Clint limps through the streets of New York. The box of donuts under his right arm feels a little heavy. He figured he'd bring some donuts back to the tower. As a way of saying "hey, just out buying a snack, nothing out of the ordinary." Not like he's coming home from the hospital. Coming home broken and useless.
Clint longs to shift the heavy box from one arm to the other, until he remembers that he fucking can't. The left arm is in a cast. It throbs when it rains sometimes (though he flat out fucking refuses to tell the doctors that. No need to seem any weaker than he does).
Most of the people on the sidewalk don't pay any attention. Hell, this is New York, you can't afford to give a damn about all the strangers around you. Some look at him briefly, sizing him up. He glares behind his sunglasses and they turn away.
Clint just has the face of a brawler, of a thug. Comes in handy more often than not.
He raises his right arm and adjusts his sunglasses closer to his face. Because of the damage to his right eye, he's been forced to wear a patch, to keep all the dirt and grime out of the wound. And while Director Fury might be alright going around looking like a pirate, Clint is not. Better to cover that shit up with some Blues Brothers shades.
He finally makes his way to Stark Towers Lobby. He's too tired to even reflect on the fact that this is his life now. Living in this monument to Tony Stark's ginormous ego.
The staff barely pay any attention to him. No one gawks at his injuries, or questions what happened. Probably Pepper's doing.
He doesn't know if he should love her or hate her for that.
In the elevator, he stops and considers his options. The first two floors of the Tower are open to everyone. But the upper floors are open only to the team and a slim number of their close friends. To make sure of this, Tony installed a couple of biometric scans, scanning the subjects most prominent eye and hand. Unfortunately Clint is left-handed.
Without warning JARVIS speaks. "Nice to see you coming back Agent Barton."
"What the fuck?" He screams, the box tumbling from his hands as he stumbles to the back of the elevator.
"I was merely greeting you on your return." JARVIS responds, as cool as ever.
"Since when are you installed in the public elevator? Thought it freaked out the regular people." Clint responds, wiggling his fingers in front of him to indicate who the 'regular people' were.
"It's a new idea of Sir's. Mr. Stark thought it prudent to have someone assist you while you're in 'Gimp mode'. His words, I assure you."
"Yeah. Gimp Mode really doesn't sound like something you'd come up with."
"Precisely," JARVIS responds, sounding kind of proud for an AI. "I am currently installed in this particular elevator to prevent you from having to use the hand and eye scans to return to your quarters. Is that where you would like to go?"
Clint lets his head hit the wall behind him. My room. Home. It's hard to associate a building so unforgiving and metallic with either of those things, but he does. His floor, his bed, a respite from the hospital smells he'd grown so familiar with, His sanctuary.
"Yeah, fuck it. Thanks JARVIS."
"You're quite welcome Agent Barton."
As the elevator begins to rise, Clint thinks about his options. What he truly wants is to hide under the covers and pretend that Clinton Francis Barton doesn't exist - that the world doesn't exist - at least until his injuries are completely healed and his leave of absence is over.
Dear god he can't wait until the six weeks are over. He doesn't know how he'll bear it. Six weeks of nothing. No S.H.I.E.L.D business or Avengers business for two whole months. The first was an order of Fury's, the second a decision made by Steve.
"You are not going on the field with us until you're ready, we've all agreed," were his exact words. Clint had looked to Natasha, feeling betrayed. She simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged. That was the way things were going to be, the look said, don't fight it.
Traitor.
The ride up to his floor is soundless, smooth. Almost as if he isn't moving at all. If he wasn't used to it, it'd be damn disconcerting. As are most of Stark's inventions, come to think of it.
He reaches his destination faster than he thought he would. Clint bends down to pick up the donuts, his knees making a creaking noise. "Urgh", he moans under his breath. .
Finally he starts to leave. Before he can exit JARVIS speaks up one last time. "Have a good day Agent Barton. Hope your recuperation goes well. Contact me if you need any more assistance."
"Thanks." He mumbles.
His room isn't even a room. It's a whole floor. Stark tended to go overboard when it came to throwing his money around. Every floor had been designed with a living room where you entered. Every living room designed originally with a fully stocked bar on the left (only Clint and Thor took him up on that one). He turns his head that way, hoping the cheap little bottle of whiskey is still there.
Tony had threatened, more than once, to confiscate it. "No one in my tower's gonna drink cheap shit, Barton. It's an insult."
Speaking of the bastard, he's there. Standing behind Clint's bar, acting like he owns the place.
Well...strictly speaking...but it still pisses him off.
His magnanimous landlord takes a drink of some amber liquid and puts the glass down, smiling his "this is gonna be fun" smile.
"Hey, the crash test dummy has returned and he brought something. What's in the box, birdbrain? Something fun?" He glides from behind the bar and advances.
Clint instinctively puts the box behind his back. True it was supposed to be his excuse, his distraction, but now he doesn't wanna.
Because Tony wants it, which makes Clint not want to hand it over.
"It's a large box of 'none of your fucking business, Stark."
"Oh but you see, it is my business. An unmarked box in my tower is definitely my business. What if it's something dangerous? What if it's a bomb? I absolutely have a right to know. Hand it over." He says , making a grabby motion with his hands.
Clint deftly walks backwards toward his couch. It's black, leather and gorgeous. Probably cost Stark a ton. Since Stark has tons more, Clint refuses to feel guilty about that.
"If it was a bomb I'd give it to ya Stark," He says, setting the box down on the table in front of the couch. He grabs a chocolate covered one and dives in, giving Tony a wink.
"Now that's just not fair. You know I can't resist donuts. It's my file and everything."
Tony waves his hand in a back and forth motion, miming a request of 'scoot over'. Though Clint really isn't feeling like company, he complies. At least Stark isn't bugging him about what happened.
Tony sits right by him, hip to hip. He grabs one of the glazed ones and begins to devour it, like he's starving. Licking his lips off with a satisfied smirk, he leans back and lays his arm on the back of the couch, like a sleazy date trying to be smooth.
"That Ross shit was really crazy, wasn't it? I mean what the fuck is wrong with that man? Not enough to hound Bruce but kidnapping a SHIELD agent? I always knew he had a few screws loose." Tony says, turning to Clint and making the finger signal for 'crazy'.
So much for not bringing it up. Motherfucker.
Clint hurries up and smashes another donut into his mouth. "Can't talk, eating," He mumbles around the sticky pastry.
His nosy companion chuckles at that. "Deflection with food, minus two points. You're supposed to be a spy for God's sake." Tony wipes his hand on Clint's jacket, getting flecks of sugar all over it.
Clint clenches his jaw. Nothing good will come out of hitting the billionaire who builds his equipment. Slowly he swallows the large glop of bread in his mouth.
Finally looking at Tony he says, "Anyone ever teach you about somethin' called tact, Stark?"
The man has the nerve to scoff. "Tact is just not saying true stuff, I'll pass." He pats Clint's leg and then uses it to push himself up. Tony swaggers back to the bar, talking all the while.
"I mean, what the fuck right? He's gotta know he's basically declared war on SHIELD, not to mention us." Tony reaches back behind the bar and pulls out a bottle of...apple juice? And fills up his abandoned glass.
After taking a few swigs he begins to ramble on at Clint some more. "Oh, you're wondering about this? Pepper's idea, and Rhodey's, and my liver's to be honest. Damn thing starting to protest about all that booze. Living the alcohol free life now."
Because your alpha is making you? Clint thinks to himself. Has to be the only thing out there capable of turning Tony 'drinks like a fish' Stark into a teetotaler. And people wonder why he doesn't want any part of that shit.
Tony takes another swig and makes a face. "Ugh. Man this sucks. I think my body's trying to reject it. I'm not built for this healthy shit. It's inhumane. Anyway, back to you." He says, glass of inhumane apple juice in hand, coming back to the couch. "And all that to, what? Expose you as an omega? Like that would change anything."
Clint looks at him long and hard, trying to figure out if Tony's hiding something. Is that what he really thinks happened? He hasn't hacked into the mission report?
There is nothing telling in his face. Tony Stark looks innocent, or as innocent as he can.
Clint shakes his head. "Well like you said, crazy. Can't tell what someone like that'll do. Best not to worry about it." He shrugs and turns away.
Tony taps him on his bad shoulder, but not enough to hurt. "Seriously? You go through all that without wondering why? No. No way. Don't believe it. You get kidnapped and operated on, you want to know why."
The look on his face makes Clint feel guilty. Damn him to hell for it.
"That's where you're wrong, Stark. You wondered why. You're a scientist. You have the need to know why. I'm the guy with the bow and arrow. You tell me to shoot, I shoot. Don't need to know why the bastard's trying to take over the world, just need to take him out."
He digs in-between the seat cushions, hunting desperately for the remote control. His beautiful 40 inch plasma is there, shining and waiting to be used. God he missed this. After finally finding it in the endless sinkhole of his couch, Clint turns on the TV.
With a quickness Clint didn't know he possesses, Tony grabs the remote and turns the TV off.
If Clint was on his A game, Tony would never have gotten that close. "Wanna tell me why you're getting between a man and his TV?" He asks, turning back to face him.
"'Cause we're not done, Birdy. That bullshit you're passing for truth, don't buy it for a second. We need to figure out what the fuck Ross was thinking, so we can prepare ourselves."
"Prepare ourselves for what, Stark?"
"What do you think? What if he tries it again? Why is he gunning for you now? Is it because you're the only omega? Once he realizes that it hasn't changed anything, will he come for you again, or try to get to the team some other way. You work for SHIELD you know, this shit should be at the top of your list, not watching Jerry Springer."
"Wasn't gonna watch Springer. There's this cooking show I like. They're cooking a Souffle today." He reaches up to grab for the remote, but Tony holds it above his head.
"And that's the part that seems most pressing to you? Thunderbolt Ross came gunning for you and we have no fucking idea why. Gunning for you, not Bruce and you don't seem to give a damn. Why don't you care?"
Clint arranges his body in a pose of nonchalance. "It's just like you said. He wanted to take me out by exposing me as an omega. Didn't work, I got rescued and bandaged up and that's the end of that. Nothin' bigger." It didn't work as far as he knew.
"Oh yeah? Then why won't you talk to Natasha about it? You two have always been chummy and she says you're freezing her out."
Clint pulls back in shock. Natasha's been tellin' on him? Out of all people? He feels like he's chugged a gallon of cold water.
"Is that what she says?" Clint tries to make each word come out with no emotion, but fails.
"It is. It also happens that you've been put on another psych leave, and people are dropping her hints here and there about why. Apparently Ross was up to more than just outing your dynamic. She refuses to press, waiting for you to open up on your own. She's fine with killing people but invading your privacy sets off her moral alarm bells."
In a fit of annoyance, Clint kicks the table away from him. Tony watches the movement, unimpressed. Turning in Tony's direction, Clint scoffs. "Are you saying you're above invading my privacy too?
Calmly Tony drags the table back to it's proper place and puts his feet up on it. "Oh I'm not above it. Prying into things is one of my favorite hobbies. But, I figure if you won't give up the goods to your dear friend the assassin, this must be something big. I don't fuck around with the big things."
He finally sees this for what it is, an ambush. Tony was here lying in wait for him. Maybe for hours. Waiting to spring this shit on him all over again when all he wants is to forget.
Clint sinks into the couch. His wrists are throbbing with the beat of his heart. If he doesn't watch it, he'll fall asleep right here.
"I just got outta the hospital, can't this wait? I'm tired, and I want to watch TV, if that's alright with you." He means to show his annoyance but it comes out sounding defeated.
Tony smiles at him indulgently, like a parent to a child. Or a beta to an omega. When they visited him in the hospital, everyone of them insisted that his dynamic wouldn't change a thing. Maybe they were lying.
"We gave you time, Barton. You know that. We agreed to let you recoup, as long as you told us what happened when you were out. Why aren't you keeping your part of the bargain?"
"I'm just askin' you to give me a little more time, alright? I'm tired, my body's fried and I need a little more rest." He says, giving off a yawn and stretching his good arm.
Tony sits up and waves his hands as he speaks. "We gave you a month! You said you'd be ready to spill the beans as soon as you got out of the hospital. We even agreed to let you come home alone. You know Steve was chafing in his tight little suit at that."
They did agree. When he was doped up on pain medicine and just wanted to make them stop asking questions, because he thought they'd let it drop. When he just wanted them to leave, to stop looking at him with pity.
Then he had to bargain with them on how he'd come home. His will was not his own. He's damn sure they wouldn't order him around that way if he was an alpha.
"Right. You gave me a month. What's a few more days?"
Tony laughs. "Because a few more days would turn into a few more months. Probably into a few more years. If you give a mouse a cookie, you know what I mean?"
Now he's comparing Clint's life to a children's story. Like he is being an insolent brat. Clint gets a nightmare image of what his future is gonna be like. Controlled by some of the most powerful Alphas and Betas in the world.
"And you decided to take it up on yourself to speak for the rest of the team, is that it?" He's throwing his last hope at him. Maybe this over-caring, this control of Clint, is a Tony Stark thing. There are some betas that can be as controlling and manipulative as the angriest Alphas.
Maybe the entire team won't treat him like this.
"The entire team got together and decided that someone needed to come talk to you first, in a one on one basis. Try to convince you to open up. Natasha figured this was gonna be one helluva fight. And they ganged up and decided it should be me as I'm the least threatening. Being a beta and not built like a brick shit-house, like a certain super soldier."
Clint is stunned, for a moment, by the fact that Tony can ramble on like this without taking a breath.
"Not to say that that isn't insulting. I can be threatening if I want. Very easily in fact. But that's the opposite of what I'm trying to be, now. We just want you to know that we're here for you and all that touchy feely crap. But we need to know what happened."
Clint hangs his head down in a moment of defeat. The entire team deciding to force a confession on him. Meeting behind his back and deciding to confront him.
He gathers up the last of his resolve and looks Tony straight in the eye. "Alright. This is what happened. Ross is bat-shit insane. He kidnapped me for reasons all his own. I got hurt and now I'm gettin' better. Hell, I get kidnapped and stuff all the time. Nothin' to worry about."
Clint grabs the remote back from Tony and turns the TV back on. He faces his back to the man, hoping he'll get the hint.
He doesn't.
"JARVIS, time to send for the reinforcements. I need backup."
Clint squares his shoulders, determined to block this all out. But he can't. Because he knows what reinforcements means. The whole team, prying every inch of his mind, to find every disgusting detail of what happened.
It feels like a betrayal, for all the talk of respecting his privacy earlier.
He watches the door, waiting for his 'team' to come in. Eventually they do. He gets the feeling that they've been waiting in the wings for this. His body goes cold at the thought.
When Natasha walks in, he pulls his sunglasses off, forcing her to look him in the eye. She does this with no shame. None of the other Avengers have any problem looking him in the eye. Except for Banner. Bruce shuffles in last, keeping to the back of the room. He looks at Clint quickly and then looks away, his cheeks reddening. He pulls his glasses off his face and starts to play with them, his feet doing a nervous shuffle.
"I know what you're feeling Clint, and you're wrong. This isn't an ambush." Natasha says, finally moving to the center of the room. She sits on the floor in front of him, with her legs crossed. Even with the difference in height, in her submissive posture, she'll never look nonthreatening.
"Then what is it?" He says, looking down on her in contempt.
"It's...we need to know what happened. For you and for the rest of the team. Ross is definitely an enemy, someone to watch out for. But he's changed his game in going after you, you know that. So we have to change ours. If it was anyone else," She says, gesturing to the rest of the team, "You'd understand that, and you'd be doing the same."
"But it wasn't anyone else", "It was me. The team's only omega." Thor wouldn't have been hurt by Ross at all. None of the soldiers would dare touch Steve and Bruce...Bruce has a built in body guard.
"Clint we need to prepare for what he does next, a good defensive strategy. We'd be doing the same if it was any of us, regardless of dynamic. You should know that." Steve chimes in, looking vaguely hurt.
But of course he'd say that. Maybe he'd never intentionally treat Clint differently. But ambushing him like this, trying to force him to talk, not allowing him to rest...would any of that have happened before?
"What did he want from you?" Steve presses on, in his stern but loving Captain America voice.
"What he wants doesn't matter, he knows he won't get it." Well, in part at least. Ross never proved to the world what a monster Hulk is. Hulk never violated him as the general 'just knew' he would. But he might still succeed in destroying the Avengers from the inside. One out of two ain't bad.
"And that is?" Natasha prods, gently. She can always do gentle, if she wants.
He shakes his head. "He just wanted to expose me as an omega. Thought it would set the team against me."
Natasha rolls her eyes. "I know that's not true, Clint. You've never been any good at lying to me."
Thor walks to where Tasha's sitting, striding with purpose.
"What is so difficult, Agent Barton? We merely need to know how to avenge the wrong done to you. How to protect not only you but the rest of our brethren from this Ross and his ambitions. To do that, we must know what happened. If you do not tell us, how can we help you?"
"Yeah, 'cause that's what you want, to help me. Barging in here, demanding answers, making me feel trapped, that's really gonna help." He takes a breath. There is new energy surging through him. His entire team, demanding answers. Demanding subservience. "You don't go blindfolding Tony and operating on him to get him to talk, do you?" He says, standing up to face his attackers.
"You aren't trapped Clint," Steve says, backing away just a little. "We'd never do that to you. But we will need to know what happened."
"Why?" He screams, charging at Steve, getting in his face. "Why do you need to know, huh? Is that what you like? Is that what gets you off? Knowing what that fucker did to me? What he tried to do?"
Everyone's looking at him in shock. He feels the heat of anger rushing to his face. The words he swore not to tell gathering in his throat, ready to explode out of him. How dare they? How dare they corner him and then act burned when he finally spills out all his nasty feelings. This is what they wanted. This is what they asked for.
"Clint!" Steve exclaims, not backing down. "What the hell has gotten into you? We're not here to exploit your pain, to enjoy it, we're here to understand it. To figure out what he put you through and make sure it never happens again. Don't you get that. We're you're team. We're here to protect you. How could you ever think that?"
"Yeah, Bird Brain," Tony says, standing up and coming toward him. "Insinuating Captain American is a sadist: bad form. And us too? Is that what you really think? I let you into my swanky secret clubhouse , give you anything you could ever want, not to mention saving your ass more times than I can count, and you think I wanna jerk off to your pain?"
I gave you a home, give me what I want. I own you. Clint feels dizzy with rage and fear.
Natasha and Thor join in the fray, moving toward him to defend their respective honors. "I have never enjoyed the laments of a brother in pain," Thor says, hauntingly. His face full of hurt pride.
You've damaged my pride, little bird. This won't go unpunished.
Even in Natasha's face, when she says "You know me too well to question me this way," Clint only sees an alpha trying to force him into submission.
You know what I can do, Clint. Don't make me hurt you.
"Hey!" Bruce yells, and everyone is perfectly quiet. He moves toward them."Back away from him! You said you don't want to intimidate him, but the last time I checked, pushing someone into a corner is pretty intimidating. Let him breathe, for God's sake!" He moves his hand in a sweeping motion, directing them to the sides of the room.
Bruce's own breath is pretty ragged. He does something he rarely ever has before, he lets his anger show in his face.
The team collectively moves back, just a little. Their bodies showing embarrassment. Probably from being put in their place by the most powerful alpha on the planet.
Clint is too tired to yell anymore. He feels his shoulders slump. He has one friend in this room, so he knows he's not getting out until they know. They're gonna choke on every last detail.
"You want the details? Fine. Ross did want more than outing me as an omega, as if that wasn't enough."
He looks at all of them, one at a time. He wants to know that they're paying attention. If they want to know it all, they'll know it all. He'll force feed them every last fucking moment of it.
"His grand plan was to make me vulnerable. Vulnerable and tempting. Smelling so much like sex, my body preparing for it. Then he lured the most powerful Alpha he knew right to me. An Alpha he thought had no control over his own desires. One that wouldn't take no for an answer. Just take."
The light dawns on all of them. It was Hulk who carried him to the hospital, who watched over him like a mother hen (Tony's words). They knew.
"He..." Steve stutters, the thought hard for him to put into words.
Tony looks at him with disgust, though at Ross's actions or Clint's memories, he doesn't know. The anger on Thor and Natasha's faces is truly terrifying. There's a hint of alpha possessiveness to it.
Ross tried to mate our omega.
" He tried to get Hulk to rape me. Thought he could finally get everyone to declare him a monster and give Hulk and Banner up for good. That was his real plan."
Bruce is the only one that refuses to look at him, at least, he tries to. But Clint knows he's all ears. The man backs away from the team, just a little.
Natasha moves to comfort him and then stops. Her head turns toward the back of the room and she just stares. Clint breathes a brief sigh of relief until he follows her gaze. He can feel eyes on him, but he only has eyes for Bruce.
Bruce has moved. Everyone turns when Bruce moves. Not so much because they're afraid of Hulk, but because he's always so deliberate in his movements. He tries to calm people with his physical stability.
But now he's slowly edging back toward the door. He's placing physical barriers between himself and the team.
That can't be good.
"Banner?" Tony says, his hands up in a 'I'm completely harmless gesture'. "You all right?"
"No," Bruce says, his first words since entering the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose and continues, his voice sounding tight. "I just...god. I never thought...It's fine when he comes after me. I'm used to his attacks on me, but on the rest of you."
He starts to breathe heavy. He hasn't Hulked out unintentionally since the hellicarrier. "He..." Bruce stumbles over the words. "Hulk raped you? He...no. No. I'd know if he...if he mated you." He's shaking his head, over what, Clint can't possibly guess.
"Yes you'd..." He stumbles toward Clint, his legs wobbling with the effort. Bruce sniffs the air around him. "You'd smell different. The Other Guy'd want to...to be around you all the time."
"Banner, Banner no. He didn't." Clint wants to comfort him. Repay him for his loyalty..
He takes Bruce's face in his hand. Banner stiffens and pulls back. He looks pained for a moment and then leans back in, allowing Clint to soothe him.. "It didn't happen."
Clint can feel the eyes of the others on him, but he ignores it. "Hulk didn't rape me, Bruce. He wouldn't. Ross didn't count on that. Hulk just took care of me. It didn't happen, Bruce."
Bruce's curls bob as he shakes his head back and forth, wildly. "It didn't happen. It didn't happen. Oh God. The thought of it. Of Hulk." Tears start to well up in his eyes and he moves away from Clint's touch. "You couldn't stop him. You'd be trapped."
"But it didn't happen. You said so yourself."
This doesn't even begin to calm Banner down. The rest of the team takes a deep breath and prepares for the worst. In the background Clint can hear Tony calling for his suit. Steve rushes down to his suite, to prepare for war or Hulk. Natasha and Thor are always prepared. Clint can hear the whistle of Mjolnir sliding toward her master.
Clint stands up abruptly at all this noise. For a minute, he forgot they were there. He was alone with the one man he still trusted. The feeling of intimacy, of safety, is gone.
He almost moves away from the prone form before him, but Bruce grabs his hand and forces his attention back where it belongs.
"But that's what Ross wanted! Ross wanted you to get raped! He...he's coming after you. After everyone we...I...coming after what's ours." There's green around Bruce's face and his voice starts to change. With green eyes he looks around wildly.
"Ross tried to hurt what's ours. What's Hulk's and Banner's. Our friend." Banner pulls his lips back to reveal a feral grin, a threat. Then he collapses to the floor.
"We've got to get out of here Clint," Natasha says, pulling at his arm, but he swats her away.
"Can't do that," He says, looking down at Banner/Hulk. He needs to stay. He doesn't want to be around the others. Not alone. Not ever.
"Yes you can. You put one foot in front of the other and move."
"It's not that simple, Tasha," He says, dropping down to Banner's level. "He needs to know that I'm ok. That I'm here for him too." Please leave. Please don't touch me again, He chants silently in his mind.
"That's the sweetest and stupidest thing you've ever said." Natasha tombs from above him. Then she hurries to put the most distance between herself and Bruce's shifting form.
Clint runs his good hand through Banner's sweaty hair, feeling his body shifting. The animal instinct in him screams at him to leave but he can't. Hulk was with him when he wasn't himself, when he was shifting from reality to pain and back. He owes them both this much.
Unwanted changes have always been the worst. Even with Hulk being safer now, unwanted changes always put him on edge. Clint knows that this is stupid. Really stupid. But he also knows that it's what's right. Hulk needs to see that he's fine and breathing. Clint needs to see Hulk too.
Needs to apologize.
Clint backs up, just a little, giving Bruce's body room to morph into Hulk's. They are all alone.
With extremely painful shifts and turns, Bruce's body expands. His shirt rips off his increasingly green form. Bones snap and crack and his entire body thickens. With a roar, Bruce is gone.
Hulk is there, looking up at him.