Tony Stark's heart wasn't just radiant with blue light, it was also radiant with kindness. The kind of kindness that gave Bruce a private jet to take to India instead of being packed in coach between two noisy tourists. The second Bruce had climb aboard and barely sat down, he had fallen asleep. It would be fifteen hours to India, he needed fill up as much of it with sleep as he could. Who knew what he was going to be facing when they touched down, but he did know he couldn't be dealing with these little exhausted spells while trying to help. Hopefully it was just a little phase of some sort that his body was enduring. It wasn't like he could get sick, not anymore.
Around twelve hours into the flight, Bruce finally woke up. He stretched his cramped back as he looked around the cabin; velvet seats, plush red carpet, mahogany tables and an empty mini bar in the corner, all a true show of opulence. Bruce rubbed at his cheek, trying to coax the life back into it from where he had been smashed it against the table for so long. He blinked the heavy sleep out of his eyes as he faced forward, freezing the second his vision focused on what was across from him. The familiar face of Clint Barton dozing, head lolled to the side and arms crossed loosely over his chest. Bruce stared for a few seconds, hoping that his vision would clear and this would turn out to be a trick of the light or him just having finally caved into insanity. The plane shifted, turbulence shivering through the cabin, causing Clint to jerk awake, wild blue eyes darting around the cabin before landing on Bruce. They stared at each other for a few moments of tense silence, Bruce looking like someone woke him up just to inform him that his dog had gotten run over and Clint figured out to look terrified and annoyed at the same time.
"...Mornin'." Clint muttered, crossing his arms a little tighter across his chest, trying to manage a poker face but the anticipation boiling under his skin seeped through the thin mask.
"You're here." Bruce spoke, his tone a little tighter than he expected. Getting upset just after waking up wasn't healthy, especially for him. Either of them, really. "You-oh my God, you're here." He jerkily rested his elbow on the table, pressing his chin into the palm of one hand as the other curled tightly around his elbow. Bruce sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out his nose, eyes wide and daring the archer to say anything but an apology. Clint unfolded his arms, tucking his hands under his thighs with a soft cough before nodding.
"Yeah. 'M here." He coughed again, looking down at the table before glancing back up at Bruce, managing a half-smile. Bruce's face dropped into something of shock and disbelief, hand dropping away from his mouth.
"I-I-" Bruce stuttered over his words before dragging his palms down his face. "...Clint...I told you," He drew in a deep breath, tapping his finger on the table to accent his words. "To stay in New York-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, you told me to stay in New York," Clint bobbed his head like a rebellious teen. "but what are you going to do about it now, kick me out of the plane?" He arched a brow but his smart-ass smirk died a little when Bruce's face seemed to agree with the suggestion.
"Why are you here?" Bruce asked calmly, masking the fire crackling in his chest.
Clint watched watched him for a moment, pursing his lips before looking out of the small window. Only thing he could see were fields of thick clouds rolling in the sunset, made it seem like they weren't even traveling somewhere. They were just suspended in time, hanging out above the crowded cities and barren farmlands, taking a break from the chaotic life on the ground. Usually, it would have been the perfect escape; except for right now when he needed an escape from the person he was locked in with.
"Why are you here?" Bruce repeated, clasping his hands together. Clint started bouncing his leg, refusing to look away from his window. "Clint."
The agent folded his arms behind his head as he sunk lower in his seat, finally daring to look Bruce in the eye. The only thing exchanged between them was the sound of their steady breathing. That soon became a sort of competition, seeing who was obviously the calmest and most relaxed, least bothered with this situation. Clint stubbornly stating that he wasn't ever going to talk as Bruce conveyed with every measured breath that he had all day.
The ember glow of the sunset eventually burned away into cool darkness, and neither of them had broken their friendly staring game. Clint had rested his head on the table between them, showing Bruce that he wasn't intimidated in even the slightest form. He kept watching Bruce's face for any signs of growing irritation or a sure victory when he noticed that the scientist's eyes had a distant look in them. He wasn't paying attention to this-incredibly important-competition at all. Clint tested his theory, making his left eye twitch to see if it had any effect on Bruce. Nothing. Already bored, he continued, gradually making his faces more and more atrocious, taking some sort of humor out of Bruce's blank expression.
Clint scrunched up his nose, stuck his tongue out, and made his best double chin at the moment Bruce snapped back into reality. The agent froze as Bruce's eyes widened minutely. Clint remained motionless for a few more moments before wiggling his tongue slightly, snorting out a laugh when Bruce shut his eyes, unimpressed. For a second there, Clint thought he had upset the soil to their little friendship. Maybe he had, maybe the little sigh Bruce gave wasn't a thumbs up. But his brown eyes had lost that glint of viciousness to them, so that was a good sign. He'd just have to find out where they were standing.
"Are you going to tell me why you stowed away?" Bruce asked softly, gently massaging his temples with one hand as he slowly opened his eyes. Clint shook his head, shifting so he could put his feet on the table, stretching out like an old cat in a sunspot. Bruce gave them the same unimpressed look he gave Clint's temporary pass-time before pushing them off, wiping at the imaginary dirt on the table.
"What're ya gonna do if I tell you?" Clint yawned, attempting to squirm into a comfortable position.
"Well, there's not much I can do." Bruce admitted with a soft shrug. "But it would put a certain worry to rest if I knew that you weren't tagging along just to spy on me." He rested his chin in his palm, tapping his temple twice before giving Clint a sweet smile.
"This isn't field work." Clint answered flatly. "It's not a mission or an op or a..." He waved his hand airily. "Whatever you wanna call it."
"Then you should have no problem answering me." Bruce said, making Clint's jaw tense slightly. Bruce was usually good at reading people, well, good at reading common people. Clint was trained to hide his intentions and motions, but Bruce sensed that it was too well practiced to just be training. It was survival. There was no doubt Clint came from somewhere hard and rough, it was just too obvious.
"Never been to India." Clint muttered, starting to trace non-nonsensical patterns on the tabletop.
"Am I supposed to believe that?" Bruce arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest.
Clint shook his head. "Nah." He watched as his hand mindlessly looped and swirled for a while before he slapped the table, as if trying to beat the urge out of himself. "I'm looking for Natasha." He answered, taking Bruce's silence as a time to elaborate. "We lost verbal contact with her twenty hours ago, which isn't uncommon or nothin', but then her location signal turned on which," Clint laughed roughly, shaking his head. "Don't happen. Ever. Then...it just," He gestured aimlessly before looking up at Bruce. "Cut off."
Bruce of course, wasn't very moved. His features had shifted from normal, pleasant smiled, ever patient Bruce to something haggard and warning. It reminded Clint of when he was ten, peaking in the dancing bear's cage to look at the newborn cubs but only caught a glimpse of the wary mother instead. All he needed was a glimpse to know that he wasn't welcome there. "Do not lie to me, Clint." Bruce sounded out slowly, making Clint's sides clench.
"I'm not lying." The agent said firmly, lifting his head and straightening his shoulders. "I think I would have made up somethin' a little better."
Bruce's brow arched ever so slightly as he continued to stare down Clint, seeking any possible hint of trickery. The only approval the archer got was when he finally looked away, picking up his bag from the floor as the plane began descending.
"What?" Clint called over his shoulder, pushing his inner ear hearing aids into place. "Couldn't hear you, was switchin' ears." That and this place as so much busier than he had originally expected.
"I said I'm glad I caught this before the monsoon came." Bruce said a little louder as they walked out of the airport, Clint taking a deep breath of this new city. The thick smell of burning wood, exotic spices and marigolds mixed in with the typical smells of old rubber, car oil, gravel and cheap cigarettes that cities had. He shifted his backpack a little, hating that he had brought his tactical bag instead of a normal one. Something about the way it sat was pushing him deeper and deeper into a mission mindset. In a way, it was. He was looking for Natasha, and that was mission enough. Bruce motioned for him to keep up through the crowds as he moved towards a little stand where a guy was handing out tickets.
This was the first time Clint had ever seen him so dressed down. It seemed like Bruce had been born in a button down and dress pants, but here he was in a T-shirt and jeans like a normal person or something. He stood behind him, listening as Bruce said something in the native language that made the man behind the stand laugh. They chatted back and forth for a few minutes, surprising Clint with just how out-going he seemed. Bruce was usually quiet. Even in the little domestic setting of the Tower, someone had to approach him first for conversation. Obviously Tower dwelling Bruce and 'out in the world' Bruce were two completely different people.
Bruce took a ticket from the man, still smiling as he turned to Clint and nodded to his left before starting to cut through the crowd. Clint had a little trouble keeping up, seeing as Bruce was on the shorter side and his dark hair blended in with the mass of people swarming around them. The nearly obnoxious orange glow of the street lights mixed with the strobe of cars passing didn't help. The overwhelming sounds of people chatting and yelling to the base of motorbikes whizzing by with old cars rattling down the road only made him want to take his hearing aids out. Once Clint caught up to the amazingly swift scientist, he instinctively grabbed onto his shoulder, jumping a bit when Bruce slapped his own hand over his.
"Public displays of affection are a no-no." The physicist smiled over his shoulder at him before patting his hand and stepping out from under his grip. "The taxi is just up here." Bruce motioned up the street. "Also, no pointing, it's rude."
"Yeah, it's also kinda rude to look away from me when you're talking." Clint huffed softly, following him to the dark green taxi that was some model of car he'd never seen in his life.
"Sorry, very distracted." Bruce muttered back as he opened the door, climbing in first and giving the address to the driver who briefly turned around to look at him funny. Clint plopped down, resisting the urge to look behind him as the car began to move into the chaotic herd of other various unnameable cars.
With a slow breath, Clint gripped his own knees, watching as Bruce pulled out something resembling a Nokia phone. He held it out to him, the agent taking it after a second of hesitation. "What's this for?" Clint asked, turning it over a few times, eyeing the gauges and dials.
"Geiger counter. Sorta." Bruce answered simply, still searching for something in his messenger bag. "Don't turn it on yet."
"Sure thing..." Clint scoffed softly, not even sure how. SHIELD had taught him how to use these things, but not this version. Maybe SHIELD had a funding issue or something, giving the agents older equipment. Or this was something Tony had whipped up. Probably that.
"When we get to Panaji, keep it on you," Bruce slipped his glasses on as he took out a kazoo shaped thing, sliding the side back and forth a few times. Clint was a growing more and more interested in just how much might be hiding in that innocent brown bag. "And if you find a place that has a reading higher than four, press this and it will mark it on the map." He instructed, tossing it to Clint as he pulled out a few more things.
"'Map'?" Clint questioned, leaning over to eye the stash of unidentifiable tools and tech he had in his lap.
"Yes, map. Its all digital, I need it to show the Indian government so we know where to quarantine." Bruce explained, earning only a more confused look from Clint.
"Wait...you're going to face the government with this?" The agent asked, wondering if it wasn't such a great idea to catch a ride with Mr. Mad Scientist.
"Not my government, and I'm doing it low key." Bruce glanced over at him with a sharp smile before returning to his sorting and hunting.
Clint really had to start rethinking what he knew about Doctor Banner. He tried to make it a point not to assume with people, but for some reason, he was content in believing Bruce just did harmless science all day and sipped tea before going on long vacations. Bruce was just that disarming.