Prompts: Lies/Adrenaline Crash/Breathing Through the Pain
Clint/Bucky
AND NO HYDRA! I figured we needed a break from them!
Clint and Natasha were on a top-secret SHIELD mission in North Carolina. They had been sent to check out some modern-day pirates and report back to Fury. The two agents had finished their report, so Clint decided to go to the hotel bar. Nat didn't trust him to be alone. "You're just going to mope about missing Bucky, and when you mope, you drink, and when you drink, I have to rescue you. I've decided to skip the middle portion, save us both some trouble, and babysit your ass."
"Tash, I'm not going to mope," Clint whined, proving Nat's statement.
She smirked. "The moping's already started. You two have only been apart two weeks." Bucky was overseas on his own mission with Steve, tracking down a possible HYDRA base. Clint and Bucky had finally come to their senses and started dating a couple of months before their respective missions, so this was their first time apart. Natasha wondered if Steve was having to deal with Bucky's emotional diarrhea.
"Fine," Clint harrumphed. "You win."
"I always win, Barton. Now, let's go to the bar." Natasha walked to the door.
"Wait a sec! I didn't think I was allowed to drink." Clint pushed himself up from his seated position on the bed.
"You're not, but I never said I couldn't." She linked her arm with Clint's. "Come on, off to watch me drink." Clint shook his head as the two of them went downstairs.
Once they were situated at a table near the bar, Clint looked around and saw a dartboard. "If I can't drink, then I'll play games." He gulped his water (all Natasha would let him drink), stood, and marched to the group playing darts. After a while, Natasha decided she'd had enough of watching Clint fleece people of their money, so she waved to him and returned to their room.
Clint continued playing darts and then moved on to the pool tables. He won enough money from people to buy several rounds for the bar patrons. "It's been fun, but I've got to work in the morning." As he left, the remaining people in the bar raised their glasses in salute. Clint was humming the Cheers theme when he went to step into the elevator and was struck over the head. When he woke up, he was stripped down to only his boxer briefs and was tied to a steel chair.
"Tell us, Agent Barton. Tell us what we need to know, and we can end this now."
"You're going to end it one way or the other," Clint responded, "so why don't you just let me go, and we can call it a day." Clint's head snapped back after his interrogator struck him across the cheek with a pair of brass knuckles. Clint shook his head, trying to unscramble it and put his brain back in place.
The man leaned in and grabbed Clint's chin, ensuring Clint could focus on what he was saying. "Tell me now."
Clint spat in the man's face. "Forgot the question."
"Where is the Winter Soldier?" With his other hand, the man reached behind Clint, grabbed a wrist, and twisted it until Clint heard bones breaking. Clint sharply inhaled, trying to breathe through the pain. "There are 206 bones in the human body, so I've got plenty more to go. If you don't answer my question, you'll be nothing but a useless pile of flesh."
"I'd guess Siberia with the moniker Winter Soldier," Clint said, wondering what body part the bad guy would break next.
"Try again, Agent Barton." he didn't have to wait long. The man lifted his foot and stomped his steel-toed boot directly down onto Clint's foot, causing crunching sounds to rebound off the walls of the concrete building.
"Bahamas, maybe?" Clint groaned, his only proof he might be affected by the pain. However, Clint knew he could take much more pain. He knew broken bones would heal. At least this time, there's no fire involved; hence no skin grafts needed.
The man tossed Clint's head back, and it struck the back of the steel chair that was welded into the ground; then, he stood. "I'll let you think about your next answer, Agent Barton." He stormed out of the room, leaving Clint alone.
'First mistake,' he thought. 'Leaving me alone.' Since one wrist was already broken, it was easy for him to get that hand out of the ties as he worked his other hand free. Once he'd accomplished that, he reached down and, with his good hand, undid the ties from his feet. For a minute, he forgot he had a broken foot, immediately reminded of it when he stood and attempted to put weight on it. Looking around the room, he found his clothes piled on a cabinet. Clint dragged his broken foot behind him and limped over to the cabinet. He tore his shirt into shreds turning it into a sling for his hand. He put his pants on, then located his socks and shoes. Clint let out a slight groan as he worked his broken foot into a shoe. Getting free and then putting on his clothes used up most of his energy, but he knew he had to escape, so he took a deep breath to center himself, then scoured the place for anything to use as a weapon. Just as he finished searching, the man returned.
"Agent Barton!" The man shouted. Clint turned around, aimed, and threw paper clips fashioned into projectiles at his kidnapper. The paper clips flew true and struck each of the man's eyes. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground.
Clint waited a brief moment to make sure no one else showed up. When no one did, he slowly went to the exit and opened the door. It was still nighttime, so Clint hoped it was still the same night. He heard a noise and whipped his head to the left, then caught a glimpse of the streetlamp reflecting off something metal. "Bucky?"
"Hey, doll. Heard you might need some help." Bucky's arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the building, still wearing his mission getup.
"Nah, I'm fine." Clint tried to take a step, but what little adrenaline he had left his body. He collapsed to the ground and passed out.
Bucky hurried over and picked up Clint, carrying him bridal style to the waiting sedan. "Found him," Bucky said as he put Clint in the back seat, then climbed in and buckled him in. "Think we got there just in time."
"Good," Steve said.
"He would've been fine," Natasha said, who had entered the building while Bucky was tending to Clint. "He took care of the bad guy. He left him with paper clips in his eyes. Guy won't bother anyone again."
"Good." Bucky carded his fingers through Clint's hair since that was all he could do until they returned to the inn and the medical supplies.
"Did he whine a lot?" Natasha asked Steve.
"He never stopped. Everything was Clint this and Clint that."
"Shut it, punk."
"Not gonna happen, jerk." Steve shot back.
Bucky didn't care. Clint was the first person in over 70 years who'd shown him any kindness (other than Stevie, of course), and he vowed to spend as much time as he could repaying him.
