So a downfall

by KimaKima

Summary:

You don't need to read previous parts of the story to understand this one. However it may add depth to it.
(Change in description)

Tony Stark owns several slaves. Clint, who was on the run for several years, adjusted to living in the Stark tower serving Tony, alongside Bruce and Steve.

Part 1: A journalist looks into Tony Stark's life and threatens to release an incriminating documentary about him. Everyone at the tower works on stopping that from happening. Unbeknownst to most, red room has something to do with this.

Part 2: Clint and Phil were captured by the red room. Everything appears to be falling apart. Dark(est) part of the story. (This would be the explicit part, rating may change)

Part 3: ?

(Possible happy ending however the author hasn't fully figured out how to get there yet)

Notes:

Hi all,

This is my first longer piece of writing work ever, set in the first piece of fiction I created (or copied from Marvel and got inspired by another fanfic and decided to twist things around).

Clint in this story will suffer, will do things he doesn't agree with and will be stuck in situations he would rather never find himself in.

The story will be divided into 3 parts, each with it's own mini arc. I have only written the first part which means that there will be a short break between posting at that point. The plan is to update this story once a week, once every two weeks at most.

Tags will be added as we go, and if anyone spots a mistake or thinks that I made a mistake, please let me know and I will fix it.
Please comment and like if you think that the story is worth it, as it's nice to know that someone reads my scribblings. And thank you to all those who liked and commented on my previous posts. It means a world to me.

Enjoy!!!

P.S. I am unsure whether I should tag this story as mature or explicit. Part 1 was leaning more towards mature however the second part has darker themes so just in case I upped it to explicit. This may change as I am not sure if I tagged it correctly.

Chapter 1: Part 1: Purple bracelet

 

 

Smooth curves of his new acquisition reflect the cold luminescent lights of the ceiling. Archer uses slow, long strokes with his waxing cloth. Maintaining the polish on the wooden part of the bow. He breathes in and out, rhythmically, alongside the regular hand movements. Lost in the task, focused on the magnificent, artistic and extremely dangerous piece of accessory in front of him. Time doesn’t exist. Space doesn’t matter, only what is in front of him, only the next, soothing brush of a hand, caring for the one possession he can call his own. Its soft finish calms him down, grounds him. 

 

More tools are set on the side. A new string, to replace the old, almost used one. And arrows, already inspected. But he hasn’t had time to think about what he wants to do next. The reflection of the light flashes momentarily on his bow. The outside room’s cold lights reach him for a few seconds before the door is closed again. Clint ignores it for a while longer, continuing to maintain his ipe bellywood bow, it's dark colors more elegant than his professional equipment. No one can say that he doesn’t have a style. He breaks the activity to place his hearing aids back into his ears. His back immediately straightens and is ready for a quick adjustment to the situation. But he goes back to the activity, hoping that the summoning won’t be long. Counting, against all odds, that the man is just checking up on him, that he will leave soon. 

 

“This better be important, Coulson,” he says, “I’m kinda busy.” He throws into the air, more as a joke than anything else, without thinking and freezes, not wanting to face the consequences of upsetting his trainer. Not with the current and strict rules he has. Not with Coulson’s identity crisis. No one responds. Clint sighs quietly. Taking one last stroke with the cloth and knowing that this will be the end of the session for today. He wishes he had the time to check the string for any breaks. But it will have to wait until the next time.

Respectfully he moves the bow aside, placing it on a secure suspended shelf. He turns around and slowly adjusts his stance to Coulson’s favorite position. He looks down at the floor, “Sir,” acknowledging Coulson. 

Phil is standing next to the door, hands in his pockets. Wrinkles seem to pop out strongly today. Dark circles under his eyes are prominent and he does not bother to turn the corner of his lips up. His face is cold looking, a very distinctive and telling appearance. This is not a quick social call. 

 

“I find you fascinating at times Clinto… Clint.” Archer doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think that Phil wanted him to respond. “You go on your missions and shoot. A whole day sometimes. You practice your shooting skill professionally, every day. And not only, as a first reward for your exceptional work have you asked for another type of weapon, you spend all your free time with that weapon, maintaining it and ensuring that no one touches it. That it really is yours. Never having enough of it. Never wanting a break. Fearing being forced to depart from your equipment.” Phil sighs and rests his head on the frame of the door. Closing his eyes. Clint doesn’t move, the smell of the wax still filling his nostrils, closed eyes still remembering every detail of the polished bow. He is uncomfortable, awkward, in front of his trainer. But the familiar surrounding seems to be having his back. 

“You carry your weapons as if they were your masters, Clint.” Coulson starts again. Question lingers at the end of each sentence. “Showing more respect to them than you’ve ever managed to display in front of me or even Stark.” Coulson opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling lights. Archer doesn’t respond. “Respecting this tiny piece of wood and giving it better care than your fellow slaves, than any person you have ever met.” He looks up and straight into Clint’s eyes. “Why?” He asks.

 

Barton takes his time to answer. Trying to understand the intention behind the question. Find an angle, predict an acceptable response. But Phil’s facial expression is just tired. He looks like he needs some sleep. He doesn’t seem to be angry or in a mood for an argument. He just wants to understand something about Clint, that he did not seem to be getting before. 

 

“Weapons can’t hurt me,'' Archer explains. Coulson frowns, eyeing him wearily, as if thinking that Clint is cooking something up. “It’s not weapons that hurt me but the hands behind them. People.” The suspicious glare disperses. “People who use these weapons. Some do it without thinking, some think too much. Piercing, slashing, stabbing, slamming. People.” Clint takes a break to punctuate what was said. Phil keeps looking at him, silent. Accepting the answer, understanding the perspective. Clint turns around for the next part, eyeing his bow. Wishing he could continue his activity. Not be disturbed, wishing he had the power to refuse an order, deny a request. He wishes he could say ‘I am tired, let me stay in this room, let me relax’. “

 

“I am a weapon.” He says and turns back around to face his trainer, looking at the floor, pretending that it’s due to submissiveness. But it’s because the words he wants to utter are cold. “Made to pierce, slash, stab and slam. Only for others to believe that their hands are clean, only to have someone… something to blame when things go wrong.” Another pause and uncomfortable stepping from one foot to another.

“I, as a weapon, work better when I am maintained. You know this. You maintain me regularly and enthusiastically.” Clint venomously states. Letting some of the anger that is brewing inside, out into the world. Risking a reaction. 

“I don’t own people… Hell, I don't own things… Sir. But this bow is mine. You gifted it to me and it’s mine. I hold responsibility over it. I understand its function, its purpose. This bow… it’s useless in all other things than the one it was created for. It’s beautiful. It deserves to be taken care of.” He braves out glancing at  Phil, and he knows that his trainer understands. Nothing more needs to be said. 

Phil returned from his interview with a red haired woman. Clint can see that it did not go well. He’s scared to ask about it. So he just stands there. Waiting for Coulson to say what he wants from him.

“I think this is the end.” Coulson replies after many minutes of silence. “I have not maintained you well enough, the broken edges sticking out too much to hide.” He says.

“Sir?” Clint asks anxiously. 

“I… I am sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. This isn’t your fault. It was supposed to focus on me. On how I failed. I… I think I am just tired. And that woman got to me. She is too good at her job.” He closes his eyes. Slowly breathes in and out. Grounding himself. 

 

Clint turns around and silently starts to put his equipment away. All the bow maintenance kit into its designated space, a dry and dark corner of the room. Bow put on especially designed hooks. This part of the shooting range is more similar to a closet than a weapon maintaining facility but he chose it on purpose. Away from any free man eyeing his prize and deciding to take it for himself. Not wanting to give anyone a reason to touch it, to hurt it or to take it away from him. He gulps and the heavy collar on his neck reminds him of its existence. Once its all done he returns to Phil and stands at attention again. 

“Ready?” Coulson asks. He usually doesn’t ask unless they’re on a mission mode, unless Coulson is communicating with the famous Hawkeye. Here, at home, it isn’t expected of him and it was him to discuss appropriate boundaries with Clint. The question unsettles archer too much to address. 

 

Clint follows the man into the hallway. The man is a ghost of his usual self. Slumped down and slow. They take a ride up the elevator, Clint’s recent punishment too fresh on his mind to ask a question without permission. Too keen on having a bed to sleep on, too careful to lose his coffee privileges.

 

They step out on the floor Clint has never seen before. Coulson’s personal floor. One needs a special pass to enter and no slave was ever granted one. Coulson likes to keep the distance. Maintain his privacy. So Clint takes the view in. The simplistic gray design contrasts a wall full of Captain America comic book displays. All from the early 50's. A few figurines decorate the shelves on said wall and a very old deck of cards is displayed in the middle of the wall. Clint’s lips fight from raising. He wonders if Steve knows about Coulson’s obsession with him. He wonders how that impacted on their relationship after Steve’s enslavement. On the training he received from Phil. 

 

It all makes sense to Clint now. No, of course he doesn’t know about the wall, there is a reason no slave was ever allowed in. It makes sense as to why Steve was trained to behave like his patriotic alter ego, why he is so strict with himself while holding up a desirable standard. In the free time Steve definitely displays similar qualities and behaviors but they also have an edge to them, one could see his passion for them. His convictions and beliefs lead him to making decisions he is making. 

Clint being here indicates the exhaustion of his handler, the sheer will to maintain appearances no longer at the front of his worries. The man needs someone to take care of him. Clint can do that. 

 

They walk towards a gray couch covered with a fluffy blanket of the same color. There are no pillows here. Coulson undresses, handing his suit, tie and shoes to Clint to put them in the correct locations.  Clint decides to take his own shoes off too, wanting to switch off as many alarms going off in Coulson’s head as he can. Coulson turns the TV on and switches it to the news channel. Clint makes him coffee and prepares some canapes, setting them on the table. Nothing too fancy. He was never skilled enough to make it fancy. Coulson seems to be satisfied with them when grabbing the first bite a few minutes later. Cucumber and tuna, way too much mayo, Clint can tell when half of the canape ends on a suit’s shirt. He doesn’t comment and accepts help with cleaning it up from Clint. Archer remains standing next to the wall, coming up to Phil only when asked or predicting his needs. Focusing solely on Coulson. His placement does not let him glance at the screen but he hears all there is to know. Some comments on the situation in Yemen and an update on Hanan’s decision of supporting America with some natural resources, information regarding stocks going up and some going down, recent protests relating to health care, riots next to a slave training center. To Clint’s surprise,  a superhero duet on saving a private, electronic device store is mentioned as well. He keeps extra calm at this point not wanting Coulson to link it to him and Stark. Same old, same old, nothing that interests Clint any more than what he’d have to know for his missions and small talks. He gets all of it out of where he stands. 

Coulson needs a refill of his coffee twice before Clint asks for permission to tidy his place up a bit. It is not dirty per se. But dust particles settled on most surfaces, it is visible that Coulson is not here too often. It can also be noticed that he cleans on his own. The place is clean but not pristine, not a slave, you’re gonna get whipped if I find a strand of hair on a hairbrush clean. Only a free person would clean in this way. And Clint is bored, plus he really wants his coffee privilege maintained. Coulson’s funny with that. Setting the boundaries where he thinks are the most effective. And he already lost the coffee privilege too many times since the rule was set to risk it again. Not to mention that he feels responsible for the state of the man. He knows the woman who caused it all. And he isn’t sharing it with his trainer, not even his master. Not wanting to see her get hurt. Except that… this means… that he is seeing Stark hurt, and because of that Coulson. Coulson who sometimes, without realizing it, takes it out on Clint. So Clint starts with the kitchen and does the proper job, not half the job Coulson would consider good enough if done by him. The fridge is almost empty so there is not much left to clean. He throws away an out of date product, washes every shelf in the sink, sprays a blueberry food friendly disinfectant on the walls of the fridge and drains any excess water. He then coordinates food by the category and expiry date. And proceeds to do the same with the cupboard shelves. He is in the middle of said activity when Phil summons him. 

Coulson is riled up again, holding his tablet and making some notes. 

“Sit down.” He says sharply.

 

Clint kneels on the floor, next to Coulson’s legs. He is about to ask what Phil wants from him when the image of Clint’s face pops up on the screen. From when Stark and Clint attended the races. Shortly after there is an introduction as to the subject of the news and an official report starts. “An official documentary about Stark’s life is going to come out in less than a year. Many believe that it will trigger a police investigation into his activities. In the meantime we have to find his current shenanigans to be enough, reported by those at the scene. Stark refused to comment on the most recent incident involving him at the formula race grounds. Whereas not only did he unexpectedly undertake a part in the race but also was targeted by an assassin during said races. Interrupting the event and causing a lot of damage to the racing grounds. Was it all planned? Did Stark organize this incident in order to gain sympathy from people before his upcoming exposure? Or was it a pure coincidence?” The reporter starts with her monologue and then proceeds to explain as to what happened on the day. She is reporting only facts and tries to maintain a neutral point of view. She is then met in the studio with two journalists. Both of them Clint has met in person. The first one to appear on the screen and defend Stark is Christine Everhart. “I have seen Stark on that day. He was in a very good mood and happy to spend a day with his partner Pepper Potts, until someone soured his mood. I do not know for a fact that Stark didn’t plan to take part in the races for some time, but I think it highly unlikely that he did. There was a lot of commotion during races, which would fit entirely to the narrative that he made that decision on the day. Not to mention the assassin. The rumors about it being staged are flabbergasting! He would never risk his own life or the life of others to prove his point!”

“And what point would that be?” A mysterious voice speaks up. 

“That he is able to handle himself and that his decision not to share the defense technology with the government was the correct choice to  make.” Chris calmly explains.

“In what world would someone assassinate a public figure on an event they were not supposed to be on? Stark does feel threatened by me. He clearly wants attention and public’s pity. Sadly, I believe that this is just the beginning of attention grabbing behavior. I can reassure you all, before my documentary comes out, we will hear a lot more from him alongside similar lies that we have just witnessed.” Natalie  Rushman, the second journalist, chips in. She is introduced as an investigative journalist and assigned previous work that she most definitely did not do, as a credibility check to the audience. Nat is wearing a simple gray blazer with a white shirt underneath her, not really her style. What he does notice very early on though is that she is wearing a purple bracelet. Maybe it is accidental but he doubts it, she understands the power of colors. Which is why she picked red for herself. Always staying away from his signature design. She’s thinking about him. It warms his heart almost enough to forget the words she just uttered. But Coulson next to him got red angry and Clint himself isn’t happy with the accusations. She is trying to destroy Stark. It’s clear as day. Clint knows why, Coulson doesn’t and it cannot come from Clint. He needs to find a way for Phil to find out who is behind this without putting himself or Nat on the line of fire. 

“I am pretty sure that he wouldn’t have planned to  have a car he was in, flipped upside down Natalie.” Chris tries to defend Stark. Coulson makes a note. Clint continues to observe, watch, look for any surprising facial expressions. 

“His slave fired a gun, and then proceeded to break into the racing grounds and fight. How is that not reckless behavior?” The red haired woman asks. The blonde laughs.

“He saved his master's life, Nat. I would only say that Stark got his money’s worth for the slave.”

“And how much do you know about him exactly to make this judgment Chris?”

“Enough to know I’d want my slave to do the exact same thing if I was in danger.”

“He…” Nat hesitates. She looks down at her paperwork, looks at the bracelet and braves out. “He is dangerous, Christine. He shouldn’t have had a gun, he shouldn’t have attacked.” 

“Oh I know you know everything about Stark and his property. Your little investigation will expose more of his ‘dangerous’ secrets. You are teasing us to increase the worth of your product. So how about you focus on your little project and stop interfering in people’s lives, huh?” Chris adds. Clint is taken aback. He knows that Nat could say a hundred things to win this argument. Anything about Clint really, his escaped status, the circumstances that made him a slave, his illegal work as a slave to the circus. Anything really. Clearly not wanting to involve Shield, she would still have lots of dirt on him. But she hesitated. She did not bite today. He wonders what consequences this is going to bring her, they clearly sent her out with a goal to achieve. She is not following their guidance. And it will be addressed with her. His heart skips a beat. They are interrupted by the third, chairing interviewer and their discussion gets more controlled, Nat mentions a few arguments against Stark and Chris defends him. Coulson breathes out relieved, seeing the discussion reach it's natural end and not focusing on their current conversation.

 

“What did you think of it sir?” Clint asks.

“It could have been worse. It could’ve been much worse.” He says. Clint passes him a plate with canapes but the suit refuses to take it. Clint puts it back on the table. “She was holding herself back. I’m not sure why. I’m worried that she’s gonna hit twice as hard next time she’s on TV. But Stark managed to secure a very powerful friend.” Clint smiles at that, not saying anything about his role in that particular plot. 

“We’ll prepare.” He says instead. Coulson sighs. 

“We have to prepare for something else first.” He states, Clint raises his eyebrows.

“Natalie Rushman is moving into the Stark’s tower this week. She will stay here indefinitely, until her documentary is finished.”

“You’re joking.”

“Believe me Clint, I wish I was.” Clint looks away for a second. To have her this close and not be allowed to interact with her will be torture. But at least he will see her. Maybe on a few occasions he will be allowed to touch her. It’s better than nothing. He hides his smile.

“How was your interview?” Clint finally braves out to ask. He feels like he should. Coulson sighs and looks down. 

“She doesn’t just know things, she has a way to get under your skin. Now I understand all of your worries, all of your suspicions of her after your interviews. The way Steve and Bruce and even you spoke about them... I didn't understand. But now I do.”

“What did she want to know?”

“Oh you know, the basics. For example why a genius such as Stark never delivered on providing any progress of research into Hulk’s powers. And then about the three of you, how you complement each other with your abilities. Talking about owning Steve and how he came to be a slave. Finding gaps in places even I wasn’t aware of…She even wanted to know things about my past. About how the consequences of wrong choices changed me, how often I think about people who, if not for me, would still be alive…Pointing out every mistake I’ve made as a trainer, not only then, but now, with all of you.” Then he stops for a moment and looks at Clint.

“She had a lot of questions about you…” He remarks. Clint’s tongue gets lost in his mouth.

“How come?” He asks, breaking a sweat. Coulson takes his time to answer.

“That is exactly what I wondered about…” He ponders, appearing to be in thought but still looking at Clint.

 

“Whatever she wanted, we will be ready sir. Let me finish cleaning your flat, okay?” Clint quickly changes the subject, his tone, turning more chirpy. Phil clearly doesn’t want to get into it either so he leaves it be. His eyes barely stay open anyways. Coulson closes his eyes and lazily nods his head. Clearly, he’s exhausted. Clint doesn’t wake him up, the man needs to rest.

Chapter 2: Part 1: The races

Summary:

Tony Stark, Pepper Potts and Clint attend formula 1 races. Things don't go according to plan.

Notes:

This chapter is definitely inspired by events Iron Man 2. the character descriptions, characters and their motivations will differ from the movie. The event is taking place before chapter 1 chronologically.

1 week earlier

 

Tony is desperate for good press. So Pepper and Happy come up with the idea of Tony attending the formula one races. He would go in, support the team he funds, mingle with the crowd. Show his face and recover his image from the last time he was seen in public, during his launch thingamajiggy when he got too drunk, got himself dressed in Iron Man suit, blew up a crab stand and peed on the plants.

 

Tony’s desperate for good press. Bruce is known to the world as a slightly overambitious scientist. Extremely smart, humble and now as a slave, harmless. Other than the green guy incident which Tony seems to keep under control. As there was no repeat of an incident since Tony acquired Bruce. There were quite a few of them in the training center so the private company who owns most centers was more than happy to get rid of him and place him somewhere else. Bruce is safe. He  doesn’t need publicity. 

Steve is the public's favorite so there is no need to drag him out on the day. Whatever is gonna come out of this small experiment of bringing everyone’s shit to a daylight, Steve has nothing to fear. Other than becoming the government's property of course. No one would want that. There are a few bits and pieces of the information he would not want to go public but mostly because it would get someone else in trouble. Not him.

Tony’s desperate for good press. Not only for himself but also for Barton. Barton who the world will know nothing about until the news pops up. Meaning, he will get very bad press. Bad press means trouble. Bad press means worse owners if Stark’s situation goes to shit. Bad press may equal death. So Clint is desperate for good press for Tony. So he tries to behave in public. Clint thinks there is more to him being asked to join Tony on the day. Clint thinks that he was told to do it because somehow, Clint calms Stark down. Grounds him. Tony is in a desperate need for good press and it might be easier to achieve with Clint around. 

 

So he walks behind Stark and Potts, obediently looking at the ground, only worried about not stepping into anyone and not losing his master’s feet out of sight. He is wearing a popular slave attire for an outing nowadays which consists of a beige button down shirt and trousers with an elastic instead of a button. No pockets, because what on earth could a slave need pockets for? His golden and red, thin collar is the only allowed popping color on Clint. Which the slave would rather avoid entirely. 

Stark is different to what Clint knew him as at home. He walks around and recognizes everyone. Jokes around like there is no tomorrow, uses technical terms and names in a light, easy to understand way, even to Clint. He doesn’t touch alcohol, and listens to Potts with undivided attention. At one point they say hello to a reporter who, based on the conversation, Stark clearly slept with. Stark’s unashamed of it and jokes around with Potts and another guy, Hammer, or Nail or a Screwdriver, whatever the guy's name is. 

 

Stark pretends to be okay with the conversation he is having with the guy but Clint can hear the slower but at the same time snappy answers that Tony gives to the guy. His hands play with the glass of juice in his hands and he gives quick and snappy answers. Doesn’t wait for the people in front of him to finish the sentences and manages to grab Pepper’s arm and let go of it a few times too many for it to be considered as normal. And all of this happens in front of a reporter. Pepper’s nervous tone is clearly distinguishable to Clint too. No other behavior would betray her as she has nerves of steel and can hide her emotions almost as well as a black widow.  Hammer is getting to both of them. Clint doesn’t know why this man in particular scratches Tony’s protective barrier but oh man he does. The thing is, there isn’t much that Clint can do. He is not really allowed to interrupt their conversation and he cannot do anything to cause a scene. He closes his eyes and swallows heavily. He knows what to do, but he really doesn’t want to do it. 

The decision has been made. He tries to tell himself that this is a mission, he only needs to do it to reach his target. Except this is his life. His name, his pride that needs to be put aside. Clint isn’t acting under a fake alias. He is officially making himself look weak in front of cameras as Clint freaking Barton. For Tony freaking Stark. 

Not taking time to reconsider his life choices, he implements his plan into life. Slowly walking towards and past his owners. Not looking up, knowing that it’s not allowed and already being very insolent, he keeps looking at Stark’s polished shoes. Thinking about how he’s spent the whole morning polishing a few pairs as his master didn’t know what to wear. And now, for the same person, he decided to humiliate himself further. Unbelievable. He kneels down. Touches Stark’s knee with his forehead. All attention on him, he knows that because the conversation suddenly stopped. All of the anger related to the clear rivalry Stark has with the guy, is suspended. He is the center of attention. Slave as a center of attention is never a good thing. Assuredly not for the slave in question. Clint knows that if the news’ narrative will speak of him as insolent, it’s all going to be a lost cause. But he hopes that Stark is gonna play his cards right. Make it all look cute and innocent and Stark attention grabbing like. Giving Clint enough personality to be liked by the public but not enough to consider him a person. 

Pepper doesn’t get it at first and freezes. But Stark does. He shines and laughs at Clint’s neediness. He reaches his hand to touch Clint’s head. Pepper’s eyes zoom in on the situation once she understood the strategy. He could get in trouble for going with his own initiative. But it's not the first time he has done it with Stark and knows that the man trusts him. In the field, they are a team. 

“Oh Clint. You will never change will you?” Pepper states after joining in on the action. “He’s really needy but we like it.” Pepper explains whilst Stark focuses on Clint. Both of the men, feeling slightly awkward. Neither of them is a touchy feely person and most certainly they don’t need that from each other. Clint’s cheeks are burning red, not mismatching his master. “Makes you just want to grab him and squeeze him as strong as you can.” She says. Clint leans into Stark’s touch. Trying to purr a little. “Yeah I spoil him a bit. But he deserves a little bit of spoiling after his morning activities.” He implies. Clint isn’t sure he likes the suggestion. But successfully, this peaks the interviewers interest, Clint can look up now, when safely on the knee level and highly subjugated. She is staring at Stark and hoping for a story.

“Oh I’m not sure I want to hear exactly how a slave entertains you in the morning, Stark. I would keep these conversations private.” Screwdriver suggests.

“Well then you’re unlucky because I’ve already decided to tell you, mr copycat.” Clearly whatever conflict they have relates to technological advances and ideas. “This guy over here is the only reason why I sleep every day.” He claims. “As you know Christine,” Stark starts, “It’s almost impossible to get me to sleep.” He winks at her. Pepper’s red face is slightly distracting. “But this guy…” A finger gets pointed at him. “This guy is a pro.”

“Good blowjobs huh? We’d all hope for a bit more from a slave than that.” replies Hammer. 

“Oh shut it Hammer. Just because you need slaves to have sex with doesn’t mean I do. I haven’t struggled with attention from the ladies and the folks when I was single, and I most definitely do not struggle with it now that I have Pepper. Anyways… I was saying… oh yes! The foot massage Christine. The foot massage I get from him is incredible. If only I could show you… wait a minute. I can!” He leads the group to a nearby table and sits them all down, Clint follows them knowing what’s going to come next. And as expected, he is ordered to take off the lady’s heel and take care of her strained muscles. Making him a little nervous, understanding that if he is to get a good press about anything he’s ever done, it has to be now. He really doesn’t want to do it but the thing is, he started this game. He put himself in this position. So he puts all the skill he has in him into the activity.

“After he’s done” Tony says, “tell me that you wouldn’t be relaxed enough to fall asleep where you’re sitting.”

Clint slowly takes one heel off and whilst looking her deeply in the eyes, he lays a kiss on her pedicured foot. She has thights on, which he is happy about, it gives him the extra layer between her skin and his mouth. 

“Oh mama.” The woman mumbles and slumps down on her chair. Clint sets the foot aside, placing it on his knees and takes another one, repeating the process. He then proceeds to continue looking at her face flirtatiously whereas in fact he wants to see which places that he presses cause a reaction on her face. That’s how he knows he’s doing a good job. And for that he needs to continue looking at her. He can see her clearly trying to focus on a conversation happening between Stark and Hammer but clearly unable to, asking them to repeat their thoughts and giving answers that have already been given. Stark’s smug face suggests that Clint’s done something good. Well? He better be doing something right! This foot is really smelly and he’d rather be done with it. She makes a small moaning sigh after he swaps the feet and continues on his treatment. 

“You know Stark…” She interrupts the men. I don’t know about sleep but this slave would definitely get me to bed very quickly.” She says. Stark chuckles. Hammer grunts. 

“Remember we’ve got Pepper at a table sweetheart. Stark may not be very forthcoming about slave’s uses in front of her.” He says to Christine. Pepper chooses not to answer. 

Stark grabs a glass of champagne from a waiter. Shit. Thinks Clint, all of this was supposed to stop Stark from doing this. 

“And what is this in your slave’s ears?” Asks the journalist who appeared very close to his face, inspecting every smallest detail she could find whilst Clint is otherwise preoccupied. She touches his hearing aids, he instinctively moves away. He can’t help it. He leaves her legs and quickly moves back to Stark, sitting next to him and doing his best to stay in the role. Don’t freak out Clint, don’t. Maybe you will manage if this goes to shit but the boys won’t, so don’t fuzking freak out. He tells himself.  

“These electronic devices are connected to Clint’s ears, they are the reason he can hear us.”

“Speaking of kinky, this is another level of intriguing Stark,” Hammer exclaims. Clint wants to disappear. He unconsciously picks at his trousers with his nails. Stark did, at this stage, look at Clint’s aids. The slave lost them on a mission once so he can’t blame him. But he never crossed a line, never made any changes that Clint didn’t want. He built in a comms pair for him for mission purposes but, as Clint asked, kept them separated from the everyday ones. Clint looks down and tries to imagine that he is someone else. 

“They’re how he hears, don’t take it where it wasn’t headed Hammer.” Stark attacks back. Clint imagines Tash here. Instead of Stark, she would walk in, in her black dress, with the red curls, all the men and women looking at her, she’d rule this place. And Clint, proud that he is the chosen one, would walk in stride, confident as a peacock, fitting right in. 

 “Why is he wearing those?” The reporter asks. The picture in his head sways.

“Childhood injury.” Stark responds. “He got hit in the head with a bottle, and lost most of his hearing.” The picture disappears and he is back in the room, on his knees, feeling like shit. So a Clint Barton style. 

“Oh. He must not have had the smartest master to hurt a boy like that. It must have significantly decreased his value. 

“He was not born a slave. Christine,” Stark responds. “His father did this to him when he was five. Nothing legal about it.” Clint really wished he could disappear. 

“May I look at them?” Hammer asks, reaching out to Clint. The slave doesn’t move but is very close to snapping the man’s wrist. A sheer will to live is the only thing that stops him from doing so. He can hear a slap and suddenly Hammer’s hand is far away again.

“Not a chance Justin, you’re not damaging my property.”

“Understandable, seems like the equipment he uses to hear is worth more than he is.” When no one responds he continues. “What? He may be pretty but come on, he’s been a free man, only violence can get you turned into a slave if you haven’t been born into it. He must be very insubordinate and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dangerous. He is an animal wrapped around in nets which stop him from biting our heads off. 

“Be careful what you’re saying, Hammer or I might just untangle him from that net.” Stark snaps.

“Have you just threatened me?” Hammer leans in, clearly waiting for some action. 

“Depends. Have you crossed the line yet?” Clint looks up at Pepper wondering what she’s thinking. Her face is in her hands and she stares into an empty plate that was set before her. Clint can’t share her frustration. He feels happy Stark reacted the way he did. Trying to stop people from ridiculing him, not crossing a line. The thing is, there would be no line to cross if Tony didn’t just tell the whole world of Clint’s shitty childhood. But then he guesses Tony hoped for compassion towards a child to play a role in this whole make Clint likable bit. Hammer responds somehow but Stark clearly didn't hear it. There was a moment of silence and then a still untouched glass of champagne passed over to his partner.

Excusing himself from the table and saying he needs to go on a walk in the fresh air. He takes Clint with him and ignores the questions about missing out on the beginning of the races if he is to go now. Before they know it, they’re on a staircase with no people on it. Stark stops in between floors and breathes heavily. Clint doesn’t know how to react so he just stands next to him awkwardly.

“It’s been a difficult couple of weeks Clint, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes master.” Clint responds worrying about where this subject could lead them. Tony sits down on the stairs and uses some breathing techniques to calm down. 

“Thank you...” Clint adds, Tony looks at him surprised. “For not letting them play with my ears, not letting them touch me.” Tony huffs and waves his hand at Clint. 

“Thank you for distracting me.” He shyly says. “But this was too much. Alcohol… everywhere around me and Justin Hammer… pushing all the right buttons… I had to get out of there… I had to.” Stark scratches his beard. “I’m scared, Clint. I’m scared that Natalie will pull out things about me that would take me down.”

“I’m sure that Coulson and Shield will do everything in their power to stop that.” Clint replies. Tony is currently sitting on the stairs, Clint is resting his arms on the supportive pole. His beige shirt too tight to be comfortable but he untacked it out of his trousers for now, when no one is looking. Stark chuckles.

“They don’t even know about our out of hours hobbies. I don’t think they’ll be happy once they find out.” Clint smiles sadly. He isn’t sure how to respond to that. 

“What would you do, if you had your last days of freedom left?” Stark quietly asks Clint. Clint smiles at that. It’s not a hypothetical for him, he lived it.

“I’d do whatever the hell I’d want, master.” He responds. “But these are not your last days of freedom. You’ll still have plenty of them.” He adds. Stark looks him in the eyes, stands up and grabs him by his shoulders.

“Thank you Clint. I really appreciate it”. He says and sprints down the stairs. 

 

***

 

“Shit” Clint swears and rushes after him. They pass the reception and go down the workers hallways. Clint knows where they’re heading and he dreads it. Everyone they pass is looking around and whispering. Stark ignores the comments and people wanting to grab his attention. Clint struggles with the crowd. Everyone makes space for Stark as soon as they see him, but no one spots Clint. They merge together, step in his way, and ignore him. He is a slave and usually he’d be happy. Swerving and swaying around people, as long as they left him alone. Both in his current position, or on a mission. He has strategies to stay in the shadow, to be unnoticable. But now, it’s difficult to keep up with Stark, difficult to catch up with him and ask him what happened to his barely recovered brain to consider what he is about to do as okay. And true to the worry Clint sees, still from a distance, how Tony reached an elderly man who has a manager ID badge. He hears him say,

“I want to take part in the races… yeah I know I know… You want a waiver signed? Here you go, just give me the car and I will win, I’ll show you. What, do you think that a billionaire philanthropist with a tinkering talent doesn’t know how to drive? I’ll bet you a million dollars. Now we’re talking…”

“Master…” Clint tries to interrupt him once he’s reached him, slightly out of breath.

“Not now Clint. Alright, which way should I go? This one? And then pass the… yeah? Okay, good. Make sure they all know. Alright? Thanks buddy.” Clint really wants to interrupt their conversation but there are too many cameras on them, he needs to act like a slave. His hands tighten and turn into fists, his breathing increases in speed having nothing to do with the run he just made, his cheeks burning. This man, how can he not understand the damage he is constantly doing to himself! Why can’t Clint get a break?! Why can’t he even have a right to say that to his master's face?! No, instead he is forced to stand here, and pretend to be this perfect slave and say nothing whilst he watches another scandal unravel in front of him. 

“What are you doing?” Clint hisses at Stark on their way to the main tour when he's not worried about being overheard. He’s terrified where this is going. 

“To do whatever the hell I want.” His owner says, losing interest in Clint’s next question and responding to people around him. The car racer who has just been told that Stark will have his vehicle is kicking off in the background. Stark is given some protection gear. He walks into the racing grounds, crowds cheer on his view. He blows them kisses and gets into the car. Clint wasn’t allowed in behind the fence. Clint’s left behind. Free to roam the grounds. 

“Shit!” He screams feeling responsible for what has just happened. 

Clint’s looking through the barbed wire, observing how some people make sure Stark is properly secured. And then, shortly after, the countdown starts. ‘Pepper must be fuming’, ‘hopefully Coulson isn’t watching, oh god I hope Coulson’s far from the TV’, crosses Clint’s mind. This spot is not good for watching the whole track so he explores his surroundings. With a collar on his neck no one pays him any attention. ‘Come on Clint, find a good observation point’. And so he does. There is a small control tower in the middle of the terrain he’s found himself on. They must be communicating with the drivers and broadcasting from there. It’s going to work perfectly. Clint focuses all of his energy on a way to get to the roof, glancing at the camera footage from there. At first discreetly climbing the stairs and then quickly weighing himself on the edge of the roof to quickly climb on top of it. His head pops down, into the observation room, trying to find the camera footage of Tony’s.

His master is at the back so far, very behind but not behind enough not to be able to catch up. This is not good press. This is a middle life crisis, an irresponsible child in a billionaire’s body press. He is there for only a few minutes. Barely having enough time to familiarize himself with the layout of the racing ground and a few of Stark’s competitors. For example a very ignorant southern man who blew kisses to the ladies during the interview. He isn’t in the winning trio and struggles on the bends and appears to be the likeliest target Tony would set himself to beat. 

 

“Motherfucker’s ignoring me!” A distant scream reaches Clint’s ears, looking down he discovers three security guards with guns in their hands. How could he have not spotted them? Oh yeah, he’s focused on finding his master and the noise the racing cars make has quieted all the other noises down. He was lucky he heard them this time. He sees them talking between themselves, they’ve only just realized he’s a slave. And are bickering between themselves if it’s worth shooting him. ‘Futz’, how does he always get into these situations? He’s sure that Steve wouldn’t be in it now, Bruce would just turn the whole place into past tense so he doesn’t even go there. 

Slowly, Clint lifts his hands up. 

“I am Master Tony Stark’s slave! I’m sure he would appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me!” He screams to them which gets their attention. “I am sorry! I just wanted to watch my master race. He told me to wait here for him. I didn’t mean anything bad. I didn’t think anyone would notice me sirs!” They continue talking amongst themselves but in the end agree that it would be a bad idea to shoot Stark’s slave. They tell him to get down. Clint looks around, for the last time, at the racing grounds and notices his Master slowly accelerating and catching up with other cars. A smile creeps up on his lips. He recognizes the voices of the security men so, reluctantly he starts climbing down. It is even more reluctant because in the last few seconds of his glancing something shifted. He isn’t sure what but he’s gotten a very icy feeling on his neck about missing something. Something caught his eye, he isn’t sure what. He looks up again for a few seconds trying to spot it but he must have missed it. Nothing catches his attention now but the chilly feeling remains. 

 

“Hello sirs. Having a good day so far?” He asks guards as he’s jumped two meters down from the upper side of the stairs right in front of them. They all look very pale, clearly recognizing his collar and realizing how close they got to the fury that Stark would havoc on them. He really wanted to know what they were thinking. Maybe something along the lines of ‘like master, like slave?’. He really wants to ask. They lead him to the exit, he tells them that Pepper is in the restaurant near the racing grounds, they want to take him to her. But then he begs them to stay, explaining that his master will await him after he ‘wins’ the races. And he will be fuming if Clint isn’t allowed to stay here and observe the competition. So they lead him back to the main entry of the racing ground, currently locked due to safety reasons. And Clint continues to observe, as much as he can from his current location. Stark’s passed him a couple of times, he seems to race at the back of the procession but not being the last racer. Stark must be in haven. The southern guy only a position or two in the front. Barton holds the fence and squeezes it until his knuckles turn white.

He envies his master. Envies the ease of getting what he wants. For a second he wishes that Stark would go down. That the reds would get him. Just so he wouldn’t win and get what he wants. Just once. But then Clint remembers the good job Stark is doing with his Iron Man suit and remembers that if Stark loses then they all lose. Barton would manage. He always does. He’d find a way to escape. He’s sure that other masters would keep a closer eye on him, making him want to escape more and giving less opportunity. He got out of worse situations. But he wouldn’t wish it on Rogers, and most definitely he wouldn’t wish it on Banner. God knows what would happen to the whole city if some stupid owner decided to whip the guy and cause a furious green monster to pop up. 

He is pulled from his thoughts due to some commotion on the other side of the track. A man, Clint thinks, a big man in an orange suit. Technical support. He is on the employee side of the track. Some people are speaking to him, screaming at him, he doesn’t seem to listen. He pushes them aside and opens the entry to the racing track and walks into the main racing grounds. So far all of the formula one cars managed to avoid him. He doesn’t seem to care. Something is wrong.

 

Something is really, really wrong. Clint looks at the security guards. They’re not even looking at the track. They don’t see what he sees. 

“Look!” He screams at them and at first they shush him, only after a while, noticing a commotion around them they take a glance. Immediately, all of them get on the radios, talking with someone, but no one's done anything to remove the man from the track. Clint’s got a bad feeling about this. The man opens his uniform up and takes something in his hands. Clint inhales, his orange suit burns down. Underneath he wears a black leather coat and black cargo pants with protective layers on the knees and elbows. Possibly enhanced to slide on hard surfaces. They seem oddly familiar but Clint can’t figure out why.

“For God’s sake do something!" He screams but the guards are too scared and paralyzed to react. The device in the man’s hands extends, turning into electrical whips. He tests them, sparks bounce from the asphalt. “Shit”.

 

Barton doesn’t think, he disabled one of the guards and grabbed a gun from their hand. A gun that was useless in the possessions of someone who was responsible for protecting Stark. Without thinking he aims at the men’s back, outside the range of any vital organs, but damaging enough to stop the man from whatever he is about to do. 

The massive man was about to pull the whip down on one of the racing cars. That shot stops him. He looks around, into Clint’s direction and casts him a murderous glance. He doesn’t pay him any more attention and turns around focusing on incoming cars. Waiting. The bullet didn’t appear to hurt him, a small stream of blood running down the man’s back. Unfazed, he ignores it. Clint can’t understand how that is possible. 

There is no time to think. He climbs over the fence and runs, leaving the gun behind. Runs with all his might, runs not caring if one of the cars is going to drive into him. He needs to get to the guy before Stark does, unaware of the situation.

He doesn’t make it. He is mere meters away when he sees the man pull the whip and half Stark’s car. Stark is in the air, flying above his head. Clint notices fear in his Master’s eyes when they meet, briefly. And the rest happens very quickly. Before Clint knows it the car hits the ground, then proceeds to slide over to the wall and hits it with impact, all of it on its side. 

And the worst part? The man didn’t give up yet. He’s walking towards the car. There are some vehicle parts lying around. Clint grabs a random one, runs up to the man and launches it. The man stops in his tracks. And slowly turns around, the piece of metaI that hit his body not leaving a scrape. It would be good to establish that the man is a human. But no can do. Clint can only slow him down, but he doubts he could defeat him. But he is bleeding, which means that he can be damaged. Clint launches himself at him. The man doesn’t move a bit. Only to crack a whip. Only to aim the whip at the running man.  

Clint lounges skillfully, all of the training with widow’s bites finally paying off. The man aims again and Hawkeye skillfully moves aside again, all of the years at the circus as the helping boy, making their use in real fights. The man braces himself but stands with both of his feet on the ground and waits for the attacker. Clint aims for the kidneys. He brings his hand back and aims with all his might. He is blocked with the man’s arm. A hand comes at him from above, he avoids it, grabbing it with his left hand, using the hand's momentum to slide underneath of the men and uses his own strength to push him in the direction his own punch was leading towards. Clint jumps back. The man grunts. Gets back up. Unfortunately now Clint is in the whip territory. The man aims and he needs to jump back. He jumps away from it again, this time by rolling forwards. The man managed to create a distance between them and this time he doesn’t stop waving both of the whips around. Clint touches his head, it’s bleeding, he must have hit it when jumping away. 

“That’s all you’ve got? Hiding behind those whips?!” He spits. “You coward!”

“Clint Barton.” The man calmly states. "I am not here for you.” The voice seems familiar, maybe he has seen the guy on TV? He’s not sure.

“What do you want from Stark?” Clint asks. The man doesn’t respond. Barton really hopes that someone is gonna come and help out soon. He has no chance against the big man’s weapons. He can stall him but to win with that? No way. 

“Not your business.” The man simply states. “Walk away and I will not hurt you.” So that means he is following somebody’s orders. He would rather not hurt those involved around him, it’s good to know. 

 

The man created a pattern with his hand movements. Clint noticed, he can use it. One, two, three, one two, three. Every time he was on three, the man restarts the cycle. These whips have a very similar technology mechanics as Natasha’s widow bites. Clint would expect a Russian accent from the man. Not the clearest American speech pattern one would imagine. But now, establishing the pattern, Clint has an in. He lunges towards him again, the man aims at him, but before any of them have a chance to react a loud noise of something being thrown towards them refocuses their attention. Clint immediately gets up and attacks not caring what it was and he manages to hit the man in the jaw. The man is taller than him and going for the jaw was not the best decision but seemed to be something Clint wanted to do and that’s what he usually goes with. He continues punching him and it continues to work. “Disconnect the cables!” Tony's voice comes from behind the man. That slows Clint down a bit and the man gets a punch in. Clint is, again, taken aback. The whip comes crashing down and hits the ground millimeters away from him, he goes flying. He ends up on the carcass of the halved car. Next to Tony. 

“I told you to cut the cables.” Tony dryly states. He is standing up. Bleeding from his head too. Barely managing to keep the upright position and now preparing himself for the confrontation with the man.

“Where’s your suit?” Clint doesn’t respond to Stark’s comment and makes one on his own.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t think about my suit, let me pull it out of my ass!” Stark screams. The man is looking at them. He starts walking up closer. “Why didn’t you cut the cables!

“Was a bit busy,” Clint states. The man aims at them and they both jump away. Clint’s fine, he readies himself for another hit. Stark’s on the other side of the man, that’s who the man aims at next. Stark’s on the ground, sitting, he’s gonna get hit , he’s  gonna… Clint runs towards the guy but before he manages to reach him the guy disappears from in front of them. A car drove into him, trapping him at the metal net. He still appears to try to get out so the car drives away and drives into him. Pepper’s scream comes from the car. Happy who's been driving, is not so happy. He asks Stark why he’s been on the trucks without his own security, Starks screams something back, Pepper screams and Tony screams and Happy tries to explain something. It’s familiar. It would be good if not for the fact that no one is looking at the man who just tried to kill Stark. And that man is conscious and aiming. 

It doesn’t take too long this time, the American guy with Russian technology cannot really maneuver, trapped in between the fence and the car. Clint jumps on top of him, out of the reach of the whip and takes a look at the cables traveling around the man's body. Clint grabs one hard piece of metal and some cables looking loose and pulls. He feels the man trying to grab him and take him off of him, but he’s anchored himself on the man by placing his feet under his arms. Clint pulls harder. He screams from effort but in the end something lets go and his arms go flying with the cables in them. The whip became a short baton again in the man's hands. Clint notices a small flickering around the neckline when he does so, not paying much attention to it. The man is neutralized. They’re safe. He exhales in relief. The rest is still arguing, not having noticed what could have just happened. He sighs. And rests his head on the fence. 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed it.

Next up, Olympic archery and introduction of Natasha.

Till next time <3

Chapter 3: A reminder

Summary:

A flash back scene of Natasha that Clint considers to be a dear memory. Followed by their interaction in the Stark tower, joined by Phil Coulson in the training room.

Notes:

Enjoy <3

 

(PS. I'm not very happy about grammar in this one but I just couldn't make it better.)

 

Sometime  ago

Door slams shut behind him  but the sound is immediately drowned out by the cheering and chanting of the crowd. The event must have already started. Clint walks by the kitchen with a firm step, passing Natasha who is currently packing her yoga equipment. 

“Thanks” She says as he passes her the coffee he got for her from their favorite place on the corner. She takes a sip and sets it on the side. “I started to worry that you were going to miss it.” She says and bends down to place the folded matt in the bag. Her round bottom nicely displayed and almost encouraging to come to it and touch it. He turns around, still heavily panting from the recent run, he tries to calm his heart rate down. Once he’s reached the living room he takes a look at the TV to see if he has missed anything, but the competition is just beginning. He takes a sip of coffee, because in his world, increased heart rate has nothing to do with caffeine consumption, and pulls his shoes off not looking away from the TV. Furukawa and Hyek are already standing with their compound bows and are getting ready to shoot. Clint must have just missed the introduction of the judge and the contestants. But he has followed them long enough to know everything there is to know about them, thinking about the alternative experience these men must have had when practicing the bow to his own. The sport aspect never even got on Clint’s radar.

“How was your run?” Natasha asks from the kitchen. He can vividly hear the slamming of some shelves. 

“Good. Ran further than I expected to, it was a bit tricky to get back home on time but I managed.” Both of the men on TV are shown preparing to make a shot, stretching the string, focused on the target. Furukawa does better than Hyek, but they score the same. Clint wishes the perspective of the cameras was better, he can’t actually follow the path of the arrow, only able to look at the faces and later the target. If the angle was better he could predict the trajectory before the arrow hit the target, making it more interesting.

“Do you think you’re tired enough to be able to sleep tonight?” Natasha asked as she entered the room. Clint doesn’t look at her, not wanting to miss a second of the Olympic fight for a medal. “Here.” She hands him a cake but does not accept it just yet. He nods in thanks and then a little dramatically falls down on the couch behind him and puts his feet on the bright yellow pillows. Only then does he reach out his hand to grab the plate and greedily keeps it near his chest. She sighs and slaps his feet back onto the ground. 

“You’re disgusting.”

“What?” Clint innocently asks but he knows what she means. His shirt has dark sweat stains and is stuck onto his body permanently, trousers only slightly in a better condition. And his feet stink. He should’ve changed before sitting down. He takes a sip of coffee whilst Natasha moves his legs so she can sit down next to him. She also just finished exercising and hasn’t changed but when Clint raises his eyebrows wanting to challenge her, she shuts him down with one look. Furukawa doesn’t do that well in the next round, only scoring eight to Heyk’s ten. Clint likes Furukawa’s sunglasses, with a blue tint to them. If he could get the same ones in purple, he’d definitely never take them off. Nat would see her own reflection when waking up in bed, is how much he would wear them. 

“Nah, I don’t think anything would make a difference now.” He answers slowly, taking a glance at his plate to find out that Tash got a lemon drizzle for them. “The sleep. Not this time of year Nat, not so close to his birthday." 

“You dream of him.”

“If I manage to fall asleep? Yeah…” Hyek scores 10 again and the crowd goes crazy. A quick shot of Hyek’s slave, happily jumping and smiling is shown. They exchange glances with the Olympic archer. He is seen coming up to him and discussing, what Clint would guess, is strategies, whilst Furukawa manages to only score nine again. Clint feels one of her hands on his knee, slowly massaging it. 

“We should try meditation. Could help us both."

“Naaat!” He whines like a child. The cake that he just sliced with a fork and put in his mouth is melting his taste buds. 

“You tried yoga with me, why not the other?” She inquires. Clint thinks of yoga poses and shivers. They reminded him too much of pose training, cat and cow pose, warrior poses, whichever other ones Natasha showed him. It felt too familiar. In the bad way. He kept forgetting he could move and forced himself to stay motionless for longer than necessary. The archers on the screen are having a break, the videos of their shots are repeated, they are seen drinking and talking to their assistants. 

“I have my way to relax.”

“I know, I just thought we could do something together you know… and you could use another way to center yourself other than shooting…” Clint looks at her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently. He slowly raises her hand and pulls it towards his lips, leaving a delicate kiss, whilst still looking her in the eyes. He slowly nods his head without saying anything. Natasha looks down, her cheeks slightly red. They sigh and look at the screen again. The archers tie on the second set. 

“Any progress on Fury?” He asks her. 

“I think Hyek is going to win, he is more confident than the other one, don’t you think?” Clint is taken aback by her change of the topic. 

“Are we out of options on him?” He asks quietly. Natasha doesn’t respond. But that’s enough for him to know. 

“Damn, I thought that we could pull it off.” He states disappointingly and puts a full fork of cake into his mouth. He doesn't want to admit it but his heart skipped a bit with the news, he feels like the energy drained out if his body, his legs seem heavier. 

"I tried to find an angle but… he has more resources than us. We can’t trick him in any way, he’s too smart for that, can’t hack him because we’d need a Stark level of talent to pull it off which we don’t have. The only option would be blackmail…”

“But the only thing we could blackmail him on would be exposing Hill’s past.”

“And putting her in danger. I’m not willing to do that.”

“Neither am I.” Furukawa’s trainer is clearly free, but their relationship appears strictly professional. One could mistake them for strangers. Hyek’s assistant though, because they can’t call a slave a trainer, clearly is gossiping with his master on the break between sets. Clint would bet the money from their next three jobs that the assistant would be an even better archer than his master, he’s just not allowed to participate. 

“We should leave New York.” There is no reason for them to stay here anymore. This close to shield has been too big of a risk anyways.

“We have a job lined up. In Sokovia. Their prince wanted to gather information on a local weapon dealers.”

“Can I shoot my bow?” 

“Oh yes, there will be plenty of occasion. They pay well. We could take a holiday after, go back home, to Budapest for a while, lay low, rest.” Another tie at the Olympics. Clint puts the plate down and adjusts himself so that he can put his head on Tash’s thighs. She lets him lay there but doesn’t touch him, eating her piece of cake. She hums a melody though, Clint’s aid is slightly digging into his ear but he doesn’t take it off. The distant chanting from the stadium and Nat’s Slavic melody made him very cozy. He doesn’t like bad news, is definitely used to them but it’s not something easy to receive. So Clint just closes his eyes, for a second.

 

‘ Meditation ’ he thinks and chuckles. ‘ I will be meditating ’. He can feel the vibrations of Natasha’s body, her breathing. Before he knows it his own breathing reflects hers. And then he falls into a silent and uneventful sleep. It’s okay. Life is okay. 

 

---

 Now

 

She opens the door in the middle of the first knock. Meeting his eyes and maintaining eye contact. He is supposed to look down, he remembers, he doesn’t. There is an electrifying energy, a luminescent reflection, radiating from her pupils. They manage to dial enough to seem bigger than their surroundings. They stand in the door frame for a few more seconds and just enjoy each other’s company. Before being pulled down into the real world. Before being reminded of their reality.

“I’m ready,” Natasha says. Clint blinks his passion away and moves aside, looking down. 

Natasha has been given an apartment in the lower level of the tower. One for prestige guests but not close enough to Stark to stay in one of the private floors. She walks past him, towards the elevator, delicately swaying her hips. She is wearing a gray, cotton skirt and similar blazer. A purple bracelet still on her wrist and pearls on her neck. 

“Are you not going to tell me how swayingly beautiful I am?” She flirts with him once he caught up with her. He is still walking slightly behind but close enough to hear her.

“I don’t have to tell you this. You know that you’re stunning.” He responds. “Except for the clothes, they definitely do not flatter you.” They pass a few hallways, heading towards an elevator.

“I’m not sure if you’re digging at Natalie’s sense of style or implying that I should be naked.” Natasha responds and Clint chuckles. 

“Walk into one of the closets on this floor and I’ll show you.” He responds back. Natasha laughs. 

“How are you feeling about today’s session?” She asks him. Clint thinks about the answer longer than necessary.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, does it? We both have to do it.”

“You could run.”

“I told you, it’s not happening.”

“You’re gonna suffer.”

“Yes I will.” He chirps up sarcastically. It seems to have really pissed Natasha off.

“You don’t know what suffering is.” She coldly states. They entered the lift and both maintained silence. Clint didn’t tell her about Jarvis, not wanting to grass Stark up but at the same time he feared Jarvis overhearing a conversation that was not supposed to take place. Clearly Nat knows about him, she acts like she has the plans for the building. She very likely knows about it more than him. It’s bad. They arrive on the slave floors and head towards the training rooms. 

 

“Nat please. Think about it. Tell me how they’re controlling you, I promise I will help.” He begs. Her voice is very firm. Despite that, he can still hear the strain, the effort it takes her to speak to him like that. 

“That’s why I’m not telling you. I’m not letting you help. I really need you to disappear.”

“I am not going anywhere.” She sighs. 

“Okay! We will just continue as we are. Until my masters win.” She says.

“You’re the one that’s keeping me here.” He responds back. “If you were willing to join me it would all…” 

“Oh I very much doubt that,” She interrupts him, “you seem way too fond of Stark. I’d bet you’d stay with him even if I were to run away.”

“Ha ha. Not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.” 

“Nat.” Clint steps in front of her and grabs the door handle to the training room. “You’re clearly playing for the bad guys here. I admit it, I care about Stark.”

“You care about Master Stark” She corrects him, spite in her voice.

“Yeah Master Stark. Whatever. Once again, you’ve read his files. He needs to stay free. He needs to stay in control. He needs to develop his plans.”

“I’m a slave Clint. Same as you. I don't get to choose. Now. We’ve kept your trainer waiting long enough. Let me through.” Clint doesn’t move. Only gripping the door handle tighter. “Clint…” He exhales the air. She is right. They cannot be seen talking in the hallway. He’s just missed her so much and he really wants to prove his point to her. He really wants to show that there is a way out of this situation. Why can’t she listen? He takes a few deep breaths and regulates his breathing. Looking down, he opens the door for her and steps back. She enters the training space. 

 

Coulson waits for them the other side of the door. Smiling politely. Natasha steps in and Clint immediately moves behind her and looks down. 

“Mr. Coulson,” She coldly states.

“Please, call me Phil.” His trainer replies. He moves aside and with a gesture of his hand invites her inside. Clint walks in after her. 

“Take your usual spot Clint.” Coulson quickly refers to him and offers Natasha a seat on the couch. She ignores the order and starts walking around the room. Clint positioned himself next to the couch, in a kneeling position, ignoring Nat’s detour. He shouldn't really do so but he glances at them occasionally. Natalie doesn’t rush, her small heels making fluent, clicking notices. She inspects the orangish walls of the room and the plants hanging from the ceiling. Must be thinking that this is not the usual slave training room. Phil awkwardly follows behind her. Clint needs to fight the corner of his lip from rising up. She has Coulson curled around her finger. He dutifully trots after her as she bends and grabs the slave mats between her fingers, checks their quality and without saying a word continues on her journey.

“I am happy to answer any of your questions,” Phil suggests. She doesn’t respond, not yet at least. Instead she walks up to the display case for long impact implements. Checks over all of them, probably assessing their wear and tear. As well as if they’re well maintained. She then moves on to other storage spaces. Doesn’t make a comment but inspects things closely. Clint really wants to know what’s going through her mind. What she thinks about looking at all the things preserved for the sole purpose of hurting him. Is she upset? Trying to stop herself from lashing out, from showing everyone what she thinks of training rooms? Or is she only strategizing, figuring out how to turn this room into a laughable story about Stark. If only he could ask. 

Once she checked all of the corners of the room and adjacent storage spaces Coulson inquiries, “Are you satisfied with your findings?” She doesn’t respond and smiles. Only now directing her steps to the couch that Clint kneels in front of. 

“What’s next?” She asks. Coulson chuckles. He waits until she settled herself and looks down on the slave in the room. Clint gulps. 

“It is a very simple session. We hold it once a week.” Coulson starts to explain to her. “We look at Clint’s misdemeanors and achievements and evaluate them. Discuss the wrongdoings and how to avoid them in the future. And then we follow up with appropriate action.”

“So lots of talking and zero consequences.”

“That’s what the action part of this sentence was, Natalie.” Coulson snaps. Nat doesn’t move but Clint knows that she is happy. Playing them like toys out of a box, too easy to snap in half. 

“Okay then, go on, I won’t interrupt” she says and smirks. Coulson takes a deep breath and situates himself on an armchair. Clint adjusts his position to Coulon’s body. 

His trainer pulls out a booklet and reads quietly what’s on the page. His eyes darting from left to right. After a few minutes he looks up and smiles. 

“You’ve made a few mistakes but all in all you’re good.” Phil states. Clint breathes out relieved. “You’ve been late to two of your cleaning duties but if I remember correctly those two days you had to stay with Stark longer and skipped your breakfast.”

“That is correct sir.”

“You have gotten into a heated argument with Bruce and Steve. Happy had to remind you of your place. What was that about?”

“Something insignificant sir.” Coulson lets  it go and good. There is no good excuse for their argument, Bruce was just very on the edge a few mornings ago. Coulson wouldn’t be amused. 

“And I had to repeat a few orders to you in our private session, when your thoughts continued to wander. '' He finished naming his wrongdoings from last week. “That’s good, we’ll just add two extra lashings for each of those infractions. It will be six on top of your weekly ten. I’m glad you didn’t reach the threshold for a more severe punishment as you have more than a few positive comments in this booklet. It’s going to warrant an award.” Clint didn’t expect this to happen with Nat present. Convinced that Coulson will find a way to show her that they are firm and strict. And three mistakes, in other places would require a firmer addressing, no matter the personal improvement. He wonders if he is still repeating the rewards for saving Stark’s life during the formula one events. 

“Thank you sir.” He simply responds.

“You’ve significantly cheered Stark up this week, helped Happy with delivery control, despite it not being one of your responsibilities, filled in for Bruce when he was sick during meetings you clearly dislike. Clint. I’m really impressed.” Coulson continues. Clint’s face reddens. He didn’t expect praise, and isn’t sure if he wants one. Not with Nat present, all of it says he is going above and beyond in his servitude. That he is not his old self, he is not Nat’s Clint. He doesn’t want praise, he wants rebelliousness, sense of self worth and personal achievement. No compliance. He burns red.

“Thank you sir.” He mumbles having nothing better to say. 

 

They settle on the punishment bench and Clint receives his sixteen lashes with a standard cane. It is uncomfortable and painful but he manages without further embarrassments. Red welts on his bottom already being too much for Natasha to witness. But she only comments on Phil’s steady hand and a clearly visible experience. Clint puts his trousers back on and waits for the next part of the session. If it’s gonna look like it usually does, with Clint being given a choice of his reward, he knows what he’s gonna do. And that’s what happens, they go back to the leisure part of the room, with the TV and the couch and Clint is ordered on his knees. 

 

“What would you want your reward to be?” Coulson finally asks. Now, there are two types of rewards. Some done in the room, usually chosen without Clint’s input but adjusted to his needs. For example after a long mission full of sniper work, non moving, crouching in uncomfortable positions, Coulson would give Clint a massage. After doing lots of report writing and other boring tasks Clint could relax in front of TV, choose something to watch or music to listen to. Other rewards that Coulson usually asked Clint for an input on were linked to outside privileges. For example a big reward was him receiving his long bow and being given time to practice it in the shooting range. Not as a part of his everyday training and exercise but as a part of his free time, no expectations given, no requests in that time. Which Coulson found strange but without a word granted it. Clint hasn’t achieved anything big now and he isn’t expecting a big reward. He is planning to ask for something different, something unusual. For him at least. Hopefully not strange enough to raise questions. Oh anyways, what types of questions could it raise?

“I would like to meditate.” He wishes.

“Meditate…” Both Phil and Natasha say at the same time, Coulson turning around to look at her, surprised she spoke up. He waits for her to make a comment on her surprised response. 

“Out of all the rewards this slave could possibly request, he choses meditation? Something that mostly free, middle aged and middle class women do in their free time?” She tries to save her face. Explain why her reaction was so strong. But Clint knows the truth. She remembers. She knows why he’s made that request and it annoyed her possibly even more than it annoyed Coulson. Because he looks pissed. Frowning and shooting laser beams out of his eyes. Because that is true, Clint could have chosen a hundred more practical requests. For example something for Bruce who recently got in trouble more often than in the past few months Clint lived at the tower for. But no, out of all the useful options he chose meditation? It must be maddening. 

“In what context would you like to request meditation?”

“I would like to be able to do them on a regular basis, sir. With access to the videos as I do not know it enough to do it from my head.”

“Maybe you should just give him a mediation guru” Natasha sarcastically mumbles.

“No ma’am, I understand my place, I would never ask for it.” Clint snaps, knowing that he should probably stay silent. She eyes him wearily but he quickly looks down, it’s too dangerous to look at her in front of Phil. 

 

“Your wish is granted but if you want this to last more than a week then you need to maintain the same level or performance you showcased this week. I have to ask. Why?” Clint tries to come up with a sane answer. Not a ‘I want my spy, slave girlfriend that is standing right next to you and is trying to destroy all that you and your employer worked for, to see me and remember good times so that maybe, it will remind her to fight for herself and also prove that I still love her and would risk my life and wellbeing for.’ So he settles for,

“It helped me calm down in the past. I will sleep better after.” Coulson clearly isn’t satisfied with this answer but chooses not to pry further. Possibly because of the presence of a reporter in a room. He looks at her as if to confirm his suspicions. She looks flabbergasted. With a ghastly expression and nearly tearful, it's slightly out of character for her. For a second he wonders if he should worry.

“Your next session is with Bruce Banner, is that correct?” Coulson confirms. “I will stay with you for that session. If I heard it correctly he got himself into a little bit of trouble, I want to see how you will handle it.” She changes the subject. Shortly after Clint is ordered to exit the room. He doesn’t really care about meditation. It’s been great when he’s done it with Nat, but he doesn’t think it would work the same in this environment. It doesn’t matter. It clearly sent the right message.

Notes:

Next up: an introduction to a brooding and long haired character.

Till next time :)

Chapter 4: Part 1: Scrambled eggs

Summary:

Clint helps James out with a flashback. They have lunch together and desperately wait for Natasha to arrive and help out with the awkwardness.

Notes:

This is a slightly shorter chapter about past. An introduction to a new character and some comfort.

Enjoy <3

Will be there in ten.

Clint receives a message back from Natasha. He’s just texted her about her friend sitting on their kitchen counter, not saying a word. 

It all started about half an hour ago, when Clint woke up from his movie marathon nap. Meaning, he set himself to catch up on some sci fi movies of the decade but fell asleep within the first half an hour of the first film. Nothing to do with the quality of the story, more to do with how difficult he finds it to sleep on schedule. He wouldn’t sleep at all if he could choose. With all the recurring nightmares, avoiding going to bed and then laying awake most of the night, scared to fall into the abyss of the dream world. So having a lazy day, letting Nat do her thing outside of home and lack of responsibilities have involuntarily made him catch up on the needed but despised state of unconsciousness. 

The hearing aids didn’t help as the individual made no noise but the heightened reliance on the vision helped him spot a shadow behind the main door. He quickly realized that there was a person standing on the other side of the front door, just lingering there. Not knocking, not ringing the bell, not moving really. He grabbed a knife on his way to the door and stood next to it instead of in front of, when flinging it open.  

James. James was on the other side of the frame. Not really surprised that the door was opened but also not making a move to get inside. He must have heard Clint with his super hearing and all.

This was the second time that Clint met James, first being a joint mission between him and Clint and Nat. Barton knew that James hung around with Natasha from time to time, but they tended not to invite Clint along. Something to do with quietly sitting in one place and not saying a word to each other that made Clint agree with the decision to not get him involved. 

The man in front of him didn’t look well. He looked very tired and dirty. Dark circles under his eyes looked incomparably worse than Clint’s and his right hand was shaking. 

Clint exhaled in relief, he knew that the man is very dangerous but he highly doubted that the man would direct his anger at Barton. He is Natasha’s person. They’re safe around each other. Clint loosened the grip around the knife in his hand.

“Wanna come in?” He asked. The man unsurely nodded his head but did not make a step to get inside. Clint unsurely moved the door and opened it further, trying to make it more obvious that James is welcome to come in. The man still didn't move. And then Clint remembered. James used to be a slave. Same as Clint, same as Natasha. She always mentioned that they used to treat him particularly cruelly. He has never showed up in front of their flat so whatever is the reason, it must be serious. Clint remembered his own episodes, when moving without permission was painful, when breathing without guidance was impossible. This man here needed something more than what Clint was giving him. He inhaled sharply and slowly exhaled. He’s just gotten a few hours of sleep, he could do it. 

“Come in, take a seat at the kitchen counter if you want to.” He gave him a clear parameter of what he can do. The ‘if you want to’ at the end may have been confusing to someone who was not okay but he had to add it for both of their sakes.

 

The man appeared to be relieved. He crossed their threshold and situated himself on the kitchen stool. Hands flat on the table, looking down. He must have just come off a very strong flashback. Clint closed the main door and headed to the kitchen, putting the knife back from where he took it. He wiped his hands on his trousers and slowly approached Natasha’s friend. She told Clint a few horror stories of how they used to treat him. The experiments, the electroshocks, playing with his memories and sense of self. The cryofreeze? Clint has been through some shit in his life, he isn’t sure if he could ever come back from what James has been through. 

He didn’t want to appear intimidating so he didn’t approach the ex slave from the front, instead he stood at his side and mirrored the man’s hand placement.

“Do you know where you are?” He asked first. James shook his head.

“You are in Natasha’s home.” Clint responded. “Do you know who Natasha is?” James slowly nodded. Clint breathed out relieved. “We are in Budapest, myself and Nat have resided here for two years now. We’re not here that often, only between jobs. We are free. You are free too.” James nodded slightly but didn't react beyond that. “Do you know your name?” Clint asked. James needed a moment but in the end nodded again. “That’s really good James, that’s really good.”

“Bucky… I think someone I care about used to call me Bucky.” James suddenly said, Clint was taken aback, he wasn't sure what to do with this piece of information. 

“That’s good, it’s good you remember that.” He said and committed the name to a memory. “Would you like me to call you Bucky?” James’s eyes moved around the kitchen counter. Clint held his breath waiting for the answer.

“No.” 

“That’s fine. Do you know my name?” He asked next. James looked panicked. Frowning and his jaw locked tight shut. “It’s okay if you don’t.” He quickly added.

“No it’s… I’m trying to remember, "he said. Clint gave him space. “You’re Hawkeye. Clint something. You’re Natasha’s boyfriend. Clint breathed out, relieved again. He could see that James has relaxed too, his white knuckles clearly got some color back in them and he appeared to be taking full breaths again. 

 

‘Okay what’s next?’ Clint asked himself. He needed to ground James, make sure his senses were engaged, and get him back in this moment. He tried to remember what usually worked for him. 

“I was about to make myself something to eat, how do you feel about scrambled eggs?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well I am. Gonna make them anyways, I’ll add a few extra eggs cuz otherwise Nat will kill me for not being nice enough to you. It’s your choice if you’re gonna eat them or not.” James frowned but didn't say anything. Clint wouldn't be able to make an edible meal if his life depended on it but he should manage eggs. He got some onion out and started cutting it, it had a very strong smell, should bring him back a bit, and then the sizzling oil on the pan should focus James’s sense of smell. Not to mention Clint's constant blabbering, he could bet that the place James came from wouldn’t have anyone with such an immaculate sense of humor as him.  James didn’t speak, he didn't say a word. But his eyesight was no longer on the table. Instead following Clint’s movement in the kitchen. His back muscles were not as taught either. Having something to do, Clint wasn’t as stressed himself either, he almost started humming to himself. 

Once the eggs were done he plated them up and added some crusty bread on the side, alongside  cherry tomatoes. He wouldn’t hear an end to it if he didn’t balance his diet out, Nat’s very persuasive when it comes to convincing Clint to take care of himself. And he listens. 

“This is for you” He said, hoping that it’s gonna be enough. He wasn't going to tell James to eat the food in case he didn’t want to and it would sound too much like an order. But at the same time he had a lingering feeling that the man did not eat for a very long time. Clint sat down next to James and started to chow down his own portion. He has engaged James’s sense of smell, hearing and definitely sight. And it clearly helped. But nothing helps more than taste. It can move someone to a time and space they haven’t been to in years and bring them back to the moment as quickly. James looked at the plate and then slowly and reluctantly grabbed it. Clint still continued on in his rumble but wasn’t expecting an answer back. James would be exhausted right after such  a strong bodily reaction. Whatever triggered him, it must have been powerful. Midway through, James's body slumped down. He put the plate aside and placed his face between his palms. He took a deep breath in and exhaled loudly. And then the tears came.

“Can you text Nat?” He asked. 

“Sure.” Clint replied. 

She arrives after five minutes, not ten like she promised. Really worried. She asks Clint to leave the room and he does without a question. They have their shit to deal with whilst he has his own. He knows that there are things they would never totally get from each other’s experiences. And he is more than fine with it. He can barely handle his own pain. He leaves to practice his shooting and when he’s back at the apartment a few hours later, they’re still at it. So he goes to the bedroom, tries to lay down and rest but the few hours during the day has made a night sleep impossible so he turns the TV on and takes his hearing aids off. Losing himself in whatever trashy reality show they’re currently playing that have subtitles on. 

 

It's well after three am when Natasha enters the bedroom. She doesn’t say a word, just takes off her trousers and unzips her bra before jumping in and snuggling next to him. Clint puts his hand in her hair and slowly massages it. 

“Thank you,” she signs to him. “For helping James, it means a lot to both of us.” She explains. 

“How is he now?” Clint asks. He could ask about what happened or what triggered it but they would tell him if they wanted him to know. He doesn’t have to know the details. The same way they don’t have to know the details when he has a moment. 

“Getting there. Thanks to you.” She responds. Neither of them sleep that night. But they both pretend to, until it’s bright outside and the morning birds start singing, and Clint brings coffee to bed.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed :)

Next up some training with the boys and a few moments alone with Nat.

Chapter 5: Part 1: tea

Summary:

Clint has a heart to heart with Nat and joins boys for some sparring. Things don't go according to plan.

Notes:

If you are still here, hi. I hope you are well.

Enjoy <3

“Do you remember that night?” Natasha asks him. “When James showed up asking for help?” They are in her bed, Clint snuck in through the vents right after serving Stark his breakfast. He has around twenty minutes before they’d start looking for him. Most importantly he offered Natasha some cunnilingus, and brought her to orgasm in less than five minutes, which he took a pride in achieving. And then he laid down next to her and asked if she could cuddle him before they will have to pretend to hate each other again. 

“You mean when he just stood there without a word and I figured out that he needed help?” He corrects her. She laughs and nods. 

“Yeah that one.”

“What about it?”

“He was convinced they were following him. He thought they already caught him even but things weren’t adding up for him. We’ve talked about it and analyzed it. We both agreed that if he gets a feeling that he’s in danger then he should listen to it and disappear. Better safe than sorry.” Clint doesn’t respond, playing with Natasha’s hair. Trying to enjoy  the moment for as long as he can. 

“They got him that night.” She says. “No more than five minutes after he left our flat. Clint feels like his body got covered by ice. 

“Five… minutes.” He says. Because the meaning behind these words is loud and clear. If they got him five minutes after, then they knew where he was coming from, they knew about them. And all those messages he exchanged with her afterwards. They weren’t his. He never was safe, he was playing her, he was playing them.

No. Not James, James wasn’t playing them. James wasn’t himself anymore. He was the assassin, the Winter Soldier. All those fears were real. And he’s made him a fucking scrambled egg to calm him down.

***

 

“Ready to kick my ass Cap?” Clint asks when he steps into the gym. Steve is already there, sparring with a punching bag. It doesn’t take long to figure out that he is annoyed and tries to keep himself in check. Clint doesn’t miss a step and continues to walk in, trying to establish the source of the irritation before adjusting his behavior. He leaves Steve be and moves in the direction of a treadmill, wanting to warm up. So it happens that Bruce is using the one next to him. His face is really red, he mumbles things to himself. That must be the reason behind Steve’s annoyance. 

“What’s up Brucy Bruce?” He asks whilst setting himself up for a quick sprint. Bruce walks the machine. He doesn’t respond at first, his own mumbling only growing in strength. Clint considers leaving him be and swapping to a different machine when the man blurts out.

“I’m so tired of those rules. Nothing is ever good enough for anyone. I do my job like always and Stark is happy one second and annoyed the other. He doesn’t listen, he takes my idea and runs with it the opposite direction it was intended to, and when it doesn’t work who is he mad at?” He rumbles on looking down but his eyes dart around the treadmill settings. Clint is about to relate to it but the scientist continues.

“And then Coulson is just doing the pose training and correction behavior over and over and over again as if that was supposed to help with anything, as if that will make a difference on the outcome of the investigation. I’m so tired.” Barton expects that more will come so he stays quiet. 

“Then we’ve got fucking Steve always being the best slave there is, saying things like ‘come on Bruce, put yourself in your Master’s shoes’ and telling me to actually do better. Like he himself is perfect, like he doesn’t dream of being fucking free like the rest of us.” Clint changes the settings on his treadmill, moves it to a walking pace. “And then this!” He man exclaims and flips the screen in front of him, it looks like he just wanted to smack it but it breaks and flies forward and into the wall. Clint jumps off of his own treadmill and looks at Bruce, expecting a full Hulk alarm. Bruce’s green veins protrude from his neck but other than this he is still him. Clint's breathing fastens. He can’t take his eyes off of Bruce. “Exercising together? Being told we should work as a team? Connect? Learn how others fight? I am not a fighter! Look what he made me into! I don’t want to be a monster!” His treadmill stopped moving around the time its screen got nailed into the wall. He is now looking at Clint and starts walking towards him. “And you?! What the hell is going on with you! Thinking you’re better than everyone else. Walking with your head up in the clouds! Sneaking around, demanding different treatment! It’s good Coulson brought you down, it's good…”

“Let’s sit down.” A hand stops Bruce from walking into Clint. Steve is between them. Clearly trying to calm the situation down. They’ve argued quite a lot in the last few weeks but their arguments seemed petty. This one doesn’t. This one seems like something is happening. Bruce wants to shake his hand off at first but it doesn’t bulge. Clint can tell that they’re not using human strength. Bruce looks at Steve and his stern look and his expression changes. It dissipates. Loses its green aura. And after a few moments he is his old self again. Apologetic and lost.

 

***

 

“How often do you think about your brother?” She asks him out of nowhere. 

“My brother?” It takes him by surprise. 

“Yeah.”

“I uh… Usually not that much but lately, something happened that reminded me of him.”

“Oh” She doesn’t say anything after that. Staring at the ceiling.

“How’s Yelena?”

“What?”

“Yelena, your sister. That’s her name right?”

“Oh right yeah. No, I think she’s okay.” She says, lost in thought. 

“You think?” He asks. 

“How often did you try to call me?” She asks next.

“A few times but it was usually texts that I sent, didn't want to bother you.”

“And you kept at it, even after you considered that I might have been caught?” Clint nods unsurely. 

“Nat?”

“Yeah?” She asks but she is still distant. He lays her a quick kiss on the cheek. Prodding to look at him. She does, needing a few moments to reach him with her mind as well. Once she does he smiles and kisses her on the lips. She hugs him tighter. 

“Where is your sister?” He asks once he got her attention. Her smile fades. 

“Why does it matter?” She responds coldly. 

“Because you asked me about my brother, and you talked about James being captured. Yelena’s back in the red room too. Isn’t she?” He enquires. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer. 

“It doesn’t matter where she is, does it? We’ve all had a few years of peace. It’s more than others could even ask for.” She responds. 

“You worry about her, you worry about James too. Of course it matters.”

“I don’t like to see them hurt, but I have to get used to it again. It was nothing unusual for me once, a long time ago, it’s just a matter of time until it becomes normal again.” Clint moves away from her suddenly. As if struck by lightning. Because now he understands. Now he understands why she’s working with them. Why she isn't escaping. 

“They’re the leverage.” He exclaims, suddenly his lips get very dry. She continues to look him coldly in the eyes. She doesn’t deny it. “That’s why you’re doing everything they tell you to, that’s why you don’t run. Because if you do, they will hurt them. Nat! You should have told me!”

 

***

 

“If you would have come at me from below, you’d have a fairly good chance to overpower me and throw me on the ground Clint. You’ve done really well.'' Steve says whilst stretching on the ground. His left calf is parallel to the rest of the body and a hand tries to twist his back as much as possible. Clint is simply sitting on the opposite side and drinking small sips of water. Still panting heavily from the spar they’ve just completed. Bruce is sitting in the corner of the room glancing at both of them, but not saying a word. Clint knows that he is not well, and despite trying to ignore his presence, he keeps an eye on him at all times. The man is pale and shaking and tries to stay calm. They’re gonna have to send him to a medic afterwards. It’s not gonna be pretty. 

“It seemed like the more obvious choice, I feel more confident seeing my opponent from up above so I usually go for the bird’s perspective.” He explains his move to Steve.

“You’re a Hawkeye after all,” Steve laughs, “Well, I'd advise a strategy that will let you win. Not one that is your signature move.” He adds. Clint nods.

“Hand to hand combat has only been the last resort for me. I hate it.”

“We can practice shooting next time.” Steve compromises.

“It’s not just shooting. It's an observation. You learn about people from a distance. You observe their habits, their unaware tics and behaviors. If it goes well you can stop the fight before it starts. You can predict their moves and prevent the conflict from happening.” Steve raises his head, asks Clint to throw him the water bottle and takes a few sips. 

“We should ask for a day out pass. I feel like you could teach me a lot.” Clint smiles. He knows that if Steve were to ask for a daily pass he would more likely get it than Clint. And Clint hasn’t been outside since the races. And he hasn’t been outside without a Master since his last mission with Coulson, in Yemen. He could use a break, stretch old and unmoved muscles from his days as a free man. Not only that but maybe he’d give Bobbi a call. See how she is doing. See if he still has a way out of this place, if she’s still willing to help. He knows she would, she always has his back but the anxiety creeps back in after long moments of silence between them. He reminds himself of the emergency phone numbers she made him remember. And then names of all of the meeting points. Happy that they are still fresh in his mind. 

“Maybe we’d sneak into a park and go for a walk afterwards, snatch some coins for a brewed coffee or ice cream or something” He mentions and both Steve and Bruce laugh. 

“Just magic it out of your pocket huh?” Bruce suggests. And Clint realizes that they have no clue how to have a life whilst being a slave. How to handle the outside world without Stark. He’s been sneaking out and snatching people’s pockets since he was a child. Getting illegal ice cream, some chocolate and other things with a heavily raised coat or a scarf to hide his collar. Knowing the risk and deeming it worth the trouble for a piece of heaven. Every kid would sacrifice a lot for chocolate. Immediately it makes Clint question how these two would manage without Stark. Stark who provides them with everything that they need. How they don’t lack the simplest forms of comfort such as a soft bed to sleep on at night or tasty breakfast. All of the things that Clint has been fighting for as a kid are still handed to them on a plate. They have ice cream at home, they have coffee at home. It wouldn’t make sense for them to go out and do something illegal, worried about the consequences, whilst having a cozy home.  

And then it hits him. It’s not going to be a cozy home for them for long. Not if Natasha achieves her goals. Not if she gets a win for the red room. His blood freezes in his veins momentarily. 

“Are you okay Clint? Suddenly you got much paler.” Clint tries to shrug off the comment but it doesn’t exactly work. Bruce and Steve keep looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

 

“Do you know what’s gonna happen to you if Stark loses?” Steve stops mid move by wiping his sweat off of his forehead. Bruce looks down. 

“Yeah we do.” Bruce responds grimly. Clint tries to recall a conversation with Coulson from long ago. When he talked to him about other slave’s pasts and how they got to Stark.

“The army wanted you, didn’t they?” He starts when looking at Bruce. “To experiment, see if they can turn your condition into a weapon.” Banner doesn’t make eye contact with him, continuing to sit in the corner with his knees folded up. 

“Stark had more money than the army could offer, they accepted Stark’s payment under the condition that he would conduct the research. We have been sending them false reports. The failings of the trails and inaccurate blood sample results.”

“Has Stark ever experimented on you?” Clint asks. “Did he ever… deliver on the promise?” He needs to know. 

“Stark will never contribute another weapon to the army. With my permission, we’ve tested my blood and done a few other tests but nothing too invasive and nothing that would make us stumble on something dangerous. Stark is looking for something that would help me control my explosions. Not how to control them himself” Clint nods. It adds up. Stark isn’t harming Bruce. 

“If I were given to General Ross…” Bruce shakes, “I don’t think I’d ever see the sun again. I don’t think I would… I don’t think that I would last a year in that place Clint.” Clint can only imagine. He’s heard horror stories of slaves who’ve been experimented on. He erased it from his memory. Deeming it too much to carry, too much to handle. 

And then he looks at Steve.

“Government, parading me around like a symbol, recording lots of propaganda and sending me out with the units.” Clint can easily see Steve as a perfect soldier. He tries hard not to laugh at the thought of his ridiculous Captain America suit. He can’t imagine fighting in a suit as such. “We’ve got it alright here haven’t we?” Steve asks Clint. “You’ve experienced slavery outside of these walls. We’ve both gone through the training. It was horrible, and Sir Coulson keeps us in check but it’s nothing compared to the real world. Am I right Clint?” Steve looks him in the eyes. He seeks an answer because Clint doesn’t respond verbally. His throat got really tight, he feels like he needs to squeeze an air through it, swallowing his own saliva is difficult. His shoulders tensed and eyes, glassy, froze in one spot. Because how can he say ‘This is paradise’ to people who, even here, cannot truly be themselves? How can he say ‘you’ll be lucky if you’re fed in the morning and won’t have to find your breakfast in the bin’, or ‘they will own your body and use it, not because they’re attracted to you, but because they enjoy the power they have over you. The ‘you will never be sitting on your ass not because you not allowed to but because it will be too painful to’, or the whippings, the ‘lets cram them into cages to save space’, the shock collars, cold floors, muzzles, wake up kicks in the back. Clint reflects on the last punishment he received from Coulson. And he wants to laugh. Yes it was rough, yes it was humiliating and painful and dehumanizing. But he’s been through worse. And whilst he was severely hurt, no one before, ever gave him water to drink, wiped his face or treated his wounds. It was leaving him in his own filth and hoping that he would gather enough strength to move and care for the wounds inflicted by them. Yes Coulson had his moments, but he made sure that Clint was fine afterwards, he always made sure Clint was fine afterwards. Clint would choose Coulson over any other asshole who ever owned him. Clint would handle much worse treatment to be allowed to stay at the Stark tower rather than going back to any of his previous owners. How could he explain it to these two? How could he voice it?

 

Steve’s expression changes, the uplifting wrinkles drop, he must have understood Clint’s expression. He doesn’t have to hear it out loud. Steve finishes his stretch, sits and then lays down on the mat and looks at the ceiling. Bruce is clenching his own knees with his hands and glancing at them, still taking deep breaths. Clint feels responsible for them. He knows more than they do. He doesn’t want them hurt because of him. Because he doesn’t share the knowledge with those protecting Stark. Yes Stark is his master and yes Clint doesn’t want to slave away for the rest of his life. He wants Natasha safe and free. He feels stuck. Realizing that someone will get hurt. No matter what he does, he will see people he cares about really, really hurt. This isn’t fair.

 

***

He’s back in the vents. She clearly and loudly told him to get out. Not screamed. No, Natasha doesn’t scream. She gets cold and distant and one loses their sense of safety, understands not to push her. So he left, shortly after she asked him to. Putting his trousers and shirt back on. All in beige, the Stark slave uniform, wishing he could wear anything else other than this nauseating color. 

“Clint…” She asked him before he jumped right back in. He turned around, raised his eyebrow, hoping that she noticed the pain on his face. “I…” She started but quickly closed her mouth. Clint nodded in understanding. How could he ask her to do anything, when those close to her are in danger, will pay for her independence? How could he try to influence her decision? He looked back up and prepared himself to jump.

“The files I shared with Stark, ones you had a look at, with all the information on you? It’s all just the beginning. They have a plan. A good plan. Unbeatable plan. When I tell you that you cannot win, I have a good reason to do so. When I ask you to run, I do that because otherwise they will have another person to threaten me with. I love you so much and I really don’t want to see you hurt. But I will. I will so much and so often. Please. I’m begging you. And I don’t beg often, you know that. Please spare me this suffering.” Her voice was shaking. She tried to stop tears from falling down. Clint saw a young girl in front of him. Someone who hoped that there was still some good in this world. 

 

Clint looked down.

“This is bigger than us Nat. This is bigger than my own goodness or yours. Stark… God Nat. You know those bombs? That they threw over those villages in Symkaria? Stark production. Those that didn’t explode?” Nat nodded her head unsurely. “They wouldn't just not explode Nat. They were produced by Stark industries. They wouldn’t just malfunction” A dawn of understanding showed on her face. 

“But… they were malfunctioning all over the globe…” Clint didn’t respond. “Oh…”

“I was hoping you would switch sides. I’m sure the red room wouldn’t manage to bring Stark down on their own. But it is clear why they need to do that. I understand why they see him as a threat. If you swapped sides or just agreed to escape with me… We could be far away from here. Stark would be safe and you… would be safe too. That is all I wanted.”

“But they secured my loyalty.”

“They secured your loyalty.” Nat’s lip trembled.

“And you’re never going to escape because you are fighting for something you believe in.” He didn’t respond. “And you will continue to fight even if you know that you will lose, because you are stubborn.” Clint burst out laughing through tears that gathered at the edges of his eyes. 

“See you in hell?” He asked. Nat also had tears at the corners of her eyes. She nodded without saying a word. 

 

So now he is sliding through the vent and thinking about which one is the best to emerge from without raising suspicion. He’s headed to the sparring session with the boys. On his way there a thought strikes him. Nat supposedly knows everything about Stark. Even the strangest tiniest secrets. So… how come did she not know that he had something to do with the weapon disassembly? 

 

***

“How am I supposed to attend Stark’s expo in a few days? I can’t be seen like this in a public space, I’m sweaty and shaky and so... angry. I can’t focus on the activity boys, all I’m thinking about is how much I want to SMASH this table.”

They’ve been given a scenario to work over as a team. Stark gave them a task to create a strategy of how they would handle bank robbers if sent out on a mission as a team. Boys couldn’t decide if Stark did it for a promo stunt or for another crazy idea. But a slave does what a master orders so they assigned themselves tasks and then waited for another instruction from Jarvis.

“It’s two days from now.” I’m sure however you’re feeling will pass by then,” Steve responds. “After we finish this exercise, I will take you to the med bay, they will check you over.” Clint touches Bruce’s forehead.  

“I don’t think we should wait until the end of the training, you’re burning up, they need to give you something to lower the temperature. Jarvis, do you think that we could finish this session early? Take Brucy Bruce to get checked over now?” The AI doesn’t respond for a minute or two. They suspect that he is consulting with their Master. As expected, he gives them permission to leave the room and head to the med bay. 

“What do your meetings with the reporter look like?” Steve asks once they both grabbed Bruce’s arm and covered him with an extra blanket to stop his shivering. Clint tenses. 

“Nothing interesting really, I like how easily Coulson loses his cool around her.” Clint tries to swerve from the question about her interactions with him. Both Steve and Bruce laugh.

“He snapped at her when she tried to question my correctional session ‘He’s the Hulk, of course I’m not going to whip him!’” Clint joins in on the laugh. He can recreate Coulson’s reaction in his head, very easily.

“There’s no point in using handcuffs, he’d rip them right off!” Steve adds in. Laughter echoes through the empty hallways. Out of nowhere Bruce almost doubles in half and falls down. He’s on his knees and doesn’t move. Both of the slaves give him a moment, noticing correctly that the man is trying to stop his anger explosion. Hoping that he will manage to do so. 

“I’m not surprised that Sir Coulson reacts this way around her. She is scary. Caught me a couple of times by surprise too with her questions. Separately they all sound very innocent until she connects the dots and gets to you.” Steve tries to pretend that Bruce’s green alarm isn’t close to exploding.

“Did she ask about Peggy?” Clint plays into that and uses the opportunity to try to establish where Natasha’s knowledge ends. 

“Just about the past. Not the present. She knew I disobeyed orders from my superiors to try to leave and save Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Clint asks. Name clicking into place instantly. 

“My best friend. James Buchanan Barnes, sergeant. Their team got caught by the enemy, I rushed in to save him, they were experimenting on him when I found him.”

“Did she ask you questions about him?” 

“Many, many questions, I thought for the most part that she was blaming me for his death. She asked what I remember about him, what my fondest memories were with him. If he was ever…in love.” Clint is intrigued. He wonders if he is connecting the dots correctly. Could it be the same James that he’s met. That is alive and… not well?

They stop in front of the hospital bed section for the slaves. A slave nurse comes in and quickly prepares a bed for Bruce to lie down in. She asks them to wait until she comes back with a doctor. There is one chair, Steve sits down. Clint paces around the room, thinking what other questions he should ask to try to figure out Natasha's source of information. Before he has time to  do so, a doctor and another nurse come in. The one that welcomed them is standing behind the other two professionals, slave like style. Steve gets up and stands respectfully at attention, Clint joins him, Bruce starts getting up but they tell him to stay still. 

 

Starting with simple tests and questions, Bruce tells them that his anger outbursts started about a month ago. Around the time the reporter made an appearance. The nurse suggests stress. Doctor concurs regarding the anger but it wouldn’t explain other symptoms experienced by Bruce. They ask if they informed Coulson, Steve is sent out to get their supervisor. The doctors worry more than he expected. But then it makes sense, they wouldn’t want a full blown Hulk alarm. They take blood samples and check his blood pressure, sugar levels, and all basic tests. Clint doesn’t feel comfortable with the doctors handling Bruce’s DNA, fearing the curtain behind which it all disappears. He hopes that Stark chose wisely when hiring those people. Shortly after Steve and Coulson are back at the med bay, Phil is taken on the side by the doctor. 

“A month huh?” Clint asks, the young slave nurse is moving Bruce’s pillows around and giving him an extra blanket. She hasn’t said a word.

“It must be stress, right? The thought that something could happen to our Master. The thought that I’d be out for the grabs ” He whispers the last part. Clint and the nurse exchange a glance. It’s been on all of their minds. But something else keeps bothering Clint. 

“How are your sessions with Natalie?” He asks Bruce. The scientist ponders on it for a minute.

“I didn’t really speak when you and Steve were talking about it because it was no different than yours. Knowing things about me I don’t want anyone to know. Asking about people I cared about when I was free and if they’ve been in contact with me.”

“She didn’t know, did she?”

“I don’t think she did but I wouldn’t lose my hand over it.” Clint frowns. Something seems off but he can’t put a finger on it. Natasha said that they wouldn’t win. That having the information on Stark was just the beginning. They were planning something different, unconquerable. 

 

“I guess I’m just worrying about how she could make you feel so upset.”

“She wasn’t making me upset. She was very sweet. It was sweet in a bit of a venomous way because she said she has to be, not wanting to meet my evil self and such. But she was sweet and calming. Asking me questions that would upset me and then making sure I was sipping on my calming tea.”

“I can so imagine her doing that” Clint responds trying not to smile. Oh god he loves that woman to bits. 

The doctors come back in, tell Bruce he is going to stay at the ward overnight and explain what’s going to happen to him next. Clint and Steve are told that they will need to leave Bruce alone until all the tests are done. They get ready to leave when a thought strikes Clint. 

“Tea…” the archer suddenly exclaims.

“Get yourself one in the canteen.” Coulson responds, trying to rush him out of the room. But Clint is onto something.

“Steve, did Natalie give you tea?” He caught Phil’s interest. Who trusts Clint’s instincts. 

“No, why would she?” Steve asks. 

“I haven’t been given one either.” Clint explains to Coulson who slowly nods his head. 

“He was offered tea.”

“Yes sir, around the time his first symptoms started.” Clint explains relieved that he will not have to convince Coulson to go with this lead. Grateful that Phil trusts him.

“Tea it is.” Coulson sighs. Turns around and gives some orders to the doctors. Did she really do it? Did she poison Bruce? 

Notes:

Hope the story is still enjoyable.

Next up: Confessions, Clint and Stark will have an honest chat about an unexpected prisoner.

Till next time :)

Chapter 6: Part 1: The Winter Soldier

Summary:

A short flashback scene and Bucky.

Notes:

Sorry about the break. December happened and it was more busy than usual. Technically it did not end yet but all of my activities did.

Enjoy the next chapter and thank you with sticking to the story.

 

Additional info: I have just received my first rude comment. Just to make it clear to everyone, I will delete unconstructive and rude feedback. There is no point to negativity and I don't want things like these in my comments. But at the same time thank you. I feel like I reached another milestone of posting on the internet ☺️

An unspecified amount of time ago

 

The sound of the police siren passes them. They are both out of breath and chuckling. Clint forgot himself and sat down on a chair opposite of Stark at the nearby pizza place. Stark forgot himself and let him. They both realize when Clint is already comfortable, balancing his weight on the two back legs of the chair and swinging his weight back and forth. They lock eyes, his master and him. Clint observes Stark, waits for his reaction, flexing his muscles, prepared for a quick move if need be. But Stark only sighs heavily looking down at his plate. He doesn’t say anything instead raising his hand to catch waitresses attention and asking for another plate. Clint plays with the few coins in his pocket. The same ones he grabbed from Stark to shoot at the robbers with without suspicion. He swaps his mission hearing aids to the regular ones, handing the specialized ones to Stark. Eyeing him, he sees a smirk on Tony’s lips. It trembles, as if it wanted to expand into infinity. Slowly it turns into a full face grin and ends in a quiet but steady giggle. Clint can’t stop himself. He joins in as well. And not long after they are both giggling like children.

 

“Did you see the face of the ginger guy with a badly grown mustache?” Stark mumbles between the fits of laughter. Clint almost doubles over on the floor. 

“He actually farted when he saw the drone so close to his face.” Clint wheezes out. They don’t care about the staff at the restaurant and what they might think about them. They forget about other people. Their whole world is filled with laughter. Only after some time do they manage to calm down and take a few breaths. Needing a few moments to be able to speak again. 

“And the other one? Pale as a ghost?” 

“I know!” Barton screams again. They get to laugh uncontrollably again, so much in fact, that Stark needs to excuse himself and go to the loo saying that he is going to piss his pants. That sobers both of them up a bit and they both nod their heads, cheeks flushed. 

 

It’s a nice evening outside so Stark thought of working on his current project from some nice and quiet food spot. When hearing that Clint hasn’t been out for a while he got him to tag along and get bored somewhere else than the tower. Clint didn’t mind, enjoying the change of pace. Also being out with Stark incognito was always fun. The man would camouflage himself somehow, on two occasions changing his full face appearance with nanotechnology, and somehow entertain Clint, who technically wasn’t even allowed to read a newspaper. 

Pizza place was Clint’s idea. Tony agreed for it but clearly reminded Clint that they need to get to an empty spot, so that Stark will be able to focus on doing some work. Clint took it as an encouragement to find the most discouragingly looking place possible. Which is what he’s managed to do. Not long after, due to finding a spot in the poor area of the town, did both of them hear suspicious screaming that was very quickly quietened down and spotted lights going off in the tech shop opposite them. Staff didn’t even manage to put the pizza on the table when Clint was out of the door, with his other hearing aid set, with a plastic bag over his head, small holes for the eyes, running towards the burglary. Stark hacked into the security systems of the shop, let Clint in  from the back and did a poltergeist on the boys with tights on their faces by playing with the lights and shop drones. Clint pinned them down to the shelves with cables or knocked them unconscious with the coins and met Stark outside of the restaurant, already giggling when running back. 

 

Pizza is still hot after Stark is back from the toilet, they eat half of Hawaiian each and agree to complain about the pineapple debate. 

“Do you think it’s going to end up in the media?” Clint asks after a moment referring to the vigilante save they have just done on the shop not too far from Stark tower. The police have already managed to set up their tapes and are currently directing the public away from the shop. The unsuccessful thieves are on their way to the police station.

“If it is, I hope Coulson isn’t going to connect the dots or else we’re both toast.” They both laugh at that, but this time Clint’s laugh is a little bit forced. Yes he likes to see Phil annoyed, it’s funny, he has to admit. But this type of trouble would require a not so small of a punishment. And he’d rather not get it. Obviously he’ll join Stark on his next, not so official business. But he’d rather Phil never fond out. So he laughs and drinks coke from Stark’s glass, as no one thought of giving him a separate one. He’s not sure if Stark remembers but it’s his birthday today. It was a nice way to celebrate. 

 

---

Now

“He didn’t say a word.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Clint responds to Stark’s worried tone. 

“I just thought that after everything, with Steve and then me, we would manage to get this conversation somewhere.” Clint rushed to the interrogation rooms as soon as he had seen Steve, drugged and barely conscious, wheeled into the training room. Constantly whispering ‘Bucky, leave him alone, please. Bucky…’ He snuck in to see him, and found out enough. The assassin who attacked Stark at the formula one races was wearing a mask made out of holographic cells, nanotechnology, according to Stark. Which is why Clint noticed the flickering of the cells after injuring the man. Steve must have accompanied Stark when entering the interrogation room, probably in the capacity of a security guard. But Steve recognized James as his best friend and must have gotten into a shock, according to the medics. But Clint can imagine that it wasn’t the shock that made Steve lash out at Stark and the guards. It was love. Now, Clint couldn’t tell whether the love was platonic or romantic but love was love. No logic comes into play when love is discussed. Steve lost his cool, the same way he did so many years ago as a free man, the same way he got himself enslaved and trained as somebody else’s weapon. 

“Don’t let them hurt him,” Steve grabbed Clint’s head and quietly begged Clint for help. The archer only nodded his head slightly and walked away from the man.

 

Stark is standing in front of a one way mirror, looking at a man closed in a small chamber, prepared for super soldiers, inside of the interrogation room. He can barely move with his hands pinned to the metal chair he sits in, with legs strapped down in various places. His neck is free of collar but he has a tan line suggesting that it was on him for quite a while. He is staring into space in front of him, without moving. 

“Candy?” Stark pulls out his hand with a bag of M&M’s. Clint thinks about taking some for a second but eventually he shakes his head. Stark raises his arms as if saying ‘whatever’, and pours a mouthful of sweets into his mouth.

“How’s your head? All  healed up?” He asks Clint. Clint huffs softly, trying to follow the right protocol and wait for the master, letting him change the subject, which the man frustratingly doesn’t do. He wonders if Tash knows that James is in the building… and then he realizes that she probably does. She must have been in on the plan during the races and she knows that he was captured. It could give them leverage though. With James here, it’s one less person to threaten her with. It could be good. Forgetting the ‘James almost killed me and Tony’ part. 

“It’s okay master. I keep forgetting I had gotten injured.” Clint responds. Stark smiles at that. 

“So you’re enjoying your bow then.” 

“Yes sir… master, yes I do.” Clint nervously taps his shoes on the ground and keeps fidgeting. He’s not really supposed to do that with so many people around and Stark in front of him. It’s a bad practice for a slave and could embarrass Stark.  But there are so many things to say, he still isn’t sure how to do that. Tony notices him with the corner of his eye, the nervousness the blonde possesses and stops mid chew. 

“What’s on your mind Clint?” Clint doesn’t hesitate. 

“We have to talk, master. It’s urgent.” Stark slowly swallows the rest of the chocolate in his mouth and nods. 

“Privately?”

“Privately, master.” Clint is more polite than usual, he is stressed, really stressed. He doesn’t want to have that conversation with Stark. It can end badly for him. Stark looks at Clint longer than usual, taking particular care when assessing his facial expression. Clint looks down, trying to avoid eye contact, Stark frowns at that. 

 

“Everybody out!” He screams, he raises his hand and shoos everyone away. A lot of nameless individuals leave the room without a question. A few of them stay behind though clearly not happy with Stark’s order. One of them, who Clint assesses to be the leader, steps up to Stark and whispers.

 

“Are you sure? This man almost killed you on the tracks.” Stark puts some more M&M’s in his mouth to, what Clint knows, pretend that he is very neglectful of the danger of the situation. 

“Yeah? Haven’t noticed.” Clint is looking down, can’t really make the facial expression on the man’s face but he can clearly hear the huffing noise the man made.

“I don’t think you understand, boss, the man in front of…

“The man in front of me tried to kill me. I know. And he got too close to doing it. Your team didn’t seem very helpful. But guess who was?” Clint blushes. He could step up for the guy and tell Stark that he himself changed the plan for the day that no one could follow or predict but the truth is… someone should have followed them down the staircase whilst Stark left the main room. “I’ll be safe. Now think if you want to get fired with immediate effect or if you’d want to keep the job a little longer to get a second chance at saving my ass.” Stark says without facing the man, being more intrigued about the person behind the glass, the non moving one, the one that looks like a dangerous animal trapped in a cage. The security leave the room without questioning Stark further. He chuckles silently and offers Clint some candy again. This time Clint reluctantly grabs a few pieces and puts them in his mouth one by one, prolonging the flavor of chocolate on his taste buds. 

 

Stark doesn’t say anything now, clearly waiting for Clint to react. Now that Clint can, he isn’t so sure he wants to. Remembering all of the painful moments at the tower. The lack of understanding the powerlessness he feels every day. He gulps and the collar reminds him about its existence. He isn’t sure he had the best idea, to pick this side. He isn’t sure he should have picked a side. 

 

Bucky blinks. He appears emotionless. 

“Did James hear Steve call him Bucky?” He asks Stark. The man looks at him intrigued. He has already figured out more than Clint said. 

“He didn’t let on that he recognized him first. Getting strangely quiet. I didn’t think much of it. You know Steve, sometimes you can see him fighting with himself, with his morality and this world. He usually makes the right decisions.” ‘Right for you’ Clint thinks. “We walked into the room. Spoke with him. Or rather. I tried to speak with him.” Stark sighs and puts the pack of M&M’s aside. Resting his hands on the table in front of him. 

“The man had a reaction, he looked at Steve when I was speaking with him, and Steve was glancing at him. It was all very strange, I have to admit. Only after I finished talking, did Steve try to… try to…”

“What did you threaten him with? James, I mean?” Stark glances at Clint and the slave can tell that the man is getting impatient. It’s Clint who is supposed to be explaining something to his master.

“The raft…” Stark says and Clint manages to look at James again, with his blank expression. The air left his lungs. A slave on the raft. No wonder Steve kicked off. “How did you know I threatened him?” Clint tries to find words to explain what he is thinking. 

“They were very close, these two.” Stark puffs. 

“Yeah I know. Steve spoke to me about him a lot.”

“He spoke to all of us about him. Master.” Stark is tense. Clint thinks that he felt the note of anger and resentment when using Stark’s title. Clint hasn’t relaxed since he entered the room, he still has his slave pose on. Whereas Stark walks around and is free of his movement. Clint needs to stay still.

“At ease Clint.” He says and Clint relaxes. He decides to walk up to the M&M’s on the table and grab a few without a question. Trying to see the reaction Stark would give him. Maybe he’s stalling? Maybe he’s trying to make up his mind? Clint isn’t sure really why he’s just done that. He does not want more candy. Stark side eyes him but doesn’t say anything. They know each other now. They can feel each other’s energy. 

 

Is Tony always nice to Clint? God no. Clint thinks of the strictness that Stark implements on the slaves in the working hours. Clint’s everyday fight with him during breakfast time, just trying to get him to take a nap before the next day, Bruce’s constant blabbering on how he’s given Tony simple instructions regarding an experiment and how their master always ignores it, doing his own thing. Steve’s constant bad mood after keeping his mouth shut when the man says something Steve would prefer to argue about. And the most important thing. Stark is free, he owns them. Yes there are moments that are nice. There are moments when Clint feels that he is treated like a human being, a friend almost. But this is only when Stark allows it, that treatment always ends when the man decides for it to end. Their sneaking out of the tower sessions. Small crowd savings and bigger military operation infiltrations… Stark speaks to Clint like to a teammate. Clint likes it but… he fears it the same. Remembering how little power he really has. How one mind change could turn his day from a visit to a park to finding rocks in the ground for somebody’s entertainment. Nothing is a better example than how good of a team Phil and Clint were. Not until one bad day of Phil’s. Or maybe a few, he doesn’t know how much time Coulson spent preparing Clint’s big punishment. He only knows that the trust between them never returned. Clint has to tiptoe around the man constantly. And he is very tired of it. So yeah, he is team Stark. For now. But team Stark isn’t team Barton. And it definitely isn’t team Romanov or team Barnes. So he really should come up with a better plan. But for now, not speaking to Tony will very likely mean a guaranteed doom for Steve and Bruce. And he got fond of them. 

“I have to tell you something,” Clint says. Once he already made his mind up, it’s even more difficult to keep his mouth open. He turns around from James, not wanting to see him, feeling like he sentences him to even more suffering, that he grasses on him. He rests his back on the control panel table and pours M&M’s into his mouth. 

“Go on then Hawkeye.” Tony quietly encourages him. He must be sensing the energy. The stress, the courage that Clint needs. 

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Clint says.

“Sergeant of the 107th Infantry Regiment, sidekick to our one and only Captain America. Believed to be dead or so it seems so…”

“He’s the Winter Soldier.”

“He is…”

“The Winter Soldier. An assassin, working for those in the shadows.”

“I know who the Winter Soldier is Barton, I’ve heard the legends. Are you saying that… Are you implying that the man who tried to kill me, the man in the room behind a glass, is the most feared creature on the planet?” Stark freezes, a reflection of the man can be seen in his eyes. James is still staring at the wall, unmoved. 

“I know he is.” Clint really should add the honorific of a master from time to time when talking to Tony but he really doesn’t feel like it. He almost forgot himself and spoke to him like an equal. “I’ve met him,” he decides to break the ice. Put it all on the plate. Except for Natasha of course, he is not going to get Natasha involved. 

“You’ve met the Winter Soldier.” Stark’s eyes are on him again, his crossed arms clearly a protective gesture. He must know that he is speaking to another assassin right now. Clint’s cunning smile, a smile from the past, is currently visible. Oh man, he missed it. 

“He is a buddy of my buddy, or rather was, when we were all pretending to be free.” He spills the beans, swimming in adrenaline. “We did some work together. Quite a cool guy when not…” Clint takes a longer break, finishes the packet of M&M’s by getting them all in his mouth. Stark doesn’t dare say anything. Not now. “Brainwashed…” Clint leaves it be. Hang in the air like the stench of a burnt tyre. 

 

Stark feels like sitting down, he desperately looks for a chair, completely missing the one next to Clint, so the archer rolls it towards him. Stark gratefully grabs it and falls down on it. Sitting the opposite way, resting his arms on the back of the chair and playing with his beard when at it. 

 

“You are friends with the Winter Soldier.” Stark starts. Clint waves his hand around.

“Friend is a strong word, but someone very trusted.” He explains. Stark doesn’t appear to comprehend it. “You are friends with the Winter Soldier, who you’ve implied to be a slave…” Clint nods his head strongly at this one. “Let’s try again. You are friends with the Winter Soldier, who is a slave, who has been brainwashed?” Clint got tired of this game.

“They use electroshocks. Having given him a similar serum to the one that Captain America received. And they use cryo freeze to keep him alive and kicking for an unnaturally long amount of time .”

“And when you say they…” Stark follows up on. 

“Hydra.”

“Hydra has been dead for years.”

“Cut off one head, three more will grow, isn't that correct?” 

“Hydra was trying to assassinate me? Why?

“Not sure actually. They are probably interested in this turn of events but I think it’s someone else who orchestrated your downfall.”

“Clint, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Before I tell you everything you have to promise me one thing.” Tony nods without hesitation. “Don’t put James in a raft. It would kill Steve. Get him somewhere safe instead. If not here at the tower than Shield.”

“You want me to keep the Winter Soldier as a slave in the tower?”

“I want you to keep him safe. That’s all.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because Steve does.” And Natasha too. 

“Okay. I will do my best to give the Winter Soldier a cozy home. Now. You were saying...?” Clint smiles, and spills what he discovered.

Chapter 7: Part 1: Interrogation

Summary:

Clint is caught at lying.

Notes:

Warning: a brief, badly described sex scene takes place at the beginning of this chapter.

Enjoy :)

The soft and continuous clapping noise is what gets his attention first. Constant slamming of one body against another. Wet and sticky. Long erotic whimpers join in. Quiet groans and moans filling in the space. Hands grabbing at each other hungrily. Heads pressed against each other. A man breathing air onto another man’s back. The air in the room is steamy, heavy and filled with lust. One could cut a knife into it. The bodies dance in front of him. Rhythmically, like a well oiled machine. The moves are quick and sudden, never ending. The moaning increases and is joined by heavy panting. 

 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t…” And there is the climax. The reach of the peak. The burst of a grape against a palate of a lip. A wine cork popping. The man in front of him whining humorously and then moaning and dragging out the experience.  

 

Clint is returning to his own body alongside the men in the room. Their  backs turned to him, unaware of his presence. The other man didn't come yet but he stopped, spotting Clint and moving aside as soon as he sniffed him. Clint has seen a lot of people having sex. It stopped bothering him a long time ago. But not these two. These two make his cheeks burn like a red coal. The man with the eye patch is still dressed, he only tucks his erection away and stands up straight, not letting Clint out of his sight. Coulson still doesn’t know. His ass, now in Clint’s full view, laid out over the couch, still spasming. He’s still making disgruntled but happy noises. His trousers are pulled down but otherwise he still has his suit on. Which makes sense, Clint walked into his office with the secret entry, the servant entry. The men must have been working together. Until a word, a whisper, a right sentence was uttered.  Sparking the passion. They must have fucked hard and quick in the spur of a moment. None of them expecting an interruption. 

“That was… I  needed it, Nick. But why didn’t you… why didn’t you…”

“Pull your pants up, Cheese. We have a guest.” Says Nick. Coulson doesn’t waste a second. He grabs his trousers and before Clint knows it he is fully dressed and facing Clint. 

“Barton?” He exclaims, surprised. His face is red and he’s still panting heavily. “What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be with Stark?” Clint looks down submissively, not particularly wanting to look any of the men in the eyes. He did notice that Phil’s expression grew distant as soon as he spotted him.

 

“I can come back later.” He says and tries to quickly leave the room but he is stopped.

“No. You’re here. Tell me what this is about.” Clint unsurely steps from one foot to the other. 

“It’s a very private conversation sir. I can come back later.” He says. Coulson huffs.

“And you’ve stepped into a very private situation. It’s too late to leave!” Coulson orders, clearly pissed off. ‘ Great ’ thinks Clint. ‘It’s not like this chat wouldn’t be difficult anyways ’. He walks to the chair behind a desk and moves it, encouraging Phil to sit on it. Phil picks up the tone of the situation and follows Clint's silent plea to make the chat more professional. He later stands in front of Fury and isn’t sure what to do with him. 

“Don’t worry about me, I will sit on the couch until you’re done.” He says and, with a throw of a cloak, positions himself comfortably. There are traces of cum on the back of the couch, close to Nick’s shoulder. Clint cringes. Both of the men ignoring it. But someone has to clean it. He grabs a tissue from his trainer's desk and proceeds to wipe off the traces of the activity from the couch. Neither of the men say anything. He doesn’t look at them but knows that they keep glancing at each other. 

“Master Stark sent me here, to speak with you in private Sir. I don’t want to…”

“You can talk freely in front of Nick… Fury. He knows it all.”

“No he doesn’t, sir. You don’t know this, sir.” Clint says whilst walking up to the bin to throw away the tissue. He stands in front of the desk but angles himself so he doesn’t put his back to Fury. Coulson and the director of Shield exchange glances. They know something, Clint thinks.

“Nick is staying.” Coulson ends the discussion. Clint awkwardly steps from one foot to the other, his hands are tingling to pick at his trousers. But he doesn’t move them.

“Myself and Master Stark had a conversation,” He starts, Coulson doesn’t interrupt him and doesn’t rush him. “I’ve noticed a pattern. Between what Natalie Rushman knows and the source it’s coming from.”

“Did you, now?” Phil says mockingly. Clint raises his eyebrow but when Coulson prods him to continue Clint tries to ignore the tingling sensation that something is off. “It’s all linked to Shield, sir.” Coulson freezes. He looks into space but doesn’t react. Clint is scared to move himself. 

“Sit down, Clint, stop shaking like a jelly and speak to us like a normal human being.” Fury directs him from the couch. Clint sits down at the chair that Nick pointed to him at, still unsurely. “I believe you call it a mission mode, is that correct Cheese?” Phil blinks back into existence and after a little prodding from Nick he nods.

“Yes, yes that’s okay. Clint, let’s talk to each other professionally.” He gets up from his chair and extends a hand towards Clint. Clint is confused but if the man wants to shake his hand, he can shake his hand. He gets up and closes the gap between them. 

The man squeezes his hand very strongly and shakes it a few times. Clint is about to move away but instead  the grip on him grows stronger and his arm is twisted behind his body. Before Clint knows it, his head is painfully forced onto the desk. He is immobilized. 

“Aww!” He mutters. This isn’t his trainer. He thinks. It is Phil Coulson who twisted his hand but not as a trainer. This is an agent in action. His breathing fastens.

 

He feels heavy and cold metal being wrapped around his forearm and then a click. Something is protruding from it and digging into his flesh. Afterwards, his hand is let go and he is allowed to stand up. It takes Clint a moment to straighten his back and look around. Unsurely, he steps back, stumbles really. Fury is chuckling in the background.

 

“Shit” Clint mumbles out loud and fearfully glances at his own hand. It’s a metal cuff. Very thick, heavy and impossible to hide. There is not enough space to put his fingers in between the cuff and his body but he clearly feels two spikes protruding from it and into his own skin. 

“I trust you know what this is.” Coulson states coldly.

“It’s a… it’s a shocking bracelet.” Clint huffs out. Brows drawn together, jaw tightened. Coulson sits down on his chair and points out for Clint to sit on his. Face, expressionless. They are interrogating him. This is bad. This is really bad. He takes his place and moves it so he can at least glimpse at Fury, who positioned himself behind him. They’re very tactical. He knows their strategies, recognises their behavior.  Clint’s breathing hastens.

“Now. I really want to hear what you have to say,” Coulson explains. “But if at any point I will hear a lie, you will be shocked, understood?” Clint is looking into his supervisor’s eyes. They are impenetrable. 

“Yes sir.” He warily responds. A pain emerges in his arm. His body jumps up and he screams, unable to control himself. Staying on the seat is difficult but he grabs his hand and desperately tries to claw at the bracelet. Nick continues laughing. The pain eases down.

“I didn’t lie sir.” He quickly mumbles, trying to sound as earnest as possible. His heart rate is up, he can feel the blood pumping in his ears.

 

“I know you haven’t. I just thought I’d demonstrate to you what would happen if you did. Except, expect the pain to get worse.” Phil calmly states. Clint has seen this face, this expression. Reserved for the enemies. Reserved for threats. Clint’s body freezes. He came here to help, to explain the situation. He came here to talk about his discoveries. He must have gotten here too late. Coulson must know already. He must know more than Clint was willing to share. They must think… they must think he is working with the red room. They must think he is a spy. 

 

“Take a few deep breaths and calm down Clint. We’re ready to listen,” Fury says. How is he playing the good cop? Clint has no clue. But he listens to the advice. Settling himself more comfortable on the chair and trying to focus on his breathing instead of the tingling sensation in his body. 

“Mission mode?” He double checks once he’s able to speak.

“Mission mode,” Fury confirms. Clint grabs his hand and holds the bracelet. Hoping that it will somehow protect him from the current. 

 

He tells them about James, in the interrogation room. His connection to the man and the lore of the winter soldier. He tells them of the torture and torment that hydra subjected him to. How they are linked. He then goes onto explaining the turmoil in his head around the reporter. Leaving her name out of it. He talks about the patterns he noticed in the issues she addresses with them and how he fears all of this might be connected. He is very factual and reserves a distance from the two men in front of him. He puts additional effort into being believable, extra effort to show that he cares. The men, not even once change their expression, show what they’re thinking. And despite knowing what they’re doing, using the tactics he used himself, he can’t stop himself from playing along. He can’t imagine having a choice. They hold the power. And right now, he is their enemy. 

“And then there’s the timing.” Clint finishes, “Fury had a meeting with Stark, about the Initiative. I didn’t connect the facts because I didn’t know what the initiative was, but… It all started after that meeting. After Stark expressed an interest in creating a team of superheroes. That’s when we received the folders on us and that’s when she threatened Stark’s empire. They’re definitely scared of Stark but what scared them more was the project you signed off on, sir.” He directs the sentence to Fury. The man appears to be lost in thought. “Me and Master Stark believe that that’s what it is really about.” Coulson continues to look at Nick, trying to assert a trail of thought.

 

“Why didn’t Stark come to me with it himself?” He asks. Clint gulps. It’s a valid question. 

“I asked him to but… he said… He said that he can imagine going to your office to talk to you about it but instead making a turn and ending up in a kitchen, looking for hidden bottles of alcohol. He didn’t want to risk it.”

“I knew that Stark was doing something behind my back, I’m not stupid. But I didn’t expect it to be so dangerous.” Phil sadly states. “I wish either of you would trust me enough to let me in on your little missions. I could at least make it safer for him.” Yeah, Clint told Coulson about that too. Alongside the fact that Natalie didn’t know about their little vigilante work. Clint looks down. He doesn’t have an excuse for not going to Phil with it.  He let Stark decide. 

 

“And how did you figure out that she doesn’t know about Stark’s shenanigans?” He asks Clint and that’s where he’s got him. Clint needs to lie. But he’s pretty sure they will know. And he fears that they know something else. 

“I can’t answer that, sir.” An intense pain illuminates through his arm and the rest of his body. He isn’t able to think and focus on anything other than the pain that pulses through him. He doesn’t know he is screaming until his throat starts hurting and he’s out of breath.

Once it ends, he finds himself on the floor. Hand still clutching and unclutching involuntarily. The whole arm numb. Fury is  next to him and helps him up onto the chair. Clint tastes blood in his mouth and discovers that he bit his tongue. They give him a few seconds to breathe. 

“Clint. I need you to be honest with me. I really don't want to hurt you any further.” Coulson says almost convincingly. Clint would press the controller now if he could, make Phil writhe in pain, make him feel how it’s like.

“Bullshit.” He says and expects to be zapped again but he isn’t. His trainer sighs. 

“Set it on a random setting. So he doesn’t know when he’s gonna get shocked next.” Fury suggests conversationally. Rubbing his power in Clint’s face. So the good cop act is over.  Coulson looks at the remote and starts to change the settings.

“I’m on your side. I swear I am!” Clint quickly changes his tone and begs. He is still shaking and his lips uncontrollably tremble. “Please don’t do this,” They know his past, they know he is very familiar with this type of torture. They know he has a particular dislike for it. “Please sir! Please don’t do it.” Coulson stops pressing the buttons on the remote.

“Until you’re honest and forthcoming with us, there is nothing I can do to protect you Clint. And I think we both know that you are never going to tell us the whole truth out of your own free will.” Clint breathes heavily. Grabbing at his bracelet and trying to pull the two spikes that dig into his skin as far away from himself as possible.

“If you know that I will not say anything out of my own free will then that means that I don’t have to say anything because you already know where I lied! Please don’t make me say it. Please don’t make me betray someone I love!” He pleads. Not letting Coulson’s eyes out of his sight. He stares at him with all his might, with all of his vulnerabilities. Neither of the men say anything and Clint can see doubt on Coulson’s face. Real doubt. Maybe he broke their defenses. Maybe he is getting somewhere. 

 

Phil sighs and grabs his computer monitor, pulling up a screen and showing Clint the photo of Natasha Romanov, a black widow, trained by the red room. It’s the same face as the face of the reporter. Natasha is Natalie. They know. Clint is fucked. 

“This is your fiance is it not?” Coulson asks. Clint really doesn’t want to answer the question. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. He is zapped. He screams out in pain and jumps but the zap is not as aggressive as the previous one. 

“Please don’t make me say it.” He begs. 

“Okay. I won’t make you answer questions I already have an answer to. I will say what I think has happened. Correct me where I’m wrong.” Coulson raises his eyebrow awaiting a response. Clint falls deep into the office chair he sits on. Unsurely, he nods his head.

 

“You have both been captured around a year and a half ago. Which stopped your wedding plans and put a halt on your life as escapees. You were separated. Natasha ended up in the red room. You have been sold to Stark industries after spending six months in a retraining facility. A tragic love story ending in pain and separation.” Coulson breaks for a moment. Awaiting Clint’s response.

“I didn’t know she was recaptured. I hoped she was free. I… I messaged her many times. Not to plan anything… not to harm Stark, just to make sure that she is okay. She never messaged me back… so I asked Bobbi to help out...

“Bobbi?” Furry interrupts them.

“A World Counterterrorism Agency founder . We worked with her on our mission in Yemen. She is Barton’s ex.” Fury nods and prods him to continue. 

“She didn’t know anything for sure but her contacts had their suspicions.” 

“Did you know that Natalie was Natasha then?”

“Not for sure but… she was fitting the profile.” Coulson leans back onto his chair. He waits for Clint to continue but when the slave doesn’t, he takes the lead. 

“Did you conspire together against Stark?” Clint  fiercely shakes his head. 

“You have seen her for the first time during your interview,” Clint eagerly nods. “And you found out her side of the story. You knew that the red room was going after Stark.” He looks at Clint and Clint doesn’t answer. Another zap follows the silence.

“Yes I knew! Yes I knew!” He screams hoping that the zapping will stop but it doesn’t.

“Do you care about Stark? Do you care about your fellow slaves' well-being?”

“Yes I do, I swear I do!” 

“How can we believe that?! how can we believe a single word you’re saying to us if you’ve been sitting on such a significant piece of information for so long?! How can we believe that you weren’t a part of all of this?! That you weren’t the leak?” He is being screamed at. He screams himself. From pain, from overwhelming proximity of the two man. From the danger that Natasha is in. From the danger that he himself is in. He screams and they scream at him. And the pain doesn’t stop. The current pulses through his body and makes it all too much to handle. 

“I wanted her to switch sides!” He screams. “I wanted her to join us, help us out! I couldn’t tell you. She’d get hurt if she was discovered!” The current still doesn’t get smaller. “Please! It really hurts, I swear I want to help Stark. I want to help him just not… I’m not willing to sacrifice her sir! I can’t! She’s all I’ve got!” It takes a few more seconds until the current disappears. Clint breathes out painfully and continues to feel needles in his body. He pants heavily, shaking, and realizes that he’s been crying. “I don’t want to see Steve hurt, or Bruce. They don’t deserve what would happen to them if Stark lost his empire. That’s why I spoke to Stark in the morning, that’s why I’m here now. I just didn’t want to put her in danger.” 

There is no need to mention his encouragement for her to skip town with him, nor the lack of freedom that they are both yearning for.

 

The silence stretches for a very long time. Clint is handed water and tissues. He takes a few sips and wipes his nose and face. There are no more questions for him. He focuses on regulated breathing and calming himself down. His whole body shakes uncontrollably and he is very cold. He feels like he just ran a marathon, all of the muscles painful and exhausted.

 

Fury changed his position, he is standing next to Coulson and they are whispering to each other, Clint’s aids can’t pick up the conversation. He tries to focus on working his muscles over, trying to bring them back to normal functioning. Working out mental exercises in his head, telling himself that whatever is going to happen next, he will handle. Realizing that running away right now would not only be difficult but would convince Stark and Coulson that he did in fact work for the red room. And being able to survive these two think that about him, he would never survive Bruce’s and Steve’s judgment and disappointment. It would also make it nearly impossible with the bracelet. They haven’t taken it off and it has a very different locking mechanism to his collar. He found a way to take his collar off in case of an emergency, in case he had to run. This cuff is another story. And he for sure knows that it has a GPS tracker on it. Not to mention that it still makes him super jumpy. Understanding that they can decide that he is guilty at any moment, and they can shock him whenever they want. 

 

“The initiative.” Fury says. Clint perks up and pays attention to him. 

“How much do you know about it?” The director asked and turned around to face Clint. 

“Master Stark gave me the details today. I can understand why it would scare Hydra.”

“Except Hydra wouldn’t know about it if someone didn’t spill. And if you just found out about the details today then… that means that we have a mole at Shield.”

“We knew about the mole for a long time Nick...”

“Not many people knew about the initiative Cheese. Just a handful of us. You’ve got to be at least a level seven agent and have a reason to know it.”

“So the list of suspects grew smaller.” Coulson concludes. 

“We’ve known that Hydra worked closely with the red room but didn’t expect them to focus on Stark.” Furry huffs. “I told Stark that leading the Initiative project would put a target on his back. I didn’t expect it to happen that soon.” Fury recollects. They hold each other's hands, not caring about Clint in the room. He’s seen too much anyways. 

“You can go, you have your shit to deal with, I will handle it on this end.” Coulson states. Fury squeezes his hand lightly.

“Call me when you’re in trouble.” He says. Coulson squeezes his hand back as an answer. A few moments later he is out of the room. Clint is left alone with Coulson. 

The first few moments are very awkward. They sit there in silence and don’t brave out speaking. Clint spins on the chair, regularly pushing himself off of the floor with his legs. His hands are playing with the metal bracelet. Tracing along, trying to find space for the key but there is none. It must be Stark’s technology, to be released with a fingerprint or a magnet key or something. He is not going to be able to lockpick it. 

Coulson pulled out bourbon and poured some into his glass. He offered some to Clint but Archer refused. Wanting his head to stay sharp. It’s Fury’s favorite bottle. How did he not notice these details in Coulson’s office before? He is still trembling but slowly starting to feel better, like himself again.

 

“So how long did you and Fury… you know…?” Clint forms a circle with his left hand and puts a finger through it.” Coulson frowns at the question but answers without a protest.

“A few years.” 

“Are you together?”

“Not that it’s your business but… on and off. We are very close. That’s all that matters.”

“I’ve got to say, that scene earlier today… so hot.” Coulson gets red and slams his palm on the desk.

“And you will never mention what you saw ever again, understood?” Clint nods his head and looks down.

“I mean… your moans are a porn quality, sir. I’m surprised Sir Fury didn’t cum before you, really good trick up your sleeve. I myself could learn from…”

“Clint!” Clint chuckles.

“Sorry sir.”

“No you’re not.” Coulson responds. Clint doesn’t deny it. After a few moments Phil starts to chuckle himself. The atmosphere in the room gets lighter.

“I didn’t expect you to walk in on me in a moment like that. I am really embarrassed.”

“Don’t worry about it. Not the first and last time I’ve seen a spicy scene.”

“I know. Oh God I know.” Coulson cringes. 

“Why are you keeping it a secret?” Clint asks curiously.

“We don’t. We are simply not very public about it.” Clint plays some more with his bracelet. His lips are tight.

 

“What now?” He finally asks. Coulson looks back at the screen, he takes a sip of his beverage.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you believe me?” Phil takes a moment to answer. He avoids Clint’s eyes.

“Yeah… yeah I do.”

“I’m not with the red room. Or any other shady organization. No organization. I’m team Stark, really.”

“I know Clint, I know!” Coulson loses patience. Clint shuts up for a minute before his nervousness makes him talk again. Coulson sighs heavily and takes a sip of his drink.

“Are you going to… whip my balls or something? For lying?” Coulson twitches uncomfortably. He opens his mouth and closes it. In the end he appears to have given up and mutters.

“I don’t see the point in doing anything Clint.” Coulson pours some more whiskey. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. I am disappointed that you didn’t but I understand why. But we’re talking about a red room. And you knew about it for months. What if… What if it’s too late now? What if it’s too late Clint?” Clint looks down, he can’t answer that question. 

“What about the bracelet?”

“It stays on.”

“But you said that you believe me.” 

“That’s why it stays on. You might care about Stark but when forced to choose between the two? I’d rather avoid that situation. You’re not allowed near her floor or else you will be shocked. I will minimize all of your future interactions.” Clint’s heart drops. He can’t describe the pain in his chest after hearing this news. He would argue. But there is no point. 

 

“How did you figure it out?” Coulson chuckles.

“How could I not?” He states. “Being in the room with the two of you. It's just… I could feel the energy. The change of your behavior, the change of hers, the strange request... I know you were doing your best, both of you are extraordinary spies but… something was off on that day. And it made me start my research. It all immediately clicked into place when I found out.”  Clint can’t argue with that.

“What are you going to do to her?” He asks resigned. 

“There is nothing we can do, is there? She knows how to protect herself, she is a public figure.” Coulson moves his fingers on the screen, reading her file. It clearly isn’t the first time he has done it today. 

“She has been sterilized on her black widow programme graduation” He mentions.

“Yes sir.” Clint gives a tired answer.

“The widows are using real people as shooting targets…” Clint doesn’t respond.

“They kill their own, they are taught to have no feelings, no emotions towards anyone, ever…” Clint perks up on his seat. 

“Are you suggesting something?” He challenges his supervisor and gets back from his seat. Coulson recognises the tone of voice and quickly backtracks.

“I’m only reading what’s on the page Clint.” Clint sits down again but isn’t convinced that Phil and himself are on the same page here. 

 

“Did you find a way? To convince her to swap sides?” Phil asks. Clint looks down because he has to lie. And he remembers the rule he has been given earlier.

“I’m working on it.” He says as he doesn’t want to deem her. Write her off. How can he say… ‘if she disobeys, her best friend and sister will be punished. You’ve just read a training programme directives cruel enough to make the American slavery system look like a kindergarten. What do you think their punishments are like?’ How exactly can he express it? “James is her best friend.” Coulson raises his eyebrows. “I’d start my negotiation there.” Coulson nods in understanding. 

“Good living conditions for someone she cares about. Avoiding pain if we find a way to outsmart her current bosses. Not a bad idea Clint, not a bad idea.” He looks down on his screen again.

 

Coulson is focused, he makes notes and calculates something in his head. Clint remains silent, letting him think. He can’t stop looking back at the old times. At Tash in the cubicle, making out with him through tears and telling him that she loves him. Nat snuggling into him, after a long day of dealing with her past. Nat preparing him a snack and making sure he doesn’t miss his programme. Nat petting his hair and letting him scream and cry into her T-shirt after a bad nightmare. Nat being human. Nat being there for him when it seemed like the end of the world. Nat just being.

 

The man in front of him has her files. He knows all that is available to shield. He doesn’t know those small humane moments. He doesn’t understand her inner beauty, her kindness, her care. He will only see another slave. Another killing machine. He’s about to say something. Speak up, defend her. But he closes his mouth as soon as they opened. Because a green alarm sounds. Interrupting his trail of thought and immediately placing him in the mission mode.

Notes:

Next up: Hulk

Chapter 8: Part 1 Hulk scared

Summary:

The team tries to put Hulk to sleep before anyone gets hurt. An unexpected person helps them out. (Sorry, I think I'm bad at summaries)

Notes:

Enjoy <3

The alarm increases its intensity. Clint’s hearing aids cannot tolerate it. He switches them off.

He’s speeding down the staircase, alongside Coulson. Previous interaction… insignificant. The whole building shook a few seconds earlier, plaster reaping off and falling on their heads. Its visible remnants are still floating in the air. Neither of them wanted to risk getting into an elevator. So they’re racing down, towards the source of the rumbling. Maneuvering carefully, trying to avoid slamming into walls and barriers. Alone and fast, up until they reach corporate levels, needing to squeeze through between people who desperately try to get out of the building. It gets quiet again in the med bay. That’s where Bruce was last seen. On strong sedatives administered to him to counteract whatever substance Natasha drugged him with. Clearly they weren’t strong enough. Clint can’t believe that she planned this.  

Coulson has a tranquilizer gun on him, designed by Bruce and Tony, which means that it should work. He had it on his desk, always ready to use. Clint didn’t have time to grab anything beforehand but he immediately spots a few potential weapons in the ward. He avoids syringes and other sharp objects, not actually planning to hurt the green man. He settles for medication caps and bottles and stethoscopes. He signed to Coulson that he had to switch his hearing aids off.

 

The place appears to be empty, the main lights are off, but the green and red emergency flash provides enough of light for Clint to not panic. He hates darkness. 

 

The beds are thrown around, moved aside, suggesting that people quickly fled the room. There are no bodies on the ground, which hopefully means that there are no fatal casualties. Clint stuffs any useful item into a bag he found near one of the beds. Pockets would be easier. But slaves don’t have them. 

 

They don’t separate, focusing on covering each other’s backs, observing the room and the damage done to it. 

They stumble upon something that looks like a path made by a hurricane whirl, everything on its way crushed or thrown around. The curtain poles are smashed into the ground, alongside ripped apart beds and commodes. Clint would never be able to tell which bed was originally Bruce’s. What concerns him more is that there are some traces of blood in this area. Dripping, someone must have ran. He looks up at Coulson and he can see that the man is as worried as him. They continue to follow the trail. 

 

There is a big hole in the wall in front of them. In the size of a giant. The wires are sticking out of the gap and angrily buzz around. Crumbles of clay and plaster lay on the ground and the air is filled with dust. 

 

Stark is there, with Steve and Happy. Stark has his Iron Man suit on and Steve is carrying a makeshift shield from one of the bed frames. Happy has tranquilizers on him too. Stark must have heard them because he turns around and opens his mouth, reaching his hands out to Coulson and patting him on the back. He has dark circles under his eyes, Clint wonders if he has managed to get any sleep since their chat in the morning. The archer looks at Steve and nods to him. He is surprised that the man is here. He thought that they locked him up after the morning outburst. Prepared him for some sort of punishment. To remind him that his connection to Bucky shouldn’t count. That he should have separated himself from his past and focused on Stark’s needs. Captain says something Clint doesn’t understand. He points at his aids and to the alarm. Steve quickly catches the drift and screams something to Tony. It’s easy to get their master’s attention and within seconds Phil signs to Clint that it’s safe to turn them back on. 

As soon as he does so he realizes that the world is strangely silent. Almost as silent as it was before he turned them on. He can hear his own muffled breathing and Tony’s conversation with Jarvis. It’s strange to have the med bay this quiet. 

 

“What happened?” Coulson asks Happy. 

“The doctors said that it happened suddenly. He was left alone, given sedatives and told to sleep but after a few moments a loud scream sounded. The scream turned into a growl. Most people immediately ran. A few patients got caught in the crossfire but they were supported to evacuate safely.

“So no fatal or seriously injured victims?” Steve asks. They all hear Jarvis confirm it. 

“I was on my way to see Bruce.” Stark says. “We were both supposed to go to Hammer’s expo tomorrow, he was looking forward to it.” Stark admits. He avoids eye contact with Steve. Tension from the morning, still clearly there. He walks through the hole in the wall and ends up in a surgical unit, Clint finds a few scalpels and decides to put them in the bag alongside other, less lethal weapons. Just in case it gets heated, he thinks. The ceiling lights are flickering, some are barely holding on. 

“Jarvis, where is Pepper?” Stark asks and receives an answer about her full day of interviews and being nowhere near the building. They all breathe out relieved, not wanting something to happen to her. Clint wonders where Nat is and if she’s safe. But doesn’t worry for long remembering that this is her doing. There is a brief moment of suspicion. Why did she do it? What is she trying to achieve?

 

They follow the trail of destruction. Steve and Clint walk at the end of the procession, with Coulson and Happy in front of Stark.

“Stark told me you made a deal for Bucky.” Steve whispers. “I owe you, big time.” Clint looks away. Passing a few surgery rooms, some with beds put aside, some with beds prepared for an operation. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He whispers back. “It wasn’t, he didn’t deserve what they threatened him with.” Is all he says. Wanting to tell Steve more about James, wanting to tell him everything. But this is a bad moment to have that conversation. A very bad moment. He manages to look back at Steve, the man is smiling. Clint, unsurely, smiles back. 

And then the super soldier glances at Clint’s arm and quickly looks away. His jaw tightened. Clint studies him and then looks down…at his cuff. This must have caused Steve’s reaction. 

“I…” Clint opens his mouth and closes them, he doesn’t know what to say. He huffs and frowns himself. But then Steve extends his own arm in front of Clint and makes him understand. They both have been given the shocking bracelet. Coulson has decided to keep both of them in check, away from their close ones.

“Is this because of Bucky?” Steve asks. “ Because of the deal? Are they trying to keep you away from him too?” Clint laughs silently.

“No. It’s not actually.” He whispers and instinctively grabs his hand. And then decides to say. “I could go and see him for you after, if you’d want me to…” It’s strange conspiring with Steve, the perfect one, the flawless one. The one that never did wrong. It’s even stranger for Steve to consider his words. They get interrupted.

 

“Alright boys!” Stark announces. “It’s time to separate.” He mentions as they walk towards a big hole in the ceiling. The gap goes three floors up.  Happy is trying to look through the dusty break in the plaster, his face scowling. “Steve, grab me by my arm and hold me, we’re going to take a route straight up, through the ceiling. Everyone else, join us as soon as you can. Let’s not approach him all at the same time, we don’t want to scare Hulk away. We need to keep him contained until he calms down and turns into our boring professor. Clint stay at the back if you can, observe the situation… here!” He throws him the hearing aids connected to the comms.  Clint nods gratefully. Clearly familiar with them, swaps them in front of everyone, not wasting a second. When he looks up he notices Phil glancing at him, knowing that Clint must have used the aids before, during the secret trips he had with Stark. The look is slightly disapproving. And then, without further delays, all three, Coulson, Happy and Barton run up the stairs.

 

“Stark, I think that he’s heading towards private floors.” Coulson speaks over the comms. They’ve discovered a lot of smashed walls and ceilings, on multiple different floors and rooms.  With only one possible conclusion.  

“Sir, I think I know where he’s going.” Barton whispers. Coulson asks him about the location in sign. 

“He wants a familiar space. It would either be slave quarters or…”

“The lab.” They all say simultaneously and run.

“We’ve found some civilians. We will join you as soon as we can.” Stark responds to them. 

They run up fifty plus floors and are dripping in sweat once they’ve reached the slave quarters. Happy suggests separating but Coulson firmly denies it. Clint knows why. He doesn’t blame him. So Happy suggests checking the slave floors and sending them up higher. Coulson is worried about the amount of force they lost on the way but for now agrees. Clint can guess that getting those twenty more floors for Happy would not be possible. They let him stay and catch a breath. 

“How the hell… Are we going to… fight him once we get there?” Archer wheezes out once trying to reach the final destination. The whole building is damaged. It will take months to fix. It is a catastrophe. Clint understands now what Natasha meant when she said that the background knowledge on them was just a beginning. Is this going to be good enough for her? Causing a media rage by proving that Stark can’t handle Hulk? Clint doubts it. Something seems off about it. And it worries him. 

 

He nearly spits his lungs out when he gets there. But they are in the right place. Hulk is here. 

The cries of the green monster make his hearing aids vibrate. It weeps. It roars its frustrations out into the world. 

“Hulk sad!” Screaming. “Hulk wants to smash! Smash! Pain!” He continues to scream. Clint immediately jumps into the vents, they’re very dusty, he needs to cover his mouth with a piece of cloth to protect his lungs. The structure of the whole building has changed, the debris of the damage easily travels through the air ducts. 

Coulson decides to make the more direct approach and walks in with the main entry. 

 

“Hulk no slave.” Hulk freeee!” It takes them less than a minute to find him on the floor. The lab equipment is smashed into pieces. Broken glass covering the floor and microscopes, ovens and other vials, scatter, bent, all over the room. There is a dent in one of the walls in the shape of Stark’s helper robot. Clint notices from above that the robot is still moving, trying to get somewhere, lack of wheels and bent position make it impossible for him to do so. 

 

Natasha is here. He spots her before Coulson does. Up from the vents he observes her confident stride, purposeful tone. He wishes he could trust her. Believe that she is here because of good intentions. 

“I know, big guy, we all do!” She answers him. She must not realize that someone else is in a room with her. She wouldn’t let a sentence like this one slip otherwise. Not on the enemy grounds. She crouches next to Hulk, extends her hand. Hulk looks at the hand unsurely, large tears racing down his face, And extends his own one. Clint is worried about her getting hurt. Hulk could smash her arm with a tip of his small finger. But he is very delicate. He lays out his palm on top of hers. “Sun’s getting really low,” She adds smoothly. Her voice low, words spoken out lazy like slowly. As if they were preparing a child to sleep. 

“Hulk angry! Hulk smash?” The green monster asks her. She smiles delicately, only with the corners of her lips, but the smile reaches her eyes. Clint wants to say that she isn’t acting. That it’s genuine worry. About his friend, about his fellow slave. And maybe she is honest. 

Something crosses the air with a bullet speed. Before Clint realizes, Hulk has a tranquilizing dart stuck to his neck. Clint quickly moves the vent cover and jumps into the room, worried that before Hulk is knocked out unconscious, he can hurt Tash.

But he doesn’t. Instead he waves his big hands around, disoriented. Trying to hit the air. The green monster tries to turn away and run but before managing to make another step, he loses control of his limbs and falls on the floor, hitting his head on the ground. Small whimpering noises escape his throat.

 

“Hulk scared. Hulk not a slave!” Their eyes meet for a second, the green monster more human than Clint expected, looking at him and seeing and… understanding. They share pain, they share anger. Tears appear in Clint’s eyes. The eyes close. Slowly, without any interference from any of them, the large body of Hulk turns into a small and hairy body of the scientist he grew to trust and care about. Laying there, naked and vulnerable and indescribably sad. 

 

---

 

“Move an inch and I will shoot.” The sentence uttered interrupts Clint’s personal moment. When he looks up, he sees Coulson’s tranquilizing gun pointed at Natasha. Her hands are up and she isn’t smiling. Clint knows that her brain right now calculates the best strategy. 

“I’m sorry, I stumbled upon him here when I was trying to hide.”

“I know who you are black widow.” Coulson spits out with venom. Her face expression immediately changes into a cheeky grin. He can tell it’s fake, he knows her long enough to recognize her mission persona. 

“Then you know I’m not playing games, Coulson.” She states in a slightly flirtatious tone. “So what’s it gonna be? Do you want to shoot me up with that tranquillizer? Fuck me when I’m unconscious? Or wait until I wake up chained, and take me with force?” Trying to keep him off balance. ‘It’s not going to work here, Tash' Clint thinks. ‘Phil is smarter than this.’ And he isn’t wrong. Coulson chuckles slightly.

“No. The tranquilizer put Hulk to bed. This dose is going to kill you.” Clint stops breathing. 'No, please don't.' He could get a scalpel out of his bag, aim it at Coulson but realizes that this would just lead to a stand off. And they’d be the losing side as soon as anyone else would get involved. He also doesn’t want to help the red room. He throws the bag on the floor.

 

“Please don’t do this.” He pleads. They both look at Clint. ‘Good’ he thinks. 

“Nat. No matter the motivation…thank you for helping with Hulk. I don’t want to see him hurt. I’m close with Brucy Bruce.” Nat flinches. He knows why. She caused his outburst. 

“There is nothing to thank me for, Clint.” She shakily responds, very uncharacteristically to the perona she shows in front of her enemies. Clint smiles, despite the heart beating up his throat. 

“This is just a part of the red room’s plan, eh?” He conversationally asks. She hesitates looking at Bruce. No, calming him down was not part of it. He can see it from her face. 

“Hydra’s actually. We are just helping out.” She states. Coulson glances at him. Clearly happy with the intel. 

‘Don’t tell my secrets’ she signs to him, trying to scold her face into a more recognizable cover. Right. She’s black widow. She isn’t supposed to care or have any emotions. She isn’t supposed to be helping out people that Clint cares about. Yeah sure he can play along, say that Natasha is here, on this floor with them, because somehow hydra wanted her here. But it will not only not help anyone. It also won’t make a difference. Coulson knows ASL.

 

“Cut the bullshit Nat! Please! I’m begging you.” They need to talk. They need to make an agreement. With James here it could just be possible. His feet move towards her. “Please just talk to us… just be honest.” He can’t see her die in front of him. He’s not gonna let that happen. 

Sudden buzz interrupts his trajectory and makes him stumble. He jumps up into the air and loses focus. Not sure where he is. It takes a moment to refocus. To get back to the room and realize what happened. The first thing he does is make sure that she is okay. She stopped acting. A pure image of horror paints her face. Worried about him. Whatever happened made her feel scared. She looks back at Coulson, nose flared up. Damn shocking bracelet. Clint sighs out his frustration. 

“Don’t get near her, Barton!” Coulson hisses out. Clint gets the message and grounds his feet on the ground, resisting the temptation. Trying to sculpt his face into the caring and brave expression he put on before. 

How is he supposed to prove to her that this is better if he is actively being treated like an animal? Natasha’s face turns into frustration when she understands what happened. Her cheeks turn red and muscles in her hand prepare for something to happen. The wrinkles on her forehead smooth out and her head bends to one side. She is in her protective mode. ‘Don’t hurt my people’ mode. Which he would love… in any other circumstance. She was were she needed to be, and she is back to black widowing. Except now, she might be acting from her own prerogative, it could make her even more deadly. Clint can’t control it. He can’t control himself.

“For futz’s sake just talk to each other, people!” He screams, his hands shooting up in the air to accentuate the message. “Nat! I’m not someone you need to defend right now. I know my limits and I’m fine! I wouldn’t make you talk with someone I don’t see a point in talking to! You are a black widow for Christ’s sake! He must be scared shitless. Of course he’s gonna react! Of course he’s gonna shock me!” Natasha’s face softens, worry appears on her face when she’s thinking about Clint’s words. “Are you sure you want us to talk?” She signs to him. “I’m sure.” He responds. “There are bigger monsters in this world Nat. He is okay.”

“And Coulson… Sir. She’s acting. It’s clear as day. It’s been trained into her and she has a goal to achieve. You said it yourself. We can’t hurt her. She is a public figure. So think of other options. Think of what we could achieve together.” Agent is still unsure, not letting go of his gun. Clint notices a slight shaking of his hand. He can tell that the man is thinking of agreeing to have that conversation.  Natasha’s made her decision. She is waiting for Coulson to make his.  

Finally he lowers his gun and nods at her. She nods back. Clint breathes out relieved.

Notes:

Next up: escape, in one sense or another.

Only two more chapters left of part 1 of this story. Afterwards I will take a short break to finish part 2 as I am still writing it.

I was really looking forward to Phil finding out about Natasha and now he not only knows but he has interacted with the Black Widow. Clint's two worlds have officially clashed! How exiting :)

Till next time <3

Chapter 9: Part 1: Hulk free

Summary:

Clint will not let his friend suffer the consequences of the outburst.

Notes:

We are nearing the end of part one.

Enjoy <3

He is assigned a room and told not to leave it, his bracelet’s parameters making it impossible for him to do so. He has change of clothes, water and some food left with him. He is told not to talk to anyone. He spends the night locked away, trying to enjoy a room for himself. With a proper double bed and sheets and everything. Without other men snoring at night, tossing and turning. With privacy. He tries not to think about what is happening outside of that room. About Steve and his unsteady footing after the incident with James, about Stark and his exhaustion, about Coulson making plans. 

Phil confined Natasha to her room too. Without the use of any devices of course, just a bunch of security and cameras keeping her in check. He wanted to talk with her the next day. After the storm with Bruce would blow over, until he addressed that. Normally Clint would help. Probably be assigned to Stark, to calm him down, be little shit to him to distract him from what happened. But who knows, maybe he’d be moving the rubbish out of the building, moving stacks of clay and broken equipment out, for hours, without rest. Alongside Steve. Phil letting out all the feelings of betrayal, punishing them for their other royalties. He doesn’t know what he’d be told to do but in truth, anything would be better than this. With still pent up energy and lack of resources or space to get it out. Without knowing if what Coulson said was true. If Natasha really is confined to her room or if Phil decided to go with a different solution, after getting Clint out of the way. Making him pliant with fake promises but later hurting everyone around him.

Darkest scenarios go through his head whilst he is locked up in that room. He cannot sleep. Trying to exercise, use up all of the energy and adrenaline, but it doesn’t disappear. He tries to leave the room twice. He discovers that he cannot get close to the door to even open it. The pain that goes through his body is intense enough to knock him off his feet. He is stuck. 

He spends the rest of the time in that room trying to come up with a plan. For every eventuality. Of things that need to be done, and how to do them. How to succeed. 

 

When Phil enters his room in the early hours of the afternoon, the first question he asks is about Bruce. Where is he? What did they do to him? Is he safe?  Will he be safe? As expected Phil tells him that he is sleeping his outburst off. And that they will do their best to protect him. But Phil’s face says more than enough about the chances of it happening. Bruce is fucked. Clint is really angry with Nat for what she did to his friend. He knows it’s not her fault. She is not in control. But the anger doesn’t disappear. Coulson changes the settings in front of Clint and tells him that the slave can leave the room now. Usually Clint would let Phil know how ungrateful he is about a basic human right being granted to him as a privilege. But this time he has a goal. Coulson grabbed him because he kept his promise. They would have a three way chat, himself, suit and Natasha. Clint would be the mediator, the person who would control the conversation if it went sideways, if they’d miscommunicate. If they forgot why they were talking. But Clint refuses to go. Phil knows how much Natasha means to him however he doesn‘t seem surprised when the archer insists on seeing Bruce first.

“Natasha is waiting.” He tells Barton but the slave only shakes his head. 

“I won’t be able to do it. I need to see him. Please sir. I will be quick.” The trainer sighs and lets him go. Warning him of the shocking bracelet reminders if he takes too long. Clint nods and jogs off towards Bruce. 

 

He finds Bruce in an improvised med bay. On one of the less damaged floors, lower down the building. He is just coming off of drugs and needs to be spoken to a bit slower than usual. Clint asks him how he is first, making sure that there will be no green incident number two. When Bruce appears to be fine Clint decides to search through the meds cabinet that he easily manages to access with his lockpicking skills, and gives Bruce medication that is going to wake him up.

“What are you doing?!” Bruce whispers in panic, seeing that Clint has done something against the doctor’s instructions. 

“Put these on.” Clint hands out some clothes to Bruce. The man doesn’t move. An idea of Clint’s crossing his mind. He freezes.

“Bruce… think about it. What is going to happen to you if you stay?” Bruce doesn’t respond but his eyes tell Clint enough. A fear reflects in them. He must realize that whatever is going to happen, Stark won’t be able to keep him.

“Put the clothes on Bruce.” A few seconds more pass of Bruce considering his options. But once the decision is made  he isn’t wasting a second. The drugs that Clint gave him kick in and he is putting some speed into his action. They’re very average looking jeans and a white T-shirt. Clint gives the man a wig and a cap. Hulk ripped the collar off and there is no need to worry about it, meaning that there is no tracker on Bruce either. 

“Ouch!” Clint swears out loud when his bracelet gives him a small shock.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asks worryingly. 

“Yeah.” Clint answers ignoring the summoning and rushing Bruce out of, what used to be a corporate floor. 

Clint knows the angle of the cameras and tries to pull Bruce into the corners to avoid them. He isn’t sure if it’s helping with anything. Clint hasn’t changed his clothing and still has the collar on. They might not recognize Bruce, but they will be able to connect him to the archer in no time. 

 

They’re next to the exit, Clint pulls Bruce into one of the toilets and hands him money, a burner phone, a few maps, and pieces of paper with numbers written down on them. 

“Call this number. Use the code word ‘Bobcat is a bumhole’, and get yourself to a Skycould bar  in New Rochelle. Change your clothes at least twice, in random places and take a bus to a different town first, further away, before turning back, wearing something else again. Get there at 12 pm tomorrow. And wait exactly one hour. If no one is going to show up, come back the next day. Don’t stay in any hotels and don’t steal, stay in busy locations. 

“What’s going to wait for me at the Skycloud bar?”

“Safety.” Clint says and walks him out of the toilets, moving him towards the exit. 

 

“Clint, what are you doing here?” Suddenly Steve pops out of nowhere. Clint looks around, for the first time paying more attention to the specific individuals present in the hall. There is a crowd, with Tony and Pepper in their midst. A bunch of photographers and journalists point their microphones at Clint’s master. It could be good. It could mean that no one will pay attention to Bruce. Not for a while. If Steve is not going to sell them out. He must have come from the crowd himself, spotted them.  The super soldier is wearing a beige suit, slave official attire. At first, he doesn’t get it. What is the fuss all about? Why is Tony dressed as if he was attending a gala event? Why are they laughing and chit chatting and answering all of the questions? Bruce is suffering, they are all suffering. The building is in scrambles. And then it gets to him, and then he remembers. 

 

“You’re going to the expo? After everything?” He screeches out.

“Stark has been advised to go. To prove to the public that he is in control. Personally I think that it may make him look slightly arrogant. Bruce… What are you wearing? Ohhh…” Clint isn’t surprised that Steve figured it out. They are in an open space and have nowhere to hide. Once Steve realizes what is happening he steps back. 

 

“Steve…” Clint starts. Steve is looking around, panicked. He clearly doesn’t like it.

“You have to go back upstairs” He hisses. “Can you imagine what’s gonna happen to both of you if they ever discover you tried to sneak out?”

 

“Can you imagine what’s going to happen to me if I stay?” Bruce steps in before Barton has a chance to react. ‘Good’ He thinks, Rogers is more likely going to listen to their friend. “Do you remember the training room Steve? What I told you? The army! General Ross! Experimenting! They’re never going to let me stay here! Not after what happened!” Steve’s forehead scrunches. He looks around worried, his silver cuff pops out from his sleeve when he raises his hand. They’re running out of time. At any time, anyone can spot them, blowing their cover and any chance at survival. 

 

“Steve, please. Think about it.” Clint hisses. He really needs the man to understand. Steve blinks a couple of times, tears in his eyes, and looks around. He isn’t stupid. He must know what this is going to mean for Bruce. But he must also know the chances that Bruce is going to have if he is going to stay here. And they are even slimmer than an escape. He nods unsurely.

“Bucky escaped.” Steve whispers. Clint’s jaw drops. 

“What do you mean…”

“He used Hulk’s outburst and escaped. They don’t know where he is.” Clint nods his head. Looking at Steve. This is going to damage his negotiation chat with Nat. She must know that her best friend is no longer in this building. She most likely coordinated his escape.

“I’m not leaving. I will help you find him.” He says. Steve exhales relieved. 

“There is nothing else in this world that I care about more, Clint. This man is my everything.” Clint nods his head again. But he doesn’t speak up. The crowd looks like they’re about to head towards the exit. Clint holds his breath in. Steve is looking at Bruce again. Worried eyes but understanding. 

 

“You better make sure it works Barton!” The silent threat, clear and unmistakable. Bruce better be fine or Clint will be in a lot of trouble with his friend. Without a word Steve turns around and walks away as fast from them as possible, without drawing more attention to them. Both men breathe out relieved. Clint knows he is going to get another zap soon, expecting it to be more painful than the previous one. He is surprised he didn’t get another one already. So he rushes the man out even quicker than before. 

 

“You will be met either by Dom or Bobbi. Our code word in person for ‘it’s safe’ is a purple frog, woven into a conversation and for ‘I might have been followed’, a yellow octopus. If she is still in doubt. Tell her about the video footage we’ve found on the camera, the night I killed my master’s friends.”

“The night you killed…” Bruce asks dumbfounded.

“You’ve heard me right. We deleted explicit footage, of at least twenty young slaves, from a camera. I made her promise to never say it to a living soul. To forget it ever happened. And neither of us said anything. Up until now.”

“And you want me to tell her this… why?” Clint sighs.

“Because she doesn’t trust people easily. And she would have expected me to escape. She might be disappointed. Angry even.” Bruce remains silent. They’re at the entrance now, Clint lowers his head, to look less suspicious talking to a free man. Bruce put on sunglasses that he found in one of the pockets of the jacket handed by Clint. Clint has just been shocked, again, he expected it. Still, he needed a moment to gather his thoughts and make sure he could walk steadily. Bruce knows everything there is to know for Clint’s friends to trust him. They will not abandon him, he knows that. Caring for people he cares about. No matter what. 

 

Bruce is about to turn around and leave but before he does  so he grabs Clint’s arm. 

“You’ve just sacrificed your chance of freedom for me, haven’t you?” He asks. “This was your way out.” Clint gulps down the ball of cotton in his mouth.

 

“You know me Brucy Bruce, I’ve got many ways out.” He lies. Bruce can tell. Clint knows that because of the concentrated look on Banner’s face. 

“Why won’t you come with me?”

“I’ve got a tracker on me, Bruce. Here and here.” Clint points out his collar and a bracelet. He may have been looking into taking his collar off but didn’t have time to look into a newly fitted bracelet. He can’t leave now. And he wouldn’t anyways. Not with Natasha waiting in Coulson’s office. Everyone knows who she is. He would never leave her now. 

 

“Give Bobbi a kiss from me will you?” He asks Bruce, the man laughs, awkwardly waves at Clint and walks away. Looking very proud. As if he never was a slave at all. 

 

Clint quickly runs into the building and heads upstairs, into the first elevator he got to. He catches a glimpse of Stark in his suit and smug face. So alive...

Notes:

Only one more chapter to go. Nat and Phil talking. And then there will be a break in which I will finish writing part 2 of the story before I post again. I hope that everyone who stuck to this story is still enjoying it.

Till next time :)

Chapter 10: Part 1: I will take care of you

Summary:

Phil and Natasha sit down to negotiate with Clint as a mediator. Sadly Phil and Clint don't have as much to bargain with as they thought they did.

Notes:

Finally Phil and Natasha are going to have a chat. I have to admit even after this I still want more from the two of them.

This is the last chapter of part 1 of this story. I will add a few notes at the end. There will be a section containing spoilers as I feel like I want to explain a few things before part 2, so that you know what to expect.

Enjoy <3

Legs crossed, one hand wrapped around the arm of the sofa, the other one relaxed on her knee. With a polite smile on her face but very sharp, piercing eyes. Looking into his soul. Not making a sound. Waiting.

Coulson is breaking a sweat with a minimal effort on her side. This is the power of a Black Widow. He heard the legends. The stories of all those who fell for displeasing any of those women. She has stayed at Stark tower for over a month. Watching them, gathering intel, spying. With Barton aware of all of this, and never saying a word.

Coulson feels betrayed. Cheated. He understands love, the illogical and impactful consequences it can bring if feeling something for the wrong person. He isn’t angry with him, or surprised about the archers decision. But the betrayal doesn’t sting him any less. He knows that Clint cares about Tony. Not to mention Steve and Bruce. He wouldn’t have risked their safety without a good reason. 

 

The more time passes the more he analyzes why the woman in front of him doesn’t say anything. And it has nothing to do with waiting for the Archer to show up. They know he is checking in on Bruce. Wanting to see with his own eyes that Bruce hasn’t been harmed after the incident, that he is still cared for. That Phil would never let anything bad happen to his friend. Phil isn’t sure he will be able to do it long term, with the burst out of the Hulk, many people will argue that Bruce needs to be locked up somewhere and neutralized. And a lot of what is going to happen next depends on the woman in front of him. She led to it. Clint will speak with her and try to explain that Bruce is untouchable. Something that neither Phil nor Tony might have the safety of. Clint cares about Stark but Phil doubts that the feelings about his employer are outweighing the high care he holds towards the woman in front of him. 

 

She is analyzing him. The handler realizes. Every one of his moves. Every single mini reaction that she can spot on his face, in his calloused fingers and nervous arm movements. She doesn’t need much to know what is going through Coulson’s head. She is waiting for him to start the conversation. In this way, she will understand what he prioritizes. What he wants to address first. 

She knows that Phil doesn’t want Stark to get hurt, and she knows that she is responsible for all possible bad outcomes that are awaiting Stark. She started it all. She might already know that he could try to negotiate with her. See if there is something he can give her that she wants. And he knows that whatever he says, will tell her what lengths he is willing to go to in order to keep Stark safe. 

He is glad that Stark has gone out for the night. Away from all of this. This is why he suggested for him to go to the Hammer’s expo. Not for the good press. No. It’s too late for that. Not after what happened at the tower, not after the evacuation of his tower and too many witnesses. He wants Stark to have a good evening. To enjoy it, do his things, before everything turns really grim for him, really fast. Phil wants to do his best whilst keeping Stark away from the Black Widow. 

The woman moves her legs, placing another one on top. Slowly. Calculatingly, reaffirming that she is in no rush to start the conversation. Phil’s hand travels to the pocket of his trousers. He searches for the controller of Barton’s bracelet. He navigates through the buttons and presses the one who sends a small electrical shock to the slave. He urges Clint to hurry up,  he knows that Clint will get the message. What he doesn’t expect is for Natasha’s eyes to follow the movement of his hand. For a brief second, he thinks he sees a worry in her eyes. It quickly disappears and turns into the smirky grin she held on her face. Appearing not to have had any other emotion at all. Phil questions if he did truly see the expression in the first place. 

“Clint told me that he was trying to convince you to swap sides.” He settles on saying. The woman’s lips rise cunningly.

“Did he?” She asks curiously. “What else did he tell you?” The question sounds sarcastic but Phil decides to ignore it.

“He told me that you were supposed to get married. Before your recapture of course.” Again, he notices a small change of the expression before the woman keeps control of her face. 

 

“You know…” She starts and leans in towards Coulson, seductively tilting her head to one side. Her locks bounce on her shoulders. “If a man gives me the right promises, I will make the man a very happy…man.” Phil isn’t fazed by the tactics. Strangely, the small flirtations make him think of Nick. On the way he leans out on the chair and glazes through one's soul, somehow saying all of the nasty things he could do to Phil, just with his eyes. Natasha is good but she doesn’t compare with him. 

 

“I understand why Clint likes you. You are smart, perceptive and persuasive, all of the qualities he admires.” Noticing that her tactic did not work on Phil she leans back, placing her other hand on the back of the couch.

 

“Are you planning to ask me about my price?” She enquiries and… “Don’t you dare touch that fucking button again!” snaps when Coulson’s hand traveled to his pocket for the second time. Phil hesitates, with a finger hovering over the controller.

“Barton needs to hurry up.” He calmly responds. Or as calmly as he can with an angry Black Widow in a room.

“Barton can take his time if he wants to,” She responds back. Of course she doesn’t like to see Barton tossed around. Neither of the women who were romantically interested in him wanted that. Phil starts to understand how they view him. He doesn’t move his hand away from the pocket but is not planning to press the button for now. 

“You are a slave yourself aren’t you? I’d think you’d understand his duty.” The smile disappears from Romanova’s face. Instead her face sends one clear message, Phil needs to be careful with how he proceeds. 

 

“Barton isn’t obedient to you because of his duty, agent. He isn’t even obedient to you because of fear. Most slaves operate on fear, but not him. Fear makes him act up, fear makes him come up with solutions to impossible situations. No.” She chuckles. “He listens to you because he finds it entertaining.” Coulson laughs too.

“That's an interesting theory you’ve got there Widow.”

“You are like a kitten to him.” She explains. “A dangerous one, with claws, but a kitten. He finds you adorable. Always wanting to do the right thing, but so lost as to what it might be. He likes to watch you, observe your reactions, analyze it. Maybe…” She wonders. “Maybe one day he will stop playing, and teach you a lesson or two.” Phil’s cheeks burn red. She is humiliating him. He knows how and why. But still, it isn’t any less disturbing. He thinks of the times he threatened Clint with a punishment, the man didn’t appear relaxed about it.

“Are you implying that I am not punishing him enough?” He asks, wanting to test her reaction, inexplicable threat, dangling in the air. 

“Clint was once made to eat his own vomit. He was eleven years old, Phil.” Her face softens. It appears that she didn’t bite and isn’t trying to argue with him. The pressure he put on the device controlling Barton’s bracelet loosens. “Has a punishment like that ever crossed your mind, Phil?” Her words take him aback. The punishment does sound real, it’s even in the trainer’s textbook, used as an example of what to do when a slave is picky with their food. Coulson never considered anyone actually using it out in the real world. “They once took away his eyes and his ears and left him alone in a cage with a tiger. Is that something you ever threatened him with?” She asks again. Coulson’s color drains from his face. He doesn’t respond. He gets the point. “There is nothing that you could do to him that would leave a stain on him.” Coulson looks back to the punishment session he had with Clint over two months ago. Clint was hurt in that session, the way he functioned at the Stark tower changed. The spark in his eye dimmed. At first it doesn’t make sense to the handler. Yes it was a bad punishment and yes Phil is ashamed of succumbing to his weakness but, from what Natasha is saying, this was not even close to what Clint has been through. The diminishment of the spark doesn’t add up with her story. He starts doubting her words, thinking that they might be a way to manipulate him. To feel sympathy towards her love interest. But then he realizes. It wasn’t about the punishment but who handed it out. It was about Phil at the other side of the whip. About the broken trust. About experiencing enormous amounts of pain from a person he was starting to trust. This is what broke him. The button is right there. Before realizing that he has pressed it, he has done so, wanting Barton present, wanting someone to take her attention away from Coulson.

 

But that means that he hasn’t considered the consequences either. Before he knows it, his head is flying back and stops at the back rest of the couch. He needs a moment to feel the pain in his nose and even a longer moment to orient himself back into the room. To sit up straighter and touch his nose, to check if it isn't broken. The button is ripped away from his grasp and Phil feels drops of blood on his chin. ‘I deserved that’ Phil thinks. When he manages to raise his head up, the woman is back on the couch opposite of him, motionless, as if she never got up. He pulls out a tissue from his pocket and wipes the blood away. 

 

“You haven’t answered my question.” The woman carefully formulates the sentence. Phil needs to remember what they talked about and what she might be referring to.

“I am not going to ask you about the price.” He answers her question. She looks intrigued. “If you have one, you can tell me, and I will either agree with it, or I won’t. I won’t negotiate.” She slowly nods her head, looking down, considering her options. 

 

“You would never accept my demand.” She admits. Phil can guess what it could be. Something about freedom, possibly of hers and Clint’s. And she is right, he wouldn't be able to accept it. They’re stuck. Where is Clint? He should already be here. He remembers her signing to Clint something completely different as to what she was saying. Not knowing that he understood her, not knowing that it would give him a clue as to who she is.

 

“We already spoke about what makes Clint tick but what about you?” Coulson braves out. “What makes the dangerous Natasha Romanova so obedient to her masters?” Her facial expression doesn’t change. “Don’t tell me it’s fear also. But what could a Black Widow fear? I have seen the files of your training. You are prepared for every eventuality. You are the most lethal weapon in existence. What would make you so terrified of your superiors?” He asks. Her facial expression doesn’t change. Clearly, she is in better control of her emotions when the subject relates to her. Phil finds it very interesting. “What would make you cause Barton so many issues? You clearly care for him.”

“Some would say he is a means to an end.”

“That’s what you would like for some to believe, Miss Romanova, but that is not what is happening is it? Is this your fear? Your weakness? Caring about others?” And then it gets to Phil. “And that’s how they’ve managed to keep you under control. You don’t fret anything happening to you. Or at least not half as much as what could happen to those you care about.” She slightly frowns. But in the end she smiles wider. 

“You must be proud of yourself for figuring it out.” She snaps. It takes Phil aback, he was aiming for a surprising discovery. Not a pat on the back. “I can really understand Clint’s attachment to you. You are smart, and you understand him. To the best of your ability at least.”  Phil is about to respond. Say something witty, something to convince her that he gets Clint, more than she thinks he does, but to his relief, the door to his office opens. And Clint walks in.

 

***

 

Clint storms into the room and ignores Coulson. He knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t care. Hastingly walking towards Nat, stopping at an appropriate distance and holding out his hand. 

“Give me the footage.” He snarls out.

“What foot…”

“Don’t try those tricks on me. You wanted Hulk’s outburst, you must have recorded it. You weren’t found with him for no reason.” The hand extends further.

“I can’t…” She unsurely starts.

“Not Bruce Nat. Out of all people, not Bruce.” Conflict shows on her face, as if she wanted to explain something, make it clear. Reluctantly she reaches inside her brassiere and pulls out a small camera. She hands it to him. Clint takes it, pulls out a card from the inside, walks up to Coulson’s desk and smashes it into pieces with a ‘best trainer of the year’ mug that the boys got for him with Stark’s money. 

 

“Thank you.” He exclaims with relief. “Even if what you’ve done was for James… don’t touch Bruce, not ever again, understood?” He softly speaks to her now. She unsurely nods and he isn’t sure what to think of it so he leaves it be. Especially that it’s likely too late. He knows that it’s not going to solve the issues around the incident with Bruce but at least she knows that Bruce is someone important for Clint and that at least he got rid of Natasha’s recording. It’s one less source of footage that will deem his friend to eternal torture. He rests his hands on the corners of the desk and hangs his head down. He can’t believe he is in the same room with Nat and Phil. He doesn’t know what to do, say or how to behave. He can’t imagine it going well and he feels a squeeze on his heart when thinking about it. He hates reality. He chuckles. Out of the ridiculousness of the situation. His future wife, and his trainer, in the same room. Two separate realities interacting in front of him. 

 

“Why are you laughing?” Coulson asks carefully slowly. His nose is swollen. Clint figures out enough of what might have caused it to not ask a question about it. 

 

“Just thought of a joke.” He says, “happy you two finally met. Did you already discuss your favorite qualities of mine or should I leave you alone for a bit longer?” Both Natasha and Phil fight the raise of their lips.

 

“How about you come and join us?” Nat asks. With her facing him backwards, she can’t see that he’s looking at Phil. Signing about a mission mode, she cannot know that this is why Coulson nodded his head. Clint can do whatever he wants. It comes with a big relief. With small steps, he walks towards Natasha, almost sneaking up on her. Sitting on the edge of the couch, next to her head and then fumbling backwards, hitting the seat with his back. Making a 180 degree twist and flirtatiously glancing at her whilst pointing at his cheek, prodding her to kiss him on it. She decides to rest her chin on her hand instead and glance at him as if he was crazy. He sighs, pretending to be disappointed and gives her a quick peck on her cheek instead. She is uncomfortable. He can feel it. It gives him a small satisfaction, she really did hurt him. But he leaves her alone and walks towards Coulson. Exploring, understanding the energy in the room, trying to fit in, do something useful.

 

They both look on the edge. Nat, showing a bit more of emotions than he’d expect of her, with her flared up nose and small huffs. And Phil… always stoic… his back is straighter than a straight line. He clearly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, placing them awkwardly at his hips, which makes no sense when in a sitting position. Clint sights and gets up from the couch. Deciding to stand at attention in front of Coulson until dismissed to ease down his red flags. Or at least hoping to achieve that. And then he walks away from them. Enough to be able to spot both of them when in the middle of the room. And starts to kneel down but then changes his mind after noticing Natasha’s quickened breath. He teases them for a bit with the direction he is going to go in, knowing fully well that it will raise an eyebrow in Tash and cause a grunt in Phil. And then decides to place his weight in his ass cheeks, as always bruised from one correction or another. Legs straight and hands behind back. He doesn’t speak. Not at first. Trying to think of the best tactic. Why did she have to get James out of the building? It would be so much easier if he was still here. 

 

“Is he back in the red room or back with Hydra now?” He asks her. Phil’s eyes wander towards her. Eyebrows raised as if trying to confirm the identity of the man in question.

“He was always Hyd…”

“Have you wondered about how they are going to punish him… for failing?” He tries to rile her up. Phil's mouth forms an 'o' shape and Clint knows that he is in on the program. 

“I don’t have to wander, Clinton.” She coldly states. Her piercing gaze made him look away. There is hurt in them and determination. It’s a warning to be careful as to where he is going with this. 

“Steve is in shambles. He made me promise him that I’d help him find James, no matter what.”

“Maybe you won’t have to look far.” She comments under her nose, which makes Clint’s hair stand up straight.

“Care to share with us what that meant?” He asks her but she smiles sadly and shakes her head. 

“Soon.”

“We had him here Nat. I don’t understand why you’ve helped the bad guys get him back.” She doesn’t respond. “It would be one less person to threaten you with.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Clint.”

“Oh I don’t, do I? I know nothing? How about risking everything for your sorry ass to try to give you a chance here? Where it’s actually kind of okay.”

“Kind of okay, that's what you want for me is it?” Clint huffs and chuckles desperately. He doesn’t know how to respond to this. Of course she is right. She deserves so much more than kind of okay. 

“You didn’t want to run.” He whispers to her but Coulson has a quick reaction.

“This conversation is not going to go in this direction Clint.” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” Clint salutes him as if he was in the army and ignores his frustrated face. Nat looks down. She doesn’t comment on anything Clint has said. It looks like she gave up.

 

“Have I ever told you the story of how me and Nat met?” He asks Phil, changing the topic, hoping to ignite a spark back in her eyes.

“Now’s not the time Clint.” Nat hisses instead. 

“Now is exactly the time Tash. The man sees you only as a Black Widow. If he is to listen to you, I need him to see a person.”

“The man is supposed to see a Black Widow.”

“Not if he is going to consider your conditions, no he is not.” Nat looks down for a moment, Clint can see her think. She bends the wrist up and down a few times giving him a go ahead. He breathes in, looking at Coulson who cannot hide his worry and curiosity. And he starts the tale. 

“We met at a bar. I had a beer after a difficult day on the job. Bobbi and I were protecting a man from his competition. The same man was killed in front of me, by his, what I thought at the time, lawyer. We didn’t get paid and my hearing aid was acting up. I didn’t have any cash to pay for it being fixed. We were arguing a lot. Me and Bobbi. I’ve done something she really didn’t like. Our relationship was ending and nothing was good in life. So I was drinking my sorrows away… Huh, I was really at my lowest. I usually stay away from alcohol. But not that night. Not the night I met her. Every head turned towards her as she walked into the shady looking bar in the middle of nowhere. Every person, men and women, couldn’t look away.” Natasha huffs.

“No one was looking at me Clint. I wore a hoodie and a loose skirt. I meant to stay invisible.” 

“Not how I remember it.” Clint says back and looks at Phil, silent, waiting for him to continue. “Anyways, she walked in and said, ‘ The two men that were sitting behind you? They were bounty hunters. My employer is offering a lot of money for whoever will capture you and bring you to him, dead or alive. I took care of them.’ I chuckled.”

 

“ ‘I already knew about them, so I wouldn't have a problem taking them down. But thanks. ’ I responded sarcastically. She just cost me my reputation and a lot of money. I was convinced she had an angle on this.” Natasha looks down and starts massaging her hands.

 

“I then enquired about your hearing aids, saying that I noticed you have been tilting your head a lot during our interactions.”

“You brought me some money to fix them. I didn't want to take them.”

“I gave them to you as a peace offering. It was my fault. Your contract going wrong. My employer wasn’t the nicest man. Once my job was done I didn’t mind going against his wishes. Making sure those thugs didn’t take you by surprise.”

“And starting your streak of overprotectiveness.” Clint half jokes. 

“I’m not overprotective.” Natasha denies bluntly. Clint looks at Phil and raises his eyebrows. Coulson sits on the couch and pretends not to be stressed. But his shoulders are tense and facial reactions come with a delay. 

 

“If you wouldn’t sit in that pub and felt sorry for yourself there would be no need to do so. But you were drunk and sad and useless if I am honest with you.” Clint looks down for a moment, a smile disappearing from his lips. 

“My whole life was falling apart.”

“No it wasn’t, it just felt like it did. Your life fell apart when you got captured. See the difference?” She adds, her eyebrows raised. Clint looks away, not leaving a comment about what she said. Because what is there to say? 

 

“I said I noticed your mannerisms. Your tense back and often, unaware looking down at people’s feet. Not that often, just… when you thought no one was looking. Or when in deep focus, coming up with ideas, which were brilliant by the way. You resorted to poses that were too ingrained into you to get rid of them that easily, that instinctually came to you when you weren’t able to focus on your body.”

 

“You were the first person to ever notice that. I was terrified. I immediately sobered up.”

“And I immediately looked down when I noticed fear in your eyes. I dropped a tissue on the ground and lowered down to lift it up. Show off my posture training, my rigorous conditioning.”

“And you allowed me to know. That we were the same. That we were both running.” 

They look each other in the eyes. He hopes that he communicates all the love he holds for her that words cannot describe. That his knowledge of spoken language will never cover the deeply rooted admiration he holds for her. Tears roll up in his eyes and he lets her see them. He wants her to know how this situation makes him feel, how lost and trapped he is. She doesn’t interrupt him, trying to maintain professionalism in front of Phil but failing. Her breathing hastened, she doesn’t have a witty remark or a follow up. He lets her feel whatever is going through her mind.  Navigate her emotions. Decide if she wants to express them.

 

“I never took your money.” He eventually says. 

“You invited me for a date instead.”

“And you said no.”

“You had a girlfriend Clint. Of course I said no.”

“So I ended things with Bobbi. To go on a date with you.”

“And the rest is history.” Phil slowly moves, adjusting his position, a little too long to maintain the unbothered façade. But both Clint and Natasha give him dignity, pretending that they haven’t noticed.

 

“I understand. Both you and the Wido… Romanova are human beings with needs and desires. I understand that Clint. You’re people. Why did you tell me this story?” Coulson asks. It’s a genuine question.

“To make you understand that she wants a life. As much as I do. Please consider her demands. The price is never going to be higher than what the red room would do to Stark.”

“What makes you think that Natasha is a powerful enough weapon to have on our side? That she would move the scales of victory to our side?” Clint chuckles.

“Because she’s Natasha. Number one on the most wanted list. You must know how much influence she holds over everything that has happened.”

“And the red room has hundreds of women like her. As loyal, if not more, to the cause.” Natasha’s teeth grind. Clint can tell when her patience ended. When he knows that she deemed the conversation as fruitless. And she is either nearing that conclusion or already reached it. 

 

“I haven’t told you the joke.” He quickly adds, before Nat has time to respond to Phil. Clint’s head tilts a bit waiting for Phil and Nat to prod him to say it. 

 

“A master rough fucks a male and female slave…” Clint starts and pauses for dramatic effect. Neither of them like the start of it but give him a chance to continue. 

“Which one of them will scream louder?” Clint adds waiting for a reaction. Natasha huffs and turns around shaking her head. She heard this one, and likely knows where he is going with it. 

“I don’t know, which one?” Phil asks, still awaiting a conclusion to the perverted joke.

“The one who wasn’t muzzled.” Clint concludes. Phil doesn’t laugh.

“I don’t see the funny element of this joke.” He says.

“It’s something my master used to say to his disciples. Reminding them to use all the tools in their arsenal to keep us in check.” He claims. “I think of it whenever I enter the training room in the tower. I always know you’re going to use whatever you deem necessary.” Archer explains. 

 

“You have two slaves in a room with you.” Clint explains. “What are you going to do with us?” He asks. 

Coulson looks down and scratches the stubble of hair that he didn’t have time to shave off from his chin. 

“Oh Clint, I really wish I could, I really… tell me… tell me the demand. Let’s make this part clear first.

“Freedom for me and Clint is the price. Plus a reassurance that I will receive a full responsibility of two slaves of my choosing after shield actively uses all of their resources to capture them.” Natasha firmly states. Clint cringes. He wants her to have these demands. He really does. 

 

Phil closes his eyes. His face grows longer. Clint knows that this is exactly what Coulson feared. Phil takes a minute to respond, looking down at the carpet. Not brave to return here gaze. 

“Despite the strength of your arguments. I fear that I do not have enough power to accept your demand. And even if I did, the consequences… They would be too unpredictable…too dire with what they would bring.” ‘Of course’, Clint thinks ‘he likes to keep me in check too much’. Knowing that these are only thoughts of anger and frustration. That Phil doesn’t necessarily enjoy seeing Clint suffer. But he is used to the way the world works and isn’t willing to change it. “This is not something that is in the realm of possibility and I think that you both know that.” Phil slowly draws the conclusion. Natasha looks at Clint with ‘I told you so’ look. Clint can’t respond. After finding out that James escaped, he knew that Natasha wouldn’t agree on what Coulson could offer them. But he had to try. Had to do something.

“We both know…” He tries for the last time. “That this is something that is… in the realm of possibility.” He argues back. Coulson’s jaw drops open. He closes it quickly and waits for Clint to respond, curious as to how much the archer actually knows. 

“We know that Fury managed to do it in the past for Maria Hill. And we know that you are close enough to Nick to have the power to convince him.” Coulson looks down and plays with his beard stubble again.

“We can recapture the slaves of your interest. Put the resources and energy into making sure that we own them. Give you access to them and allotted time to spend with them. Clint would stay with Stark and you’d be a part of Shield.” Phil bargains. 

“I thought you said no negotiation.” Natasha adds and laughs. Clint can tell that this is the end of the line. Her laugh is an omen, a cry for help, a decision set in stone. The time stands in place for Clint. Yet still, Phil continues as if he didn’t hear her response. Possibly desperate in his own way. “We know about the mole and we are in the process of sniffing the mole out. You’d be safe.” 

 

“I don’t want a change in ownership.” She states coldly. He can hear his Nat, his love, in front of him. Vulnerable and frustrated and angry about the unfairness of it all. “I want…” She takes more time than should be needed to answer. “I… I already compromised on the freedom of people I care about. Understanding that you’d never make everyone I tell you free. But me and Clint? After everything? I… I never want to kneel for anyone ever again. If you cannot provide me with that…” Clint looks down. He  has done his best. He can’t do no more.  

 

Natasha never finishes the sentence. Instead she gets up and before Clint has time to react she knocks Phil unconscious. Clint managed to scramble his way up and into the fighting stance.

 

“What are you doing!?” He screeches, panicked. 

“I gave him a chance Clint. You can’t ask for more.”

“You’re right. I can’t.” He says, taking a lot of shallow breaths. She is walking towards him. One of her hands, with widow’s bites aimed at him. The other one in her pocket. Clint knows that she is much better in hand to hand combat than him. But he will not go down without a fight. 

“What are you doing?!” He repeats the question trying to stay focused, trying to come up with something, anything that would work, that would reverse the time and get these two to talk.

 

“It’s over. It’s going to be done soon. Your master is going down. Tonight.” She explains. Clint shifts his weight from one foot to another, ready for her to jump on him at any moment, waiting for the release of widow’s bites on him. He had the training, he knows how to avoid them. His eyes widen once the realization hits. 

“It’s over? You’ve set up a trap for him at Hammer’s expo. Nat! You’ve just damaged an innocent man’s life! Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

“Innocent?!” She hisses. “How is he innocent exactly, huh? You’re his slave Clint! You’re his property! He might care about people and the world but he still sees you as a thing! And in my eyes it’s not going to make a difference, what he’s done and what he could have done! I gave you a chance to run!”

“And I told you I’d run if you ran with me!” Natasha stops walking in his direction. She looks sadly at him, as if to say sorry for something she is about to do. 

“It’s okay Clint. It’s just a change of owner. You’ll get used to it.” She says. Clint looks confused, he isn’t sure what she means. Not until a strong current pulses from the bracelet on his arm and through his whole body. And it doesn’t stop. Not until he is writhing on the ground and crying in pain. He sees her on top of him, with a syringe full of a liquid. “Nnnnn…” ‘Nat’ he is trying to say. ‘Please don’t do this.’ But he doesn’t have control over his body. She inserted the needle into his neck, and without hesitation, she made sure that all of the drug inside, ended in his body. 

“Shhh. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to help you adjust, okay? Just remember it whenever I’m not with you. I love you.” She whispers and pulls the syringe out of his body. Clint still shakes from pain but feels the control coming back to his body. He looks around to see Phil’s unconscious body on the sofa. His own head is on Natasha’s knees. She’s crying.

“Shhhhh…” She keeps whispering. “I’ll take care of you. You will be fine. You’ll adjust…” She keeps saying. He isn’t sure whose benefit she is saying it for. 

“What did you do Nat?” 

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers and opens her mouth to say something else but the drug started working. Clint slips into unconsciousness.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and commented so far. I really appreciate all the feedback and your opinion.

I will try to post the first chapter of part 2 soon so that you know what to expect and then there will be a longer break between posting the rest of the story. It's simply because I haven't finished typing it yet.

I don't know if this is the direction that you expected this story to go and I don't really know how it will be perceived. And it's more than okay if you don't like it. If you are still interested in reading this then...

Till next time :)

 

Lets move on to the spoiler territory:
I don't know how much to reveal and if I should mention it but I feel a bit wrong without doing it which is why I have decided to give you a glimpse of what I am planning to do with the story.

Regarding part 2 - It will be much, much darker, I will have to change the rating and update the tags. I did not expect it to go there but it did. Joys of being a new writer and being surprised by my own story (I mean I knew it would be darker, just not how dark it would be). So please look at the tags again before the next part, I will give an exclaimer at the beginning of the next chapter too, just to make sure everyone knows there will be a tonal shift to this.

Regarding the ending of this story - The end of this story will be the end of chapter of Clint's life but it will not be THE END. Based on the comment or two I think that people are hoping for the happy happy ending. Which I don't think I will be able to give at this point. I think that the ending will be happyish. But because it will not be the end of Clint's story, I cannot guarantee that this is what you will want. I hope that makes sense. My plan is to finish this story, take a short or longer break to look into writing some other staff and then come back to this universe and properly finish Clint's story. In a separate collection of stories in the universe and a different tone. That would end Clint's story and give him the ending he deserves. I just thought I'd mention that so you could decide if you want to stick with reading it or if it isn't for you. I'd of course prefer for you to stick to it, because it's nice to get a comment or two but I will understand if you won't. I will finish this story no matter what because writing it gives me joy and helps me out when I'm having a bad day.

End of Spoilers. Sorry about the rant but I genuinely thought I should clarify these two things. I will be back soon :)

Chapter 11: Part 2: Welcome to the red room

Summary:

The transition into red room's ownership.

Notes:

Hi.

I hope the last few months were good for everyone. I promised to post the next chapter fairly soon after the last one and didn't deliver which I am sorry about. I am doing that now. It is very short. More like an introduction of what you can expect next.

There will still be a break between posting the rest of the chapters of part 2 of the story. I just finished their first draft and I need to fix a few things before I'll be ready to post them weekly. There will be around 13 chapters for part 2. I am still to write part 3.

A few things changed in the few months . I may have come up with a happy ending? I am not sure yet. But there is something that would work well and not be forced. I'm not making any promises until I finished writing the full story. I will see how it goes first.

This is a very dark part of the story, darker than I thought I was capable of writing. Poor Clint. Why do I like torturing him so much? This part will end well. That is a guarantee. Also a few stories ago someone mentioned that they would like to see Phil suffer... If you still feel this way, you might just enjoy this part. Karma caught up to him.

Anyways, I feel like this is long enough. Thank you for your patience and...

Enjoy <3

The first time he wakes up he has a banging headache. He can barely move, pain and fatigue cursing through his body. It’s dark everywhere and he can’t hear.

***

The second time he wakes up, he is in a cage, rolled down a dark and poorly lit hallway. He spots Natasha in front of him, with her back straight and head hanging low, hands behind her. Simple black leggings and black t-shirt on. He has never seen her like this. So absent in her body, so moldable. He doesn’t stay awake for long. 

***

Third time he wakes up he is strapped to a table and there are luminescent lights above him, blinding him. He has no hearing aids and isn’t able to move. They come up to him and ignore his thrashing around, muzzling him after he must have gotten too loud. Probing and teasing him. Checking his reactions, writing down the responses. They don’t do it for the sake of it. He knows. They’re checking how healthy his body is. How it reacts to unpleasant stimuli, if there is numbness anywhere, limited perception to pain, over sensitiveness. They check his pupils reacting to light, take his blood and take x-rays. Then they check his ears, level of hearing loss, look at the aids, adjust them and play with them. His genitals don’t escape attention either. He tries to zone out for most of it, maintain his regular breathing, and adjust. Maybe that's what they’re looking at as well? His ability to disappear within the act? His experience? Because if that is the case then man... they know what they’re doing.

***

The fourth time is the worst because he doesn’t fall asleep after. He is stuck in being awake and reality sets in. He realizes that his vacation has ended. He is locked in a cage, just big enough to sit up and stretch his legs. Not big enough to stand or even crouch and not big enough to lay with legs straight. His arms can fit through the bars and he isn’t chained anywhere. The temperature is on the chilly side but bearable, probably a standard fit for a maintenance closet which is where they are at the moment. There is a lot of slave training and cleaning equipment in here, with a few folded camping beds. The cool lights are on, which he is very grateful for. He hates the darkness. Especially without his hearing, he’d feel trapped. It would get to him. He would panic. And he really doesn’t want to panic. He needs time to adjust to get used to the old standard. This place, it’s fairly comfortable. For a slave of course. He stayed in worse places. It would be cruel for a free man. It would be cruel for Phil for example. Who he spots in a cage next to his own. As naked as his own body, curled up and unconscious. The fourth time is the worst because he will have to deal with this. 

Notes:

Thanks for reading.

Till next time <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 9 of So let's make this work