When Steve and Clint first met in the aftermath of the Battle of Manhattan


The Beginning

There were no sparks or a wild burst of chemistry or the punch in the gut and lungs that suggested love, or at least lust, at first sight.

There was nothing wildly romantic or joyous or glorious about their meeting. No fireworks, no explosions, no stars falling from the sky.

There was no instant bonding of souls or tangling of heart strings.

What did happen was homely and quiet, intimate in a way that most people could not achieve trying. Some how, through all the years and the changes they had been through, for the first time in their adult lives, their cores had burned through.

The archer, under years of intense training, silent single combat, solitary life and worldly living had become the terrified teenager. Freshly dumped onto the streets of LA, no money, no job, no school, no way out. Lost, unstable and ready to get himself killed one way or another with a borrowed Glock and a twenty four hour gas station glaring neon pink and green in the dark.

The soldier, hardened by science and serum and war, steadfast and virtuous and bold to a fault of his own righteousness had paled and shrunk to the weakened twenty year old. Wheezing and coughing, battered and bruised and ignoring cracked bones from the latest beating. Reporting again, falsified papers in hand, desperate to find some purpose, some use for himself before his own failing body gave out.

They'd looked at one another, studied each other. A sick boy and a broken teen. A gently shaken hand, palms gritty with dust, blood and sweat in the aftermath of the battered city. A quiet exchanging of names and exhausted and forced smiles.

From the beginning, right at the start, there had been a kinship.


A/N: Short and sweet, hope you guys liked!