know why I did, but I did. He told me the little things he sometimes remembered, like this old apartment he said he once lived in. It was bad then, his memory. Everything was in pieces and even then sometimes he couldn’t get the truth out in words. James, he wasn’t used to sharing his thoughts with others or speaking to anyone but his handlers.

“But, together, things felt okay for just a few short minutes. I told him what my name actually was one night where we were left alone for training for a few minutes. I told him that I was both Black Widow and Natalia Alianovna Romanova and he told me that his name might be James. So things felt a little better in the Red Room, for just a second. But then our handlers started wondering why James was acting so… human and why I was suddenly so eager to get to see James when I started the training hating having to work with someone who was loved so much by my handlers.

“James heard talk one night, that they were planning to remove James from the program and were going to wipe him of his memories. He was compromised and they said I was being groomed to go against the Red Room. So, we made a plan. We were going to run away together and live as James and Natalia. I was only, what twelve at the time? And I was already ready to help James have a normal life, and I realized that I wanted to have that chance as well.

“Long story short, they caught us before we could get too far. Split us up and wiped both of our memories. I didn’t remember James at all until a year or two before I met you, actually, and ever since then, until we actually found him, I tried to find James again. And now, he’s here and he remembers me. Remembers Natalia.”

Clint let out a quiet breath as silence settled around them.

He didn’t know what to really say to that.

Natasha seemed to decide for him, “Clint… be careful with him. And… and don’t push him away or loose him.” She said. Clint could only assume that her mind had gone through a long loop of what to tell Clint now. “I lost him once and it… was painful. If you get the chance, hold onto him even if you never get past a friendly hello.”

Clint wrapped an arm around Natasha, speaking quietly, “I think I can live with a friendly hello.”

He didn’t know if that was the entire truth, not really, but now Clint truly knew what he was getting into. James is a mess of a person, truthfully, but Clint wanted to know him. Wanted to be part of James’ orbit.

Chapter Text

According to Steve, James’ own quarters would be ready to be moved into by the end of the day.

James’ first question was how it was managed so quick, the question of why Tony Stark was being so accommodating to James, of all people, going unsaid.

“An olive branch, maybe?” Steve suggested, back facing James as he packed away the leftovers from his lunch.

James had just returned from the gym when Steve had given him the news, and James was surprised with the lack of tension in the room.

Maybe Steve was handling the move with a little more grace than James had expected.

There was this weird type of push-and-pull between them, James thought. Every time James pushed Steve away, Steve didn’t run nor did he leave James alone, entirely. And every time Steve got a little too much for James, James always found himself returning after he gave him some space.

Was this what it was like for Bucky and Steve?

Maybe James was just falling into the life he once lived.

“An olive branch?” James echoed, doubtfully.

Steve sighed, “He doesn’t… hate you, exactly.” He tried to explain, “we talked about it, kind of, and he told me that he’s been making the effort to find peace with the news since he found out. And knowing who you are now, or whatever he’s seen of you, he doesn’t want to hate you. The person he hates right now is me, Buck.”

James didn’t try to comfort Steve over that news, knowing that the feeling was justified, “How can he just get past this, though, with me?”

“Tony has an understanding of not having control over life, so maybe he’s trying to be what he needed when he was in a similar spot.”

The idea didn’t comfort James much, but Steve seemed ready to move onto a different subject that didn’t revolve around Tony.

“I noticed that you’ve been sleeping better.” He commented quietly.

James stuck his hands into his hoodie pocket, watching as Steve moved to the refrigerator and placed the newly filled containers from lunch in precisely.

Steve never tried to dig too deep into what kept James up some nights, but he supposed Steve understood even the slightest bit with the way James had heard him wake up screaming before. It never happened as often as it did for James, but even once was enough.

But James had noticed the decline in his own nightmares. He spent pretty much every night of his years on the run having nightmares, but as he settled into the compound, the nightmares settled slightly.

James had taken to calming himself down from nightmares during his time on his own, but maybe having a (hopefully) permanent place to stay was enough of a calming factor sometimes.

The nightmares weren’t gone entirely, James was sure that would never happen, but now they had become much more repetitive, with the same types of screams and gore that he swore he was actually becoming immune to in some ways.

Still sucked all the same, every time he actually had nightmares.

Although James didn’t wander on the idea, a part of him wondered if maybe the people around him had settled him slightly. Natalia, Steve, and… Clint, maybe. Natalia could incapacitate him if she truly wanted to, along with Steve if he got the guts, and James didn’t doubt that Clint could too. Along with that, there was something about the three of them that had James feeling able to talk with them.

“They’ve gotten better,” James decided to say, “But you don’t need to worry about me, Steve, I’ve been dealing with nightmares for awhile.”

Steve nodded and shut the refrigerator door. He turned to face James, “Just don’t feel that you have to alone, okay? I know that sometimes you will need to, but when you need someone, you can come to me.”

James nodded and hesitated before he started forwards and patted Steve on the shoulder, “I know,” he paused, “I know, Stevie.” He tried the nickname on.

Progress came in small things, James was finding.

With the way Steve perked up at the use of the nickname, James was sure it might become a regular occurance soon enough.

“But,” James started, “There’s no need to spend the rest of the day movin’ my things out, especially since I don’t really have anything to move into the new place.” James said, “Go and find Sam or someone. Go make plans with someone that hasn’t seen you in awhile.” Steve didn’t need to stick around for the day, as he was gradually getting more and more sad with James’ inevitable moving out hanging in the air. At least if he's busy during the day, when James is actually gone, he’ll be moping for hopefully less time.

Steve grinned and shook his head, “Already trying to get rid of me?”

“Comes with the new independence.”

Steve’s grin grew softer then, and the man pulled James in for a brief hug. When he pulled away, he spoke again, “I’ll go find someone who wants to hang out with this old man, I guess.”

James rolled his eyes and nudged Steve towards the elevator, “Bye, Rogers!”

“Bye, Barnes!” Steve called out, a laugh following his words, as he made his way to the elevator.