Chapter Text
Clint watched the HYDRA camp that was nestled between the trees, their grey military tents and armoured caravans blatant against the wood and pines; yet it still took him almost three hours of searching to locate it. Guards roamed the perimeter, oblivious to the archer who had made an observation nest for himself within the conifers. He observed the trucks driving slowly around like bees at their hive, and ran a hand down his face.
He had been looking for this company of agents all morning since destroying their home base East of his position, and was eager to wrap the job up and get some food, preferably pizza, but tacos would do decently too.
He was only slightly miffed that he didn’t bring help along, but with Steve and Nat still healing from the attack on the Triskelion only two months ago, he’d prefer to run it alone than strain their wounds. Since HYDRA still had facilities around the country, and the globe, that remained undetected from their reveal to the world, Clint had decided to take it upon himself to slowly hunt down a few while everyone else recovered.
This particular mobile battalion had sent out what looked to be a small search party with a pretty adorable-looking dog earlier, which he would deal with after he finished with the camp.
“Hope you aren’t too willing to fight today, fellas,” Clint mumbled to himself, slipping out of his tree, paying careful attention not to snag his trousers on the needles. He prepared his bow and nocked his first arrow as he creeped over to the settlement, shooting down the first sentry, body conveniently falling into the bushes. The blond retrieved his ammunition and crawled on.
There wasn’t many soldiers present, only about fifteen or so, most either with the search party or at the base Clint had already dispatched of.
Determined to keep concealed and make life easier on himself, he darted between the crates and canvases, executing the HYDRA agents with single shots through their heads or helmet visors silently. He cringed when one soldier clattered against the steel support of a structure as he fell, but thankfully the rumbling of the machinery around him hid the noise from Clint’s next target, who was promptly tackled and stabbed before any trouble could arise. Leaving the trucks for last, he pulled out his explosive arrow and shot them in their engines, enveloping most of the camp in fire.
Stretching his back and standing upright, Clint sneezed and thought about how this would have been even more simple with Nat, hiking back into the dense forest on the trail of the search party.
He thankfully found them within the hour, for he was beginning to get tired. Crouching in a bush, he watched as the team looked around in front of them, dog baying on its leash. They swivelled their guns back and forth unsurely. Praying that he’d avoid whatever they were looking for, Clint decided to get this finished as fast as possible and withdrew another explosive arrow, letting it fly at the rear of the group and taking out more than half of them. The remaining agents that weren’t flung to the ground turned and darted for cover while the ones scrambling up from the dirt lurched away, fanning out for the source of the attack.
Moving behind the protection of a tree, he shot two more soldiers before he was spotted, and bullets embedded themselves into the bark of his wooden shield. Groaning, he prepared another arrow and killed and agent that was trying to flank him, and was surprised to see another fall dead at the sound of a gunshot echoing through the forest. He ducked back behind his cover and peeked out to watch the now-panicking HYDRA agents turning back and forth, irregularly firing into the trees. Another soldier’s helmet shattered by a bullet from Clint’s ten o’clock, and he used the distraction to take out the last two men.
The dog, now the only one left alive, snuffed at the body that belonged to its master, making Clint wince sympathetically; but he didn’t move from his tree, cautious of the other shooter.
Their little game of hide and seek continued for so long that Clint would have assumed his aid had ditched him, but the quiet and still forest told him otherwise. Swallowing, he cleared his throat.
“Thanks for the help,” he called out to the pines. The dog’s head raised, and it ran off towards the destroyed camp, taking Clint’s condolences with it.
The trees did not speak back, and he rubbed his stubble tiredly.
“Listen, I just want to go home, so how about we call a truce and leave before more agents arrive?” He reasoned. “I'm gonna step into the clearing, OK? I’d really prefer if you didn’t shoot me, thanks.” The archer stood, popped his knees and strode purposefully into the glade of HYDRA bodies and scorched grass, his shoulders relaxing when no bullet met his head.
“Thanks. You wanna come out too? I've got no arrow in my bow; I'm not gonna try anything.” Nothing moved aside from the delicate swaying of bushes and branches from the wind – then someone carefully emerged from the pines, and Clint subconsciously tightened his grip on his bow.
When visiting Steve and Nat during their hospital confinement, Clint had been caught up on everything he had missed. Steve’s best-friend-thought-dead-but-was-actually-alive-and-brainwashed-by-HYDRA certainly wasn’t a story he had expected, but Clint listened raptly to their story of the parasites that had been inside SHIELD since the beginning, the launching of the Insight Helicarriers and Steve explaining how Barnes had saved his life, dragging him out of the water then disappearing. It was safe to say that Clint’s only assumption that if he were ever to meet Barnes, would be if Steve had found him and introduced him.
Well, his assumption isn’t exactly true now. But at least Clint now knows where the Winter Soldier went after leaving, though.
Barnes held an expression that conveyed such strong indecision that Clint thought the man was either about to bolt or shoot him with the pistol he held in his unwavering metal hand. Knocked off-kilter, Clint took a second before continuing.
“Again, thanks for the help with them, man. That's all of their group right now, but we best head off before more come in their place,” he said, forcing his body to relax again and replicate a neutral position in an attempt to ease the assassin. Clint inspected him more closely, noting no visible injuries, but tired eyes, unshaven face, matted hair and scratched, clearly pilfered clothing. Barnes did not relax in the slightest; in fact, he visibly tensed up more like a cornered dog when he saw Clint inspect him, probably assuming he was sizing him up.
Though Steve had said that Barnes had control of his own mind again, and while that it looked the case, Clint still continued cautiously and assessed his next move. Waiting momentarily, he nudged the dirt with his foot and looked back to Barnes, who hadn’t moved an inch since he had first revealed himself.
He sighed and drooped his shoulders completely. His stomach rumbled, and Clint tilted his head upward to the sky. God, Nat would kill him for being as stupid as he is about to be, but hey, Barnes was a friend of a friend. Might as well.
“Don't suppose you want a ride? I have a car around four clicks from here,” he asked. Barnes met him with silence, but Clint continued, adding, “You look like you could do with a few miles’ distance from HYDRA; probably could do with food, too. I’ll buy you a pizza?” Again, the other man said nothing and did not move, except for the miniscule twitch of his brows.
Clint was ready to cut his losses and leave when the soldier bowed his head slightly, and Clint gave him an off-guard smile, leading the way back to his car but keeping the corner of his eye reserved for the other man. He was still silent as they trekked, wearily watching Clint and acting like he was considering running off, but tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans after a few minutes of walking. Hey, Clint would take any progress he could get.
Unlocking the car and opening the boot, the archer pretended to busy himself with stowing his bow and quiver away, but kept his handgun hidden within his jacket. Taking a glance over at his company, he lifted out a black and purple coat and extended it out to Barnes.
“It’ll hide your arm,” Clint offered, and the assassin took the clothing, shook and examined it, then tugged it on with another nod to Clint. Climbing in behind the wheel, the archer put his key in the ignition and watched discreetly as Barnes climbed into the opposite side, right arm firmly holding onto the door handle. A small pocketknife had materialised itself in his other hand, and Clint tried to act like it wasn’t there.
Driving out of the forest on a non-existent track and onto paved road, Clint divided his attention between the road ahead and on the motionless man beside him, who stared dead-on at the white line and cracked, shittily refilled potholes. By the time Clint parked outside a pizza joint, he’d kinda wished he had taken Barnes’ knife and used it to cut the tension between them.
He got out of the vehicle and prompted Barnes to do the same and led the way inside the diner and to a booth in the far corner, letting Barnes sit against the wall as he slid himself down onto the red vinyl bench. A waiter walked over moments later, a younger girl with the signature cheery-server attitude.
“Good afternoon, what can I get you gentlemen?” She asked, and Clint smiled back at her.
“Large cheese with ham, please.” He looked over to Barnes. “You just want plain cheese?” Unsure, the Sergeant nodded, and after Clint ordered waters with their meal, she left them in silence until Clint got too annoyed by it and decided to strike up conversation, ignoring the fact that he just saw Barnes put his knife back into his lap.
“Hope you don't mind the jacket being purple, most of my clothing’s like that so there’s-”
“Why are you doing this?” Barnes cut him off, unused voice cracking against the pizzeria’s music. Clint blinked.
“You helped me out. Plus, it was good to get you outta there before cops or more HYDRA agents arrived.” His companion considered this for a moment.
“Do you know me?” He asked guardedly, though a hint of nervousness slipped through his tone.
“Not personally, but I know who you are. Do you know who I am?” Clint responded carefully, not wanting to scare or anger the man; not when he could be stabbed in the crotch from under the table, at least.
“Hawkeye, also known as Clint Barton. You're an Avenger and a level eight agent in SHIELD. You…..you know Captain America.” Clint nodded.
“What do you want from me?” Barnes continued, and Clint paused his answer as the waiter came back with their pizzas and waters before leaving again. Barnes eyed his pizza sceptically, and Clint raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve never seen pizza before? I'm sure they had it back in your time,” he wondered, and Barnes nodded but didn’t move to get any, even though he looked ravenous. Clint reached over to Barnes’ plate slowly, and selected a random piece, shoving half of it in his mouth.
“She? Nah bad,” he mumbled. The corner of the assassin’s mouth quirked up almost imperceptibly, and as he grabbed his own slice, he said quietly,
“You shouldn’t talk with food in your mouth.” Clint shrugged and ate his pizza, thinking.
“I don't want anything from you. It would be good to keep you from HYDRA, sure, but there's nothing else. I didn’t even know you were going to be there; I was just after the agents,” he explained. Barnes had almost finished the entirety of his plate.
“Are you going to tell Ste- Captain America?” He asked. Clint shook his head.
“Don't see a reason to, as long as nobody’s hurt,” the archer replied, and the soldier nodded at him, finished his pizza in record time. Clint smiled. Same super-metabolism as Steve, then.
“Can I get you another?” Without waiting for a reply, Clint stood from the booth.
“Ever tried ham on pizza?” When the Winter Soldier shook his head, Clint walked up to the counter and ordered him another, this time with ham, and retreated back to the other man.
“So you're not going to tell anyone about this?” Barnes asked.
“Not if you don't want me to. I'm gonna continue wiping out HYDRA bases solo anyways; I’ll just pretend you were never there.” The second pizza came, and Clint took another slice of it to assure his companion before reclining back. “What’s your plans, if you don't mind me askin’?”
“I…” Barnes began. “I'm not entirely sure. Hide, I suppose.”
“Well, if you need a safehouse, I know plenty,” Clint said, taking a swig of water. “You not planning on getting back at HYDRA though? You have to be even a little bit pissed at those bastards.” Barnes’ normal hand holding the pizza clenched ever so slightly.
“I hate them, but I don’t have the information or the supplies to return the favour. Plus, running it alone would be dangerous, especially since they know so much about me.” Clint hummed and thought for a moment.
“Well, you could always come with me…. I know I haven’t exactly earned your trust, but I have equipment and knowledge. Plus, it would be the last thing they expect,” he introduced carefully, still not fully sold on the idea himself, but not having the impulse to keep his mouth shut. Barnes leaned back with mild astonishment.
“You’d trust me enough to fight with you?” He asked, clearing his second dish.
“Sure. Steve did – still does – and I'm sure I could get away if your assassin-y side comes out.” Barnes looked down to the greasy table.
“I don't know…” he murmured. Clint scratched his arm and cleared his throat.
“How’s about this; I’ll come here in two days at this hour with all the gear we’d need. If you wanna come, meet me here. If not, well, y’know, don't. Sound good?” Barnes thought for a moment, before nodding.
“Alright then. I'm gonna go pay.” Clint rose and popped his back. “Ah, also, feel free to keep the coat.” With that, he turned his back and returned to the counter and paid. When he was exiting the pizzeria, their table was empty.
A day later, Natasha turned up on clint’s doorstep and let herself in.
“You called?” She said into the apartment, walking over to his couch and sitting down. Clint’s haynest of hair poked out from the loft.
“Hey Nat, thanks for coming.” Smiling at her, he walked down the stairs, a few articles of clothing in his arms. The redhead raised an eyebrow, as Clint shoved his things into a bag sitting on his counter with negligent care. He lifted the coffee pot out of the machine and took a swig while putting the kettle on for Nat’s cup of berry tea. Lucky appeared from the stairs, wagging his way over to Nat and putting his head in her lap.
“I'm gonna be taking a trip,” Clint began, tossing an assortment of things, including his tactical gear, into the bag. Natasha got herself more comfortably perched on his couch and waited for Clint to continue.
“Gonna be going no-contact for at least a few months. I’ll give you a burner phone in case an emergency happens or Cap decides to wrangle the team together, but other than that I’ll be silent, and without any of your secret tabs, please. If I'm in trouble, I’ll call. It’s one of them missions I want privacy on.”
“If you wish. What are you going to be doing?” She asked him as he handed her the mug of tea.
“Taking out HYDRA bases. Info from the SHIELD files says there's likely a good number of them still dotted around America.”
“You're sure you're alright with running through them alone? I don't mind going with you, Clint,” she said, but the man shook his head, looking under and on top of every piece of furniture for all of his trick arrows, fixing and finishing a few as he went.
“Nah, I’ll be alright. They're just goons with Pierce gone anyhow.” She regarded him with some amusement as he tripped over one of Lucky’s toys, chuckling as he threw it at her. She returned it playfully along with his singular couch pillow, which he dodged.
“Kate promised to look after Lucky for me.” He crammed the last little bits of supplies into his bag, squeezing it shut and wrestling with the zipper.
“If you're positive, Clint. Steve talked about finding the HYDRA base holding Loki’s sceptre with everyone in a few months anyways, but you’d be giving us a good head’s start. Can you save any data or files you find for me?” Clint nodded.
“When are you leaving?” The archer glanced at his watch.
“Uh, flight’s in an hour.” He picked up his bag and quiver, slinging them over his shoulder before grabbing his weapons case. “Lock the door on your way out?” He pleaded. The redhead smiled at him.
“Sure, Clint. Good luck.”
“You too, Nat. Rest up from those injuries and tell Steve I said hi.”
Bucky shifted his eyes up and down the street as he slunk across the path towards the pizzeria, blending in against the brick walls as he went. Hands in his pockets with one clutching his knife, he stopped and leaned against the stonework of the diner, waiting.
After a few hours of thought, he had bitten his metaphorical bullet and decided to take Barton up on his offer, despite the risk of being with another person with possible ulterior motives. He had arrived two hours early and planted himself in a concealed spot to scope out any potential dangers or traps.
He hadn’t found any so far.
Shoving his hands deeper into the coat the Avenger had given him and hiding his chin further into the collar, Bucky watched as Barton’s car cruised up to the sidewalk and parked. He got out of the vehicle, purple-tinted sunglasses covering his eyes, making it impossible to see where the archer was looking. He walked into the pizzeria and came out fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds later, according to Bucky’s count, with a large pizza box. The blond man got back into his car and rolled down the front windows, relaxing and eating a slice.
Pausing for an extra minute, Bucky sighed and squared his shoulders. He strode over to the car and opened the passenger door, slipping in without a word. Barton grinned at him as if he was certain Bucky was going to come and offered him some pizza. He took a bit and nodded.
“Where to first?” He asked him. Barton reached over him to the glovebox and pulled out a map, flapping it out to examine.
“Heard intel that there's a small encampment up in North Montana - should have some files we could use,” the archer supplied, tracing the roads to their destination so Bucky could see.
“From there, we’ll just go as needs to be done,” he smiled. Bucky nodded.
“Alright then.” With his affirmation, Barton rolled the windows back up and drove out onto the road.