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(Side note: The chapter title is a play on a song called An Unkindness of Ravens by Sanders Bohlke. The song has nothing to do with this chapter, but it's a good tune.)
You'll Never Walk Alone
Chapter Two: The Kindness of Hawks
Skinny legs swung in an eight pattern above the shiny floors of Dr. Banner's lab as they dangled off a makeshift examination table. Whether it was due to nervous energy or just to hide the fact they were actually shaking, it didn't matter to anyone in the room as long as Steve remained seated. The boy had sat on the edge of the table a bit reluctantly, but obediently, for the past thirty minutes as Bruce had given him a good look over and drawn a sample of blood. Now that he wasn't focused on trying to be brave and Captain America-like while being poked and prodded by his friend, his mind had settled on making sure to make a mental note of every single worst case scenario that Bruce could possibly find under the microscope he was currently bent over.
He sat there in the pants and a long sleeve shirt that Tony seemed to pull out of thin air but the billionaire assured him that he had had someone deliver the clothing items while he was under the bed with the Boogeyman. Well, he meant the Hulk, but Banner didn't seem to notice the jab and Steve felt a little embarrassed. After being somewhat persuaded to just accept the expensive, well-made clothing when he tried to respectfully decline them, he stared at his pathetic reflection in the shiny, waxed floor from his spot on the table. Words like weak, skinny, and ineffective swirled around in his head. He realized he didn't like being able to see himself and so, he let his eyes wander. They found the exit door quickly. Temptation had won only mere seconds later and he shimmied off his seat to make a run for it, but an arm snaked around his torso before he even made it four steps.
"Don't know where you think you're going, Pinky, but anywhere but here isn't it," Tony said as he sat him back on the table. Then he clarified upon seeing the small boy's brows furrow. "Pinky is from a cartoon. Pinky and the Brain. Oh! How fitting," he grinned in Bruce's direction. The scientist paid no mind to the jest, but Rogers shot him a glare.
"Well, look on the bright side, Cap! If you're stuck like this, you'll be able to watch all the Pinky and the Brain you want. Then, you'll understand my reference."
"Stuck like this?! No, no, no. That's...that's not possible is it? I mean the serum...the serum has to count for something! I can't stay like this! Please!"
Tony winced, partially because Steve's neck looked too scrawny to be whipping back and forth like it was while the kid glanced between Bruce and the billionaire himself and partly because kid tantrums just weren't his thing.
"Dr. Banner. He's right. Please, tell us he's not stuck like this. Your tantrums I can tolerate for the sake of science and all things worth studying, but this-"
"It's alright, Steve. We'll get this straightened out. I still see the serum in your blood," Bruce reassured.
Steve relaxed a little bit, but picked up the motion of swinging his legs again and staring at the door. Only when Steve's gaze turned elsewhere did Bruce give Tony a silent message with a glance. Tony, understanding, clapped his hands loudly causing Steve to jump. "Well Pinky, I think you were on to something. It's about time we blow this lab and get something to eat. Don't you? I'm thinking pizza."
"I'm...not hungry, but thank you."
"That's too bad, because Halloween isn't for another few months and you already look like a skeleton decoration."
"Stark." Bruce chided softly from his microscope.
"I'm sorry. We don't have...didn't have your resources back then, Mr. Stark...you learned to not eat much," Steve replied, and if anyone could make someone feel guilty by being extremely polite it was Steve. Bruce figured the next few seconds of silence were probably Tony's way of apologizing.
"Well, there's no time like the present to make up for it, then. Perhaps that's the purpose of all of this - To give Capsicle all the happy meals his devout, patriotic heart desires."
"Happy meal?"
"A cheeseburger, or chicken nuggets, fries, and coke."
"That's supposed to make a person happy?" Steve looked up doubtfully at Stark.
"Yeah, whatever. It comes with a toy and clogs your arteries. Joy all around. Now come on, Cap. Let's go see about that pizza," Tony dismissed.
Steve glanced at Bruce, for reassurance or help, the scientist wasn't sure, but he nodded his head anyway and watched the boy shimmy off the table again and head for the door. He turned back around when he noticed Tony wasn't following him.
"Aren't you coming, Mr. Stark?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'll be right there. Go round up the others." Tony motioned with his hand for the kid to go on and after a few hesitating seconds, Steve left.
"What's the real verdict, doctor? Please don't say it involves me raising a kid," the billionaire demanded.
"If that were the case, I'd feel really bad for Steve," Bruce retorted. "But no, I think I can figure out a way to revert him. The serum is still there, but whatever toxin it is that caused him to change is sticking to it. Not attacking it, just sticking. So if we could come up with some sort of antidote to get rid of it, I see no reason why Steve wouldn't change back."
"Any time frame for an antidote?"
"I don't know how long it will take, but I'll be working on it around the clock."
"So until then we what? Babysit the kid," Tony asked, but didn't wait for a reply as he turned his attention elsewhere. "JARVIS, please inform Mr. Banner that Stark Tower is not kid proofed."
"It's not ideal for a child, Sir."
"But you live here," Bruce once again countered with a shy grin. "Sorry."
Tony rolled his eyes, but moved towards the door. "Find that antidote, or you're not going to be the only one with stress issues around here."
"There's something else."
Tony stopped short by the door and turned back to his friend. "Don't tell me we're having twins."
The lack of a minuscule grin that Tony expected told him it was much worse than that.
"With the toxin covering up the serum, the serum can't work at all. So...Steve's strength, energy, immune system...all of it...it's like it was before."
"Before as in-"
"Yeah. We'll have to keep a close eye on him. He's already had one asthma attack."
Tony silently lingered at the door just like Steve had done earlier, and Bruce wondered if JARVIS kept a log of what sort of emotions Tony experienced because the scientist couldn't exactly pinpoint the expression on the man's face.
Regardless, Tony nodded once and left.
Steve made it to the elevator, but had a little trouble reaching the button to call it. He stood on his tiptoes and stretched as tall as he could, but suddenly the elevator door opened and JARVIS' voice startled him.
"Don't worry, Sir. I brought it up for you."
Steve steadied his breath with a hand on his chest. "Th-thanks," he said, but made no move to get in the elevator.
"Sorry for unsettling you, do you wish for me to alert Dr. Banner or Mr. Stark?" JARVIS questioned as the elevator remained empty.
"N-no," the boy stuttered, then ground out another, "No," a bit stronger.
"Very well, then. The elevator awaits, Sir. Mr. Barton is eleven floors down and Ms. Romanoff is two floors below him."
Steve stared at the empty elevator, and for a moment he was back on the base staring at the capsule that would change his life forever, then the next a shiver ran down his spine as images of ice assaulted his head. He gasped and grabbed his head.
"Sir, I will alert-"
"No! No, Mr. JARVIS. I'm fine. Thank you," Steve said, trying to convince himself as much as the operating system. He wanted to remain in control and independent. He may be small, but that never stopped him before.
He stepped onto the elevator slowly, and pressed his back up against the wall. Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, he was beginning to think that the ride wouldn't be so bad. However, when the doors slid shut he felt a flutter in his chest and a tremor in his knees. After a shaky breath, he took three or four quick ones, before the images of the capsule and ice returned. He grasped his head again with fingers making tufts in his hair, whimpering as he did so. His spine found the crevasse of the corner and he sunk down until he was curled as far into it as possible.
JARVIS' voice barely made it passed the sound of blood rushing in his ears, but even what he could hear was gargled. Had he not been in the middle of a full blown panic attack or flashback, or whatever was happening to him, he would've heard the system say, "Sir? Mr. Rogers? The doors will open momentarily. I've alerted Mr. Barton. He will be with you in one moment."
But Steve didn't hear any of it. The ice was already consuming him, chilling him to the core, leaving him paralyzed and unable to breathe. He could feel small drops of water on his face that had yet to freeze, and he tried to focus on them as they trailed down his cheeks because they were the only thing he could feel besides the sudden spike of pain through his joints as he jerked violently with another shiver.
But then there was another pain, a white hot, burning pain on both his arms, then under them, melting the ice that consumed him, chiseling away at his frozen form. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he whimpered once again as more water droplets tickled his face and the block of ice he was in decided to defy gravity.
Then, against all odds, a voice made it passed the loud white noise in his ears.
"Come on, Buddy, look at me. You're alright. You're not in there anymore."
Steve scrunched his face trying to wiggled his eyes, then pried his heavy, frozen lids open to a sight that made the chunk of ice in his throat instantly liquify.
"That's it," Clint encouraged when watery, blue eyes stared back him. He had pulled the boy from the elevator and carried him into the open space of the hall, before squatting down and placing Steve in front of him. But taking note of the thin, shaking legs of their captain, he kept his hands on the panicking kid's ribs for what looked like much needed support.
Steve stared unblinkingly at Clint while sniffling and jerking with his hitching chest because he still felt paralyzed from the ice the much taller man had extracted him from.
"Come on, Cap. You're fine," Clint spoke and under any other circumstances Steve would have noticed that it wasn't as awkward as it should have been. He became aware of a sudden added pressure on his left side before a calloused hand came up to wipe at the water on Steve's face that he had been clinging to. Now with that gone, he clung to the only thing left he could feel.
Clint had shifted Steve's weight to his left hand and brought up his right to wipe down the boy's tear-soaked face. It was one quick swipe, cheekbones to jawbone, but it was like pulling the plug on a bathtub and suddenly, Steve's small frame engulfed what it could. Rail-thin arms hugged his neck and bony knees barely hit his navel as the boy lunged at him.
Clint wobbled slightly at the change in balance, but quickly corrected it, although his arms were a bit slower to react. Eventually, he picked the boy up, craned his neck a little disgustedly when soggy eyes buried into the side of it and walked over to the window where the sun was shining through after feeling the shivers running through the small form in his arms.
"Hey, kid. What's this? Calm down."
"C-cold. I-I-Ice...trapped," Steve mumbled into his shoulder. Then it all clicked.
"No, no, no. Hey, look," Clint nudged his shoulder to prompt the boy to lift his head. When a watery gaze settled on him he motioned towards the window. "You're in the Stark Tower, see?"
Steve forced himself to look out the window, but immediately buried his head back in the archer's shoulder and screeched a "D-different," for explanation.
"No. Come on, you remember this. Just try and think, alright?" Clint tried to reason because he could recall Bruce saying something along the lines of "his memory is a little shaky, kind of goes back and forth, but it's important to ground him in the present."
So that's what Clint tried to do as he stood there holding the quivering boy. He didn't rock him, and he definitely didn't shush him, but he made a mental note to remind JARVIS that an arrow would find its way in his circuit board if there was any evidence of this for the rest to see.
A snotting face was pulled away from his wet shirt and the boy wiggled to be put down.
"You with me now, Cap?" The older man wondered aloud while placing their captain on his feet.
The boy fisted his left eye, and didn't look up when he muttered, "Don't call me that."
"Why not?"
"I'm...I'm not him anymore."
And then, Clint was back to squatting down in front of him with a reassuring pat to Steve's side. "Serum or no serum, you'll always be Cap to me."
"So if you couldn't shoot your arrows anymore, would you still be Hawkeye?"
Clint swallowed and suddenly felt the void of not having his quiver and bow on his back, but he managed to force a grin. "You tell me."
They might have as well been eating Shawarma because they all sat around the table eating silently, not even looking at each other except for quick glances in Steve's direction to see if he was actually eating or just picking at his pizza.
The kid sat between Bruce and Clint while Tony sprawled out in the chair next to the scientist and Natasha perched between Stark and the archer. He managed a few bites before his stomach felt heavy and then decided to pretend to be making progress on finishing it when Tony's voice shattered the silence.
"Slow down, Spangles. You might choke."
Steve managed to lift a corner grin at the sarcasm, but feared that his eating situation would become a heated topic of discussion around the table and he felt heat run up his ears at the thought of the attention.
"Sorry, Mr. Stark. It's really good. Thank you for providing it, but I'm already full. I don't mean to be wasteful," Steve respectfully replied, gently pushing his plate towards the center of the table before asking, "May I please be excused?"
Older eyes all darted around the table in a secret language, before Tony started to say, "Hang on, Beaver-," but Clint suddenly bumped the boy's leg with his own and cut off the Leave It to Beaver reference that would certainly soar over Steve's head with a "Yeah, I'm full, too. I think I'm going to go find something on TV. You wanna come, Cap?"
Steve eagerly nodded and jumped from his seat to stand next to Clint. The archer turned to leave with the kid at his heels, calling over his shoulder a quick, "See you guys, later," and half of a wave.
Steve had been following Clint blindly, caught up in his own thoughts as he looked at his feet as they went wherever the older man led them. So when Clint suddenly stopped, Steve bumped into his legs.
"Oof. Oh, sorry, Mr. Barton."
"Okay. First off, the name is Clint. Second..." He trailed off as he looked towards what they stood in front of and Steve stepped back like he was standing on hot coals.
"We can take the stairs," Clint suggested, but as much as Steve wanted to, he didn't want to be seen as a coward.
He shook his head and hurriedly ran up and stretched excessively to push the button for the elevator before he changed his mind.
"You sure," the archer asked as they waited, but the kid didn't have time to answer as the doors slid open and they stepped inside.
He watched the doors shut and tried his very best to think of anything other than the ice. He was in a war for God sakes, he could ride in a elevator. But his mind was working against him, and he could swear that he saw frost on appear on the walls.
He shuddered and did his best to hide it, but a hand was on his shoulder right after it ended and for an embarrassing moment he found himself shuffling closer to Clint and leaning against a warm, black cargo pant covered leg. The man said nothing about it and just left his hand on the boy's shoulder until they were out of the elevator.
They had been sitting on the couch for only a few minutes while Clint flipped through the channels trying to find something to watch that was materially acceptable for Steve's fluctuating mindset without it being patronizing but he wasn't having any such luck. He was on his second trip through the main channels of the satellite when a small voice suddenly declared, "You'll always be Hawkeye."
Clint rolled his head against the back of the couch to look at the person beside him folded up into the back of the piece of furniture, almost swallowed by the cushions.
"What?"
"Earlier...you told me to tell you if you'd still be Hawkeye even if you couldn't be an archer anymore. You would," Steve explained while wringing tiny fingers into the pillow in his lap.
"Oh," Clint replied and turned his head back to the TV. Both were silent a moment, watching the channels go by. Then, Clint added, "You're right, because I'd still have a Captain."
The archer lifted a fist between them as he said it, causing Steve to stare confusedly at it.
"You bump it with your fist."
"Why," the boy questioned, already curling his nimble fingers into a small fist.
Clint thought about it, then shrugged.
"That's just what brothers do."
A soft, little fist bumped into a much larger, calloused one and suddenly Steve felt better than he had all day.
Maybe Hawkeye did too, but he wouldn't ever admit it.
AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)