Warning: mentions of suicide are in this chapter, if you feel uncomfortable reading it, skip the second italicized part. Also, again, this is an AU, i will be taking some creative liberties with Clint's backstory again!
Clint and the Doldrums
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Clint thought the next two days were going to be dull and he was OK with that. He could use some dull, uneventful days in his life. He could kick back, watch some ice hockey games, get some quality alone time…it would be great.
But, instead, he just stewed.
No Thor using his football coach voice inside and threatening crabs. No Nat, the person he was actually closest with, to make sarcastic and snarky comments to. No Rin running absolutely everywhere, driving Jaken crazy, and giving everyone smiles and ice cream. No sphinx-like, tricky, obscure, and downright bizarre God of Mischief plaguing his existence with verbal games and thirsty side glances.
Clint, thinking of Loki, was thrown back to their conversation at the bar two nights ago, before they all left for Asgard.
Tony, ostentatiously, bought out the bar out for the night. Clint at first only thought he did so Fancy Pants wouldn't absolutely die of acute social anxiety, or maim a drunken idiot. But Clint then had a feeling he also did it so Loki could stay looking like Loki, not having to hide.
And maybe also to just show off his billionaire status. It did get under Steve's skin.
One of the first things he did when he got to the bar, since Fancy Pants was avoiding and ignoring both Tony and Loki, was ask him to play darts. The 'I don't play games because I'm big, bad, better than you Demon Lord' actually eyed the dartboard. Clint knew he had him hooked.
But, then of course Tony got his attention by literally coming in between them, handing Sesshomaru a Singapore Sling he had mixed 'special' for him.
To Clint's mild surprise Sesshomaru studied the cherry flavored cocktail and after about ten seconds even chanced a sip. Clint sniggered to himself that the Demon was still as paranoid as ever. Paranoid over what he wasn't quite sure.
Clint was like, ninety percent sure Tony wasn't trying to take advantage of a drunk Demon Lord and pry out any information out of him. Could Demons even get drunk? He had a hard time picturing Fancy Pants anyway but perfectly composed.
Clint had a fishy feeling that something had happened between Tony, Loki, and Fancy Pants because Tony was trying extra hard to get him in one-on-one conversations. Loki was just eyeing them from afar, probably scheming something in the same leagues of Voldemort. Clint was relieved for once it didn't involve him.
Clint decided to let Tony do his thing, except not. He picked up a dart and threw it between Fancy Pants and Tony hitting the center of the bullseye.
Challenge presented.
Fancy Pants picked up a dart quicker than a snake strike and threw it, hitting the same place on the bullseye, just angled differently. Sesshomaru's eyes never left Tony's, and Clint was pretty sure that was intentional.
Challenge accepted.
Oh yeah, this was going to be a good game. Clint picked up another dart and on cue immediately felt a pair of eyes burn through the nape of his neck like the arctic sun. Well, that had to be Loki.
'What a brat. Didn't he torment me enough at dinner? Does he really want a round two? Well, I suppose he is going back to Asgard, the place where his family sat back and let him get tortured for a few years. He can't be but so excited about that. In fact, he is probably a simmering stress case. Maybe I shoul—' Clint's thoughts were cut off by Steve and Bruce approaching, curious.
"Hey you two show offs should let some people with non-freak show projectile skills have a shot." Tony coughed, and Clint finally put two and two together. If Fancy Pants really had his hair in a knot over Tony, then if they didn't make nice now the next two days were going to be utterly irritating. Damnit Tony Stark had ruin his fun.
"Yeah, knock yourselves out. Gotta save myself something to do for the next couple of days." Clint went up to the dartboard and removed the two expertly placed darts. Clint inspected their impeccable placement.
Yup, Fancy Pants and he would definitely have to face off at some point.
He placed the darts in Steve's hand who gave Tony a 'how did I get involved?!' look. Psychically, Bruce took one from Steve, probably picking up on the tense attitude coming from Tony and Fancy Pants.
Clint grabbed his drink and had made his way over to Loki before he even realized he made the conscious decision to do so.
"So, how you feeling about going back home? You know there are some pretty good fugitive movies you could watch to give you some tactical advantages." Clint swirled his whiskey ginger with his stirrer. He didn't drink liquor a lot, but when he did he liked to keep it simple, and just a touch sweet. Loki, seated next to him at the bar, with a dry gin martini, turned to him, eyes unfocused.
Of course he and Fancy Pants drank the same liquor, gin.
"It matters not how I feel, Clint. It simply must be done, and I am the only one who can do it." Loki took a small sip of his martini and Clint rolled his eyes.
"Oh yeah, here I thought I could have a conversation with you that wasn't as dramatic as a soap opera. Level with me." Clint straightened up, mirroring a gulp of his highball. Loki turned to him, eyebrows raised.
"Well then." Loki turned and abruptly stood, and for a shocked moment Clint thought Loki would leave. "Allow me to level with you in a different manner. I suspect you must be at least someone decent at pool billiards." Loki took the toothpick from his martini and with perfect teeth plucked an olive from it. Clint rolled his eyes at the intimidation tactic. While he wasn't as good at pool as darts his older brother had taught him well.
"…you want to play me in 8 ball? Well, it's a smarter choice than darts I can tell you." Clint pointed his thumb to Steve and Bruce playing, grabbing his drink and standing.
Clint realizing, though he stood tall, Loki stood just an inch or two taller. He really should have noticed that when sparring, but he noticed it now when they stood facing each other not trying to knock each other's block off.
"Oh, I know my limits and to not challenge you to that particular contest of skill. Yes, let us have a contest of 8 ball. We may even play in teams if you wish, you may pick your partner." Loki looked positively stoked. Clint wondered when the last time Loki played a game was, well a game that wasn't a scheme, or some sort of fight. Loki conjured pool balls in the air, spinning like planets around the cue ball like in a solar system.
'Yeah sure, play the magical God in pool. Sounds like a fair fight.' Clint scanned the bar. Sesshomaru now stood at the end of the bar completely cornered by an unexpectedly sober Tony playing bartender, asking him all about god knows what.
Poor guy.
Fancy Pants and Tony were out, he doubted Sesshomaru's talons would be good for the pool table anyway. Bruce and Steve were already playing darts, poorly. He didn't have the heart to tell them they were doing it all wrong. That left Nat and Thor who were discussing the mission to Asgard tomorrow.
Clint then knew Loki meant to trap him into choosing one of the two.
But which one should he choose? Was this one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't puzzles? Clint took another sip of his drink. There was only one clear option.
"Hey Thor, wanna be my partner in 8 ball?! Loki said he wants to challenge you!" Clint could hear the steam of anger rise from Loki's ears, Clint turned to him, wagging his head to side to side smiling from ear to ear. Clint didn't know what he did to make him so mad, but it totally jazzed him.
"Hark! Brother! A friendly Midgardian sport will be most marvelous. I must confess I have never competed in this sport before Hawk's eye but I have been known to be a most swift learner!" Clint's expression fell. Of course Thor would have no clue what billiards is. Oh well, it was worth it to see Loki go bananas.
"I call Glow Stick. Team 'Spy-Voltage' is going down." Nat stood, not even waiting for Loki to say anything. Clint turned to Loki, who, now looked more intrigued and less fussy. Such a bizarre guy, err God.
"Oh Nat, don't tell me you're now doing Tony's bad puns. Besides if we are doing team names, then we are team…" Clint tried to think of something with wings and badass, then remembered that back in the Quinjet they did compare Fancy Pants and Loki to Harry Potter characters. "…Team Griffindor. And we're going to top shelf the both of you. Right Thor?" Clint nudged Thor and he raised his mug of beer.
"It's ok, Team Slytherin will go easy on you, a quick and mostly painless defeat." Nat responded, it was then Clint noticed exactly what he managed to do. He paired up the two slyest, sneakiest, and trickiest people he knew: Loki and Nat.
'You made this so much worse Clint. Forget Fancy Pants, those two working together could be world ending.' Clint strode to the cues, and picked two up that looked somewhat straight, handing one to Thor. He could feel green eyes on him as Loki placed the balls on the table, beginning to rack them.
"Oh, yes Romanoff, our victory is assured. How about a friendly wager?" Loki's toned shoulders rocked fluidly back and forth, setting the balls in the rack in proper position. The motion raked across Clint's brain like a scalp massage, as if Loki was beckoning him. Clint took another sip of drink watching Loki finally rock back and straighten. No way was he agreeing to a bet like that.
It screamed trap.
"Aye! Brother another splendid idea! On Asgard, whoever wins earns the power to beseech a request of the other party!" Thor, inside voice long forgotten, announced taking a big gulp of his beer. Clint swallowed an ice cube whole. 'Thor of all the dumb ideas…' Clint was about to speak up when he heard Nat.
"Deal. We accept. We will even let you break." Nat responded immediately and Clint put down his drink on the rail lining the wall and spread his arms wide to Thor in a classic 'Really man?!' stance. Loki's cackling filled the bar.
"I'm glad my opinion was taken into consideration. You're still losing, I'm gonna turn Thor into a poolhall junkie." Clint pointed his cue waving it between Nat and Loki, both grinning knowingly. Thor bounced a bit, apparently just happy to be playing with his brother.
'Oh. It is that simple for Thor. He just wants to play with his brother. Well, I am going to at least help him make it competitive.' Clint went up to the head of the pool table, sizing up his break.
Clint quickly went over the rules of the game for Thor, who knows maybe even for Loki.
"Alright, just remember Thor, it's a game of finesse and accuracy, so feel free to tone down your bowflex biceps." Clint leaned over, noticing Loki standing at his twelve o'clock, observing him break like a tiger. No way would Clint let Loki get in his head. Clint lined up his break, jacked back, and speared forward. The cue ball hit the triangle of colored ones with a satisfying crash of clacks. Clint's brown eyes lit up when he saw the eleven, the nine, and the three ball all sink.
"Ok, so Thor, we are going to be stripes." Clint advised and Thor stood next to Loki, who magicked his martini from the bar, lifting it up in Clint's direction. Clint ran his hand along the rail, searching for a shot. He lined up a tough shot, but the only real shot, on the fifteen, and jabbed forward, sinking it. Clint grinned, but lost his grin when he missed an easy shot on the fourteen soon after.
"Ok Glow stick, let's show them how it's done." Nat moved to take her turn, quickly lining up a shot on the two, sinking it in the side pocket to tie it up. She missed her next shot on the seven, but barely. Nat had gotten a little rusty since he last played her. Did he play her last in Astana, Kazakhstan maybe?
"I shall prove my mettle Hawks-eye!" An overzealous Thor circled the table, spotting an easy shot on the thirteen, revealed by Nat's missed shot. Clint watched as Thor carefully lined up the shot, pulling back on the cue and pushed forward.
The cue ball rocketed off the table and punched through the wall, just wide of Nat's head.
Pause.
"Mettle proven Thor. Maybe, next time use a putter." Clint took a sip of his drink as Loki patched the hole in the wall, and conjured a new cue ball. Nat side stepped around the table, eyes narrowed at Thor. The crunch of the cue ball through the dry wall attracted the attention of Bruce and Steve, who filtered over.
"And here I thought you didn't want a war with Midgard, Thor." Nat flipped her pool cue a few times and Thor shot up.
"'Twas but a warning shot!" Thor flashed a smile that would make Nat, if she were any other woman, or even a man, toss their panties.
Clint chuckled, as Nat had no choice but to basically forgive him.
Loki, despite cleaning up another one of his brother's messes, which usually really set him into a tail-spin, smirked.
Loki levitated the cue ball above his hand, debating on where to place it. He must really be getting a kick out of beating Thor at something.
"This is a good spot I think." Loki moved next to Clint, brushing past his back which Clint could have avoided him but decided against it. He didn't look into why he didn't avoid his touch. He just didn't move. Laziness. Pure laziness.
Clint caught a whiff of Loki's magic, and a wave of nostalgia hit him. Loki smelled just like Christmas. How had he never noticed before? Was he just too angry or distracted?
Loki bent over, dark hair almost touching the felt of the table as he lined up his shot. Clint noticed he chose one of the most difficult shots on the table despite having ball in hand. Clint studied Loki as he fluidly, like a jaguar, bent over, back flat and straight. His arm jacked back and the cue poked forward elegantly.
The six ball, of course it had to be green, smoothly rolled into the side pocket. Loki immediately straightened and smiled brightly. Clint stilled, did Loki just genuinely smile?
"Brother, a fine shot!" Thor beamed, finishing his beer. Loki gave him a 'yes I know' face. Clint splayed his hands in the air.
"Thor, you do realize that we're the ones on a team, right?" Clint weighed the possibility of Thor losing on purpose, but then realized Loki would know and be upset about it.
"Ah, the five next." Loki swayed from side to side languidly, contemplating his shot before leaning over, lips pursed in concentration. Clint frowned, unfortunately, his angle and his aim were right on.
Loki sunk the five. He was damned good, like he had been doing this for a while.
"So how do you know billiards and not Thor?" Clint finally questioned, Loki looked up from the table, expression like a sphinx, locking onto Clint.
"It may surprise you, but I've spent more time on Midgard than Thor." Loki, distracted, lined up his second shot on the four and missed.
Clint sighed with relief; he could rally. It probably should have surprised him, but the difference in their speech patterns made it apparent. Though Clint did wonder why he did spend more time on Earth. He doubted Fancy Pants and Loki played billiards while 'treasure questing'.
Clint circled around, avoiding grazing past Thor. He had a good shot on the thirteen, then from there probably the twelve, if he was lucky, the ten. That would leave them with only the fourteen, and Loki and Nat with the one, the four, and the seven.
"Aye, Loki spent many decades on Midgard especially after all the De—" Thor began and was hit by barb of Christmas scented green magic, silencing him. His mouth moved but no words came out, like one of those dying Furbys his niece, Chloe, had once.
Clint twisted around to an alarmed Loki. With eyebrows raised, he ran a finger across his throat in a clear 'cut it out' action.
Oh c'mon Loki…
Nat and Clint looked back to Thor in confusion. Loki released his magic and Thor coughed and continued. "—Divine festivities on Asgard bored him." Thor recovered, and Loki relaxed. Obviously that was not what Thor originally wanted to say.
"You both are a walking daytime drama." Clint shook his head, lined up his shot and sunk the thirteen with ease. Take that! Clint wound around the table again. His hip not so accidentally, swishing across Loki's. He lined up his shot on the twelve, pocketing it in the side as well.
"You've got some skill at this game as well, Clint." Loki purred from behind him and Clint fought the instinct to snap up. Loki had been so close to him the hairs on his neck were tickled by the fan of his breath.
"Yeah, my brother Nate taught me…and there wasn't exactly a lot to do in Iowa." Clint managed a bittersweet smile, remembering his older brother's lessons. Clint zoned back to shrug off the tingling feeling in his spine from Loki. He lined up his shot on the ten, sinking it third in the corner pocket. Clint raised up from the table, Nate would be proud of that hard shot.
He caught Loki roving over his chest like a tailor measuring him for a suit, as if sensing his hidden somber mood. Clint lined up a defensive shot and hit the fourteen off the bumper, having no real shot.
"I don't know Clint, you could, well, go to the state fair." Nat jabbed good-heartedly, making a theater joke to alleviate his mood. She knew about Nate. She gracefully lined up her shot up on the one, a tough one, and sunk in the side pocket. She flitted around to the other side, next to Thor, and downed the four.
Damn, this wasn't looking good. Clint crossed his fingers secretly as he saw Nat miss the seven, ricocheting off to a good position for Loki for his inevitable ball in hand.
"Alright Thor, just focus on keeping the ball on the table. Think…dainty." Clint suggested and Thor furrowed his eyebrows.
"Aye hawk's eye, dainty like a…stag. A violet, toaster-pastry eating one." Clint bit his lip from laughing at the jab towards Loki.
Loki sighed dramatically, muttering something to Nat under his breath that made her lips tilt.
Thor bent down, lining up a shot on the fourteen. This time they made sure no one was opposite Thor for his shot. Clint didn't even bother looking. But when he heard a clack he pricked his head up.
The fourteen rolled hit the rail and almost into the pocket, blocking the eight.
"Nice! You set up a good defensive play." Clint went up for, what Thor would appreciate, a high five. Thor took it graciously.
"Better than your first shot, which might not be saying much." Steve congratulated. Loki straightened, looking serious. By this time Sesshomaru had managed to escape Tony's interrogation and moved around to the commotion placidly.
"I shall win the game here." Loki said without any hesitation, but without any excitement, concentration written across his brow.
'It's like he is playing with something to prove. What I have no idea, we already know is a damn good player.' Clint watched as Loki whipped the pool cue behind his back, sitting on the pool table, one long leg dangling, the other stretched out like a dancer's to the floor.
Clint then understood what Loki meant by his advantages in battle were flexibility. Clint's face heated up slightly from the thought of thinking of another man's, especially Loki's, flexibility. Loki sank the most difficult shot of the night on the remaining seven with style.
"You know Loki, if the whole Demi-God thing isn't your speed you can always become a pro billiards player." Bruce offered and Loki smiled, though his eyes stayed on Clint who took a sip of his watered down whiskey ginger, defensively.
"Oh, I don't think something like that is in the cards." Loki replied cryptically, again like a sphinx and lined up a bank shot on the eight. "Eight ball side pocket." He tapped the side pocket with his cue, leaned over, dark hair shining, jacked back and released.
The cue clicked against the eight, bouncing it off the proper bumper…only to stop just short.
"Close, but no cigar, Glow-Stick." Nat nodded, almost as if conceding defeat.
"It seems Thor and I have opposing problems." Loki admitted, with a small, disappointed twitch of his lips. Clint could tell by Loki's dim eyes and scrunched nose that he really wanted that win. But as much as wanting Loki to lighten up appealed to Clint, denying Loki a no-holds-barred bet over him appealed greater.
Clint lined up the easy shot on the fourteen, and sunk it finally. 'Take that cursed green ball, and your green ice cream too.' Clint grinned and cycled around to the eight, feeling all eyes on him.
'Oh yeah Clint, no pressure, if you miss Nat will surely get it.' Clint knew again it was a tricky shot. He had to just barely kiss the eight to make it in.
"Eight ball side pocket." Clint tapped the pocket and eyeballed the shot. Out of his periphery he saw Loki's flickering green eyes, smooth cream skin, and raven hair hunt him like a predator. Clint hair stood at attention on the back of his neck, but not from fear. He his skin prickled and his throat dried up. Even the air in his lungs went stale. The pressure was on; he would not let Loki mess with his game.
Attempting to ignore Loki, and failing miserably, he licked his lips and pulled back the cue and released it.
The cue ball went a hair wide, missing the eight ball entirely, landing in the corner pocket.
Clint winced, especially seeing Loki's eyes ignite once more.
'To lose scratching on the eight ball! Just my luck.' Clint slumped over the table in defeat and he heard Loki and Nat laugh, and by the sound of it, high five. Clint pushed back off the table, looking at Thor.
"It was a valiant effort Hawks-eye! Superb job dear brother and Lady Romanoff, to the victors go the spoils!" Thor raised his glass, Clint did the same, one day they would have a rematch.
"Team Slythrin reigns supreme." Nat quirked her full lips. Damn her, she just had to rub it in didn't she?
"Wait, we're still doing the Harry Potter thing? So, who are they?" Tony asked, voice clear, as if he had barely touched any liquor.
"They are Team Griffindor. You and Bruce would definitely be Ravenclaw, which…" Nat trailed off after figuring out who was left and which house they belonged to. "…Leaves Steve and Pretty Boy as Hufflepuff." Nat deducted. Tony pointed between Sesshomaru and Steve a few times, which caused Bruce to rub his temples. Steve looked a bit confused, Sesshomaru quirked an eyebrow, slicing a sickle of a gaze to Steve.
Clint leaned back against the pool table, knowing the whole Harry Potter thing got blasted out of proportion.
"Huh. Capsicle and Sailor Moon…on a team. Well, I think we all know which team wouldn't win 'best teamwork' trophy." Tony finally concluded. Steve shot an indignant glare his way.
"I must admit; they are not the most compatible team present. The ever amiable Captain and the imposing Demon." Loki said as he prowled around the pool table to stand next to Clint. Loki and Thor shared a knowing glance. Steve crossed his built arms and Sesshomaru's face looked stony, ears low.
Clint could catch on that neither Steve nor Sesshomaru particularly enjoyed being poked fun at. Especially since Fancy Pants, per usual, had no idea what they were talking about. He didn't even know if Steve had read or watched Harry Potter.
"Hmm yeah, the two most principled military officers I've met, and who have had to adapt to the 21st century, definitely have nothing in common." Clint defended, and Nat tilted her head to the side. That caused Tony's mirth to catch short, eyes trained on him like a laser sight. Steve straightened.
"Also the house that values hard-work, patience, loyalty, and honor sounds especially unlike them…. What?! My niece and nephew did the sorting hat thing!" Clint put his hands up in defense of the suspicious and confused stares sent his way. Yeah, a grown guy knows about Harry Potter, so what?! Sesshomaru, in the back, put his hand to his chin.
Pause.
"This Sesshomaru approves of this…team." Sesshomaru nodded slowly and Clint smiled noticing Steve's eyebrows shoot up.
Clint absorbed the moment, all of them having a good time. It was nice. And ironically, Hawkeye, never saw something like this coming. It felt strangely 'breakfast club-esque'.
"Let's pack it in so as Tony puts it, the 'Scamtastic Four', can head out." Bruce suggested, everyone downed whatever they had left of their drinks and slowly filed out.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Loki flash another genuine smile, and Clint so he wouldn't have to decide which facial expression to make, took another sip of drink only to find ice left.
Clint poured milk into his cereal bowl. He didn't hate waiting. As a trained sniper, more than half of his job included waiting. Now, though, he felt fidgety, and bored. Probably Loki's fault.
He already practiced archery down in the training room, already made Loki's music playlist. Clint, not as clever as naming things as Stark was, named it Mischief Music. It would do.
It also didn't help that he had another awkwardly disastrous conversation with Loki right before he left for Asgard. He honestly didn't mean to be such a dick to him. It just came out.
He also didn't expect it to eat at his gut like bad Chinese food. He never even really apologized for saying it. He didn't even mean it but he could tell by the stricken look that Loki's face blanked into that he took it to heart. It wasn't true, Loki did have a moral code. He went through hell to save Earth.
And Clint watched as he volunteered to waltz right back into hell.
He had suspected Loki hadn't him the truth about what Odin, Allfather, whoever, would do to him. It made his blood itch. Loki wasn't supposed to lie to him.
Almost out of spite, and to clear his own mind Clint, yesterday he asked Fancy Pants, under his breath, what Odin could, or would do to Loki.
His response chilled him from the outside of his ribs inward.
"Odin is capable of swift and lasting cruelty. If he so chose, he could curse, condemn, or even kill Loki with ease." Sesshomaru stated as if he asked him for the score of last night's hockey game.
"You think he'd really kill Loki?" Clint hadn't expected such a concrete heavy response.
"Odin is blind. In two days' time we will learn if he is also deaf." Sesshomaru's glacial tone pricked the hairs on the backs of his triceps.
"What if he doesn't listen? What if they come back without Loki?" Clint asked and he monitored the composed demon lord as his talons twitched.
"Then one way or another, Odin will feel Bakusaiga's steel against his aging throat." Sesshomaru promised voice smooth as silk and Clint believed his words.
So he was an inexcusable jerk to someone whose father may kill him. Awesome.
He had a knack for unintentionally riling the God up, or knocking the wind from his sails.
The God of Mischief really didn't deserve it. Even though he would mess, annoy, stalk, surprise, and toy with Clint with on purpose. Again, why Clint had no idea. He didn't lavish anyone else with his downright weird attentions. Clint had mulled it over all yesterday, and decided it just had to be because of how much he learned about him through the scepter.
He told Loki, whether he wanted to or not, a lot about himself. Loki knew more about him than the other avengers, Clint figured. They spent the most time together, so it made sense that Loki would feel comfortable pushing his buttons more than anyone else.
It also didn't hurt that Clint probably had a healthy dose of patience for his borderline seductive antics. Well, most of his antics. The teleportation got him every damn time.
'Seriously, if that 'as theatre as Broadway' God teleports away from me mid-conversation again I'll find him and shoot him with a tracker arrow.' Clint vowed emptily.
It occurred to Clint, of course, after Loki left and after his sobering conversation with Sesshomaru that Loki hadn't probably sought him out just to annoy him, but also probably to ease his nerves.
Super Clint. Way to help the mission by kicking Loki when he was already down.
Yet, it wasn't the fact he may have potentially jeopardized the mission that gnawed at Clint's conscience. It was the fact he really didn't want to see Loki go through anything more than he already had.
It was also the blood thinning sensation that the conversation he had could be his last with Loki. That he might not come back.
Clint had no idea what to do with that jarring possibility. He tried to distract himself and pass the time, but time flowed as slow as molasses in an Iowa winter.
It didn't help everyone else had jobs to do. He and Nat decided for him to not contact Fury until she returned planet-side. Tony had his smarty-pants workshop, still messing around with his proximity barrier thing and the weaponized toxins, trying to make them test-status ready.
Bruce was helping him with the toxins, keeping him sane, preventing him from blowing something up, or all of the above.
'The toxins, to be honest, sound pretty damn awesome if I can put either of the two toxins on my arrows. Any advantage over thermos and the goon squad is much appreciated.' Clint took his breakfast of raisin bran to the balcony. 'Two scoops of raisins my ass.' The balcony was just too quiet.
Clint was sure Fancy Pants was off doing something mysterious with that toad of his. Yesterday they took off soon after the 'Scamtastic Four' left and still hadn't come back since yesterday. He didn't say where he was going which of course irritated 'I'm in everybody's business' Tony Stark.
'Well, no actually, more like, 'I'm in a certain Demon Lord's business' Tony Stark' Clint corrected himself.
'Come to think of it, I haven't seen Tony surface from his smarty pants workshop either. Definitely no coincidence there, with no Fancy Pants he needs something to do. Smarty Pants and Fancy Pants. Ha, I could do comedy.' Clint smiled at his own joke.
Clint wasn't too sure about Tony's borderline obsession with the guy. The fact this guy was a closed book probably just riled the hell out of him. Also that he couldn't get a rise out of the guy to save his life. But boy could Fancy Pants put him in orbit.
The same orbit that a certain God of Mischief could put Clint into. His muscles itched for a good work out as he remembered pulling Loki up off the floor of the gym, glistening, strong yet in that flash of a moment, vulnerable.
'I could use a good spar, but I guess I'll have to wait for Loki to come back. Because he will come back. No way would Thor let anything happen to Loki this time around. Or Nat. Then again Fancy Pants knew they were going with him…. No. Stay positive. Thor is the God of Thunder. He has Mjolnir and his father likes him. If Odin won't listen to Loki, he will listen to Thor. Or like I told Loki, if Odin tries something Fancy Pants and I will fight our way through Asgard. I do need my spar partner back.' Clint scowled at his soggy cereal. Raisin bran never stayed crisp for long.
'What Loki and I have, while a little counter-intuitive, works. It'd be a pain in my ass to explain how the Fight Club system to someone else, and not everyone likes my music even though it's great. Nat won't even listen to Kanye; she thinks he's totally a stuck up douchebag, which is beside the point.' Clint took a sip of lukewarm coffee. 'Good to the last drop my ass.' Clint sneered at his coffee. Ok, maybe he was a bit more than antsy. Maybe he was just in a bad mood.
'Plus, we already have a good rhythm going, and sparring against Steve would just get me throttled. His music he works out to is boring too. 'the 1812 Overture' for punching something?! It'd just be pointless to spar with anyone else, wouldn't be as good. I'll be sure to lay him out again next spar. Because there will be a next spar. Maybe I'll just jog? Ugh that sounds miserable may-' Clint got thrown from his rationalization by the silence.
'I existed once. I truly did. You know that.' Loki's voice echoed deep in his mind and Clint twisted his face to banish the words. Clint started to resent the quiet he, before days ago, had no problem with.
"Wanna see a baseball game today?!" Clint jumped out of his skin. Steve walked up to him, the smell of eggs made Clint's mouth water. Steve, by contrast, ate a balanced and complete breakfast of pancakes, eggs, toast and orange juice. So him.
"I'm...not too much of a baseball fan, NHL hockey is more my speed. Go Chicago Blackhawks!" Clint took a spoonful of his disappointing raisin bran. He heard that Bruce made breakfast for everyone the other day, lucky bastards. They also got story time about Sesshomaru's past, which Steve caught him up on yesterday.
'Fancy Pants' dad definitely threw him in the deep end to learn to swim. Not that his is the only sob story around here, and it did sound like he handled the situation well. He skinned his uncle and aunt and made an outfit out them and hung them up to gloat. And decapitated some tiger guy and shot his head out a catapult. Fancy Pants definitely took the 'does not play well with others' mantle from Tony.' Clint's thoughts rambled.
"Aw C'mon. They're playing the Nats again. Game is in like three hours, what else you got going on?" Steve basically pleaded, maybe just as bored and Clint found himself relenting. Really what else did he have to do? Sit around and wait to see if Loki would come back?
Until. Until he came back.
"I guess you're right. I don't have anything to lose. I'm rooting against you though. Captain America rooting against the DC team? What would the Nation think?!" Clint stretched and Steve looked at him in fake dejection.
"Well prepare to be disappointed. We are really gonna wallop them this time!" Steve took a bite of his pancakes, he didn't even put syrup on them, savage.
"Wallop? Really Elmer Fudd? Waskly wabbit!" Clint caught a piece of toast Steve threw and threw it back hitting him between the eyes.
Steve frowned and Clint shrugged and finished his cereal.
"Funny. Funny. It will be great. we haven't really hung out that much." Steve cheerfully took another bite of his pancakes and Clint got up to put his bowl in the dishwasher in the kitchen nook.
So, not only was Steve bored but he was probably going stir crazy in Stark Tower too.
"Yeah, well we belong to different sororities so, you know different mixers. I'll see you in a few." Clint waved and left the balcony, itching for a workout or something.
He got to the gym where Loki and he sparred and went towards the squat rack.
'Sun don't shine in the shade
Bird can't fly in a cage
Even when somebody go away
The feelings don't really go away
That's just the wave'
Despite thrashing tempo of Kanye West's "Waves" he still rewound through his nightmare from last night like an old VCR player.
Most of the times when he had nightmares they were about Budapest, sometimes Tripoli, Sarajevo, a few times his fights in Myanmar. Once he had a nightmare he was being chased by velociraptors, Clint blamed Nat taking him to see Jurassic World for that one.
The worst one was always what happened before he picked up a bow for anything besides buck hunting. Which, come to think of it, Loki turning into a stag, him being an avid bow hunter…there had to be some sort of metaphor hidden there.
But back on track, the worst nightmare was about his older brother Nate.
Clint awoke in the middle of the night. Again. He had that itching feeling that his brother, Nate, had snuck out again. He peeled back the covers and looked around their shared room.
His side of the room was covered in crinkled, aged posters. He taped up mostly Metallica, some Nine Inch Nails, a couple Marilyn Manson, and a big Pantera one all over the smudged white walls.
Clint didn't really like any of those bands or musicians, but he pretended he did because Nate loved them. Nate had cassettes of their albums tossed all over the floorboard of their old f-150.
Nate would say, in between Camel cigarettes, listening to them put his 'shitbox' job and his troubles all into perspective. Whatever that really meant.
Nate was only a couple years older than he was, but he always acted like some hotshot adult. He was only seventeen, but had to drop out of high school to work to help out their family ever since dad got laid-up.
As he predicted, Nate's bed was empty, but unpredictably made. Nate never made his bed even when he was repeatedly grounded for it.
That should have been a sign.
Clint slipped out of bed, changed into some acid wash jeans and tugged on his old converse chucks. If Nate had snuck out again, he wanted to go too.
He avoided the center of the stairs, they always creaked. And like a ninja in the kung-fu movies they always watched together, he crept out the kitchen door.
The trucks were still in the gravel driveway. Nate was probably down by the creek smoking weed again. He said it was the only thing that leveled him out.
Clint stomped on the crunchiest leaves he could find all the way down to the creek bed less than an eighth of a mile from their house. It was a pretty warm October night and the moon was full. Clint could see why Nate would want to sneak out.
He spotted Nate in the mottled moonlight facing away from him right at the creek bed. Nate always said he had super-human eye-sight. He could spot any deer in the forests when hunting.
Clint knew better than to call out from this distance, besides it was a rare opportunity that he had the chance to sneak up on his always-alert, hunter, older brother.
Nate raised his hand. Clint didn't have to rub the crusty sleep out of his eyes to know in it was his Beretta.
Clint's lungs froze solid. As naturally as one would scratch their temple Nate put the gun to his and pulled the trigger.
The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed for years.
Clint's throat was raw from screaming as he ran downhill. He slipped on dead leaves and his knees hit the sand that had already absorbed so much of Nate's blood.
Clint shook and quivered, adrenaline and shock raced through his veins like needles.
"No, god why. No god why. Nate, Nate stay with me." Clint barely stomached the smell of raw metallic blood and fleshy brain matter.
He didn't stomach the glassed, unfocused eyes of his all-knowing older brother, nor how the other side of his head had erupted out like in a bad horror movie. Shame flooded his system. He should have seen this coming. He should have prevented it. They were best friends.
He heard his mother's wail. He was thankful his mother found them before his kid brother, Jake, did.
The words he screamed in his nightmares were always different than what he chanted like a priest nineteen years ago.
Last night he awoke screaming "Not again, no!" He didn't know how to psychoanalyze that. He didn't know anyone who was suicidal. Maybe it meant nothing at all.
All he knew was he wasn't going back to sleep and there wasn't a God in the kitchen nook hungry for something that wasn't pop-tarts.
After a disappointing workout, an uneventful shower, and dicking around on Tony's TiVo buying and queuing up all the demonic possession, Broadway Musicals, and Robert Downey Jr movies he could find, he and Steve set out for Yankee Stadium.
"I'll buy your ticket! My treat!" Steve genuinely smiled, not that Steve as he ever did anything not genuine, and got out of the taxi.
"Thanks sweetie, but that doesn't mean I'm putting out during the seventh inning stretch in the clubhouse." Clint winked and Steve huffed.
"You couldn't seriously handle me anyway." Steve shot back and Clint laughed. They paid for their tickets, decent ones on the first base line. After going through security and maneuvering around like a million fat New Yorkers and screaming kids, they found their seats, right on the first base line.
"So, how are you dealing with everything?" Steve sounded nervous, and Clint turned his way confused. What did that mean?
"Huh? You mean figuring out that this asshat Titan, Thermos, or whatever is planning to kill everyone on our planet again? Peachy. He'll show up, and we will shut the door in his face and kick him to next Tuesday." Clint shrugged, wanting to get up get a beer, maybe a Shock Top? Ooh, and a corn dog. Fair food was the best. He liked it still even after working in the circus for years. Any food on a stick Clint was a fan of. Popcicles, corn dogs, kebobs, all epic. Ice cream sort of counted. Maybe they have mint chocolate chip here...
"No, I mean about Loki. You, um, did hate him for a long time, and did shoot him with a bunch of arrows." Steve stammered, looking at Clint with concern and Clint rolled his head in exasperation.
"Really Steve? Is that why you wanted to go to this baseball game to play Dr. Rogers, therapist to the super spies?" Clint leaned back, waiting to hear Steve's justification.
"And everyone, stand up for our National Anthem, sung by none other than, Scotty McCreery!" The sound system boomed and girls crooned. Who is Scotty McCreery?
"No, I really wanted to go to this game with you. I'm just concerned is all. A lot has happened this week, it's a lot to take in for all of us. I mean, Demons are real and aren't evi-" Steve quieted when this talentless hack began to butcher the Star Spangled Banner.
'Steve looks like he wants to punch this singer in the face. Oh man his face is getting red. This is terrific. They can never find anyone who can just sing the damn song without trying to make it into some huge grandstanding, warbling mess.' Clint sighed heavily as the song ended.
"Wow that was just beautiful. I loved the way he hit 'free' off key don't you? Really brought the song home." Clint smiled wide as Steve's face took on a tomato's in hue.
"As I was saying, Demons exist and they aren't evil. Our number one enemy turned out to be not our enemy and friends with a Demon Lord. And...I don't know. Things just got so complicated and now we have to not only fend off another invasion, but convince everyone it's going to happen!" Steve scratched his head and Clint felt for him a little, he was their fearless leader and he got thrown for a huge loop.
"Listen, yeah it sounds like a lot, but I mean Fancy Pants isn't all that bad. Sure he arrogant as all get out and near-impossible to read, even Nat thinks so, but he drives Tony nuts. Also he is the first guy to make a whip look cool since Indiana Jones." Clint offered, purposely avoiding the topic of Loki.
"I don't have a problem with him. He is sharp, level-headed, calm, and intelligent. And with Loki and Tony in the mix we need more…stable personalities." Clint nodded to that, Tony and Loki didn't exactly scream predictable behavior. "I just thought Demons were made up and evil before this. But he isn't, neither is Jaken. And, neither is Loki." Steve explained, watching the Nationals hitter, Taylor, swing and miss the first pitch. Steve clapped and hooted.
'Steve cheers like a little kid.' Clint grinned.
"Yeah, and about Loki, like...yeeesh. I'll figure myself out. He isn't head-case crazy like I thought, which is in our favor. I can see why Thor and Fancy Pants liked him before the whole Chitauri mess. But yeah, we got this. We got some time. I'm sure Nat will convince SHIELD to come around, and we will get everyone on board and show this Titan who's boss." Clint slapped Steve reassuringly on the shoulder and got up. His pep-talk to Steve even got his spirits up.
"Imma go get a beer and a corn dog, want anything?" Clint began to make his way out.
"Um, yea, cheeseburger and a Coke is fine for now. Uh wait, this might sound crazy, but I think Tony likes him, like more than just as…uh as a friend." Clint stopped in his tracks. Tony? Tony 'I can get anyone into my overpriced monogrammed four billion thread count red silk sheets' Stark wants Loki?! Clint whipped around so quickly he hit his knee against a cup holder. He didn't register the pain.
"Tony and Loki?!" Clint's eyebrows must have hit his hairline from shock. What had Steve seen? Did he see Tony and Loki? Together? When?! The nerve of Tony, go find some vapid fan of yours. Loki doesn't need your mess; he is already a mess enough.
"No, no, no, not Loki, Sesshomaru. And that could be a problem." Steve corrected, blue eyes searching for vindication. Clint relaxed, mind clearing like wind sweeping out clouds. That made a lot more sense, Clint shook out his suddenly tense muscles.
"Oh, Fancy Pants! I doubt it, I think Tony just likes puzzles and that guy, as my younger brother would say, 'bafflefucks' him. Nice gossip topic though Joan Rivers." Clint winked at Steve and he flushed as a foul ball hit the batters cage. Clint exhaled deeply maneuvering to get the food.
The next few innings went by smoothly, four runs batted in, three by the Nationals much to Steve's dismay and Clint's ignorant bragging.
"Oh look, that Nationals player got back to that one white square. That's a run right or is it a goal? Do you think that one Yankee player dropped the catch on purpose?!" Clint would yell and Steve got up to sit a seat away from him to avoid his purposeful jeering. Clint decided he liked baseball live, just not on TV, and Steve was a hoot to watch cheer.
"It's the bottom of the fifth, one out, and Castro is up to plate!" The loudspeaker boomed his walk up song and Steve cheered. Strasburg wound up and pitched and the ball went high and fowl right above where Steve and Clint sat.
Clint looked up, spotting the ball and something else, a tiny fiery blur against the blue sky. It soon expanded in size, and started to rumble like a rock slide. The stadium even quaked a bit, red dust rose off the field like in a windstorm.
Everyone in the stadium jumped to their feet, gasping, pointing, and screaming. Dread clinched Clint's gut like a vice. This is a deathtrap. People are going to trample each other like in the Lion King.
Total FUBAR situation.
"I thought Loki said we had like another two months!" Steve jumped into action, face serious and blue eyes trained on the incoming bogey.
"I guess they took a shortcut. Maybe an ez-pass turnpike opened up!" Clint's humor was strained as he realized this was the worst possible timing. Loki, who knew the most about their enemy, Thor their strongest fighter, well besides the Hulk, and Nat, the only one who could talk sense into Fury, were gone. They were in another dimension. Cool.
'And Fancy Pants, the only one who may be able to do anything against these guys has been M.I.A. for the past thirty hours. Not that we have seen him do much outside rhythmic gymnastics anyway. A total Charlie Foxtrot.' Clint picked up a chubby child that had fallen and Steve leapt up to get a better view.
"Protecting the safety of the people here is our best priority for now. We need to contact SHIELD, we need backup." Steve stressed and Clint groaned, reaching for his cell phone.
"Let's go to a baseball game Steve said. Sure! Of course, I can enjoy a normal baseball game like a normal person without an alien invasion happening." Clint muttered, the fiery smoke broke and revealed a spaceship, not unlike the shape of a star destroyer from Star Wars they ironically watched last night, but smaller, sleeker maybe the size of a small cruise ship.
"Do you have any weapons on you?!" Steve shouted as people started to panic and bolt like frightened horses he once had to help corral as a kid.
"Yeah, the security guy totally let me bring my bow and explosive arrows in for signatures." Clint smiled darkly. "At least Fury has his proof! How the hell do we get out of here?!" Clint got bumped by a Yankees fan and his cell phone went flying, Clint didn't care, like anyone on the other line would be able to hear him over the screaming.
Clint Barton and Steve Rogers, two of Earth's mightiest heroes, were sitting ducks for an invasion they knew was coming. Shit creek, meet no paddle.
"I don't know; it looks like there is only one ship! We need Tony and Bruce…and Sesshomaru!" Steve's voice, while commanding was higher than normal. As if on cue, like in a damn movie, Tony flew over the ballpark, holding Clint's bow and quiver and Steve's shield.
People, cheered, settling down some.
"Don't panic folks the Avengers have this under control." Tony's voice projected over the stadium. However, people also stopped panicking because the sleek black ship made a sharp bank left and drifted slowly South, but not before the familiar chariots swarmed out of its hull.
"Iron Man delivery at your service, Amazon drone delivery eat your heart out." Tony descended and tossed him his shield, and Clint his bow and quiver.
"Thanks Tony I owe you…how did you find us so fast?!" Steve asked as he strapped on his shield.
"You wouldn't sit anywhere else except good seats at the first base line." Tony probably winked under his faceplate. Clint didn't buy it. "I also gps tracked Legolas' phone since you can't seem to remember to keep yours charged. Speaking of which, here some coms." Clint laughed a bit and Steve clenched his fist as if to say 'Not now.' Clint put his com in.
"I'm going to calm the people on the streets, you two go after the ship, I'll join up shortly." Steve ordered and Tony mock-saluted. With his shield in hand, Steve made his way through the crowd.
"Do you have any idea where Fancy Pants is? Is Bruce out there?" Clint strapped on his quiver and slung his bow over his shoulder. He felt invigorated with a flash of adrenaline. So much for a boring couple days
"My tracker puts Sailor Moon in Central Park, near the Bethesda Pavilion, probably on a hot date with that Soul Cycle instructor." Clint swore Tony's voice sounded a touch more annoyed than probably intended. "Bruce is hulking there as we speak. Hold on tight and don't let go Rose!" Tony grabbed Clint in a tight embrace, much to Clint's disgust especially at the Titanic reference, and they blasted off in pursuit of the space cruiser.
"I should have stuck to hockey." Clint adjusted, grabbed his bow, and with Tony holding him around the waist, knocked an arrow and let it fly just as the first of the chariots left the mother ship. The arrow struck the pilot of the first Chariot, sending him falling down to the asphalt below.
Clint repeated the same for the two passengers on the Chariot who were curiously speeding past them.
"Tony dump me off onto that Chariot, I'm gonna do some damage." Clint ordered and Tony reared back, dropping Clint off on the rapidly descending chariot. Clint pulled up harsh on the joystick, leveling out the vehicle before it smacked into a building.
"Alright, it's just like riding a bike." Clint fired a harpoon arrow into its hull and tied the joystick in place, allowing him to fly and snipe at the same time with minimal steering.
Knocking back a taser arrow, Clint aimed quick and unleashed the arrow at a passing Chariot, disabling it. Immediately he knocked back three arrows, wishing he had some of that magic countering toxin about now, and with a twang of a bowstring he hit all three. And like dominoes the Chitauri plummeted to the sidewalk below, shrieks cutting into the air.
"Heads up!" He shouted down to the scattering New Yorkers below, which after the first Battle of New York had begun to really understand the concept of duck and cover.
That and Steve down below had done an amazing job at keeping people off the streets and away from windows. Steve flung his shield at the smoking Chariot, knocking it harmlessly off course into a fire hydrant, stopping it cold.
"Nice pitch!" Clint yelled below, before swinging to his six and launching another explosive arrow at the Chariot tailing him. A Chariot that should have fired upon him by now.
'OK, maybe Loki was just a really good fake general and the Chitauri are useless otherwise or these guys are treating me like I don't exist.' Clint squinted as the Chariot he shot began to smoke and the three Chitauri on it hopped to another nearby Chariot, not even bothering to shoot at him. They were all speeding off towards Central Park, where Tony said Fancy Pants was.
Clint, realizing he was creating more harm than good, drifted down to the asphalt in front of Steve.
"They're completely ignoring me. Looks like they're going after Fancy Pants in Central Park, hop on I'll give you a ride." Clint instructed and Steve leapt on, expression determined but grim.
As soon as Clint steered the chariot upwards to regain his view of the Chitauri ship he heard a distant roar. It sounded like a hydroelectric dam breeching and vibrated his core like one too.
A primal fear drilled through the marrow of his bones as the roar vacuumed into an eerie silence.
An uncontrollable instinct made his shoulders hunch and close his eyes. It was a long dormant, biological reaction that trumped every ounce of training he had ever received.
Clint looked up at the same time Steve did, both rigid as statues. A surging, torrential green plasma ray streaked across the sky as wide as a subway car. It radiated the sky in crackling, iridescent lightning and in a flash dozens or so of the Chitauri who soared above the city were vaporized.
One partially hit Chitauri screeched as the rest of his body corroded and eventually tumbled from the chariot only to dissipate before he hit the pavement.
The enemy cut through its own forces like a hot knife through butter. Why? Shit. Tony!
"Tony, come in. Tony you still kickin'?" Clint held his breath as his ear receiver filled with static. Steve also listened in, eyes still surveying the electrically charged air. Clint's mouth went dry and knees a bit rubbery. No way could they deal with a ship that could dish out that much firepower. It corroded people!
Talk about a Death Star. Not even SHIELD had a weapon capable of that.
Clint ascended their Chariot above the buildings and saw the space ship not two blocks from them, slowly creeping towards Central Park as if waiting for something.
A shaky exhale parted Clint's lips as he spotted a flash of crimson in the distance. The ship missed Tony; he was always the luckiest of bastards.
"I see Tony! He's fine. The energy blast must have messed with our coms." Clint reported and Steve nodded.
They had to stop that ship before it fired down towards the city…wait.
Fired down. Clint bucked the Chariot high up above the buildings. The blast came from the south, invading ship was still facing south, away from them. Also, the blast only hit the Chitauri. Clint smelled no smoke and maybe aside from a pigeon, nothing else was harmed.
Maybe that green blast hadn't come from the ship at all.
"Clint! They didn't have anything like that three years ago. This doesn't even look like the ships Loki told us about! We need to get closer to destroy that ship before it fires at the city! One of those blasts could raze ten blocks, and the civilian casualties would be astronomical." Steve's voice held an edge of panic Clint caught. Clint began to put the pieces together.
"You mean 'we' didn't have anything like this three years ago." Clint didn't blame Steve in the least for not noticing the little details, his fear for the people briefly overrode his analysis. It even took him till just now to realize that he had seen that exact shade of nineties-tracksuit green before.
And Clint wasn't talking about Will Smith's windbreaker on the 'Fresh Prince of Bel Air.'
Clint started to chuckle. They weren't up shit creek without a paddle, they had a goddamn speedboat.
"Clint this isn't the time for jokes, approach the spaceship, we will distract it long enou—" Clint pointed past the ship caused Steve to pause in his order.
"Steve that blast came from the south, where the ship is headed. And did that shade of green look familiar to you? Like a certain, toxin or whip? Or even scry-nado?" Clint turned to Steve, eyes lit up. "That's no space station, it's Sailor Moon." Clint mimicked Obi Wan and opted for Tony's name for the Demon Lord, for quotations sake.
Steve's eyes bugged out a bit as Clint accelerated the chariot towards Central Park.
"That. That's what he is capable of?!" Clint couldn't tell if Steve was terrified or ecstatic. Probably both.
"Old Dog, New Tricks. You should be able to relate to that." Clint smirked and Steve sighed. Poor guy, he really must feel in over his head. "Let's get going Mr. Old Fashioned." Clint pressed the throttle all the way down. Pedal to the metal.
"…As you said earlier, let's kick these Chitauri to next Tuesday." Steve rolled his shoulders and readied his shield which Clint interpreted as Steve finally getting his groove back.
Finally! We are getting some Clint, and some action! :)
Also, I am going back and editing through some of the earlier chapters. I hope you enjoyed this!
-TL