Chapter Text
The girl's legs were wrapped tightly around a john when Clint first saw her. Strappy heels hooked together at the ankles, head tilted back against the alley wall, black curls stuck to sweat slicked skin, bright red lips parted in an obscene moan, she was a picture of dark temptation. The man thrusting her up against the old bricks didn't seem to register the archer standing behind him, but the girl did. She raised her head, arching one perfect eyebrow above brilliantly blue eyes as if to ask if he was enjoying the show. Clint felt hot blush coloring his cheeks, but he couldn't look away. He was frozen to that spot. The prostitute's amused look became stormy. Clint uprooted himself, keeping his eyes down he quickly walked away. He might not have remembered the moment as anything more than embarrassing if the girl's expression hadn't reminded him so much of the man he loved, the man he lost. Phil.
"You're not even listening are you?" Kate sighed letting one hand drop from the steering wheel. She had just spent the last five minutes complaining about a training session the avengers had made her go through in excruciating detail. The young hawkeye looked over at her older counterpart. Clint was staring out the windshield across the intersection. Kate followed his gaze to a dark car mostly hidden in shadow. At first she didn't see anything unusual that would draw Clint's attention. She was worried about him since Phil. He seemed fine, laughing and joking just like always, but he kept pulling away. She would catch him staring at empty space, grief hollowing out his eyes. When a dark haired head appeared over the top of the car leering at them Kate's concern ratcheted up a notch. "Clint!" A first landed square in his shoulder. The archer turned to her with a wounded expression. "Ow! What was that for?" He shrieked.
"That was for ogling the prostitute!" She yelled back.
"I was not ogling!" He snapped.
Kate huffed in disbelief. "Oh yeah? Well she sure thinks so. She just winked at you!"
"What?" Clint nearly gave himself whiplash looking back, but the car was already pulling away with the girl inside.
Clint ran a single finger through the small puddle of condensation on the wooden bar. The swirl of water matched his dark thoughts. He had been able to keep up the charade around Kate for a while, but he didn't know how much longer he'd last. All he wanted was to sleep, but with sleep came dreams, dreams of the people he had killed, the friends he had betrayed, the things he had lost. Phil. He missed Phil so goddamn much. Every time he closed his eyes his husband's face floated across the back of his eyelids. Clint motioned to the bartender and another shot was placed in front of him. The shot thrown back, Clint looked around the room. People swarmed the dance floor, glistening with sweat, grinding up against each other, bodies vibrating with lust. All he could hear of the din was the steady thump of bass through the floorboards. Clint watched the door open at the edge of his vision. 'What were the chances?' He thought. Through the door and up to the bar opposite him walked the call girl that he seemed to see everywhere. She was wearing a grey shirt and black leather jacket over a pair of jeans instead of something revealing, but it was defiantly the same young woman. She took a seat, catching the attention of the bartender. Clint thinks he's managed to go unnoticed until she receives her drink and raises it to him, a silent toast. He watches her take small sips from her bottle, eyes scanning the room. She has been there a while when she ducks her head down suddenly, hiding behind her drink. As a large greasy man sidles up next to her her face falls. The sleaze bag is clearly being a little more handsy than he's been invited to be. Clint gets to his feet as the argument escalates, but before he can make it to the other side of the bar the girl wraps a hand around the back of the guys neck and brings his head down hard on the counter top. As he doubles over, howling, she brings her knee up into his abdomen then kicks him in the balls. The guy falls to his knees just as Clint makes it to the girls side. She looks scared as she grabs his collar and drags him outside, but she looks nothing, but fierce when she throws him against the alley wall.
“Why do I seem to run into you everywhere I go?” She hisses.
Clint raises his hands, tries to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I live around here.”
She searches his eyes, looking for a tell. She deflates when she doesn’t find one. She looks almost sheepish as she lets go of his collar and takes a step back. Clint just silently watches the wheels turn in her head as she scans the streets. When she finally turns back to him it’s only to ask, “Will you walk me home?”
Clint is more than a little bewildered, but nods and follows after her.
“My names Clint by the way.” He says when they’ve walked a block. She eyes him carefully before replying. “You can call me Sam.”
She lives in a shit hole of a building. Bricks are missing from the wall. The front door is stood permanently ajar. A man sits on the front steps, blazed out of his mind. “Are you sure you’re okay here?”
“Shut up. You’re not my knight in shining armor. I can take care of myself. Now fuck off.” She turns and walks up the stairs towards the door so he turns to go home as well. “Clint.” He looks back over his shoulder. “Thank you.” He nods once more before heading back to his own shit hole of a building.
“You do not work in a dinner.” Clint turns at the familiar sound of disbelief. Sam is sitting on one of the stools, elbows on the counter, chin resting in a palm. She is once again dressed in more modest clothes. He turns back to flipping burgers at the grill as he tries to puzzle out what she’s doing here. “Yeah, well. A guy's gotta make a living.”
“That’s why you charge rent.” Clint turned to glare at her sharply, but she just shrugs. “I asked around.” He stares at her a bit longer before going back to work again.
“It keeps me busy.”
“Most people would say running a whole building is busy enough.”
Now it’s Clint’s turn to shrug while scowling at sizzling beef patties.
“So, who’d you lose?” His entire body tenses.
“How do you know that?” He hisses.
There is a long pause before Sam responds quietly. “Everybody lost somebody in the attack.”
Clint relaxes slowly. He turns around, leaning a hip against the counter, smiles shakily. “Yeah, I guess so. Can I get you something?”
She studies him a moment before shaking her head. “Fresh outta spending money. Maybe next week.”
“How about coffee? On the house.” Clint offers, but she just shakes her head again.
“Another time.” She calls over her shoulder as she walks out the door.
“That apron looks cute on you.” Clint jumps, spinning around.
“Goddammit! How do you always sneak up on me?”
“You’re always stuck in your head. Where’d you get the apron, a Halloween store?”
“Sam, where have you been?”
“Seriously, it’s straight out of a porno with a sexy maid.”
“Sam! You come in every couple of days for months and then you drop off the face of the earth for three weeks! I thought you were dead in some-” Clint snaps his mouth shut as he realizes what he’d been about to say. Sam crosses her arms across her chest. In the months they had spent chatting over the diner counter they had had a silent agreement. Clint doesn't mention her lifestyle, she doesn’t mention his.
“In some what, Clint? Seedy motel? Back alley? Back of some guy’s car? I don’t rag on the dump you work at, so you can shut the fuck up.” She turned to leave, but Clint reached out to grab her arm. She flinched violently, smacking his hand away. They stood in silence in the mouth of the alley for a moment.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
“I’m fine.” She said, but when she looked up at him her mask slipped showing she was anything but. As quickly as it came it left. “Well, I need to get back to work and you need coffee so let’s go inside.” She smiled and followed him inside. Sam sits silently, nursing her drink and watching the window. “Clint, are you aware of the redhead stalking you?”
Clint follows her gaze out the window, but sees only snow. “It’s just Nat.” When Sam looks up with a raised brow he continues. “Nat’s a friend of mine.”
“One of the friends you don’t ever see because you’re too busy drowning to let them help?”
The scalding glare Clint sends her way does nothing to deter her. “What? You got one. Now so do I.”
“I thought the thing about the diner was your one.”
“You know this place isn’t a dump.”
There’s a long relaxed silence as Clint finishes cleaning the last of the dishes.
“She must be a pretty good friend if she’s coming out here while it’s ten below.”
“Stop, Sam.”
“You should let her help.”
“I said stop!” He slammed the mug he was drying down on the counter. Shards went flying in every direction. Clint’s shoulders shook almost imperceptibly as he stood hunched over the counter. “I can’t okay. I can’t go back and I can’t look at them. So just, stop.”
“Well that was my one anyway so I’m done.” She placed a small hand over his on the table top. “You can always come to me you know, if you need someone.”
The incessant knocking pulled Clint from the fog of grief that was consuming him.
“Go away!” He shouted from the couch, but the knocking didn’t stop. He groans as he rolls off the couch and makes his sluggish way to the door. “I said go away!” He growls as he swings the door open. “Yeah, I heard you the first time.” Sam pushes her way passed him, not giving him a chance to shut the door in her face. She waves a bottle of liquor at him and starts going through his cupboards. “I brought you something. All of these cups are dirty. This is just gross.” Her lip curls up in disgust as she washes out two tumblers and pours a finger for them both. She makes her way to the couch he had previously been curled up on with the glasses and bottle. She holds one out to him. He only hesitates a second before finally shutting the door and taking the drink from her. He sinks into the couch next to her downing the drink and holding out his glass for more. They are both a few drinks in when she asks. “Birthday? Anniversary?”
Clint shakes his head. It was an anniversary of sorts that had him drowning all over again, but nothing she could understand.
“Recruitment?” He turns sharply at her spot on guess.
“I’m not stupid, Clint. I know who you are.”
Clint studies the amber liquid swirling in his hand.
“I was a stupid hurt kid. I would have gotten myself killed. He brought me in instead. I can never repay him.”
When he looks back up at her she's watching him. "What?" He says. "He was more than just a friend, wasn't he?"
"That's none of your business."
Now it's Sam's turn to study her drink. "What was he like?"
It's a tense moment before Clint responds. "He was an asshole." He smiles. "Had a snarky response for everything. The baby agents were terrified of him cause he could keep a straight face during any situation. Best deadpan you've ever seen." Clint looks at a patch of wall peppered holes and his smile widens. "He was scary competent too. I swear I've seen him do a roundhouse kick while doing paperwork. He killed a man with a paper clip once. It was awesome." His face falls. He takes another sip whispering into his glass. "He's the kindest man I've ever known. He just wanted to help people. He didn't deserve this." Clint turned to Sam. All her attention was on him, her drink forgotten in her lap. "You know when he died he thought I was a traitor? After everything he did for me I betrayed him in the end."
"I really doubt that." Clint stood up swinging his arms wide. He shouted angrily.
"How would you know?! You never even met him!"
"I've met you. I know you and you're not the kind of guy who betrays his friends. I don't know what happened, but this guy sounds amazing. I think he would have given you the benefit of the doubt. Sounds like he did once before."
Clint pauses in his feverish pacing. She's right of course. Phil had given him the benefit of the doubt time and time again. He always withheld judgment until he heard Clint's side. He sunk back down in the cushions. Phil always found the good in people and now he would forever be lost in the mediocrity he cloaked himself with.
"What's his name?" Clint turned misty eyes on Sam at the unexpected question.
"What?"
"You heard me. What's his name?"
"Phil."
Sam filled his glass and held up her own. "To Phil. A snarky, terrifying, competent, kind, asshole." She smiled softly. "He will never be forgotten."