Clint could practically gag at the feeling of the cold needle sliding into his neck. He could feel the thick liquids be pushed into his bloodstream. Instead of making himself appear weak, he jerks against the bonds and grows at the man in front of him. Jacques. He managed to get his hands on Clint and was paying back for all the things he did in the circus.
A couple short minutes later Clint started feeling the effects. Jacques starts speaking. "All those times you spoke back to me. Each and every one of those moments I got mad at you for talking. I'll change that today. No you won't be able to speak, ahh but you will. No one will understand you though. A torture of the mind." Jacques says this sadistically. I have the cure, not that you'll get it. Jacques walks away laughing.
Thank god Clint can already hear the sound of his team in the other tent. Probably looking for him and failing. He wishes they hurry their asses up because he feels ready to pass out.
"Clint!" Steve and Tony run over and cut the ropes, trying to get him to the chair. "Què pasò…" ('what happened?' In Spanish) Tony, who's luckily fluent in Spanish understands this. "Why are you speaking in Spanish?" Tony asks while helping Clint up. He sways dangerously and feels light headed.
"Non lo so…ahh!" ('I don't know' in Italian) "what?" Tony says dumbfounded. He can understand Spanish, but he doesn't even know the language Clint is speaking. "What language are you even speaking? Talk in English."
Clint shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "He parle italien. Je ne peux pas parler anglais." ('I'm speaking Italian. I can't speak English.' In French.) Tony sighs.
Natasha runs in and the first thing she notices is the puncture mark on his neck. A detail both of her teammates missed. They inform her about the situation with Clint slowly getting frustrated with himself because no one understands him behind her.
"The drug might make him speak his second language. Because Clint can understand us, and he can understand himself. The thing is, Clint can speak multiple languages fluently." Natasha observes.
"Clint already spoke like three languages!" Steve says, surprised. Natasha smiles at his and Tony's visible confusion. "He has to be able to. He's a secret agent that travels around the world for missions, sometimes in disguise."
Steve nods understanding. He himself only knows English and some French from Peggy.
They lead Clint out of the room with him muttering quietly behind them. "What happens if you try to speak English?" Tony asks. I mean, it won't hurt would it? He's never been so wrong. The second Clint tried to say hi, a massive migraine erupted in his head and he collapses onto his knees gasping.
"Clint you good?" Natasha asks softly when the silence passes. ('Sim, me dê um segundo.' Yes, just give me a second' in Portuguese.) "Clint I have no idea what you just said." Natasha says bluntly. Clint chuckles.
…
Back at the tower Clint is getting his brain scanned by Bruce to see what happened. Bruce spends three days looking at the scanned images of Clint's brain, to notice that nothing changed. Nothing was messed with. Dozens of blood work jobs were done, but the drug had dissolved into his blood.
"Clint there's no sign that anything is or was wrong, but I want to test an experiment. You know how when you try to speak English your head starts hurting?" Clint nods.
I studied this in Europe once, you need to try to speak English for as long as you can, it's gonna be really painful, but eventually the pain will stop and you'll be able to speak English. It's gonna hurt though." Clint leans back on his heel for a second. Debating his decision.
"хорошо, я думаю, все будет не так уж плохо." (Okay, I guess it won't be that bad' in Russian,) Natasha snickers, knowing it's gonna be way worse than he thinks. Of course she knows Russian, Tony thinks to himself. At least, he thinks that Russian.
Clint steels himself. "Yma yn mynd dim." ('Here goes nothing.' In Welsh)
"The q-ahh." Clint shouts and falls to his knees again. Bruce starts to run over, so does Steve, when Clint continues. There's hints of accents all over the world in his voice but he manages it. "Quick brown f-fox…jumps ov-over…" Clint is clutching his head. His eyes are squeezed shut and there are loose tears leaking out of his eyes. "…the laz-aghhh!" Clint shouts again and pushes his hands further into his temple. They go flying to his ears suddenly and Bruce sees why. There's blood dripping down the side of his head.
Steve is shouting for Clint to stop. But Clint either doesn't hear him, which is most likely, or is ignoring him. Clint can feel his speech turning more into English. He knows he can't stop now. "Lazy…d…dog-g." The pain stops abruptly and he collapses to his side as a mess.
The blood in his ears is from internal bleeding. Thankfully, it stops immediately after Clint does. Clint's shaking and gasping. There are tear tracks down his cheeks. He sees Natasha above him and smiles. He's about to mess with everyone.
"не волнуйся. все работало нормально. помогите мне встать?" ('Don't worry. It worked fine. Help me up?' In Russian.) He says. His lips barely move with the words. Natasha smiles but the others get frustrated.
"Dammit." Tony mumbles. Running other possible solutions through his mind.
"Jus' kidding guys. It worked fine. Made m'tired though, and it hurt a little." Clint speaks up. He's standing now and Natasha and Bruce are examining him. He looked ready to fall asleep on his feet. His eyes are closing against his will, and each time it gets harder to open them back up.
Steve and Bruce both chuckle at the under exaggeration. Natasha is just used to it by now.
Tony whoops and cheers. "Finally! Thought I'd have to listen to you speaking other languages for the rest of my life. How the hell do you even know that many languages?" Tony asks. Genuinely wanting an answer.
Clint's practically asleep, and he's still standing. But because of this, he tells Tony without an issue.
"'m a secret agen' Tony. I need to know how to blend in. I've been doing this job since b'fore you worked at Stark Industries. I started this line of w'rk when I was fift'n." Clint mumbles the last part out. Getting quieter throughout the whole sentence. Natasha gapes at him. Even she didn't know this. Tony is left silent.
Clint's head falls onto Natasha's shoulder. She and Bruce drag him to the couch.
"Fifteen." She whispers to herself. "He never actually got a real childhood anyways, but to start missions at 15 is a whole new level." Everyone gathers around Clint. So his response is heard by everyone.
"I ac'tly killed a drug dealer at twelve. I was with Coulson an' he was attacked. I took th'glock from the table an' shot th'man in the chest." Clint finishes his sentence and mimics a gun with his hand. He pretends to shoot and then chuckles drunkingly before he passes out for real. Leaving the team to gape and pity him.
They were suddenly startlingly aware of how rough Clint's childhood must've been. They all thought Clint had it easy. But no, he worked to get where he is. He wasn't given it like Tony, Steve, or Thor. But he wasn't forced into it like Bruce and Natasha. He was the person on this team that worked to get here. He wants to be here and he is proud of where he's come from and he's proud of what he's come to.
Welp, here's the chapter. Thanks to Katie MacAlpine for reviewing!
Please review! I'm literally a sucker for them. Tell me what you think, follow the story, suggest some prompts, just enough to let me know that you're there!
Once again thanks to those who have been following the story, the next chapter hopefully coming tomorrow.