Chapter four! This one will definitely be longer than the last three, and finally starts getting the actual plot going! Consider the last three like a really long introduction. From now most of the chapters will probably have divisions too. Also, a bit of Natasha/Tony. And I know very, very little about Clint's background in the comics other than what state he's from.

...and now you'll see why I was so scared to use her in a fanfiction.

Disclaimer: Only own Briony and the other random OCs that pop up for plot convenience.

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Clint's first observation is that Briony isn't in front of the diner's entrance. His second is the yelling and he recognizes one of the voices as hers.

"...at work, Jack!" she's saying, and he realizes it's less yelling and more that her voice has shot up an octave, accent thickening. "It's two thirty in the fucking morning and they're out for ten minutes. Go away before I get -"

"Hey, I just came down here to surprise my -"

"Surprise me? Bullshit! This is still about Laurent, isn't -"

"Brie, that was your own damn -"

"Don't call me -"

"Just -"

"Ow, that hurts!"

Then Clint's at the edge of the alleyway and finds Briony standing there with a boy about her age who's gripping her upper arm way too tightly. He has a sudden memory of their first meeting and the bruise she had that same place. He clears his throat, getting the attention of both of them, and doesn't miss her look of relief. She looks on the edge of crying, something he doesn't expect because she's just so happy every time he sees her. The guy drops her arm.

"Who are you?" he asks and doesn't bother hiding how irritated he is.

Maybe it's because it's so early in the morning or maybe because he hates the guy without knowing a thing about him beyond that he's a business major, but he says, "A customer. But you know me as Hawkeye -" The surprise on his face is more than just a little satisfying. "- and if you don't mind, I'd really like a table."

"I'll talk to you in the morning, Jack," Briony says. "Okay?"

"Okay," the guy answers before looking at him. "Nice meeting you."

"Right."

There's an awkward silence until Jack leaves. Then he says, "Let's go inside. I want to take a look at your arm."

"It's nothing," she says, but he can see that she's shaking as she turns around and pulls open the kitchen door. "Anyway, want coffee or something because -"

At the moment he doesn't trust her with dishes and forming bruise on her arm already looks nasty. "I'm going to get you some ice," he says. "Don't argue, just sit down."

Unlike most of the people in his life, she actually listens and takes a seat on of the stools. "Sorry you had to see that," she says as he uses memory and process of elimination to find a Ziploc bag. "We just left off really pissed at each other earlier and he came by to see if I was okay and somehow it spiraled into a fight."

He has ice in the bag now and wraps a towel around it, wanting to call bullshit on her statement but deciding ultimately it isn't a good idea. "Here," he says, holding it out to her and when she accepts it and puts it on her arm, he takes a seat an the stool next to her. "Are you okay?"

She nods, but her bloodshot eyes betray her. "Yeah," she says. "Just a little annoyed, you know? I mean, I like people, you know? So what if I have a few friends who are guys and I don't feel like wearing turtlenecks for the rest of my life? It's like I have anything to show off anyway and is it really so bad that I gave Laurent a hug? And - and -"

She breaks down crying and reaches up with the hand not holding the ice and wipe away tears. "Sorry," she says. "I'm going to Norway tomorrow and I didn't want to leave like this again."

People aren't good. Clint decided this a long time ago, and even meeting the great Captain America couldn't change his opinion. "Move the ice," he says because he can't think of anything else. A guy controlling who his girlfriend hangs out with is pretty messed up, but not too unusual. Briony removes the makeshift ice pack and a hand mark is a dark red against pale skin. It's going to bruise bad. "Did he get you anywhere else?" She shakes her head and sniffles. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"Nine," she answers, pushing her hair from her face. "I have my stuff here, figured I'd leave after my shift since I have to get to the airport at six. But I forgot my toothbrush so I have to head back real quick."

Though he's near positive this is a lie, he decides not to call her out on it. "Buy one in the airport."

"What? Oh." The crying's subsided and she wipes her eyes again. "No, it's fine. He gets over it quick - Aw, don't look at me like that, Clint. It's not like he hits me."

Part of him wants to get involved, but the other part of him says it's a bad idea. Briony didn't strike him as the type of girl to stick around with a guy like that. "Is he always like that when he gets pissed?" he says and doesn't need to ask how often. Even before he knew what was going on, she gave him the answer with the pumpkin pie.

Briony shakes her head. "We normally just yell at each other. Worst was Halloween. We were at a party and I was wearing one of those sailor costumes you get Party City. I was talking to a few of my guy friends and he got jealous."

Though he knows he shouldn't get himself into this, he also knows he doesn't want her going back tonight, so he says, "You should call up the other waitress and say a flight opened early. We'll split and go see a movie."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why not? Consider it a goodbye present."

"I'm going for nine days. How do you know any of the theaters will be open this late?"

"It's New York. City that never sleeps. A little night owl, like you." It's small, but he catches her smile. "There we go," he says, and slides off the stool. "But I'm being serious. Let's go see a movie."

Her smile grows and she pulls out her cell phone. As she sends her text, she asks, "What do you want to see?"

He shrugs. "That's up to you," he answers. "Only thing that I know is out is The Hobbit."

"Which is what I was going to pick anyway." Her cell phone beeps. "Okay, I can go. Lord of the Rings are my favorite movies, so I was meaning to see this."

"Hey, you can't steal my favorite movie," he says as she buttons up her coat and slides her messenger bag over her shoulder. "What about your bags?"

"This has my laptop, an NYU sweater, and a few necessities," she says, leading him outside and locking the kitchen door behind them. "My parents moved back to Norway not long after my graduation and half my wardrobe went with it. And my cat."

They head in the direction of the AMC not far away and he thinks that taking her out to a movie at two forty-five in the morning must prove that a very, very small part of him is attracted to her. Which really isn't good. "Why'd you move to America in the first place?" he asks, acutely aware of how closely they're walking to each other.

"Dad's job," she answers. "They transferred him to the American branch, but promoted him like two years later so it was back to Norway. By this point I'd already gotten a full scholarship to NYU, got an offer from my boyfriend to live with him since said scholarship didn't paying dorming costs, so I stayed here. Simple as that. Out of curiosity, where are you from?"

"Iowa." This isn't something he normally admits, but then again, not many people ask. "Small town, Iowa to exact. What about you? I mean, besides just the in-general Norway."

"It's literally the middle of nowhere," she answers. "It's rural and right up against a lake. Forty minute drive to my dad's work, but my parents own that house and didn't want to give it up to work any closer."

They turn on the avenue with the theater, times written on a sign outside, and he sees that they made it in just enough time to catch the last ten minutes of previews. "You probably won't get there exactly at six," he says.

Briony shrugs and Clint pushes open the door. The woman behind the cash register is half asleep. "Who wants to spend three hours in an airport anyway? I can get there in two and still be okay."

"Two tickets for the three o' clock showing of The Hobbit," he tells her, handing over his debit card before Briony can take out her money. The woman mumbles something sleepily and rings up the price, telling them theater six. "And don't say you could've paid; you've been giving me free food since October. A movie ticket is the least I can do."

She smiles and doesn't answer and they watch the movie with little commentary. In the end, after the movie and taking a cab with her to JFK, he's the one who gets the hug from her outside the airport doors. And he realizes that he's in way over his head.

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Walking into the kitchen at one in the morning the day after the S.H.I.E.L.D. holiday party to find Natasha sitting on Tony's lap with a lopsided Santa hat on her head and watching what sounds like the sneezing panda video immediately skyrockets into his list of The Top Ten Strangest Things Agent Hawkeye Has Even Seen. They look up when he enters and it's a solid moment before anyone does anything.

Finally, Clint manages to say, "Hey," as if this is a total normal situation and Tony clicks something to make the video stop. The lighting in the kitchen in bright (because everywhere in Stark Tower is either all the way on or all the way off) and his head throbs. There's a reason why he hates hangovers.

"Hi," Natasha answers and slides off Tony's lap.

"Should I, um, leave?" he asks, the tension in the room making it too uncomfortable to just back out.

Tony glances at Natasha before answering, "You don't have to," and Clint's never seen the man look awkward before. Normally that's Bruce's territory.

"So," he says, and takes a seat across from them, "were you planning on telling someone?"

The question is directed at Natasha and from the look on her face, he can tell she gets it. "It didn't seem like a good idea," she says. "I'm not sure if it's against protocol."

"How long?"

"About three months," Tony says. "What, you haven't noticed that I haven't been with anyone after any of the parties?" He shakes his head. "Clint, Hill asked me about it and we barely see her. Woman troubles of your own or something?" Silence. "Wait - I was right?"

It's only because of years of practice that his face doesn't go completely red. "Not exactly," he says.

Natasha stares and he wonders how the hell this conversation flipped from the odd couple to him. "Guy troubles?" she says. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Hey!"

A pause. Then, "Girl troubles?" and he visibly flinches. "Oh, fuck you. How'd you manage that?"

"She works at a twenty-four hour diner I go to," he answers, deciding that a full explanation will take too long. "And she eighteen, so it's not awful...I think."

"College student?" Tony says and again, he nods, mortified. "Okay, I've got see what this chick looks like."

He shouldn't have said anything, should've kept it to himself. "It's not like I have a picture."

The two of them exchange a look before Natasha says, "Well, any self-respecting college student will have a Facebook profile. Stark Industries has a business page you can sign into, right?"

"Guys -"

"'Course." Before Clint can protest, Tony's already typed in the email and password. "What's her name?"

Since it's one in the morning and he's fighting off a hangover, he knows he won't win against a stubborn Tony Stark. "Let me type it in," he says, getting off the stool of the island and walking over to their side. "I don't feel like telling you how to spell it."

Natasha moves over to give him room and he types Briony Frederiksen into the search bar and her picture is the first one to come up. He clicks on it and says, "Here. Her's name Briony."

Both his teammates look like they just found out the greatest news ever and he knows that he's never going to live this down. It wouldn't be such a problem if she didn't look so much like a kid, but of course the profile picture had to be her sitting in pajama pants and her university sweater, one of those red bows meant to be put on wrapping paper stuck near her ear and a little grey cat curled up in her arms. The cover photo is of a white cottage that must be her parents' house.

"She's cute," Natasha says. "What's the - oh."

Clint follows her gaze to the sentence In a relationship with Jack Rowen. "Well, yeah, there's that," he says, "and he's kind of a dick. She has a giant bruise on her arm because the jackass grabbed her too hard."

"What?"

"I was up there on the twentieth," he says. "They were fighting in the alley next to the diner because she talks to men other than him."

As Tony signs off he says, "I'd tell you to stay away from damaged women, but that would be a little - hey!"

"Serves you right," Natasha says and rolls her eyes. "Anyway, Clint, take this from another girl: she's only eighteen, let her figure the whole boyfriend thing on her own unless he actually hits her. After that, do whatever you want. It's not like she's under-aged."

"'Tash, she nine years younger than me."

"So?" Tony says. "Natasha and I are eight and half years apart."

"But she's twenty-seven, not eighteen!"

"Hey, don't talk about me like I'm not here."

By this point Clint just wants to hit his head on the table in exasperation but refrains. "I still feel like a fucking pedophile," he says.

Natasha shrugs. "Whatever, it's up to you."

He backs away from the island, remembering his original mission to get Advil and water but deciding now to say screw it. "I'll see you guys at a more decent hour," he says, mind flashing suddenly to the way Briony said lovebirds. And there is no way he wants to think of his teammates like that - or at least Natasha.

They both send him halfhearted goodnights as he leaves, but he doesn't pay attention, caring more about crashing in his bed and getting a relief from his headache and his thoughts.

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Reviews? : D And tell me if I just fucked up in terms of Briony's character. I'm a little paranoid. . Also, yeah, the Natasha/Tony thing is from a different story.