Notes:
Chapter title inspired by Break on Through by the Doors.
So, I had a bit of a lazy week last week and only posted one chapter. My goal this week is to make up for it by posting three, one for each story that wasn't updated last week. Lets see how I do.
Enjoy!
Everything Has Changed
Chapter 13: Break on Through
Clint stood in front of the hunting display at the general store. He knew he'd find a wider selection at somewhere like Cabela's, but it was riskier and farther away, and something told him that Mike was the person to talk to about anything weapon related.
"Lieutenant Francis," Mike greeted, leaning heavily on his cane as he ambled over to the display. "Something I can help you with?" The old soldier watched as the younger man ran a reverent hand across the glass case. A blacked out recurve sat mounted on the top shelf.
"I'm looking for a bow for Steve's girl," Clint clenched his fist and walked away from the case and crouched down to look at the bow mounted on the lower shelf a few cases down. "She thins maybe taking old Buck to do some bow hunting will clear his mind. Asked me to help out."
"You a big hunter, son?" Mike asked, watching as the other man stood from the case, an assessing look in his eye.
"Done a bit," he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm always liked a bow over a gun." Mike just nodded and watched. "I'm looking for something Darcy can handle, but'll give her something to work on, nothing too easy. Got any suggestions?"
The old soldier took a long breath, looking Clint over carefully before seeming to make a decision. "Son, I need to show you something." Clint folded his hands in front of him, pulling his attention from the Hoyt recurve that had caught his attention to begin with, and nodded. Mike led him around the counter and through an old battered door marked 'Employees Only.' Inside was an ancient office filled with mounds of papers piled high on an old metal desk, the walls were covered with bookshelves full of antique binders, the labels all long since fallen off. Up a short flight of stairs was a storage room filled with framed posters. "A long time ago," Mike shuffled through a rack of frames before finding what he was looking for. "My parents owned a fair ground outside of town." He worked the old frame out of its place and looked down at it, lost in the past for a moment. "We had all kinds come through, carnivals, rodeos, and circuses." He turned around the frame so Clint could see. The archer froze, looking at the old poster with its familiar careful lettering at the top. "They kept a lot of the old posters; it became something of a hobby for me when I got out of the service to frame them all. After you and Darcy came in yesterday, it sparked a memory. This one was one of my daughter's favorites when she was young."
The poster showed a fifteen year old Clint Standing on the back of a white horse, bareback, his naked feet gripping the animal's flank. He stood blindfolded, an arrow knocked, his bow drawn ready to fire. Under his likeness it said 'The Amazing Hawkeye,' in bold purple letters. Clint stood, his eyes glued to the poster, shock clearly written across his face.
"I don't know what reasons lead to your face showing up on wanted posters, but you did good work in New York a few years ago, and when Captain America showed up on the most wanted list, I knew something was very wrong," Mike let Clint continue to look at the old poster, the archer's hand hovering over the glass in much the same way he'd admired the recurve in the store. "You don't have to hide here, son." The old soldier laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I knew who you were the moment you walked in with little Darcy, bad dye job or not, and we've all seen that girl on the news these past weeks." Mike shook his head and straightened. "You tell the good Captain that your secrets are safe here, this town, we take care of our own, and you four are part of that now."
Clint ran his hand down his face and nodded. He stood slowly, helping Mike put the poster back in it's place. As they walked back to the front of the store, the archer clapped Mike on the back. "You know," he crouched back down in front of the case of bows. "I'm really digging the recurve," he stood and winked at Mike. "The pink one. I think it's just about Darcy's size."
Mike laughed. "Yeah, just about," he unlocked the case and pulled the bow out, handing it to the archer. "You're not teaching the Captain's girl how to hunt, are you?"
"Nope," Clint ran his hands along the bow, looking at it from all angles. "She's gonna need arm guards, too, don't got those in pink, do you?" Mike shook his head. "Gotta teach her to use as many different weapons as we can, never know when she'll need them."
"I see," Mike pulled down a few arm guards in Darcy's size.
"Plus, got nothing better to do," Clint handed Mike the bow. "My partner just ditched me at the farm, said an old man like me needed a vacation."
"Don't think pink's really Darcy's color," the clerk told him, putting the bow back in the case.
"No," Clint agreed, looking further down the glass case. "You're right, she likes glitter."
"I can pretty much guarantee that none of these come in a glitter finish," Mike shook his head and chuckled, certain that he didn't want to ask for an explanation. "But if you're teaching the girl to shoot for defense, I might suggest something a little less flashy." He opened a new case and pulled out a Sage Takedown Recurve. "Try this one; it's what my daughter favors."
"I knew I liked you, Mike," Clint smiled, running his hands over the bow. "Need arrows, too. Mine are too specialized."
"I'll just bet they are," the old soldier chucked, he pulled out a case for the weapon and showed Clint down to the selection of arrows they had in stock.
Natasha dropped the medical kit down on the lab table, letting the small case make more noise than was strictly necessary, pulling a the concentration of the doctor on the other side, deep in through. "Hope this is enough."
Dr. Bruce Banner looked up from his computer screen giving the Widow a wan smile, and opening the case. "Looks good," Bruce pulled one vial out of the container and deposited the rest in a small fridge below his desk. "Where's Barton?" he asked absently as he plated a slide and pushed it under his microscope, missing the bitter look that crossed Natasha's face.
"He stayed at the farm," her voice was clear with an icy edge slipping in. "I thought he needed a break."
"Clint needed a break, or you do?" Bruce pushed his rolling stool down to another piece of equipment. "We're all under a great deal of stress; it's got to be hard traveling with your lover, both of you putting yourselves in parole."
"He's old," Natasha dismissed with a wave of her hand, leaning back on the stainless steel lab bench. "He needed a few days down time. Nothing more."
"You know I talked to Steve, right?" he wrote notes down in his spidery scrawl. "He thought I should touch base with you."
"I don't need anyone sticking their nose in my personal life," her voice was smooth and silky, filled with ice. "I'll be outside if you need anything."
"Just think about this," Bruce looked up from his microscope, and looked the guarded woman directly in the eye. "Your team needs you, whatever personal issues you have with anyone of us, you need to put it aside and support your team. If you and Barton need to be separate, I'm sure that Steve can do something about that."
"I don't think Steve's going to give up time with his precious little girl, just to trapes around the world with me, because I didn't want to be with my partner for a while." The Widow pushed the door open and paused.
"You'd be surprised," the Doctor said, putting his eyes again on his instruments. "I'm pretty sure the Captain would do whatever was best from the team, regardless of his personal preferences."
"Yeah," Natasha put both hands on the door suddenly, momentarily feeling lost. "Including sending me away when he felt I was a liability."
"I think you're starting to get it, Nat," Bruce mumbled to himself as he watched the Widow stride down the hallway, past the windows of the lab. He picked up a burner phone and dialed the only number he had programed in.
Steve collapsed on the front steps, his breath coming in short bursts. He'd forgotten how easy he'd been taking it on himself, running with Darcy even if he couldn't bring himself to slow all the way down to her pace.
"What's the matter, old man," Bucky stretched on the grass in front of the porch, bending back and grunting.
"Who you calling old man, jerk?" Steve leaned forward, elbows to knees. "You're a year older than I am."
"And you're the one huffing and puffing," the soldier leaned forward and touched his toes, feeling the burn of his stretching muscles, letting out a low groan.
"Sounds like you two're having fun without me," Darcy leaned on the doorpost, the screen door still closed between them.
"Not as much as you'd think, doll," Bucky jogged up the steps and captured Steve's lips in a gentle kiss, tasting the sweat that dripped down his bow. Bucky smiled and winked at Darcy as they pulled apart. "You wanna come out here so we can have some real fun?" The captain's hand connected with his backside as Bucky passed.
"Don't know," Darcy but her lip, eyes wide and innocent. "You boys look like the sort that my momma said are up to no good. Maybe I should just stay in here." Bucky yanked the screen door open and pulled Darcy out onto the porch and into his sweaty embrace. "Eww, Buck," she squirmed in his arms, which only made him hold on harder. "Dude, I just showered, and you smell."
Steve chuckled as he watched Darcy twist and turn in Bucky's arms. "Might need to shower again, soon, little one," he stood and rubbed his sweaty face into the crook of her neck, causing the girl to squeal as he wrapped his arms around her waist under Bucky's embrace, wiggling his hands under her shirt.
"Eww eww eww, Clint," she called over Bucky's shoulder, spotting the archer striding around the house. "Save me from the swamp monsters."
"I don't know, darling," the archer dropped his purchases on the porch swing. "Seems to me you brought this trouble on yourself."
"Looks like no rescue's coming, baby," Bucky pulled Darcy out of Steve's arms and threw her over his shoulder, smacking her ass as she squirmed.
"I'll get you for this bird boy," Darcy pushed herself up, hands on either side of Bucky's hips so she could get a look at the archer as she was carried into the house. "You won't know when, but its coming."
Clint threw his hands in the air and turned to Steve. "What I do?" he asked, watching as the former Winter Soldier disappeared up the stairs with his girlfriend thrown over his shoulder.
"You didn't help," Steve shrugged and clapped the other man on the back, giving him a what can you do look.
"But," Clint gave up. "You not going to follow?"
"Nope," the Captain went over to the swing and looked over the archer's purchases. "Bucky wanted a little alone time with our girl, we're not always together." Clint just nodded. "Looks like a nice bow."
"I thought Darcy would like it," Hawkeye picked up the bow. "Guess I'll have to wait til later to show her."
"You should have helped," Steve picked up Clint's other bags and lead the archer into the house.
"Mike knows," Clint put the bow carefully on the table in its case, studiously ignoring the half panicked screaming going on upstairs. "He knows who we are."
"Do we need to worry?" the Captain stilled, looking around the farmhouse that had become his home, along with Bucky and Darcy.
"Nope," the Hawk told him, dropping onto one of the kitchen chairs. "He just wanted us to know." Steve nodded and relaxed. "You want a beer?"
"Its not even ten in the morning," Clint let his head rest against the back of the chair.
"Yeah," Steve chuckled as there was a sharp yelp and a thud from the master bedroom. "But they're probably going to be up there for a while."
"Yeah," the archer agreed. "A beer might be good."
Notes:
Please feed the muse, she needs a little fuel to get through this week.