"I'll just… keep an eye on things," Natasha volunteered, and Tony had to feel a little grateful as he watched her head over to the elevator.
Winner had continued eating through Duo's explanation, which, as far as Tony was concerned, confirmed that he already knew it. He finished the last bite, looked at Tony, and said, "It's very good. You shouldn't let it go to waste." Then he got up and walked around the bar. Bruce and Maximoff jumped up to assist.
"You shouldn't be cleaning up," Bruce said.
"You are a guest," Maximoff added.
"I'm used to it," Winner said. "I really am a disaster in the kitchen. When Trowa cooks, I usually clean."
"What Duo said, that Keres thing," Tony asked. Winner's eyes flicked up to him. "What was that?"
"Keres?" Bruce asked. "Like the Greek death goddesses?"
"Exactly so," Winner replied, looking pleased. "It's an L2 thing, particularly prevalent in the poorest areas." He took the pans over to Bruce and Maximoff stationed at the sink.
"What is?"
"L2 has a pervasive belief in Death as the only god worthy of the name. The only true constant in life."
"That seems a cruel god," Steve said, voice soft.
Winner pulled a plate off the counter and set it with such care it barely clicked. "L2 can be a cruel place," he said. "Anyway." He reached up and Cap handed him both his plate and Barnes's. "It's less a religion than a set of superstitions. Death has two faces, and servants for each face. Reapers for peaceful death. Keres for violent death."
"No honorable death?" Vision asked, curious. "Many mythologies extoll virtuous deaths—the Norse for example."
"L2 doesn't have any such concept that I'm aware of," Winner said.
"And what Duo said—Keres take them all?" Tony asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Winner set the stack of plates he'd gathered at Maximoff's elbow and thought for a moment before continuing. "I'm only explaining because Duo won't. To him, to speak of Death or its servants is to invite their attention."
"Speak of the devil?" Tony quipped.
"Basically, as I understand it. Duo takes the superstition quite seriously. But invoking Keres, actively wishing a violent death on someone… that isn't a thing done lightly." He paused and put his hands on the counter, looking past them all and out the window. "I'm not sure I've ever heard him say it before, to be honest."
"It's hard to wish better for people who would bomb a church full of kids," Clint admitted, voice rough.
"There's one thing Duo didn't tell you," Winner said. "About the kids." He took a deep breath, then met Tony's eyes, hard and unyielding. "Duo was the oldest child at the church at the time."
Tony had no response for that, and he couldn't be happy that everyone on his team looked stricken at the knowledge.
"You need to stop digging," Winner said, soft but it was a command. "The Maxwell Church Massacre is an old pain. If you keep digging, you will find fresher wounds, and if you hope to have any part of him, he needs to share those with you. He doesn't love you yet, Mr. Stark. Do not give him a reason to believe you are a threat. Duo Maxwell is not an enemy you want."
"What, like the Alliance?" Tony couldn't resist the taunt.
Winner merely raised his eyebrows as if Tony had demonstrated his point. "Before being facetious, I would consider exactly which side of that war your son was on and who survived it."
"Just so we're clear," Barton's level voice floated up to Natasha. "If you pull your stitches, I'm letting Quatre sew them back up."
"Is that bad?" Barnes asked. Natasha made herself comfortable on the catwalk above the gym, so she had a good view but wasn't in the way. All three men glanced up at her, and she waved at them, flashing her best grin.
"Let's just say that Tro's the domesticated one of the pair."
"I'm domesticated?" Barton asked, and though his tone was even, something seemed taunting.
"Fuck you."
"Happily," Barton retorted without missing a beat, that same even, nearly emotionless voice.
It startled a chuckle out of Maxwell. "It's been too long if I've forgotten what a covert letch you can be," he said.
"You two done?" Barnes asked.
"That would be disappointing," Barton said, and the deadpan got a soft chuckle from Natasha.
"You really shouldn't encourage him," Maxwell said, looking up at Natasha, but he was grinning, Barton's teasing shaking some of the dark mood.
"Something tells me you're terrible together," she replied, willing to play along.
"It's not nearly as much fun anymore," Barton admitted. "Quatre isn't as easily flustered as he used to be."
"Bet Wuffers is still, though."
"No bet. I don't know how Sally hasn't broken him yet. She's at least as bad as we are."
While they bantered, Maxwell had been stretching, taking care with his side, testing the limits. His flexibility despite the wound was still impressive. "Worse. She's a woman."
"What's wrong with her being a woman?" Natasha wondered.
"Nothing, exactly. It's just…" Maxwell looked at Barton for the words.
"Wufei used to be a raging misogynist. Sally, among others, rather rudely disabused him of that opinion. But he's still very…"
"Straight-laced?" Maxwell suggested.
Barton tilted his head as if accepting it. "I was going to say prudish, but that works. He's from L5, so women had very specific places, love and pleasure had little to do with sex, and God forbid anyone actually talk about what was done behind closed doors."
"Yet he's friends with us," Maxwell quipped as if it were mystifying.
"Dorothy and I have a running bet on a masochistic streak."
That pulled Maxwell up short, and he looked thoughtful. "Usual stakes on a humiliation kink?"
"This is one of your friends?" Barnes asked, but he looked more bemused than irritated.
"Oh please," Maxwell rolled his eyes, then bent over backward and did an easy walkover, then lifted his shirt to check the gauze on his side. While it was a little discolored from discharge, there didn't appear to be any blood. Natasha was honestly surprised that it didn't tear the stitches open. "If you tell me you didn't yank Rogers' chain, I call bullshit. Wu's just easy to pick on, and almost no one else will. It's good for him, really."
"No one will?" Natasha asked.
"He's got the whole 'look down your nose at the world' thing going for him."
"And he's a master in at least six different martial arts forms," Barton added, leaning lazily against a weight machine and crossing his arms.
"Yeah, there's that too. Most people aren't willing to poke the dragon, and nothing about him would indicate he actually knows what a sense of humor is, much less that he has one."
"He must if he willingly puts up with you chuckleheads," she said.
"Ooo, Tro, that was a burn, wasn't it? Or an attempt at one?"
"I give it a four."
"Yeah, kinda cute, wasn't it?"
The whip-quick wit definitely brought Tony to mind, though Maxwell's quips were far less barbed than Tony's usually were.
"We gonna do this or not?" Barnes asked.
"Oh, we're gonna do this, big guy."
"I'm not big, you're a runt."
Maxwell gave him a blatant once-over. "Sure, Terminator." Then he was moving. He was fast—at least as fast as Natasha herself, maybe faster. She could tell that Barnes was putting effort into staying ahead of him, which was unexpected. She was so intent on watching the men below her, she almost didn't notice Barton before he settled on the railing above her. She spared him no more than a glance because even hindered—and Duo obviously was—he was much better than she anticipated, and she was getting a little worried about him triggering some of Barnes's reflexes.
"It should be fine. He's in control," Barton said, voice low enough not to carry.
"Barnes or Maxwell?"
"I meant Duo, but Barnes seems fine."
She risked a glance up. "You were winding him down."
"It would have been bad for Duo to spar in that headspace," Barton confirmed.
Something in his voice made her really look at him. "You really think he could have hurt Barnes. You know he's a literal supersoldier, right?"
Barton didn't take his eyes from the pair, as he said, "If you've been fighting opponents bigger and stronger and more skilled than you your whole life, is it really that different than fighting a supersoldier?"
She turned her attention back to Maxwell and Barnes, watching them move. "He's sparred with supersoldiers before," Natasha countered. It was a skill, sparring with someone who was fundamentally stronger. Maxwell had it. He understood how his speed balanced against superior size, weight, and strength, knew how to use leverage to his advantage.
"He used to spar with Wufei regularly."
Maybe. She could see influences of different martial arts as if he had cherry-picked the parts best suited to his own frame and style. That speed might give him a fighting chance with the best martial artists, but the way he knew how to use Barnes's strength against him—that was a different skill altogether, and one could only be won from fighting with not just better opponents, but innately superior opponents. "You don't get that good at fighting people who are that strong without practice," she said.
She felt Barton's gaze, but as the sparring was intensifying, she didn't dare take her eyes away. "When do you think Duo has ever had a chance to spar with someone in weight class?" Barton asked.
Barnes slammed Maxwell to the mat, getting a yelp. Barnes stood and held out a hand. Maxwell glared but took it, and allowed Barnes to pull him to his feet. "Again," he demanded.
"Were you surprised?" Natasha asked. Green eyes slid over and an eyebrow raised. "About Maxwell and Reyes?"
"Not especially."
"It didn't surprise you that your friend got involved with a murdering psychopath?" Natasha pressed, because it certainly bothered Tony, and she was pretty sure it would bother most normal people.
His eyes flicked to her again before returning to Maxwell and Barnes. "Not especially."
The neutral answer would have been more irritating if she hadn't seen him bantering with Maxwell before. She was pretty sure he was pulling her chain. Though even if he were, the response was informative. She didn't think either of them had read Maxwell the riot act over what he'd done. But what did it say about Maxwell that his getting involved—even for an assignment—with someone like Reyes didn't really raise eyebrows?
As if he could feel the direction her thoughts were taking, Barton somehow gave the impression of sighing without actually doing so, and said, "Duo has a saying."
This time she raised her eyebrow.
"Few people are all one thing."
"Not much of a saying. People are complicated."
Barton shook his head. "He means it more globally. Few people are simply good or evil, black or white. Most of us are shades of gray. Your average person trying to live a generally good life tends to view criminals as all bad. They have difficulty separating the actions, regardless of their motivations, from the person."
"Like the kid who starts dealing to support his family?" she asked, curious as to how he'd react to it.
He gave her a look that made her think he wanted to roll his eyes, so he didn't appreciate her going for the cliché. "More like how the murdering psychopath loves his mom. Average people struggle with that. That the bad guys are still people—most of them. Outliers exist, but they are outliers."
She thought about it for a minute, then thought about what she'd seen from Maxwell, limited though the exposure was, and it made sense. It explained his oddly easy acceptance of Barnes, for one. It probably also made him a frighteningly good undercover agent.
"He did still kill three Hydra agents," she pointed out as Barnes took Maxwell to the mat again. Maxwell was up faster this time, not looking at all deterred.
"He did."
"How does he reconcile that? I would think that kind of empathy would be detrimental."
"If you want Duo's philosophy on the use of lethal force, you should ask Duo."
"Would he tell me if I asked?"
"Maybe."
"But you know."
"It's not my place to tell. You asked if I was surprised Duo got involved with someone like Reyes. The answer is no. Because you asked why, I told you about Duo's ability to see the man in the monster."
"Does it surprise you that someone like Reyes would be drawn to Maxwell?"
Barton actually snorted. "No."
"Why?"
Barton looked at her, then the hairs on her arm raised, and he very pointedly looked back down. Natasha followed his gaze. Maxwell had managed to pin Barnes, and judging by the way he tapped the captive throat, if he'd had a knife and the inclination, Barnes would be dead.
"One for me," he said, and there was a laugh in his voice as he got up, letting Barnes go. Next to her, Barton started breathing again. She hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Three to one," Barnes said, his body language more ready, the look in his eyes regarding Maxwell as a legitimate opponent. She really hoped Tony wasn't watching this somewhere else.
Maxwell bounced on the balls of his feet and swung his arms, stretching his shoulders. "Up for seeing if we can even that up a little better?"
"If you're okay with kissing the mat some more."
"Fighting words there, tin man."
"Says the flying monkey."
Maxwell grinned, then glanced up at Barton. "Tro, can we keep him?"
"People aren't pets."
"That is rich coming from you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Judging from the banked amusement in Barton's eyes, he knew exactly what Maxwell was talking about.
Maxwell narrowed his eyes, but his lips twitched with a suppressed grin. "Clown."
"Thief."
Natasha saw the moment that Barnes started to relax, and Maxwell must have been watching for it because he moved and nearly got a punch through Barnes's guard. When he backed away again, he was grinning.
"You're good," he said, and Natasha knew that look. It was the same look Tony got when someone had drawn a line in the sand or told him something was impossible and he couldn't wait to prove them wrong.
"I put you on your ass three times, and now you admit I'm good?" Barnes asked, a little disbelieving.
Maxwell shifted his stance, and the hair began to raise on Natasha's arms again.
"Duo," Barton's voice cut through the room like a whip. The hair-raising feel was gone as fast as it had come, and Maxwell looked up at him, a little annoyed. "Stitches," he reminded, but something in his posture or the blankness of his face made Maxwell pull up short.
He straightened, all obvious readiness dropping from him like a coat, and sighed. "We've been down here, for what, half an hour?"
"Stitches," was Barton's only response, and the reminder made Natasha realize that since Maxwell had pinned Barnes, he hadn't moved as if he were injured at all.
The adrenaline must have been wearing off because Maxwell lifted the edge of his shirt, and when he saw some blood on the bandage, he hissed. Funny how it always hurt worse once you'd seen it.
"Right," he grumbled.
Barton jumped off the railing and landed easily on the mat ten feet below. Natasha followed, though she rolled before popping up.
"I meant it about Quatre resewing these," Barton warned.
"Oh, fuck," he complained. He was holding his side, hair a mess, a little sweaty, but he seemed… centered. "Can I just do it and you say Quat did?"
"Take your punishment like a man, Maxwell."
Maxwell laughed, then held his side. "Oh, fuck, don't make me laugh."
"I could also tell Sally you were sparring the day after you got shot."
"You do, and I'll tell her you let me."
"How about I sew him back up and we don't tell Tony?" Natasha suggested. "No offense, but if he finds out you busted stitches while sparring with Barnes, he might lose his mind a little."
"Why?" Maxwell looked genuinely perplexed. Natasha raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and Maxwell got there. "The whole killed his parents thing?" he asked as if it were unimportant. But then, considering what little she knew about his past, she could see why he was so detached from the idea that Howard and Maria had in any way belonged to him.
"Yes," Natasha replied shortly. "Barnes being around you makes Tony nervous—No offense," she added to Barnes.
Barnes ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. "None taken."
"So if you could avoid further injuring yourself or ever sparring with Barnes while Tony's around, that'd be great."
He rolled his eyes, unimpressed, but he didn't argue, so she'd take it as a win.
"You should let Quatre stitch him up," Barton told Natasha.
"Another time? When he does something else stupid to pull them that doesn't include Barnes."
"Hey! I resemble that remark! Why do you assume I'm going to pull them again?"
"Because you will," Natasha said in perfect unison with Barton. Their eyes met, and she saw amusement and affection dancing in forest green eyes.
"No faith in me at all."
"None," Barton agreed, looking away, but his eyes, when they landed on Maxwell were still warm. "I know you too well."
"Fuck you."
"Are you sure that isn't an invitation?"
Maxwell laughed again, then groaned. "Stop making me laugh."
"Let's get that side looked at. We've got a good first aid kit in here," Natasha said, leading the way.
"Buncha fucking sadists," Maxwell muttered.
"You keep putting yourself in our power. What does that say about you?" Barton asked, still in that deceptively even voice, and Natasha was glad she wasn't facing them because it would ruin her reputation if she started giggling.
.o0o.o0o.
AN: Please note that FFN has been glitching pretty badly recently. If you are unable to access on FFN, Stand is also posted on AO3, come see me there. Also, check out my Tumblr for some STUNNING art from pkoceres of Duo and Jesus, showing off some of Duo's tattoos. Stand updates every other week on Fridays. :)