Drabble 80-FoleyFest Day 2: Unseen/Underappreciated

Cheers erupted around the room as Tucker watched the screen. Danny was there, and he was with Captain America and Hulk saving the world again. Tucker had been in their ears the entire time, telling them how to deactivate the ghost bomb (fuck you, Walker), and telling them the best plan to go with when they couldn't decide. And he didn't mind at all. He really didn't.

But maybe if he got as much recognition as they did then maybe his chest wouldn't feel like it's caving in on itself.

See, the problem with not being recognized, is that you think it'll last forever. Eventually you get used to people not saying thank you or just brushing past you like you're just another face in the crowd. But compared to Danny and the people he fights alongside with, Tucker might as well be just that. After all, what the hell kind of competition was he when compared to someone as bright as Iron Man or as iconic as Captain America?

He wasn't. Plain and simple.

The cheers around him turned into excited chatter, and yeah, he was glad that he was able to cause that, but it wasn't the same when he wasn't getting hugged or being the one on their shoulders. He sighed and looked away from the screen.

He just. He needed a laptop. Or his phone. Maybe finish tinkering with whatever the hell he had in his room at the Tower. Danny had gotten his floor, and Tucker had his own room decked out with technology and posters of his favorite bands. Maybe he could finally fix that mini-fridge in there. Anything to keep his mind occupied so it wouldn't reach out to his heart and tell him how he's really feeling. It was just so much easier to bury it than to deal with it. It didn't even matter, anyway. He knew he made a difference. That should have been enough. He's just overreacting.

He hadn't noticed that someone was following him until he made it to his room. His door had been stopped, making him turn around, slightly irritated. But when he saw who it was he couldn't help but be surprised. Standing there, leaning against the frame, was a recovering Clint. He used his crutch to help himself off of the door frame and hobbled in, stepping carefully over the clothes so he wouldn't trip and hurt himself further.

"Hey, kid," he said, stopping just a couple of feet away from Tucker. He didn't give the archer a reaction. Instead he just turned back around, straight for his computer chair. Clint didn't come closer. Whether it was from letting Tucker have his space or from just not wanting to trip over anything, Tucker didn't know, but a small part of him appreciated it. Clint was obviously here to help or something, so he would try not to be a dick.

"Hey, Clint," he replied, not meeting his eyes. He took his glasses off and obsessively scrubbed at them for a couple of moments before placing them back on his nose. Clint was watching him carefully.

The silence that stretched between them wasn't awkward, but tense. Tucker couldn't explain the feeling, or the feeling of wanting someone to talk to but at the same time wanting to tell Clint to just screw off. He chose the former.

"The world is saved again, and you're being a Negative Nellie," Clint stated after a few more moments of silence. Tucker looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. Clint continued. "Listen,: he said, "I'm not really big on emotions and shit, but do you wanna talk about what's bugging you?"

Tucker shrugged, looking down at his hands. Where was he supposed to start? Besides, it's not like it mattered anyway. He was just reading into it too much, just like he always did. People were safe, that's all that mattered. That should be enough. But for some reason it never was.

"It's stupid," he said. His lips were moving without his consent, but he couldn't bring himself to stop talking. "I just..." he hesitated, thinking about telling Clint to just forget about it, but he forced himself on. After all, he had always been one to finish what they started. "I'm just tired of being ignored, you know?"

Tucker looked up at Clint again, turquoise eyes pleading under his black frames. They shined with the kind of emotion Clint had only seen in people a handful of times. Complete desperation, mixed in with a little loneliness, even with the knowledge of everyone in the world having your back.

"Do you want to, er...Elaborate?" Clint asked. "Like, what do you mean?"

"I mean like Danny and Steve and you, you all get to be on TV and ride on everybody's shoulders. I do just as much work and I-I don't even get a thank you. It's stupid, I know. I know you guys are thankful. I know that it shouldn't even matter because the world gets to keep spinning for a little while longer." His voice was rising but he couldn't stop it, or the tears that were building up. "I just want a god damned thank you! It's-"

He was cut off by the sudden warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. Clint's strong arms squeezed him close to the archer's chest, and Tucker clutched onto his shirt, finally letting his tears fall. Clint was bad at emotions, but he sure as hell did have a nice shoulder to cry on. He rubbed comforting circles on Tucker's back as he sobbed, smearing tears and snot in the front of Clint's tank top.

"Kid, to be honest I don't think we could function without you," Clint told Tucker. "We appreciate you, bud. But we're shit at showing it, and for that I'm sorry. You're our guy in the chair, and you deserve just as much recognition as we do."

Tucker sniffled and looked up at Clint, who was smiling down on him. There wasn't a lie anywhere on his features. Tucker wiped his nose on the back of his hand and pulled away.

"You really mean that?" He asked. Clint nodded, giving him a light shove as he picked up his crutches.

"Yeah, Tuck. I really mean that. Now, are you gonna join your party or do you still want some time?"

Tucker chuckled slightly, nodding as he wiped the tears away and collected himself.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I'll come."