I was awoken again by someone. Although, it's now 10:13am and I'm usually up by 8am but the comfort of Clint probably let my own body relax also.
There's someone, or something, knocking on my front door. Clint is still wrapped around me but I can hear Max beginning to bark. I swear if he wakes Clint up he can sleep outside. At least there hasn't been an Avengers call out; maybe Marcus would give it to Hill since I'm on "vacation".
I pull away from Clint's grasp and tumble out the bedroom door, grabbing Max by the neck before checking the peep hole for identification.
And, oh wow. It's... SHIT. It's Sergeant Bar- I mean James... I have to call him James. His smile kind of reminds me of Clint when I call him by his first name. And now I'm smiling like a goofball. Dammit! I forgot, I've been introducing James to the 21st century like I had for Steve, although he's been even more reluctant; up until recently anyway...
"James. Hi."
There's that smile. "Phil. Hey..."
He staring at Max who's pulling my arm to try and sniff the new guy. I decide to let him, James is hardly in need of protection.
"Hi there. And what's your name?" He sniggers, brown eyes sparkling right at me and hair slicked modernly after he cut it in separation of the Winter Soldier programming.
"Uh... Max. He's called Max."
"Hey, Max. I didn't know you had a dog?" He ruffles Max's fur from the crouch position he's at on my front door. He's been to my apartment a record of three times over six months.
"Um..."
"And a... kid?"
"Phil?" Clint rasps as he wanders towards me rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I lift him into full view and safety in my arms. He throws his arms around my neck and stares observantly at James. His suspicion of me has calmed a lot overnight, whether it's due to the pinkie promises or his gut instinct, who knows.
"Oh. Yeah. Um... It's a long story. Why don't you come in and we can get some breakfast and I can explain."
"Uh. Yeah. Definitely. Hello there, I'm James Barnes. I work with Phil." James tips his head smugly and offers his hand to shake to Clint.
Clint stares him down and repeats his straightening shoulder act to provide his full name.
"Clinton Francis Barton." He shakes James' hand as best he can and snuggles around me again.
"Alright then. You can call me Bucky. Most people do." James offers as I close the door behind him and we head to my tiny kitchen.
"Phil doesn't?"
"Smart kid. You can call me James too, if you want? I- I... Um... Like it when Phil calls me James. He's... special. And if you're special to Phil then you're special to me. So, call me James, Clinton."
I don't think I've ever blushed so heavily in my life. I have no idea if James can see my reaction from behind me but this is ridiculous. I'm a grown man!
"Clint. 'Cos you're special t'Phil n Phil s'special t'me too he pinkie'd on it. M'Clint, James." I'm definitely going to die from an oversized heart with these two.
"Ha-ha! You can never break a pinkie promise. Alright bud. Did you need help with breakfast, Phil?" James asks me when he notices Clint's tightening arms when I try to set him on a kitchen stool.
"That would be great, thank you. Tasha left waffle mix in the fridge and the waffle iron is in the third cupboard over." I can see his face fall a little at the mention of Natasha. Although, they both share the Red Room experience, maybe it's some old memories.
"Umm. Yeah. No problem. So, Natasha, huh?" James questions as he switches the waffle maker on and I sit with Clint on my lap watching him from the island.
"Uh. Yeah, she's a really weird kind of a friend." He seems to brighten up at the term 'friend' although maybe I'm being too hopeful.
"Friend. Right, great! Yep. She's a strange one. So... Do I get to know about the kid and the dog?" James nudges towards Clint asleep on my lap and Max asleep at my feet as he pours some batter onto the machine.
"Oh. Of course. You're my... friend?"
"Of course, Phil." He butts in with probably the most sincere look and tone I've seen and heard from him; even when he's speaking to Steve. It's like I can see into him, past the guards and the bravado. Just... James. With the checked shirt and unintentionally ripped jeans paired with work boots and a leather jacket just darker than Clint's. With the subtle sparkle of green in his eyes and the pure beauty of his mechanical arm. I'm surprised Clint hadn't asked or noticed that yet. Maybe he'll mention it when he wakes, at least I can warn James in case it's a touchy subject; it certainly used to be.
"Thank you." I'm just as sincere as him and he gives me this wide-eyed look but I interrupt to explain and he switches the newly cooked waffles for more batter. "I was out walking last night..."
"Ohh. Your 'worry walk'." James sniggered at the somewhat stricken look on my face.
"I don't 'worry walk'. I... I - at the least it's a relief walk from all of you! Stop interrupting." He smiles gleefully at getting me to loosen up, I presume, and nods my continuance.
"Anyway. I was walking and Fury had told me to get a dog or something. I walk past this pound and I consider it. Just to annoy him. Not for myself. And then... And then I see them. In the alley. Sniffling and glaring and tired. James... They were so tired. And I couldn't leave them. So I took them here, washed them, fed them and put them to bed. He slept in bed with me after a nightmare." I informed him as I let my actions weigh on me, holding Clint closer and running my fingers through his hair.
I didn't even notice James turn off the waffle iron, walk around the island and envelope us both in a hug until I feel him kiss my cheek. I must jump a little in surprise, and I can feel my cheeks heat profusely, as Clint jolts awake in the too-soon-ending hug.
"Hey bud. Ready for some waffles? M'sure Phil has some chocolate sauce somewhere, right?" James shoots me a genuinely pleased smile and Clint sleepily grins at the word chocolate.
"Yes. Fridge door. Thank you... James. Seriously." I smile unguardedly and I don't think I'll ever stop blushing.
"No problem whatsoever. Here we go... waffles, chocolate and some random berries. Wouldn't dream of anything better. Especially the company."
"Thank you, James." Clint grins as he re-seats himself on my lap and stuffs his face with waffles. I'm glad he trusts us with even this small gesture. Last night Clint had to watch everything I cooked, I knew he would which was why I offered to let him help me make dinner. Now, he seems to be okay as long as I'm around.
Once we finished eating and washed up, I left Clint in the living room with some cartoons and Max. His clothes are finally done but I need to get him some fitted clothes. And to a Doctor. And maybe a social worker. Or Marcus. Or something. I need a plan of action, luckily I've got a highly trained sniper and soldier to help. Which I can't say I'm not over the moon about. Although...
"James. I'm so sorry, I never asked you what you wanted when you stopped by. I mean, you cooked us breakfast, cleaned up, you're even helping me to mind a kid who you have no idea is. I've been a terrible host. I'm so sorry."
"Phil, don't be ridiculous! I like to cook, but that was essentially watching a machine cook, not manual labour. And I never mind cleaning, my Mom beat that into me and Stevie. Clint... he's, well, he's damn amazing. He's so smart and too wise. I mean, you had no idea who he was or what you were doing but you took him and a dog in anyway. All I'm doing is giving some unworthy advice and cracking jokes. I... Ahem... I came to see if you maybe wanted to I don't know... Go out or something. If you weren't busy and Natasha said you had the weekend off and you never have any time off or are free or anything. I... - Look, I, oh I don't know. Just put me out of my misery and shove a bar of soap in my mouth or some-".
Oh. I (not very smoothly) plant a chaste kiss on his lips to 'shut him up', as required. But, hell, when James kisses he does it like everything else, with passion and determination and a little smugness - although his flirting was an awful lot like Steve's stammering to Natasha just then. What was a method of silencing turns to a tongue battle of moans and groans. He's got a metal hand wrapped around my band shirt collar, holding me close while his flesh covered hand caresses my neck, jaw and face. I've got either hand on his hips and partially his thighs from our knocking-knees sitting position on the kitchen stools.
I could climb right into his lap but I remember the six year old through the door and what the hell I'm wearing and I must stink and... And... This is JAMES. Not Steve's Bucky or the Red Room's Winter Soldier... This is James Barnes. Ex-Soldier. Loveable rogue. Phil Coulson's huge crush. And he wanted to ask me out... on a date, if I presumed correctly and he's not just making out with me for a cruel dare. Tony wouldn't. Right?
We finally break as this rushes through my head. But James smiles gloriously and breathlessly as he stares into my eyes and we rest our foreheads together, heaving oxygen.
"Phil. Will you go out on a date with me?" I have to laugh at the insanity of the situation but also in glee.
"James. I would love to." Then James joins in in my laughter, he hugs me close and whispers in my ear.
"I really like you, you know?"
"I actually didn't. Thanks for the notification." We both snigger and he calls me a doofus which I kind of love.
"I really like you too. I've kind of... got a kid to sort out right now though. If you don't mind?"
"I'd like to help, if /you/ don't mind?"
"That would be great, thank you. I sent through some names and info to SHIELD for a background check, I should get an email any minute now."
"Phil? James?" We jump apart, me almost falling off the stool completely but saved by James' grip on my t-shirt.
"Clint! Hey. Oh, no. Wait, wait, wait! What's wrong?" His face has paled completely. The pure terror in his movements made my heart hammer.
"No. M'sorry. D'in mean to. I d'in. I SWEAR! PLEASE NO NO NO! PHIL PLEASE! DON' PUNISH ME! M'SORRY SO SORRY SO SORRY!" He trips over himself trying to run backwards as I walk towards him. He ends up half on my dusty rug hacking coughs, more to do with an infection than dust, I fear.
"No no no. Clint. Stop. Shhh. Shhh. It's alright! I'm not going to hurt you. You didn't do anything. You didn't. Pinkie? Come on. I pinkie promise no one will ever hurt you again. Shhh. Clint. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I keep mumbling to him as I cradle him in my arms on the floor. The tears prickle my eyes as he grabs tightly to my pinkie in disbelief and desperate hope. James grabbed his purple blanket to bundle us up in and kissed my head as I fought back tears. Max stumbled over sadly to nudge at us all on the floor.
We finally get a chance to look at Clint's file, or the file Agent Marlow compiled from my knowledge and some research, as Clint eventually calmed down enough to pass out from exhaustion in James' arms; hugging the metal hand to his chest like a cuddly toy. James did explain to him partially about the arm but Clint didn't ask, I think he's not supposed to ask questions, especially about injuries or significant markings.
I stare at my laptop trying to calm myself down from the revelations on the screen.
Over the past 5 years, Clinton Francis Barton AKA Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye AKA One half of the Barton Brother thieves AKA the six year old boy under the purple blanket on my couch, has been involved in 793 robberies/major accidents/illegal incidences; arrived in A&E 417 times, 32 broken bones, 57 fractures, multiple lacerations and bruises and 4 life-threatening injuries; been arrested 19 times; and he is /6 years old. /
Clint's parents died in an alcohol related driving accident four years ago, his father seemed to be an abusive drunk for the little time they had parents. He and his 11 year old brother were thrown into the system to escape two days later and become a large part of the sketchy Carson's Travelling Circus for the past four years. Almost all illegal events are related to the circus and a quarter are due to Charles Bernard 'Barney' Barton's exploitation of his little brother. It is unknown where the circus are at this moment in time or where the other half of the Barton brothers are but I am never letting Clint go near them again or get hurt ever again. He could rival some of /my/ injuries.
We need to talk to him. Properly. I trust Clint. He's made no attempt to ask for information or steal or get away from here. I can only hope everyone else understands; most of all James. We just need to understand Clint, like what the hell made him freak out before?
"Phil? Phil? What is it? I want to know." James pleads with me, holding onto my forearm to ground me.
"It- I- it's bad. Really bad."
I go on to spend the most of an hour discussing with James Clint's past and his possible future. It's not loud or aggressive or judging. He understands and I might never truly know why he does but he does and I will be forever grateful to him for this. We decide to talk to Clint whenever he wakes. In the meantime, I head to my ensuite for a shower and a change of clothes.
In the shower, which may have to turn cold if I keep thinking about James, but I can't help but worry over what this means for the two of us and what exactly he's looking for. I leave the shower and change into a soft pair of jeans, an old t-shirt from the bottom of my drawer and a pair of socks.
I walk back out to see James sitting up beside an almost fully awake Clint on the end of the couch.
"Hey, ace. You're awake." I smile reassuringly as Clint scrubs his eyes wearily and nods.
"Really, Phil? Are you kidding me?" James looks at me incredulously.
"What?" I'm genuinely confused.
"Your t-shirt?" He points and grins.
I look down and notice my faded Captain America Shield t-shirt. Oops. My blush returns as I look back up to a smirking James.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't even looking. I'll go change."
"No. Don't do that!" He smirks again and strides over to whisper in my ear, "I mean... it's kinda faded. Just the star's left. My star. It's kinda hot. I mean, you always look hot but... This is a fantastic look." And he kisses my cheek; Clint's still in the room.
My blush deepens but I smile widely as we sit on either side of each other on the coffee table, facing Clint who's now fully awake and pretty scared looking.
"M'sorry."
"What? Clint, what for? I don't understand. You didn't do anything wrong. Can you tell me what happened?" I ask worriedly.
"And remember, we pinkie'd, no one is ever going to hurt you." James reminded him and patted his knee gently.
"I... I- in'rupted you n'James. M'not s'pposed t'do that. 'M'nosy lil punk' n'a 'cock blocker' so I get punished. M'sorry. So sorry." Clint cries quietly and James and I swaddle him between us on the couch, keeping him close to contain our anger at whoever did and said this.
"Clint. Look at me. I told you. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. You aren't any of those things and you didn't do anything wrong. There's no way I wouldn't be there..."
"The same goes for me bud." James interrupts and my stomach flips at his honesty.
"We know what happened, Clint. You don't need to tell us anything you don't want to, but we are here to help you and keep you safe. We trust you. We need you to trust us."
"I... I do." Clint sniffles holding onto my shirt and James' mechanical arm.
"Then... what do you want to do? I can call a friend, get a nice family to take care of you? Or... or you can stay here. With me?"
"Really?" Clint asks quietly with utter desperation and hope.
"Pinkie promise?" I chuckle a little nervously; this kid is breaking every barrier I have like wet sand.
James and I both flinch in instinct as Clint jumps up and wraps around my neck and torso.
"Yes, yes, yes. Please? Phil? Please? Pinkie promise!" I enclose him in a tight hug mumbling 'of course' and 'always', and I know in my heart I mean it. Yes, it's been only 24 hours since I took Clint and Max in, but no one has ever so thoroughly and quickly locked themselves eternally in my heart.
I don't know if my imagination and emotions or going wild or not, who knows, but I could swear I saw James swipe away a tear before hugging us also.
"James too?" Clint asks with a teary smile that I don't want to ever see disappear but I don't want to lie either. James and I never got a chance to decide on our situation before now.
"If Phil and you would like... I'm in it for the long haul, bud." James states, intentionally not looking at me in fear of refusal, but keeping similarly hopeful eyes mirrored to Clint's.
"Yes. I would love that very much." I admit with a bright smile which also develops onto James' face when he looks right into my eyes.
"Yes, please." Clint agrees and leaps off of me to hug James just as tightly.
I lean over and place a chaste but passionate kiss on James. If possible, he smiles even brighter.
"Are... I... Um..." Clint mumbles and then suddenly quiets between us.
"Clint, you can ask us anything. We're a team now. Come on bud. What's up?" James encourages him.
"Are you n'Phil married?" He asks innocently and James and I both clam up a little.
"No." I'm speaking before I even know what I'm doing, "We're not. We're..." And I don't know how to answer this question!?
"Partners. I guess would be the term?" James looks to me for agreement.
"Yes. That's it. Partners." Perfect. Boyfriends sounds very juvenile.
"Then I wan' a par'ner too someday." Clint smiles at us and we chuckle. This is one of maybe two times I've seen him act like a normal six year old and it's wonderful.
Until he starts racking with coughing again.
"Ohh. It's okay, ace, just breathe. You're okay. Shhh. Deep breathes." I rub his back as he snuggles on my lap, his back to my front and his head on my chest. He blinks back tears of pain as I comfort him.
"We need to go see someone about your cough buddy. Come on, I know a Doc." James stands to retrieve our shoes.
"No. M'okay. Don'need to. Please." Clint shakes his head on my chest clutching at me.
"It's okay, Clint. Bruce is our friend. He doesn't even wear a white coat. We trust him. And we'll be with you the whole time. Pinkie?" Clint nods and takes my offered finger.
"We're gonna go to my house... well, tower. Well, Tony's tower... Have you ever heard of the Avengers?" Clint immediately brightens at the name.
"Yes! They're m'favrites! S'pecially Wint'r Soldier n' Ir'n Man. N'there's Hulk n' Widow n' Thor n' CAPTAIN AMERICA!" Clint goes on and on and speaks the most we've ever heard him talk that wasn't in fear. James grins ecstatically and I laugh at his obviously perfect observations.
"Well, guess what bud? My name's James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier. Phil is the Avengers' boss-man. Captain America, Steve, is my best friend, and we're gonna go meet the rest of the guys at Avenger's Tower. Even the Hulk, Bruce, is gonna look you over to make sure you're okay." James reveals as excitedly as Clint's expression.
"Really!?" Clint is almost bouncing in anticipation.
"Absolutely!" I chime in as Clint explodes with excitement and throws on his sneakers, grabbing my hand to hurry me up as James is already ready.
"Come on, Phil! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" He giggles as James grabs his waist to hoist him and fireman carry him out the front door as I follow with Max jumping around us. He needs to be walked and I do enjoy annoying Tony.
"James, if you make him throw up, you're sorting it out..." I warn with a smirk on my face. As we walk down the stairs of my building.
"Ha-ha. Fine." James lifts him onto his shoulders for a piggy back ride after zipping up both their leather jackets and we exit onto the pavement. The Tower is a ten minute walk away. It was either this or I live with them. It still gives me shivers to think about living with Tony Stark, although Pepper is my best friend following Tasha.
Shit. What the hell are they going to say about this?!