It took several days for Clint Barton to get Pietro Maximoff to talk to him.

He managed it. Eventually.

The homeless of that specific alley had been upturned from the owners of the shops on both sides, so had no other choice but to move and try and find somewhere they could stay for a few days. They would usually stay under a bridge, but since the authorities had gone down hard on the homeless, they had a hard time trying to find a place that could hold them for weeks at a time.

"Why are we moving?" Clint turned around to see Pietro frowning at him. His accent was thick and heavy and rolled over Clint like something he hadn't had in years.

"Authorities are bastards, so won't let us stay places for long. Also the shop owners aren't too pleased that we were staying there, so made us leave. Dick move, right?" Clint asked as Lucky plodded along next to him. Lucky was probably full of fleas, but none of them had the money to have Lucky cleaned up or taken care of properly. The least they could do for him however, was give him food, water and give him a place to sleep with them (even if it was a few feet away).

"Why are they like this?"

"Because they don't like us and think we take up space - which is a fair point, but it kinda sucks that they won't help us," Clint said with a shrug of his shoulders. Pietro gave him a strange look, one that Clint couldn't read; but Clint didn't question it, instead he turned his attention to the rest of the homeless and watched where they would be going.

"Faggot!"

Beside him, Pietro tensed up. Clint looked over at him discreetly and saw a gang of young men laughing at them.

"They're assholes because they think they're better than us," Clint murmured, being careful to not move his lips as much. Pietro made a noise that sounded hurt and scared and he shifted closer to Clint who didn't say anything.

"I knew them from school and college; they were always assholes," Pietro said, his accent as thick as before.

The young men continued to jeer at Pietro, though Pietro tried to pay them no mind.

"Just keep walking with us; they might not look it, but if they come at you, the others will kick the shit out of them," Clint said, trying to reassure the younger man.

"Thanks," Pietro said.

"Hey, fag!"

One of the young men had started to jog across the road towards them. Clint's face turned to that of which could resemble a resting bitch face, only more extreme. The young man got onto the pavement (or rather sidewalk since they were in America) and glanced over at Clint, and moved away slightly.

"Where you been, fag?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes on Pietro and avoiding Clint who was looking more and more intimidating - thank Nat for that. She could pull off the terrifying look effortlessly.

Pietro didn't answer the man who shoved Pietro's shoulder when he didn't reply.

"Hey, dickwad, leave him alone," Clint snapped, his voice full of authority he used to have. The man turned his gaze to Clint.

"Go sit down before you fall down, old man," he said and Clint raised an eyebrow, his expression reading 'bitch, please'.

"Listen here, sweetheart," Clint said and stepped towards the young man who realised just how muscled Clint was and how much taller he was. "Go take your privileged ass back to your fuckboy friends before I kick it back and make sure you know just how violent us fags can get if you try and fuck us over. I see you 'round here being a douchebag to those who don't quite have the same upperclass shit as you, I will wipe the fucking floor with you and let my dog eat the flesh off your bones all while you're still alive. Gottit?"

The man nodded, having turned pale and looked like he was about to turn his underwear and trousers brown.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Scram, asshat!"

He fucking ran.

Clint turned back to walking with the others who were smirking to themselves. Clint gave them a bright smile and they turned back to walk to wherever they had decided on the destination. Pietro was still in shock, but knocked himself out of it and ran up to Clint's side again.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that,"

"Of course I did. That bastard was callin' you a fag like he's fuckin' allowed to say that word. Besides, if what he says is true - us fags have gotta stick together, right?" Clint said with a slight raise of his right eyebrow. Pietro gaped at him, jaw all slack as he stared at Clint in shock.

"You'll get killed if people here you say that!"

"It's America, have an American Dream and all that patriotic bullshit. They allowed gay marriage, just as long as Trump and that Pence asshole don't fuck up, we'll be relatively OK. If not, we can leave the country and move to Canada because Canada is cool,"

"If Canada is so cool, why haven't you moved there?"

"Don't have the money to get a passport or anything that shows my real identity and don't have a plan for after I get there,"

"Why don't you make one?"

"Plans don't usually agree with me."

"I can relate to that."

"I'm Clint, by the way. Clint Barton,"

"Pietro Maximoff."

They continued to walk and fell into a strangely comfortable silence. Lucky was walking beside them, occasionally whining whenever he grew particularly hungry or thirsty; Pietro would see Clint pull out a water bottle or a dog treat and give part of it to Lucky who would perk up whenever Clint did this.

Eventually, they got to wherever they were meant to go, which turned out to be one of the small abandoned buildings behind one of the many huge factories.

"Looks, um, what is the word? Ominous?" Pietro said, almost making Clint jump.

"No-one apart from us lot go in there; everyone seems to forget about the place unless they want to graffiti it or try and trash it in general. It's pretty fun when you're in there and they come in and get the shit scared out of them." Clint said with half a shrug. Clint led Pietro in, the others following too.

They got to their usual rooms and settled down and Clint noticed how Pietro had set up barely a foot from him. He didn't say anything though; the kid looked like he needed the comfort and if it came in the form of Clint, then so be it. He didn't mind much either, since this would make it easier to watch out for the kid if anything bad happened.

"Anyone got any food?" Barbara, one of the oldest and shortest asked. She didn't look it, but she could kick your ass if you tried anything to either her or the others. She made sure the others were safe, which was nice of her and made it feel more like a family.

There were grumbles and the shaking of heads and she sighed.

"Clint?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Clint said and stood up. "Kid, you wanna join me?"


"Clint, I am cold, bored and tired," Pietro said, his teeth chattering as his body shook.

Clint sighed before pulling Pietro closer to him, wrapping his arms around the younger man. Pietro was shaking violently and Clint felt his heart ache.

"I know, just a few more minutes, OK? Then we can go and get some food," Clint reasoned and Pietro nodded. He sighed, rubbing his hands on Pietro's arm, trying to give the man some warmth.

They waited for some more people to be kind enough to give them some money, but their luck seemed to have ran out.

They got up and checked how much they had gotten and were surprised to see they had lucked out on having fifteen dollars. Clint smiled brightly up at Pietro, who was looking as happy he was feeling.

"Are we going to the dollar shop?" Pietro asked.

"Yeah, cheap food cheap drinks but it's food nonetheless." Clint answered, Pietro nodding as they made their way to the shop. They were tired, cold and hungry, but they had to get enough food so that everyone could eat and have some water.

"I wanted to thank you," Pietro said after walking for a few minutes in silence.

"Hm?"

"You and the others, you have allowed me to join you and you have taken me in, no questions asked,"

"Well, no-one really wants to talk about their reasons for being homeless for the first few weeks and we all know how difficult it is having to readjust to this shit life,"

"Maybe so, but I want to thank you for allowing me to join you,"

"Well then you're welcome," Clint said as they walked over to the small shop.

When they got in, the lights were bright and momentarily blinded them as they walked in. A few people shopping gave them a mix of sympathetic and disgusted looks. Clint had already gone past caring, but Pietro seemed to hide behind Clint.

"Don't worry," Clint said. "They'll not say anything while I'm here," he said, not saying the words he had wanted to say.

"Da, spasibo," Pietro murmured as they reached the tin can aisle. Pietro stayed silent as Clint picked out the different cans that could have for dinner. Pietro watched as he read the information on the cans - the dates they expired and the cost. Eventually, Clint finished and moved on to get some bottled water.

"This should be enough," Clint stated quietly as a man a few feet from them scoffed when he saw their dirty appearance. Clint turned around and gave the man his infamous resting bitch face. "Fuckin' jerkoff," Clint muttered before turning his attention to Pietro who gave him a light smile.

"Shall we - err - pay for those?"

"Yeah," Clint said.

They did so, and had about four dollars left to spare. They had to make the money last; they didn't know what amounts they would get over the next few weeks.

"How good is your English?" Clint asked as he and Pietro made their way back to the old building.

"Not too bad, but it could be better. We moved from my home - homeland? - Sokovia a few years ago, but we've been learning English ever since,"

"At least you're trying," Clint said. "I - um - I could teach you more if you want? I don't know how, but we could try?" Clint asked.

"Da - er, yes - I'd like that, sp-thank you," Pietro said, his cheeks tinged pink that wasn't from the cold wind. "I-I could teach you in return?"

"Sounds like a plan."