It took Clint a few days before he was finally able to do anything with the information that he'd gained from his talk with Spencer. That first night had been about making Spencer feel better. Stuffing him with pizza, beer, and good times. He'd found out that Spencer couldn't really get drunk, not without serious alcohol and real effort, but he'd learned that the kid could apparently get sort of punch-drunk off happy emotions, which was definitely something Clint was going to test out at some point. It sounded hilarious.

After that, he had to take a little time to make sure that he was going to be okay, and to gather his own information. Because he knew Spencer wouldn't just tell him the name of the asshole who'd hurt him. That wasn't Spencer's way. So Clint had to watch and listen for days until he finally got the clues he was waiting for. It wasn't even Spencer who gave it away. It was the asshole himself. Body language gave away a lot and Clint could recognize 'pissed off ex' pretty easily.

As soon as he saw who it was, his temper tripled. That no good, rat fucking bastard. Clint kept a smile on his face while he watched Agent Russell Perez move around Spencer in the chow line, every inch of his body giving him away. The Agent side of Clint wanted to sneer at someone telegraphing so much-they were supposed to be more talented than that! The protective side of him, the side that he couldn't quite keep from seeing the kid as his, wanted to put an arrow right through that bastard's leg to drop him down and then go over and show him all the fun things that Clint had learned during his life, not all of which had been learned at SHIELD.

How dare he even think about touching Spencer! The kid was just that, a kid. Just eighteen freaking years old! Perez was in his forties! Clint was all for loving who you loved, regardless of age, gender, or anything like that, but… but seriously? Seriously?

There was nothing he could do about it right away. If Spencer caught a hint about what Clint wanted to do he was going to be pissed off about it, and a pissed off Spencer could be a vindictive little shit. So Clint made sure not to think about it in any way when Spencer got close again, since it would seem he picked up on a whole lot more than he'd let on, and once lunch was done he waited patiently until Spencer was gone to meet with Jason before finally breaking free. He didn't go right after Perez, though.

First, he went to Natasha.

It wasn't hard to get her on board. There were things Clint couldn't say without betraying Spencer's confidences, but what he could say was enough. "I found out who hurt Spencer." He told her without preamble when he found her outside on the training field. She straightened up when he said it, suddenly a whole lot more serious, and Clint smirked at her. "Want to help me out and lure him up to the roof so we can have a chat?"

Her answering smirk was answer enough. Oh yeah. This guy had no idea how just how big a mistake he'd made. But he was about to.

While casual social interaction wasn't Natasha's strong suit, conning a mark was. It took her not even fifteen minutes after she went to change before she and Perez were coming up to the roof. From his hiding perch, Clint watched as Natasha brought the guy right over to where Clint was, as if they'd rehearsed it, getting him into position perfectly that Clint was able to drop right down in front of him. It was perfect. The pissed off part of Clint took great satisfaction from the way that Perez jerked backwards. It showed as he grinned at the older man. "Hey, Agent Perez. Fancy seeing you here."

"Barton." There was a clipped not to Perez's words. He wasn't exactly Clint's biggest fan to begin with. Now he sounded both annoyed and nervous as he asked "What're you doing up here?" He looked suspiciously over at Natasha, who just met his gaze with her own smooth expression that showed none of what she felt inside.

Clint tried not to roll his eyes at this guy. Really, had he been that distracted by Natasha's cleavage that he hadn't even realized yet what he'd walked into? Well, he'd realize soon enough. Clint had a few ideas about how he wanted to do this. There were some things he wanted to do that he couldn't. For example, he couldn't shoot the man. Arrow wounds would be kind of suspicious. No one else really used them. And Clint wasn't looking to actually explain to Spencer what was going to happen today. Let the kid think Perez was just hurt on a mission or training or something.

The idiot finally seemed to be getting more suspicious. "What's going on here?"

"Just wanted to have a bit of a chat, Perez, that's all." Clint smiled broadly. Then, without warning, he drew his fist back and let it fly right into Perez's nose.

The loud crack that echoed around them was satisfying. Almost as satisfying as listen to the man curse as he held his hands up to his face. "What the fuck, Barton!" Perez yelled, voice thick with the blood that was dripping down his face. He continued to prove his stupidity by not even bothering trying to run. He was glaring up at Clint in a way that suggested he had absolutely no self-preservation skill whatsoever. "What the hell was that for?"

"That." Clint said "Was for me." He moved quickly once more, throwing a punch he knew would be dodged and using that dodge to get in close enough to swipe out Perez's legs, knocking him down. Then he was on him, the knife he'd kept hidden now in his hand and pressed right up against the other agent's throat. It made him smirk to see the way that Perez went immediately still. Still smirking, Clint bent down low, letting the tip of the knife press down into the hollow of the man's throat. "This is for 'Yes."

Horror widened his eyes. "Listen, Barton…"

"Ah, ah, ah." Clint clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You don't need to talk here. Not right now. You talk too much and my hand might just… slip. We wouldn't want that happening now would we?" He beamed when Perez gave a small head shake, obviously nervous about speaking or about moving against the knife. "Good boy! Now, I think it's time you and I had a chat, don't you?"

Behind him, Natasha grinned, and Perez shivered.

It took less time than Clint had expected before he found himself called down to Phil's office. They didn't even make it to dinner. When Clint made his way down there, he ran into Natasha along the way and the two shared a look, both of them knowing what they were being called in for. Neither regretted it. Natasha was blank faced, but Clint was able to see just a hint of a crinkle by her eyes, that tiny version of a smile you couldn't see unless you were looking. It told him enough. She didn't regret this either.

She hid her look when they reached Phil's office. Clint didn't. He knocked and then walked right in, beaming right at the man behind the desk. "Hey, Phil!" With his usual disregard for protocol or even manners, the archer dropped himself down into the chair he usually took in here, one leg draping over the armrest and the other kicked out, his body in an undignified sprawl. He grinned broadly at the disgruntled look Phil gave him. "Such a happy face, Phil. A guy might think you weren't all that happy to see him."

"I wonder where you'd get an impression like that." Phil's tone was as dry as the desert and it made Clint snicker.

Much calmer than Clint, Natasha sat herself down in the chair next to him. She didn't sprawl. She sat down and crossed her legs, hands folded in her lap, and yet she managed to somehow make that look more dangerous than Clint could manage at his worst. The fact that she said nothing only seemed to reinforce that image.

For a long moment Phil just looked at them. He had a way of looking at a person that left them feeling like he saw a whole lot more than he let on. Clint wondered sometimes if that was why he handled Spencer so well. He'd already had plenty of practice dealing with someone who saw way too much. Clint didn't flinch under his handler's gaze. Eventually Phil nodded as if their silence had confirmed something.

"We pulled Agent Perez down from the side of the building just an hour ago." Phil said calmly. Nothing showed on his face. The man had a damn good poker face. "He seems to be quite content to keep quiet about how he ended up hanging from there, and the cameras in that area seem to have mysteriously gone dark during that time."

Clint clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Sounds like you guys might wanna check your security."

"Indeed." He sounded serious, but there was a little twitch by his lips, a sign Clint had learned to read a long time ago that meant he was secretly amused with Clint. After a second he shook his head. "I feel safe in assuming this has something to do with your young friend?"

There was no real need to answer that. Clint just smiled and kicked his foot, letting it swing lazily through the air. He wasn't going to confirm or deny anything. They had no proof. So long as they had no real proof, Phil had no justifiable cause to punish either one of them.

The amusement on Phil's face grew a little. "You can't protect them from everything."

Even as Clint snorted at the idea of that-of course he couldn't protect her from everything, but he'd damn well protect her from the things he could-he smiled a little at the way Phil said it. Unlike others, who seemed to decide that to just call Spencer 'she' all the time, as Erinyes was the part of her they knew, Phil seemed to go for the more neutral route, opting for 'they' and 'them' as pronouns. The first few times he'd done it, Clint hadn't caught on, but Spencer had commented on it once with a smile. He'd told Clint that he didn't need that, that he wasn't bothered by what people called him, but he'd had a sort of pleased little smile about it. Anything that made Spencer smile was pretty okay in Clint's books.

"Was this all you called us in for, sir?" Natasha asked, arching one eyebrow in a way that suggested just how ridiculous she found it if that was the reason.

Phil shook his head. "No. Just, making observations, that's all. I have another reason, which seems to have rather fortunate timing." From a stack on his desk he picked up a file and tossed it towards Clint, who had to scramble a little to catch it. "Pack your bags, agent, and go find your special friend. You three are heading out on a mission together. Report to Jason's office for the official briefing in one hour, and don't be late."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Lifting the folder, Clint used it to mock salute, and then he was up and out of his chair and following Natasha out of the room.

The sound of his name had him stopping at the doorway, one hand on the door. He turned to look back at Phil, finding the man watching him with a rather serious gaze. "I understand your reasoning behind what you did, but the next time a problem like this occurs, I want you to bring it to me."

There was no doubt in Clint's mind that Phil would help him with something like this. He'd be just as upset and offended as Clint was by the idea of Perez doing what he'd done with Spencer. If it'd been about anyone else, any friend, Clint probably would've brought it to him. Trust wasn't easy for Clint but Phil had proved himself time and time again. But, this wasn't just any friend. This was Spencer. And in Clint's world… "Family takes care of each other."

He didn't have one single regret for what he'd done. As Clint headed down the hall with Natasha, making their way towards the range where they knew Spencer would probably be by now, he didn't feel anything but amused and a bit smug about it all. There wasn't a single part of him that regretted what he'd done. Perez could handle some bruises and a bit of a headache from hanging upside down for so long. If he wasn't good enough to haul himself back up with his ankles tied like that, maybe he shouldn't be an agent. And maybe he should learn not to mess with Clint's family. Spencer was tough, yes. Tougher than pretty much anyone Clint knew, though Natasha probably was close to on par with him. But that didn't mean that he didn't deserve protection. So long as Clint was around, that was what he'd do. Protect him.

As he'd told Phil, family takes care of each other. Real family, at least. And he had a real family now. There was no way he was going to let anything happen to it.