Chapter Two: Warnings and Bodies

A grumpy Bruce Banner stood in the middle of a huge gymnasium with the most complex equipment and challenging obstacle course he'd ever seen. It also had the new Stark reinforced walls. "Completely Hulk proof. I tested them on Thor," Stark had said while a very angry Thor tried to beat his way out of a smallish room with no success.

"This is unbelievable." Bruce told Clint once Tony had left, taking Thor with him.

"I know. It's awesome. It took me four hours to get through the obstacle course. I want to get Steve in here to see if he can beat me. First, we'll see how the hulk does." Clint gave Bruce an excited grin and walked over to a simple counter where a few thigs had been lain out.

He threw Bruce a pair of pants made of a slippery fabric that Bruce didn't recognize. "What's this?"

"You're new battle suit. It will contour to your body, no matter what size it is. So even after you shrink back to size, it won't be stretched out." Clint focused back on the computer. "Tony, installed Jarvis and he will be monitoring your vitals; if you get too aggressive the place will get locked down and I will be rescued."

Bruce hesitated slightly, while putting on the pants. Clint pretending he wasn't looking. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

"You don't have to. Now c'mon, time to Hulk out." Bruce hesitated, unsure how to proceed without hurting Clint. Fear surrounded and emanated from him like body heat. Clint gave him a reassuring smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"If this doesn't work out, I'm holding you solely responsible."

"Good."

"Hulk, I know you know better." A month and a half of training had taught him nothing about maturity. He was holding Clint upside down from his leg. This would be funny to Clint if he wasn't dressed in a very expensive suit and late for Tony's benefit thing. Correction: the benefit that he and Bruce were late for.

"Hulk no want to go." He furrowed his eye brows and pouted slightly. Clint thought it was cute despite the fact that he was a giant rage-monster. He would never let Hulk know that though; the stern look on his face was told the Hulk just how much he cared about the Hulk's current aversion to going to sleep.

When it came to the Hulk, Clint's soft side usually made its way to the lime light; he loved the big guy. He trusted the big guy because he knew that there was nothing on planet Earth that would turn him against Clint, and he knew nothing would ever take him away.

Bruce got to see it through the Hulk and got small tastes of it when they were alone. The rest of the time he was closed off but covered it under a mask of mischief and humor.

The Hulk assessed Clint's disappointment and irritation with a chagrined face and gently set the archer down. He hung his head and let out a low, sad growl. "Don't be like that, Jade Jaws." Clint gave him a pat on the arm and caught his fluorescent, green eyes.

The Hulk nodded sadly and closed his eyes, starting the transformation process. It was always volatile; sometimes it took seconds and others it took hours. Clint thought it had something to do with Bruce's mood when the transformation started.

After about ten minutes of agonizing reconfiguration, Bruce was back. Clint had trouble looking back at him after the transitions; the pain of being remade made him remember Loki and the pain of resisting him. He shuddered at the memory.

"Did you ring my suit?" Bruce asked quietly, knowing full well what Clint was thinking about.

Clint just nodded to the table where Bruce's suit was lad out of him. They were an hour late for the benefit, but Clint didn't rush him. He stayed quiet; his assassin mask was on and steady when they walked out of the training tank. In anticipation of social exposure, Clint often closed himself off more than usual.

The neutrality on his face made Bruce flinch. He couldn't imagine how he made it through the first months of knowing Clint when he looked like that all the time. After a minute, Bruce missed Clint's cheerful smile.

"You should try smiling for the benefit. The girls will go wild."

Clint snorted, his mask still firmly in place. "I never had luck with girls, and you're one to talk, Mr. Wall flower."

Bruce felt a blush sneak up him cheek bones and he ducked his head a little bit. It wasn't his fault that he was afraid of people.

They let the subject drop and made their way to the hall that the benefit for artificial lung transplants and organ research that Tony had decided to host for Coulson, who had almost died waiting for a replacement lung. Thankfully, he pulled through.

They walked in the front entrance side by side, much to the delight of the press. After being bombarded by the hordes of hungry reporters, Clint made his way to the bar, and Bruce stood by Tony. He always acted as a shield for Bruce when the press were being entirely too vicious.

The benefit was boring and exhausting as all of Tony's big events were. Clint out drank a majority of people at the bar and hadn't even started slurring. Bruce was letting his mind wander to molecular physics and nuclear fission. Steve and Tony were still entertaining the masses with a reluctant and confused Thor. The black widow was sulking in the corner, completely unapproachable in every way.

By the time things were coming to a close and people were starting to leave, Clint was completely hammered, though someone that didn't know him wouldn't be able to tell. Tony had him escorted back to the mansion with Natasha, fearing that they would start some sort of destruction in their inebriated states. Thor had long since fallen asleep in the bathroom.

Steve was as chipper and energetic as ever and Tony was getting a little tipsy. No one noticed when Bruce snuck out to the court yard and started walking home. He had a talent for being invisible to people who weren't looking for him. He was a slight man, his curly hair and brown eyes were forgettable to someone who didn't take the time to appreciate them.

He didn't notice anyone following him until he had stepping through the front doors of Stark tower and saw the man skid to a halt and turn around outside the big glass door. He felt a jolt of fear and rushed to the private elevator. He went directly up to the assassin's shared floor, knowing they were home. When he stepped out of the elevator he knocked on Clint's door and heard an arrow strike one of the walls before Clint got up to answer the door.

His eyes were a little red and he was a little disheveled, but he didn't look really drunk. The only real give away was the arrow in the wall; it was a whole inch off from the dead center of the target.

"What's up, buddy?" Clint asked a little sleepily.

"I thought I saw someone following me when I walked home; guess I'm still paranoid." Bruce blushed a little and chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Clint waved him in and went back to where he'd put his bow down. He turned back to Bruce just in time for the dart to hit him in the neck. The open window was at the perfect level for it, but Bruce hadn't heard it in time to think of dodging. His eyes widened and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees.

Clint was instantly, painfully sober. He drew his bow and found his target in the adjacent building. The sniper had left his lit scope on, making himself easy pickings for the master assassin. Clint knew right away that Ross had decided to make a move after waiting for two years.

It would take a lot more than a sniper to endanger Bruce while Clint was there.

Jarvis had locked the tower down the second the threat was detected. The windows locked down and the doors locked; all unauthorized persons were sealed tight in the rooms they had been.

"Agent Barton, it seems that sixteen military personnel have entered the tower and are locked in the stairwell." Tony had prepared for this eventuality. Jarvis was to ask if they had a sanctioned warrant, which, of course, they didn't, and inform the police.

"Great, the cops are on their way?" Clint still had his eye on the adjacent building, where the tranq arrow was still visible sticking out of the other snipers arm. He wished he could have killed him.

"Yes, sir."

Clit response was interrupted by a ground shaking explosion; the military apparently didn't like being locked in stairwells. Barton laid out his weapons, several pistols, a small automatic weapon, and his bow and prepared for them to come in the room. Natasha showed up first, nearly getting an arrow in the eye by bursting threw the door.

She took in the weapons and Bruce's limp form and took up a defensive position facing the door like Barton. He knew from the painfully determined and neutral expression on his face that he was pissed. Clint was never anything but calm when he had a bow in his hand.

When the military made the mistake of kicking down the door and throwing in a smoke grenade, they were ready for them. Natasha kicked the grenade back into the hall, much to their surprise, and took out the first soldier brave enough to come in the room.

It was kind of sad that, even drunk as she was, she could so easily destroy trained military men.

Clint stuck to tranq arrows even though anger was boiling in his gut; he wanted to gut each and every one of them. When Iron Man arrived, all of the task force that Ross had sent were unconscious and awaiting the arrival of the police. Clint had moved Bruce to his bed and was bandaging his neck.

"I feel like Ross would have planned this out better." Tony stared at the destruction with a forlorn expression.

"I feel like it was a warning." Natasha didn't take her eyes off Clint who was staring at Bruce with a dark, unreadable expression. "He's letting us know he's going to take Bruce by force."

Clint's head snapped up. "Over my dead fucking body."

Another Note from the author: I should really put angst and drama as my genres, but I like to trick people. I hope you guys give reviews; I'll seriously give up and move on if you don't. I'm not selfless enough to write without recognition. ~CQA