Author's Notes
How to be honest with your big sister when your boyfriend's job is top secret? That's the challenge Sara faces as she and Clint push on regardless.
Natasha gets charged by Fury to keep an eye on things while Steve and Clint share a buddy moment and Clint's bad dream just keeps getting worse
Sections in Italic are direct internal dialogue
Sections in bold are text messaging
Sections in bold italic are American Sign Language signings - these have been presented in the form of standard English for ease of dialogue. I am aware that the structure of ASL is differently from this in real life practice.
Marvel Characters are bases on the Marvel Cinematic Universe and are copyright to Marvel and Disney. Their use here is for purely non-commercial entertainment purposes
Review and comments welcome
"Dinner so good you forgot how to text?"
Shit
Beth's light, casual, tone told Sara exactly how pissed her big sister felt this morning. She walked sheepishly through to the living room and hung her jacket over the back of a chair. Beth was curled up on the couch with Tiger purring beside her. The look in her eyes didn't match the lightness of her voice
"I'm really sorry" Sara said nervously, hoping to avoid an argument "I got a call from Clint to say he was back a night early with some of his buddies, so after dinner I met them for a few drinks and sort of ended up at his place."
"So, you met his friends?" Beth scratched Tiger behind his ears, still sounding worryingly casual "What're they like?"
Sara had talked with Clint about what she could tell Beth. Apart from Iron Man and Thor, none of the real identities of the Avengers were known to the public. His suggestion had been to get as close to the truth as possible without, as he termed it, 'putting them all in a shit-heap of trouble'.
"I met his Commanding Officer, and a couple of his team-mates" she replied "They were all nice guys."
Beth looked at her carefully; Sara wasn't exactly lying to her but she could tell the whole truth wasn't coming out. Maybe Clint was some sort of 'Special Forces' operative after all and Sara had to be careful what she said. Still, Beth couldn't shake the memory of the first night Clint stayed over and come wandering into the kitchen shirtless, not realising she hadn't gone to bed yet. She couldn't help notice that Sara was right, the guy had an great body; but she also noticed the scars, knife and gunshot wounds mostly. Her biggest fear was that the 'special operations' Clint took part in weren't on the right side of the law.
"You still should have let me know" Beth said, and her voice was quieter; gently reproachful "I've been really worried."
Sara felt a pang of guilt. Beth had kinda been there for her every day since Mom and Dad died four years back. She'd just been two years into college and it had torn her world apart. Her big sister had helped her get the job at the gallery and let her share the apartment, without ever playing the 'my house, my rules' game. It hurt that she clearly didn't like or trust Clint, even more so now Sara knew why he had to be so secretive about his life, but she genuinely wasn't trying to be a bitch and it wasn't fair to act like she was.
"I'm really sorry, Beth; I didn't mean to worry you" Sara put her arms around her sister and gave her a hug "I promise I'll remember in future."
Beth gave a good-natured grunt of acknowledgement; knowing full well the same thing would happen next time.
"I'll forgive you if you tell me one thing" Beth said with a smile "Were any of the Avengers there?"
"That's classified" laughed Sara, heading through to the kitchen to make coffee for them both "But Captain America has eyes you could drown in."
Sara lay back on her bed after showering, practising a few basic signings. Her hands and wrists were supple from years of piano playing so forming them felt quite easy; remembering them was the hard part. Clint had told her about his deafness the first time they slept together; it had happened six years ago, when a concussion grenade had gone off too near his head and damaged his ears. She could tell it was something he was still deeply self-conscious about and it touched her that he felt able to trust her like that.
He'd confided in her this morning that, apart from Natasha, none of his team mates knew yet and asked her to say nothing to them. The last 24 hours felt strange and enticing; she seemed to have become part of a world of secrets and didn't know whether to be excited or afraid.
Last night had been incredible; she'd only slept with Clint twice before. Each time he'd been gentle, attentive and generous, more concerned with her own pleasure than his, while she'd been shy and almost submissive; afraid of seeming gauche or inexperienced. Trent had been her only previous lover and had never taken her to the places Clint could. Taking charge like that was so unlike her and yet felt so natural that the animal intensity of their passion still vibrated under her skin.
Sara picked up her phone and texted him quickly
You set me on fire last night. That was amazing
A few minutes later her phone buzzed
You're the fire to my forest, baby. Love you loads!
She paused, it was the first time he'd used the L-word like that. Sara took a deep breath and plunged in
Love you right back, Hot-Guy! Coffee later?
The few, nerve-wracking minutes before his reply lasted forever
Sure. Taking Lucky for a walk at 4 – come over for then? Pizza and movie after maybe?
Sara smiled, sounded like the perfect Sunday evening; especially as Rossi had given her a long weekend as a 'thank-you' for the sale to Stark. She made a mental note to text Beth if it turned out movies weren't the only thing on Clint's mind.
###
'Thank you' mouthed Clint as Sara handed him his essential morning coffee. He turned to the nightstand to pick up his hearing aid case but she tapped him on the arm to get his attention. Clint looked at her quizzically and then a broad smile lit up his face as she carefully signed
You're welcome.
He pulled her towards him and kissed her for a long time, then sat up and signed back to her with equal care.
Sara laughed, even without knowing ASL she could easily have read what he'd just said
I love you too, Clint her hands replied.
###
Natasha had expected a call from Fury on Sunday but it was Tuesday afternoon before he contacted her, perhaps even the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. liked to take a day off now and again. More likely he had just come back on-grid from wherever it was he had disappeared to this time.
He was waiting for her in the New York Field Office; as usual he got straight down to business without being troubled by pleasantries
"That's the file on the Wolfe girl" he said, pushing it across the table "I want you to review it and keep an eye on her."
Natasha raised an eyebrow and glanced through the file, quickly digesting its contents
Sara Louise Wolfe, age 24. Studied Theory of Modern Art at Yale, works at a trendy Manhattan gallery catering for the ever-changing tastes of rich New York hipsters. Lives with her sister Elizabeth Margaret Wolfe, age 32, literary sub-editor for the New York Times, in an upcycled brownstone apartment in Brooklyn.
Parents: Samuel and Elizabeth Wolfe, genetic researchers, deceased; killed in a car crash four years previously.
No known political affiliations, no suspicious friends. Seems to prefer Thai food and European art house movies.
On first review, there was nothing to suggest the girl was anything more than a typical example of the New York bourgeoisie, except for one thing.
"This file was started before Clint began dating her."
Fury nodded
"We have strong reason to believe the deaths of Samuel and Elizabeth Wolfe were not accidental" he stated "They were engaged in several sensitive research projects, including one which also involved Dr Bruce Banner; you might want to ask him about that…"
"So why the interest in the daughters?" asked Natasha "Neither of them appear to have any scientific inclination whatsoever, or is there something else?"
Fury sighed inwardly, despite everything they had learned over the years; some things still felt like carnival hocus pocus
"The mother was briefly considered for the Index" he admitted "but if she had abilities they were not the sort that could readily be quantified or demonstrated to any accepted standard of proof at the time."
Natasha raised a questioning eyebrow
"The mother's file is level 8 classification" Fury told her "But I've had the essential excerpts extracted for you."
He passed another folder across and she looked through it
"Empathy? Telepathy" She laughed "Fury, you can't be serious?"
Fury's expression remained impassive
"Ever since we had figures from Norse mythology running around and opening gateways to other dimensions I've become a lot more open minded about what I take seriously." He sat down and suddenly seemed tired and haunted "Given what's happened we can't afford to take any chances. If this girl's mother did have these sorts of abilities and she's inherited them…"
"…then you think this could affect Clint's 'cognitive recalibration'?"
After the Battle of New York, and everything that happened before it, Clint had been taken into an intensive debriefing programme. Natasha hadn't seen or heard from him in over 6 weeks, and when he did re-appear he was a bit 'different'. The others would never have noticed; they'd hadn't met Clint before the Battle so had nothing to judge him by when he showed up again as the new member of the team.
She understood why Fury had done what he did, but she also wished she knew what had been done. Clint's own memories of that period fitted standard protocols for debriefing and re-integrating a compromised agent too perfectly for anything like that to have really happened. It certainly couldn't have changed his memories that much.
"What was done to him, Nick?"
She rarely used the Director's first name. It sent a clear signal she was off-book on this part of the conversation.
"What we had to do" Fury sighed "You know what would have happened if he found out."
"No, I don't" He could see the sadness in her eyes "You deprived him of that chance and I agreed to help you."
"And are you going to tell him, Agent Romanoff?"
That was the S.H.I.E.L.D. director speaking. The emphasis under his words very clear
She shook her head
"I'm as culpable as you are now, and it wouldn't do any good at this stage."
"I'm glad you understand" said Fury, sitting back in his chair "Keep me informed about Miss Wolfe."
###
"You ever get bad dreams, Cap?" Clint asked, setting a massive bowl of popcorn down on the table. Steve was as bad as Thor when it came to snacking, the bowl would probably be empty by the time the credits had finished rolling. Tonight's movie marathon was the Star Wars trilogy. Clint had realised Steve was possibly the only person in the world who didn't know the big twist and he was looking forward to him finding out.
"All the time" Steve admitted "Always the same one; Bucky's falling from the train and I can't hold on to him. I just see him dropping down into the river..."
Clint put his hand on Steve's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He was the only one who really knew how much guilt and grief the younger man felt over the loss of his oldest friend. It felt kinda weird thinking of Steve that way, but in real terms he'd only been 26 when he went into the ice. In the field, there was no doubt Steve was in charge; in terms of planning and strategy though, he deferred to the archer's 20 or so years of combat and tactical experience. Sometimes it felt like he was unconsciously putting into the role of older brother. He didn't mind that much, just hoped he could do a better job than Barney did with him.
"We all got the things that haunt us, Steve" he said quietly "Even Tony, though he'd never admit it. Maybe that's why Fury chucked us together; give us a chance to take out our issues on the green 'n slimeys?"
"Seems as good a reason as any" mused Steve "How about you? Dream much?"
Clint nodded
"Can't remember much, just wake up feeling like I done something terrible but can't remember what" He took a long drink of his beer "Guess I'm still dealing with what Loki made me do."
"None of that was your fault" Steve said, opening his own beer "The blame lies on him alone, Thor's told you that often enough. Even he couldn't have resisted the power of the Sceptre."
"Wish everyone thought that way" Clint grinned ruefully "there's plenty who would've chucked me off the helicarrier and taken bets on whether I bounced or just splattered when I hit ground."
"Then they're assholes" Steve retorted sharply, enjoying Clint's expression of surprise at the rare profanity "There ain't many guys I'd trust to watch my back in a fight."
They clinked bottles together and drank in silence.
"Sara's a lovely girl" Steve said "You're a really lucky guy"
Clint flushed a little
"She's perfect, Steve, totally perfect." his smile was shy and thoughtful "I never met anyone like her before. Sounds crazy, but I really love her; like I never loved anyone before."
Steve grinned at his friend, glad one of them was finding a bit of real happiness.
"I'm happy for you, Clint! Really happy…"
He put his arm around the archer's neck and pulled him into a headlock, ruffling his hair
"Ah! Let go, ya big sap!" Laughed Clint "Time to head to a galaxy far, far away!"
###
3:45am: Clint thought it was Lucky barking that woke him, but the dog was still curled up on his cushion beside the couch; besides, how could he have heard him without his hearing aids in?
He was soaked in sweat from head to foot; the pillow and sheets damp right through. As he fought his breathing back to a normal rate he tried to cling on to anything he could remember from the dream. Only the memory of climbing a wooden staircase in the dark, with a dog frantically barking somewhere nearby.
He suddenly realised the wetness of the bed wasn't just due to sweat. Lifting a damp hand to his nose he sniffed, and felt the hot flush of embarrassment spreading over his face
Awwww no…
He'd not pissed the bed since he was 11, not sober anyway. Lucky Sara was staying at home tonight, he wouldn't have wanted her to have to deal with this. He got up and stripped off the wet bedding, piling it into a corner of the bathroom. Throwing his boxers onto the pile Clint stepped into the shower and rinsed himself off. Getting out, he began rubbing himself dry with a fresh towel. Halfway through he paused and looked at his reflection; eyes wild and hair all over the place.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Barton?