It was Clint's turn first, and all he could think about was how unlucky he was that his name was Barton and not Stark. And Clint had actually been kind of excited for this mission—a simple search-and-destroy kind of job, taking down a Hydra outpost in Brazil, just outside of Rio. Cool! Clint had thought to himself when they were getting briefed about the mission. Always wanted to go to Brazil. Maybe chill on the beach, take in the ocean, all that jazz. But then as soon as they had to call in Code Green, Clint knew exactly what that would mean when this outpost was : no beaches, no oceans, just him and the Big Guy—the first test of Project Mother Goose with himself as the first guinea pig.
"Okay, Hawkeye," Steve's voice said, half-amused, over the comms. "Hydra Outpost Gamma is officially decommissioned, and Code Green is officially called off. You know what that means."
"Don't remind me. And of course we'd be attacking a base codenamed Gamma!"
"Good luck, Clint," Natasha seemed to blurt over the comm link, almost with...worry? Gee, Clint thought to himself. Why should anyone be worried? I'm only trying to subdue a giant, pissed-off mutant. No biggie.
"Thanks, Nat."
Tony piped in, "Codenames, lovebirds. We're sticking to our codenames."
"Thanks, Black Widow. Is that better, Iron Man?"
"Much," Tony said, amused. "Of course, I find it hilarious that SHIELD insists that they're codenames when they're clearly well-known. But, who am I, after-"
"RAHHHHHHHHH!" growled a voice from Bruce's comm.
Steve came back on. "And with that, go calm Hulk down, Hawkeye. My locator seems to indicate that he's only about...ninety to one hundred yards north of you?"
Looking in that direction, Clint could easily see green limbs thrashing just beyond a nearby hill. "Yep," he said curtly. "I see him. All right, I'll go do it. Talk to you when it's over. And please, Tony, don't make any comments during this? You either, Steve."
"Hey, Steve comes nowhere close to my banter!"
"Sure, Tony," Clint said, and ran toward the sound of smashing until he was within thirty feet of the Hulk.
Just remember: WWND? What Would Natasha Do? Clint thought to himself. And then, apparently answering that question, he crouched down and began to creep forward until he was close enough to say—although it came out as more of a nervous shout—the initiation phrase for the lullaby: "Hey there, buddy. It's about time for a nap, don't you think?"
Realizing exactly how loud he just said the phrase, Clint's mind could suddenly only think, Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit, and his arm slowly started to drift behind him, toward his quiver. But suddenly, the Hulk stopped, turned, and looked Clint right in the eyes with an expression more like confusion than anger.
Although his internal monologue now was a series of Oh my Gods, Clint was able to carefully get closer to Hulk, looking into his almost pitch-black eyes, saying softly, "Yeah, I know you're tired after beating the shit out of Hydra, so it's okay to rest. That's right, it's okay." The Hulk's face seemed to relax a bit even more—almost like Natasha when he told that joke. "You already know I'm the expert on getting rest. Did I ever tell you about the time I fell asleep playing Assassin's Creed and not even the pizza guy getting to my place woke me up?" Clint swore he could see a possible smile creeping into focus.
He offers his bare hand to Hulk. "I can tell you all about it. Just take my hand, and first we'll go get you a nap. What do you say?" Probably just as unsure as Clint was, the Hulk slowly sets down the twisted Humvee he was smashing, and gently takes his hand. Clint was shocked at how surprisingly cold Hulk's skin was, for how angry he always seemed to be, and for how packed with muscle his hand was. Slowly though, and whispering "Thank God," he noticed heat coming back into that green skin, and that green skin dissolving into a peachier color before Hulk—or was it Bruce now? Wasn't it always him?—yanked his arm back. Clint looked away from Bruce, who looked like he was having a small seizure as he finally changed back into himself, sans shirt.
Bruce stood up almost immediately and, with a sheepish smile, though still a quite a bit spacey, said, "Guess it worked...Hey, thanks...I feel much, uh, better than I usually do." He patted Clint's arm, and half-staggered past, talking into the comm to let the rest of the team know the lullaby seems to work.
"Wait," Clint said, looking from Bruce to where he changed and back again. "That was much better?!"
"I was able to talk right after, wasn't I?"
