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The first time Clint met the Winter Soldier he had just turned twenty-two. Barely into his new choice of 'career' but already one of the most sought after hit men on the market. His improbably perfect precision and believed naivety made him a valuable asset to lots of fat, balding men who could barely stand up, let alone fire a gun.
Their lack of skill was Clint’s fortune.
He slips through the crowds of couples gathered around various tables in the grandeur of the casino. Golden lights cast a warm glow around the room, accenting the wooden carvings on the wall. To Clint it's nothing he hasn't seen before, rich people pretending that winning isn't another form of theft.
The side of the room is just as busy as the tables, couples lean into one another, their fingers clutching long stemmed champagne glass and whispering to each other.
One man stands out from the rest, he doesn't lean, he doesn't drink and he certainly doesn't have a woman dangling off his arm.
He grabs Clint’s attention immediately.
Catching him staring the man arches a brow at Clint and crosses his arms as if challenging him.
This must be the man that he’s here to meet.
Snagging two champagne flutes off a passing tray he begins to stroll towards the man. The stranger smiles at him as he picks his way skilfully through the crowd and moves to greet him as Clint finally stands before him.
“Darlin’” he says, leaning forward and brushing his lips across Clint’s cheeks and sliding a hand around his waist.
“I got you something to drink” Clint says, passing across the glass and playing along with the man’s act immediately. He brushes a strand of hair back from the man face from where it had come loose from the bun on the back of his head. He smiles warmly at the man and he smiles back, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.
Definitely the man I’m supposed to be meeting Clint thinks recognising the look of a man who’s killed, Clint sees it every time he looks in the mirror.
The man pulls him across the room towards a cluster of sofas in the corner of the room, the only empty seat is directly across from the man they’re here to kill.
Theodore Tucoon, corrupt banker by day; human trafficker by night. Or so Clint was told by the man paying him more than a million dollars to take him out.
Clint is yanked from his own thoughts when the hand on his waist pinches his side painfully.
“Pay attention” the man mutters out of the side of his mouth. Clint rolls his eyes at the look the man shoots him, the threatening look doesn’t work as well in a bow-tie.
“Excuse me, do you mind if we sit here?” the man asks Tucoon politely, gesturing towards the empty couch across the coffee table from the ‘business’ man.
“Of course not, take a seat” Tucoon says, waving a champagne glass at them, it’s clear that he’s had too much to drink already. He turns back to the young woman at his side who eyes up Clint thoughtfully, Clint looks at anywhere but her. Noticing this, Tucoon dismisses her with a wave of his hand.
“So” Tucoon’s starts, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at Clint and his companion, “you two gents from out of town?”
“Yes, we flew in from Chicago yesterday, we thought that we’d spend our anniversary away from work” the man next to Clint says and he brushes his hand through Clint’s hair smiling at his annoyed frown. “Pascal can be a rather demanding boss” he finishes.
That gains Tucoon’s attention immediately.
“Theodore Tucoon” he says, leaning across the table so quickly that his haste is almost funny. He offers the man his hand to shake.
“James Rockford” the man next to him replies, removing his hand from around Clint’s shoulders to shake Tucoon’s hand, “and this is my husband Daniel we met through Pascal” he says placing his hand on Clint’s knee.
“Hi” Clint says smiling at Tucoon, this is why he’s here. The name Daniel was agreed on beforehand, Clint was just the lucky man who looked enough like Pascal’s son to pretend to be him.
Tucoon’s eyes widened comically as he made the connection.
“You’re Pascal’s son?” Tucoon asked politely hoping his supposed small talk would get him more information.
“Yes” Clint says simply, turning his attention away from Tucoon towards the large screens displaying some form of basketball game. If he’s lucky this is all that he will have to do, answer yes/no questions and hope that when the time comes Tucoon will follow him.
“So…. Do you work for your father?” Tucoon tries again but Clint barely nods before turning back to the game.
Tucoon’s ploy continues until finally James speaks up again.
“Excuse me a moment” he says pushing himself out of his seat and smirking slightly as he walks towards the bathroom.
By this point Tucoon is not a happy man, Clint’s evasiveness has confused him and now he wants the man to talk. He opens his mouth as if to speak but Clint cuts in first.
“You want information on my father don’t you?” Clint asks coolly sipping the drink that a waiter had brought him and staring directly at Tucoon.
“Everybody wants information on your father” Tucoon’s replies, his voice wavering slightly and his throat moving as he swallows heavily.
“My father is a very private man” Clint’s says once again taking a sip of his drink, he swirls the liquid inside the glass thoughtfully, “why should I tell you?” Clint’s ice blue eyes stare intensely at Tucoon causing the man to break out in a sweat.
“I can’t offer you anything you don’t already have” Tucoon admits finally, dabbing a handkerchief across his sweaty brow.
“That’s not quite true” James says, returning from the bathroom and placing his hands on the sofa back just behind Clint’s head. Both of them are smirking.
Tucoon follows them to the car park willingly, his desperate need for information not alerting him to the danger he is walking into.
None of the security cameras follow the trio as they walk past numerous expensive cars, all of them gleaming in the bright florescent lights that hang from the ceiling. Tucoon leads them to a shining black Mercedes and unlocks it slowly, glancing at James and Clint who stand a few feet away watching him with stern eyes.
“Get in then” Tucoon says with fake cheer, maybe he isn’t as oblivious as he appears Clint thinks.
The drive out of town is short, Tucoon’s eyes never stray from the road as he drives them for almost an hour until James points to a layby at the side of the road.
“Mr Tucoon” James says coldly, pulling out a gun and flicking off the safety, “which hand do you write with?”
Tucoon swallows heavily and his hands shake against the steering wheel.
“My right” he answers with a sob as he finally begins to panic.
James throws open the passenger side door of the car and prowls around the front of the bonnet until he reaches Tucoon’s door, he lifts the gun and puts a bullet though Tucoon’s head without even blinking. He wraps Tucoon’s hand around the gun and shuts the door again, the keys still swinging in the ignition
Clint finally speaks when James yanks open the car door, “so… how are we supposed to get back to town”. He gestures slightly to the car and the supposed suicide. James just laughs in response, and the tightness in Clint’s chest when he looks at the laughing man definitely isn’t guilt.
Nine years later
The entire building seems to be holding its breath as the elevator climbs the side of the building.
When Steve, Sam and the Winter Soldier step out nobody quite knows how to react.
Tony goes to pour himself a drink, Bruce just stares and Natasha leads him away before anything bad happens.
“So, this is Bucky” Steve says to Tony, smiling as Bucky rolls his eyes at the tone of voice Steve uses.
“Mm hmm” is the only sound that comes from Tony as he empties his glass in one large swallow.
“So, Bucky. Can I call you Bucky? Never mind I am anyway.” Tony says, quickly recovering from any shock that he felt “will you be staying for dinner, for the night or permanently since everyone else seems to have moved in”
“I’ll stay as long as I’m welcome”
“Permanently then” Tony says brightly he offers Bucky his hand “Tony Stark”.
“I gathered that” Bucky deadpans looking at Tony seriously.
Tony cracks a smile and looks at Steve “I like him more than you already”.
Steve rolls his eyes at Tony’s words and looks around quickly.
“Where’s Clint?” he asks.
“Hell if I know, I’ll be in my lab, yell if you need me. Or don't, I don't care” Tony replies, walking away down the corridor.
“I’m here” a voice says from above before a purple blur drops from the ceiling. To Bucky’s credit he didn’t even startle.
The blond man in front of him is covered in dust, Bucky looks him up and down, and takes in the ratty jeans, bare feet and coffee stained purple t-shirt. His eyes widen in surprise when his gaze finally settles on the man’s face.
“Hi James” Clint says smiling broadly at the man. Amusement flickers in his eyes.
“Clint” Bucky replies, looking hard at the archer.
Sam and Steve share equally confused glances.
“You two know each other?” Steve asks finally making Clint and Bucky finally break eye contact.
“Oh yeah” Clint says grinning, “but if I knew he was the Winter Soldier I probably wouldn’t have slept with him”.
Steve mouth drops open in shock, Bucky and Sam crack matching grins and Clint’s laugh echoes down the hall as he walks away.