Part 9 of the "Off the Grid" Series
Rated T
Next to last one, I think.
Clint shifted and held his bow at his side, trying to ease the pull of this stitches. Ten days really wasn't enough time to heal, but hell would freeze over before he sat this one out. Somewhere in the mountain compound, Bruce and Natasha were undercover, trying to learn as much as they could about this new threat; Clint had to beg, borrow and steal his way this far on the mission because Fury and Cap both wanted him to stay at the safe house in New York; he'd be damned, though, if he wasn't going to be the first person the Big Guy saw after he smashed his way out.
"Anytime now." Tony could barely sit still. In the last few days, agents had come from all around the U. S., no group big enough to draw attention, driving across country in small cars and vans then backpacking into the San Juan National Forest in Colorado through tourist routes. What a trip that had been, trapped in an RV with Tony, Steve, and Thor. Clint deserved a damn medal for not shooting Tony just for his ADHD channel surfing. And when you have a zillion satellite stations to pick from, the constant changing would have driven even Coulson insane.
"Did Widow not say that today was …. " Thor started to ask the same question for the fourth time when an explosion rocked one of the buildings, followed closely by a familiar roar.
"I'd say that was the signal," Clint said, already notching an arrow, breaking cover for his chosen vantage point before Cap could order him to stop. Tony grinned and activated the Mark 7 bracelet as Cap and Thor charged forward. It didn't matter if they could track them now because they'd already knew where the Avengers were – bashing down their door. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents came from all quarters and rushed the buildings. Despite his assigned job of backup cover (don't open those damn stitches or we'll leave you where you fall, Tony had warned), Clint sighted the main guard posts and took them out one after another, finally able to do something even if it hurt. When the Hulk burst out of a building … literally through the concrete block wall … Clint drew a bead on the helicopter warming up for takeoff on the landing pad; his arrow buzzed over the Hulk's shoulder and punctured the gas tank. Jerking around, his brown eyes tracking back, the Hulk located him, and Clint gave a half-smile little smirk and wink before his attention was drawn to a skirmish around Steve.
The fight was anti-climactic, over quickly except for the cleanup. The facility was fairly small, mostly laboratories and scientists. Clint gingerly climbed off the roof, back aching, and was limping towards Steve when the Hulk pounded to a stop less than a foot away, Natasha running to keep up and Steve holding up a hand in warning. Clint simply stood his ground as the big green hands reached for him and gently stroked down his face and arm.
"Cupid okay?" The green giant surveyed Clint's body.
"All good," he answered. "Nat told you I was fine."
"Don't trust Red," Hulk grumbled, hands lightly on Clint's shoulders. Natasha rolled her eyes behind him. "People lie."
"Well, I'm fine." Clint held out his arms to show him. "You okay, Big Guy?"
"Trapped. Couldn't smash." He kept touching Clint, and everyone pretended not to watch. Well, Tony did have Jarvis taping it for blackmail later.
"Monica unleashed a computer virus, but Bruce managed to stop it in time," Nat said. Of everyone, she was enjoying the show the most. "We need as much data intact as possible. Bruce insisted he not to destroy everything."
"Good job, Jade Jaws," Clint patted the massive arm as a wave of light-headedness washed over him.
Hulk bent and sniffed Clint's neck. "Cupid sit down." He scooped Clint up at the knees, careful of his back. "Need rest." Tony didn't even bother to stifle his laughter at the sight of the Hulk cradling Clint to his chest, but then he noticed that Clint had passed out cold.
"We need a medic here!"
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Clint towel-dried his hair as he headed into the bedroom, clad only in sweatpants, bare feet padding across the carpet. Despite the pain along his sutures, he was glad to be back in the familiar surroundings of Stark Tower; with the information they'd gained in the raid on the compound, Tony and others were working fast on creating countermeasures for the tracking programs. Happy to leave that to the scientists, Clint was more interested in learning about the group's motives in order to predict their next moves.
Bruce sat propped up on the bed, feet tucked under the covers, a notebook tablet in one hand, vid screen within reach on the bedside table. He looked up, peering over the edge of his glasses, as Clint paused. "Your meds are on the table. The doctor sent them up."
"Tony let you out of the lab?" Clint ignored the pills and tossed his towel back into the bathroom. "I figured you two would have your heads together for days over all that data and new tech." Which didn't mean that Clint's heart wasn't doing a little jig in his chest because Bruce was there.
"Small and portable," Bruce waved the notebook. "It's just as easy for me to read here as being in the lab." He eyed Clint. "Take them. I'll be here when you wake up."
So he took the damn meds and climbed onto the bed, lying on his stomach as he curled up next to the furnace that was Bruce's body. Snuggling his face into the crook of Bruce's neck, Clint got comfortable, hand across Bruce's waist and foot hooked around Bruce's ankle. Threading his arm under Clint, Bruce balanced his notebook on the band of the sweatpants, avoiding the bandaged area.
"So, what are you working on?" Clint watched Bruce's hands on the lscreen, his fingers manipulating the images.
"Oscillating frequency matrices. The tracking program was based on energy signatures …" Bruce began. Clint tuned out the words, listening instead to rise and fall of Bruce's voice, relaxing as he waited for the pain medication to kick in. He hadn't truly slept well in weeks, and his breathing evened out as warmth started to seep back into the places worry had frozen.
"Are you listening?" Bruce asked.
"Not really," he admitted. "I just like hearing your voice. It means you're here, and you're okay. You are okay, right? No after effects from those drugs?"
"Too early to tell, but we have the samples Natasha stole before Monica destroyed the rest. And I know the delivery system issues that caused the problems, so we can postulate any possible outcomes. Aside from the other guy's frustration level at being caged, I think everything is fine."
"How did that feel? No Hulk?" Clint watched Bruce's face as he answered.
"Honestly, I don't know. I thought I wanted to be rid of him, but then, I really needed him, and he wasn't there." Bruce put the notebook down on the bed. "He could have broken out of there at any time, but me? I was next to useless."
Clint lifted up on his elbow, wincing slightly as his back arched. "You are not useless, doc. You figured out how to deactivate the computer virus Rapaccinni set off before she fled. Look at all the info we have because you played along with her. The Big Guy would have smashed out, and we wouldn't know much more than we did before."
"And what did we get for it? Bits and pieces of projects, nothing complete. If we didn't have those samples and find that one tracking device, we'd have very little to work with. Even the scientists we captured know next to nothing about the bigger organization."
Clint let his hand slide into the unbuttoned opening of Bruce's shirt, resting it over his heart. "That's the way I'd do. Small bases, keep everyone in the dark, give them one piece to work on. Easier to lie to the underlings, harder for us to follow the trail."
"Some of them thought they were working on life-changing projects, saving the world," Bruce mused as his hand trailed up Clint's side. "Just like we talked about in college. Monica sold them a dream."
"So, the two of you?" Clint only half-teased. They'd never talked about their pasts, and Clint sure as hell didn't want to open that can of worms, but he was worried Bruce was taking this personally.
"Oh, hell, no." Bruce laughed. "She's not my type. I did have a nice little fling with the bartender at the local pub. He was a swimmer. Nice ass," He squeezed Clint's and smiled. "He made it to the Olympics, but didn't medal, if I remember right. Why? You jealous?"
"Nah, just wanted you to smile." Clint leaned over as Bruce tilted his head down, and he brushed his lips lightly at first, then deeper, letting the kiss speak volumes. The lethargy threatened to drag him down, and he broke off to yawn, fading.
Bruce nuzzled Clint's hair. "You gave us a scare you know. Me and the other guy. Don't do that again," he said quietly.
"Can't promise that, doc. It's the damn job." Clint mumbled sleepily. "Meds are working though." His eyes drifted closed, and he laid his head on Bruce's shoulder.
"I know," Bruce said as Clint wiggled a little then settled down to sleep. "All too well." He turned the page on the notebook and kept studying the documents of Advanced Idea Mechanics, knowing that A.I.M. wouldn't stop trying to destroy them all. And he didn't move even after his arm had fallen asleep under Clint's weight.