If you recognise it… I don't own it.
1234567890
If you asked Hawkeye who his best friend was, he wouldn't even have to think to answer. And his answer would be Agent Coulson.
If you asked Clint the same question, he still wouldn't have to think about it. The answer would be Phil.
If you asked who was his best friend that he wasn't practically married to the answer would either be the Black Widow or Natasha, depending on who you were asking.
However if you asked him who his best male friend, whom he wasn't basically married to, was, then you would spot a difference.
For Hawkeye it was Captain America.
But Clint was best friends with Tony.
If you had told Clint Barton ten years ago that he would be friends with Tony Stark, he would have laughed at you. He would have declared it to be impossible.
A circus brat doesn't get to make friends with a billionaire.
But somehow it had happened.
Thinking back, Clint could see the logical progression of events. But it still amazed him every time he stopped to think about it.
It all started with SHIELD. That was where everything in Clint's previously horrible little life started going right.
Because of SHIELD he met Agent Coulson. Who became Coulson. Who became Phil. Who became everything.
Because of SHEILD he met the Black Widow. Who became Romanov. Who became Natasha. Who became Tasha.
Because of SHEILD he met Captain America. Who became Rogers. Who became Steve. Who became Cap.
Oh, there had been some bad moments. Fights where the blows had come closer to being final that Clint was comfortable with. Situations where he hadn't believed that any of them would come out alive.
And sure, Clint wasn't too happy about having to go fight Supervillains and foil their insane little plans virtually every week (if he was lucky).
But because of that the Avengers had formed. Because of Loki.
Sure, Fury had been batting the idea around for a while. Iron Man had become a rather large pain in their backsides. Fury's solution had been to draft a team to solely deal with him. It had consisted of the Black Widow, Hawkeye and Captain America. Agent Coulson had been their handler. Other members of SHIELD had been co-opted as and when needed.
But after Loki… After the Battle of New York, Fury had made an effort to reach out to other potential heroes. They had become the Avengers.
However that was later. Clint had first met Tony before Loki.
123456789
Clint knew something was up with Steve. It wasn't big. And it wasn't obvious. But Clint was famous for his eyes.
Though it took Clint a while to put his finger on exactly what was different. It was only after a long period of unnoticed observation (read: vent spying) that he finally placed it.
Steve wasn't as lost.
He was better with technology. He was getting about half, if not more, of the cultural references. And not just the recent ones either. He'd made a comment about "Red-Shirts" that caused Clint to do a double take.
Something was up. There was no way that Steve, working on his own, would get to Star Trek. He would be more likely to concentrate on political and social changes, possibly the legal changes. Gather information about the geopolitical climate and the various wars that had occurred since his freezing.
Pop culture and particularly things such as Star Trek and other science fiction, Clint wouldn't have expected them to even be on Steve's radar at the moment.
His curiosity pricked Clint decided to follow Steve. Outside of SHIELD.
Technically a breach of privacy, but Clint had it mentally classified under "Protection of Team" and "Observation of Situation". Both technically in his job description.
Besides Agent Coulson had noted down in his last eval that he was highly protective of those he deemed his.
So Clint watched as Steve went to Central Park on his day off. The Super-Soldier found a quiet bench and sat down. It was clear that he intended to do some sketching as he pulled both a sketchpad and some pencils out of his bag.
Clint settled himself into a more comfortable position in the tree he had chosen for his nest.
However after about an hour he noticed a lean figure approaching the Captain. Automatically he assessed them. Dark trousers; dark trainers; dark baseball cap; dark hoodie with a zip down the front, hood up; shades on, but they weren't dark enough to obscure his eyes at a close distance; a dark goatee was visible, but no more of his face, at least to Clint. He didn't look dangerous. But he certainly looked suspicious.
Clint tensed. He knew that at the range he was he could put the man down or kill him. Both with his preferred bow or a gun. Without touching anyone else at all.
The problem would be in the panic that the actions would cause. A gunshot would cause a stamped. And although an arrow would take longer to cause the panic, it still would cause it.
Also he'd had to leave his bow behind. It was hard to carry a quiver discretely.
Clint didn't move.
Until there was a confirmed threat he didn't dare. Not until Steve was unable to deal with it himself.
However he watched as the man pulled his hands out his pockets. A hand reached up and removed the shades.
A concealed weapon? Conceivable. But doubtful that it would be strong enough to take down Captain America. Unless it was poisoned. But that would imply that the man, or whoever had sent him, knew who to target.
Clint watched as the man stopped behind Steve and laid an arm, complete with shades over Steve's shoulders.
Clint's brain had to reboot as he tried to take in what he saw.
Steve had lain down his drawing, lifting his arm to pull down the hood and steal the baseball cap, before settling round the neck of the man. He'd turned his face upward to brush cheeks with the man.
Clint got the feeling, even from the distance he was, that Steve would rather have kissed the man.
And didn't that just cause the brain to fumble? Captain America was gay? Or was he bi?
Clint didn't know. And to be perfectly blunt he didn't care.
What he cared about were the intentions of the stranger. Though it was very clear that he wasn't a stranger to Steve.
Steve pulled the cap onto his own head (after adjusting it), before packing up his sketching equipment into a rucksack that he pulled onto his back.
Then the pair of them headed off.
Clint followed.
He had to admit that the two of them were incredibly sweet, from what he could see. He watched as Steve's hand reached out towards the other. But always retreated before he made contact. As if he were shy.
Or was it a sign that something wasn't quite right?
Clint didn't know for sure. But he would be keeping an eye on that. He was not going to let Steve get into an abusive relationship. Because while most would think that would be impossible, you didn't have to be stronger to abuse someone.
It was a fair walk and a subway trip to wherever they were going and Clint shadowed discretely.
He was a little surprised at the destination. A small independent movie theatre. One of the ones with only one screen that showed old movies rather than the most recent blockbusters.
The stranger paid for their tickets, while Steve brought the popcorn.
Clint brought a ticket and slipped into the back of the theatre. Knowing that the darkness would keep him hidden.
He didn't even notice what was being shown, until the film started.
It wasn't something he recognised, being released during or just before his less than stella childhood. He'd heard it was a cult classic, but Sci-Fi wasn't really his genre.
Though he was clearly have to readjust his views on the genre. Because despite his intentions to stay focused on Steve and the stranger, he was drawn into the film.
Who knew that Sci-Fi could be so funny?
It didn't escape his notice that about a third of the way into the film the stranger turned so that his back was towards Steve. Using the Super-Solider as a pillow or cushion. Steve turned slightly to make the man more comfortable and gently wrapped an arm around his waist. The other hand regularly raided the popcorn.
Despite the fact that Clint had never pictured the scene to involve another man, this was something that Clint had been hoping would occur. Steve was finding roots in the modern day.
Though Natasha would be upset that she'd missed the signs leaning towards this. What with all the suggestions of suitable dates she'd been throwing at Steve, almost desperate for the man to find a life outside of work.
Clint hoped that the other man wasn't evil, a criminal or leading Steve on. Particularly given he did have to admit that what little he had seen of the man's face was annoyingly familiar. And while he could lip-read, that was only when he could see faces. They'd been turned away from him most of the time.
After the film finished, they moved to leave the theatre. Clint hung back watching how Steve checked his phone and declared that he had an emergency at work he had to attend to. The man looked disappointed, but Steve smiled sadly and looked suitably upset about the change in plans.
The man moved closer and gently knocked his forehead against Steve's, rising on his toes to do so. Then with a quick hand he stole back his baseball cap, plopped it on his own head, pulled up his hood and slipped his shades on.
Then he was swallowed by the crowd.
"Hello Clint." Steve sighed without turning around, his voice pitched at the exact volume required to carry to Clint's ears and no further, which was quite impressive, given Clint's compromised hearing.
"Cap." Clint nodded as he stepped forward to stand next to the soldier, "How did you know? When did you know?"
"When I heard your laugh in the film."
"Everyone was laughing." Clint protested, "Brian Blessed is comedy gold. And 'I love you but we only have fourteen hours to save the Earth'? You couldn't have picked me out."
"It's a very distinctive laugh." Steve replied with a strange look on his face.
"Who is he?" Clint pressed lightly, "How'd you meet?"
"Not here." Steve was firm.
"Your place?" Clint asked rhetorically.
They both knew it was a rhetorical question. Clint didn't have a place of his own. He officially lived in SHIELD barracks. Unofficially he lived at Phil's.
Neither was a suitable place for this discussion. And having it in a public place didn't sit right with Clint.
123456789
Clint let Steve sit in silence for a good few minutes. Allowing the Captain to arrange his thoughts.
"His name's Tony." Steve supplied, "We met in Central Park."
"He approached you?" Clint asked.
"I approached him." Steve shook his head, "I spotted him first. A couple of times. He was usually sitting in an out of the way place. He intrigued me."
"Why?" Clint frowned.
Steve paused for a moment. Then he turned and pulled out an older sketchbook. Flicking through it quickly, he found the page he wanted and pushed it towards Clint.
Clint looked down at the image captured for eternity on the sheet. The man was sitting down, curled up. His legs pulled up to his chest. His arms were wrapped around his knees, hands clutching the opposite elbows. His chin wasn't quite resting on his knees. His shoulders were raised upwards, tense. His whole posture screamed fear. But the man's face… It wasn't very clear behind the baseball cap, hoodie and shades… But Clint could see determination, defiance, strength. It was a wonderful contrast of contradictions.
"That was the first time I drew him." Steve stated, "But I'd seen him a few times before. Always in passing. I was running."
"Does he always wear the cap and the hood and the shades?
"Pretty much." Steve agreed, "Unless he's with a friend. He calls them his Shield. When he's with someone he trusts he doesn't seem to need them."
"So you approached him?"
"Not at first. I watched him. He seemed to be screaming 'don't touch me' silently all the time. I was intrigued, but didn't want to interfere. I think it was the fifth time I sketched him when he wasn't just sitting. He was up a tree. There was a cat. Just a kitten. He'd rigged up a crazy contraption to get the kitten down. I mean it was made up of anything he could get his hands on. Just to get that kitten down. The little boy was so happy. And Tony just shrugged it off, as if it were nothing. But wouldn't let him touch him."
"That's when you approached him."
"No." Steve shook his head. "I didn't. Didn't dare. I've never been all that good at approaching people. At least not people I'm interested in. All my dates? Were double dates that Bucky found for me. Or the one date that the Captain America Tour gave me. Just to improve the image."
"So what changed?"
"A few days later, he was sitting near one of the lakes. Some teenagers seemed to think it would be funny to push him in. He panicked. I mean really panicked. I haven't seen anyone react like that since Bucky…"
"Since Bucky what?"
"You know I went after Bucky when he was a prisoner of Hydra. I don't know what they did to him. He never spoke of it. We had to go through medical checks. Bucky… Lost it. They tried to pull him from the Commandos. I fought for him. They couldn't risk upsetting me at the time. Bucky was fine, apart from one thing… He couldn't go in a lab."
"And this was the same?"
"Yes." Steve agreed, "Only worse. Because he didn't know me. He didn't know he could trust me. I hadn't pulled him out of his own personal hell. He fought me just as hard as he fought the water. He was yelling. I've no idea what. Something foreign. Middle Eastern, I think. I managed to calm him down."
"He got a few hits in though?"
"More than a few. He's quite a fighter when he's pressed. A bit frantic. But he knows what he's doing. Knows how to use what he's got to his advantage. He apologised afterwards. I said if he really wanted to apologise, he'd let me take him for coffee."
"Smooth." Clint was slightly proud, it looked like Natasha's lessons/lectures had paid off.
"It worked." Steve smiled shyly, "We've been almost dating since then."
"Almost?" Clint raised an eyebrow.
"Neither of us have actually said it." Steve shrugged, "But we see each other nearly every other day. Coffee. Movies. Nights on the sofa."
"And the fact you don't really touch him?"
"You saw that?"
"Kinda my thing."
"He flinches." Steve spoke as if revealing a confidence, "If he doesn't see the touch coming, he flinches. And sometimes he goes somewhere inside his head. Somewhere I can't reach him. However, if he touches me first and he's still touching me, he doesn't go anywhere. So I don't touch him first. It scares me when he goes to that other place in his head."
"Like when he went in the water?"
"No. He fights when he's in the water. He doesn't fight when he goes to that place inside his head. It's like he's too scared to. I don't know what happened. But someone hurt him badly. However he isn't broken. He isn't cowed. He's a fighter and he's strong."
"How long?"
"Couple of months." Steve replied.
"Surprised I haven't heard anything." Clint blinked, "Phil would have been so shocked at this. He's got a better poker face than I thought."
"I haven't told him."
"You told Fury? Or Hill?"
"You're the first person I've told."
"That's not protocol." Clint breathed, "We're meant to inform SHIELD the minute we get involved with a civilian. Phil should have been your first call. You broke protocol? You! Captain America? You're all rules and regulations. You led a team of the best men the Allied Forces could find."
"I led the Howling Commandos." Steve argued, "Colonel Phillips said they'd put together a team of the best men. I overrode them. Chose some of the men I rescued, because I knew I could trust them. No one objected because they couldn't afford the political fall-out. I was Captain America. I had just rescued over two hundred men. By going against orders. I was a glorified showgirl. A performing monkey. I rebelled to go after Bucky. A lot of the stories that have sprung up about me… They're just that… Stories. Spun at the time, or after the fact. It doesn't change the fact that I broke orders. I lied four times to try and enrol in the Military. The unit was called the Howling Commandos. That's not a name you give a bunch of men who follow rules and regulations and orders. They thought we were going to die on the first mission. Why would anyone think I was the perfect soldier?"
"Because you were chosen for Project Rebirth."
"I wasn't chosen because I was a perfect soldier. I was chosen because I was a good man."
"What's Tony's surname?" Clint placed his hand over his face, "I'll try and talk Phil into covering for you."
"Stark."
"What?" Clint blinked and stared at Steve.
"His name's Tony Stark. I think he's related to Howard, but I've never asked."
"Tony Stark." Clint breathed, "Of all the people in the world you find Tony Stark."
"What have I missed?" Steve frowned.
"Tony's Howard's son." Clint explained, "He disappeared off the grid a few years ago. There was a big thing about it. I can't remember what happened, but I know SHIELD has a file on him."
"I don't want to read it." Steve was firm, "Any secrets he has, I want him to tell me."
"I'll read it and see if there's anything you need to know." Clint offered, "I'll also see if I can get Phil to cover for you."
"What will it cost me?" Steve asked quietly.
It wasn't an unfair question, Clint had to concede. He and Natasha often remarked about who owed who. Most people would assume that they were serious, but it was their way of reassuring each other that they were alright.
"Introduce us?" Clint asked, "I'll be a co-worker. And best introduce Phil and Tasha as well. Just in case we have a problem. I want to check him out. You won't know, but Tony had a reputation."
"Sounds fair." Steve agreed, "But I don't care about his reputation. That was the past."
"I just don't want it to be your future."
1234567890
This is a much faster post than you should expect in the future. I'm intending to post about once a week, at least until I've finished writing the story. Only it didn't seem fair to me to post only a teaser and leave you nothing to sink your teeth into. So hence the first chapter.
Please Review.
Thanks to my reviewer:
DaemonWolfe – Glad you like and hope you have patience, this, as I've said, isn't a short one.
I write stories because I can't draw. I have all these images in my head that I cannot reproduce. So I try to describe them with words. If anyone would like to try to translate what I have written into what they think I saw in my head, they have my permission. I only ask that I be notified of it, so that I may look and go "Ooooh!".