Hai guiseeee. Well, I'm just in the mood to update.
I dunno how long these chapters are, it seems that they just keep getting longer and longer.
I like em loooonnngggg ;)))) Jkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjk.
Lolol. Anyways. A warning. Description of rape and self harm. If you don't like that. Please. GET AWAY NOW.

Lots of Love,
Courtney :)

*Clint's POV*

I watched silently as Tony walked out of Steve's room and the others snickered to themselves. Steve was soon to follow, avoiding eye contact with everyone, even me. I looked at him, hoping to catch his eye. I didn't. He just walked into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. I got up and walked over to him. I could feel Tony's and Natasha's eyes on me as I padded into the kitchen.

"Erm, Steve?" I questioned softly, my stomach fluttering. His head snapped up and he gave me a sad smile.

"Yes?" I got a glass down for myself, but instead I went to the refrigerator to get some apple juice. I like apple juice. But. Anyways.

"I was wondering, could-could you still show me my room?" I said, grinning at him. It got a smile out of him.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." He grabbed his glass and I grabbed mine, and I followed him down the hall to the room he said was mine. He opened the door and let me go in first. He's so polite, better than all the pigs who've been hitting me all damn day. I waited until he was in my room, and I shut the door behind him.

"So, this is it?" I said, walking around and looking around the room. The queen size bed was to the left of the door, crisp white sheets and dark purple bedding covering it. There was a touch lamp on the dark wooden nightstand next to it, two drawers in it. Across from the bed was a dresser of the same make as the nightstand. I pulled open the drawers and I found all my clothes in it. Towards the back of the room was a closet, full of more of my clothes. There was another door next to the closet, and I opened it to see my own bathroom. There was a toilet, and sink, and mirror, and a shower. I could see my favourite shampoos and soaps in there. This place was...awesome. There was a door across from that, next to the dresser. I pointed at it. "What's this to?" I asked Steve, who was watching me intently. He looked so good in those basketball shorts. Wait, Clint, what are you saying? Think about girls, boobs, that's what you like, not guys, not dick. Especially not Steve's, even though you can cleary see the outline in his shorts...Oh God, Clint, STOP, I thought.

"Clint?" I snapped out of it.

"What?"

"You kinda zoned out..."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. That door though. It goes to my room. We have conjoined rooms, I hope that's alright..." he trailed off, looking down. He was sitting on my bed, his blonde hair parted perfectly. I shuffled closer to him, sitting next to him. I rested my hand on his and he blushed. Clint, stop! A voice in the back of my mind said. I pushed it aside and went with my instinct.

"It's more than alright," I said, smiling and rubbing his hand with my thumb. He smiled back.

"How do you like it here, so far?"

"It's pretty good. I want to kill Stark though."

"Join the club." We laughed and our eyes met.

"Tell me a secret, Steve," I whispered. He broke the gaze and and lowered his eyes.

"Promise you won't get mad?" He murmured, looking at me again.

"Of course."

"I'm..homosexual," he said, ashamed. I smiled. So he is gay, I thought to myself. But...I'm not, of course.

"That's okay. I have no problem with it," I said, smiling reassuringly. He instantly smiled, all fear of me shunning him gone.

"Okay. Now you tell me a secret." I dropped my hand from on top of his and tensed up.

"D-Do I have to?"

"Yes."

*Steve's POV*

"But.." I touched his face gently.

"Please?"

"Well...what kind of secret? I-I have alot..."

"I could tell. What about you childhood?" He instantly froze.

"No. Anything but that."

"Clint-"

"NO NO NO NO NO I DON'T WANT YOU TO TOUCH ME!" He yelled, shaking and backing away from me. He fell on the floor and scooted away. What happened in the pool room was happening again. I'm just glad the rooms are soundproof.

"Clint, it's okay, it's me, Steve. Tell me who you don't want touching you." He got a distant look in his eyes and starting rocking back and forth, his knees to his chest and his arms around his legs. I crawled over to him and rubbed his back gently. "Tell me, Clint, it'll be okay." He started to cry and I knew he was going to tell me soon.

"I was seven. It was a year after my dad died, this guy my mom used to date had been back into her life, his name was Gus. On the day that was supposed to be my mom and dad's ninth anniversary they got married. I hated him. He used to get drunk all the time and hit me. And it got worse when they got married, he moved in with us. I would wake up in the middle of the night and he'd be in my room, he wouldn't have a shirt on. His belt would be unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned.

"He'd wake me up, and he'd tell me to do these things I had no idea what they were. He told me to touch him. He told me not to make a sound while he touched me, or he'd hurt me. He'd make me put it in my mouth, I was seven, I was terrified. I had no idea what I did wrong. If I gagged or choked or threw up, he'd hit me. Sometimes he purposely made me puke, just to have the satisfaction. He did this until I ran away. He'd torture me. He'd make me swallow it, he'd hurt me so bad.

"My mother didn't believe it; she didn't believe any of it. She thought I was making it up because she remarried him and he wasn't my dad. I was fucking seven, and he was molesting me. He used me. He...he forced me to do things a seven year old boy should never do. Then when I turned nine, he raped me. He made me get on my hands and knees and he gagged me. He raped me. It hurt. it tore me apart. He made me bleed.

"He'd throw me down the stairs when he got mad, he'd beat my with this stick he had. If I showed it hurt, he'd do it more. I became numb. I was a numb, cold nine year old. My only escape was archery. After school everyday I'd run to the forest behind my house and shoot these targets I had set up. Each day my goal was to get closer and closer to the center. And each day I achieved that goal. For my real dad.

"When I turned ten, I found a new escape. I took my arrow one day and poked my finger with it, to see how sharp it was. It drew blood, and the pain was excruciating, but it helped. I put the tip to my wrist and drug it across, over and over and over and over and over again. It bled so much, it hurt so bad, but it made the pain from Gus go away. He always told me I was nothing and he was punishing me for being such a bad boy. I never knew what I did, I still don't know. I was ten years old and cutting myself because I thought that was the only thing to do. I thought no one cared. No one at school asked me why I walked funny, or why I had a black eye, or why my cheek was bruised, or why my wrist looked like it was attacked by a bobcat.

"No one cared. No one did then, no one does now. The best part about Gus? He was the one that killed my dad. He never got over my mom, and wanted to do anything to be with her. He murdered my dad. And one night when he was raping me, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You know what pretty boy? I'm gonna do the same to you that I did to your father one of these days. I'll kill you. It'll just be me and your mom, we'll start over, the life she was meant to have. You're nothing but a fuckup." He finished and threw me against the wall and made my nose bleed. I lived in constant fear.

"The day I ran away, it was 5:00 in the morning, and Gus was passed out drunk on the couch. I drew my arrow and shot him in the chest. I was sixteen. I pulled the bow out of his chest, cleaned it, and whispered, "That's for my father, you insane fuck of a monster." I left a note for my mother and ran. I lived in the forest for a year until the CIA found me."

I held him as he continued to rock back and forth and sob. I let his tears soak my shirt and I heard a knock at the door.

"Mr. Rogers, Ms. Romanoff is at the door, shall I let her in?"

"No, Jarvis. Tell her we're busy."

"Of course sir." He clung to me like it was the end of the world. No wonder about his wrists. I felt tears well up in my eyes.

"Please, don't let him hurt me, please."

"I won't, Clint, I promise."