Chapter Text
Clint drops onto the beat-up old sofa with a grunt, too tired to even walk the few feet to his bedroom. He likes the sofa better anyway, he thinks it was originally some shade of purple but he bought it from a fella who had bought it from another fella so who knows. The springs are broken and his body just sinks down into it; laying down face first it's almost like he's been swallowed whole and will never have to deal with the painful day-to-day again. “You should get a new couch,” Phil was always saying with that look (with the pinched skin between his eyebrows and the slightest hint of disapproval) “and don't lay on it like that, it's bad for your back.” He was always quick to defend his sofa though, even if it was old and had a suspicious looking burn mark, he just turned the cushion over and the problem was solved.
If he could spend the rest of time sleeping and ignoring the outside world he would. As it was he had a missing friend, no real suspects and good old Steve Rogers and Tony Stark had almost blown it for him earlier. Rogers was just about the last person he'd expected to run into at Club Valhalla, but lo, there he had been.
A throat cleared behind him and Tony had scoffed out an “evening Cap” before he had turned around to see who it was. “Stark.” Rogers had greeted cordially. He nodded a hello to Pepper and Happy and turned a smile to Clint. “Barton, it's been awhile.”
“Hell of a long time.” He smiled back, it was physically impossible not to smile back at Steve, who may well have been born with a heart of gold and nerves of steel.
Tony perked up as he always did at new information “wait wait wait,” he held up a hand “are you friends with Captain America?”
Steve bristled at the name. “We were in basic training together.” Clint shrugged by way of explanation and tried to steer the conversation away from where he suspected it was going. “Feels like a lifetime ago. How've you been?”
“I've been doing well.” He replied with the practiced ease of a man who had repeated those words over and over. “And you? How's Bobbi?”
Bobbi. Bobbi was a long and messy story, always had been probably always would be. They were on and off all the time, couldn't be around each other without finding something to fight about and couldn't remember why they were apart when they were. They'd gotten engaged when he enlisted, stayed happily engaged while he was away at war, and broken it off not so long after he came home. Bobbi. He loved Bobbi, even if they drove each other mad.
“Been doin’ alright. You know Tony, Pepper, and Happy?” He asked, gesturing to each of them in turn. Tony seemed pleased to have been brought back in to the conversation.
“Oh we’ve met, in fact –“
Pepper cut Tony off with an elbow to the side. “Yes, we've met. Captain Rogers it's so good to see you again.”
“Ms. Potts, please, it's just Steve.
Peppers smile could light up the room. “Alright Steve, if that’s the case, you can call me Pepper.”
Beside her Tony squawked indignantly “what so he's Steve now?” Pepper puffed out her rosy cheeks to bicker with Tony, it was such a common occurrence that it was almost to be expected. Happy wasn’t fazed, so used to the constant arguing, but Steve looked uncomfortable. His lips were pressed together in a straight line and his posture was too good to be normal.
He lead Steve away by the elbow, for once grateful for the tension between Tony and Pepper; they were so caught up in each other that they wouldn’t notice them leaving.
Steve kept looking back over his shoulder and scratching behind his ear sheepishly.
“Don’t worry about it, they’re always like that.” Weeks of spending evening after evening with them had taught him that much.
He made all the appropriate small talk: Steve’s sharing an apartment with the friend he had told Clint so much about, he’s been doing art for some advertisements, has a complicated thing going on with a woman overseas.
Steve held himself the way people expected of a war hero, but Clint was used to looking for cracks in people’s armor. On closer inspection he saw that Steve looked bone-deep tired. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it used to; there were darks shadows under them and a stiffness in his shoulders, like he had been forcing himself to stand straight. Steve was tired, and Clint understood that, because he was tired too. Had been since he came back. He didn’t know what Rogers went through over there and he won’t ask, but he knows its left him changed.
“I hav’ta say, I didn’t think I’d see you in here.” Clint grinned with one side of his mouth and leaned forward a bit “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve laughed “I like it here though, don’t tell anyone. I have an image to maintain.”
“You’re here a lot, aren’t you Cap?” Tony slid his way over, Pepper followed close behind, cheeks flushed and voice sharp. “Tony.” She warned.
“I’m being nice.” He waved her off with little care, a wide smile stretched across his flushed face. “See?” His hand clasped tightly onto Steve’s shoulder. All Clint saw was a man too far into his cups and a situation about to go wrong.
“What are you doing here anyway? Wait – don’t tell me,” Tony held his arms aloft before them and waved his fingers in imitation of a stage magician “you’re here to set a good example for all the little boys and girls, right? Keep them away from the evils of music and liquor?”
Steve didn’t bother to respond.
“Y’know, Howie talks about you a lot. The Great Captain America and the Howling Commandos, the scourge of bad guys everywhere. He’s always saying how loyal and brave you are, always does the right thing, he says. He thinks you’re a real hero; me? I just don’t see it. Hey,” he snapped his fingers “aren’t you supposed to be all hung up on that Carter woman? But she’s all the way over in jolly old England and you’re here, what like, every other night? I’ve gotta say, I never woulda thought you could do it, you sly dog. I’ve seen you, hanging around, chatting with Red,” Tony’s smile turned salacious “has she taken you backstage?”
“Howard talked about you too.” Steve said, stepping closer and crowding Tony. “Said you were supposed to be some kind of genius, but all I see is an asshole who doesn’t know when to shut up.”
“Okay.” Clint stepped in, trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. “It’s getting late and we’ve all had enough to drink. I think it’s about time we all get going.”
Pepper sighed as if to say yes, thank you, finally someone who makes sense. “Good idea. Come on Tony.”
She laid her hands on Tony’s shoulders and started to guide him back to their table. But Tony was unable to let it go without having the last word. “Hey, how’s Barnes doing these days?”
Quick as a whip Steve had thrown a punch, cracking Tony square in the chin and back into a table. Tony grasped his jaw and guffawed “well, shit”. In an instant Happy had jumped between the two men, fists raised and blocking Steve’s path. He looked more serious than Clint had ever seen him. It was easy to forget that Happy Hogan hit people for a living; most of the time he seemed like a chump, a well-meaning chump, but a chump nonetheless. He hit Steve twice: once the jaw and once in his left temple.
Beside him Pepper shrieked at them to stop for God’s sake, just stop it.
It was a giant of a man that finally stepped in to stop the fight. By then the band had stopped playing, the fight had gathered the attention of most of the club, and Clint’s nose was bleeding heavily from his failed attempt at breaking the whole thing up.
“That’s enough.” The man’s deep, lightly accented voice interrupted. He escorted Happy to the bar, a possibly concussed Steve followed behind; Tony mostly stumbled along with Pepper angrily supporting his weight. Clint followed with his head tipped back to stem the flow of blood. The man requested some ice from the bartender with a soft smile.
Clint took the opportunity to size him up. Tall and broad shouldered; his blond hair was slightly curly; expensive suit with a red silk tie. Christ, his bicep must be the size of Clint’s head.
“You put on quite the show back there.” The man said, and Tony laughed before the man continued soberly “Don’t let it happen again. My brother doesn’t take too kindly to people bringing trouble into his business. He’s not one to forgive easily.”
His brother? Right, so this must be Thor. “And you?” He asked, voice muffled by the napkins held against his nose.
Thor smiled “I’m more of a people person.”
“Thank you, Mr. Odinson.” Pepper left Tony leaning against the bar to approach Thor. “I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m sure Mr. Stark will agree to pay for any damages caused tonight.”
The strangled noise Tony made was drowned out by Thor’s deep voice. “Of course, I think you’ve all had enough tonight. You should go home – sleep it off.”
Sleep it off – Clint was so unbelievably tired that it sounded like a far off dream come true. The thought of his couch waiting for him at home made the walk almost pleasant.
They drifted apart, Pepper politely said her goodbyes and swiftly walked out, ginger hair swinging as she moved. Happy kept close to Tony as they followed, Tony tried to talk to his assistant but she would only continue on her way and respond with a sharply spoken single word: “Don’t.”
Clint and Steve were headed the same way, so they walked together for a few blocks in awkward silence.
“Sorry I elbowed you in the nose.” Steve said after two blocks.
“Don’t worry about it. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been hit in the face? I don’t even feel it anymore.” He grinned back cheekily.
“Right.”
They continued on in silence again, until Clint figured there would be no better time or place to ask. “About your friend, Barnes,” he glanced at his companion “what happened?”
The rhythm of Steve’s steps faltered for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“I know people, Steve. I can read them pretty well. Tony was running his mouth all night, but it’s him bringing up Barnes that pushed you over the edge. So, what happened to him?”
Maybe it was that they were sort of friends; maybe it was that he wasn’t trying to get to him. Maybe he was just tired and needed to talk about it, but Steve relented. He stopped walking, waited until Clint turned back to look at him before speaking.
“We were sent on this sabotage mission, nothing new for us; they wanted us to stop the train from getting where it was going, but they wanted us to secure some of the cargo for research or something.
Our information was faulty, there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else on the train. I should’ve checked anyway, but I didn’t, and they got the jump on us. Things were fine, we were down to the last guy, and he pulled the pin from the grenade in his belt. We ran for the door, and Buck pushed me out first. He was right behind me. He was almost out the door when it went off.”
“He’s alive.” Clint interrupted, trying to bring Steve out of his memory.
“He’s alive.” Steve agreed, clearing his throat before he continued. “We all made it out, but he didn’t escape the blast. There was too much damage, they couldn’t save his arm.”
Telling Steve he was sorry for his friend would have been meaningless. Of course he was sorry, but what difference would that make? None. Not when they had all seen so much. Done so much. There’s nothing anyone can do to change what had been done. You can’t change the past, Coulson had said years ago, do what you can to make the future better.
“It’s not your fault.” He said, clasping the other man’s shoulder in a show of solidarity.
It was clear that Steve didn’t think so.
They walked in silence from there on, until they went their separate ways with little fanfare.
It had been a long night. Clint really just wanted to sleep.