Gently

24. Archer's Initiative

There were, in total, six plastic bow-wielding figurines staring at him from behind the confines of their packaging. They were all undoubtedly creepy, particularly the ones that attempted to look more lifelike – and especially the one supposed to be him – and he couldn't for the life of him think why they were now his.

"It's a joke, Sourpuss," Stark said when Clint finally found a voice and asked the question. "We were all in on it. Well, the six of us, anyway."

"It was Tony's idea," Peter said quickly.

"Yep. He's right. All mine."

"You wanted to get him a life-sized model of himself," Natasha reminded him dryly.

Tony shrugged as Clint's eyes bulged. "Wouldn't have been a problem. I know people."

Shaking his head, Clint looked back at the (still creepy) toys. "So, who got who then?"

Peter explained their joint-effort birthday present; "Tony got you Legolas, Natasha got you Merida, the Brave girl, Bruce got you Katniss, Steve got Robin Hood, Sam bought Green Arrow, and I got you. You're welcome."

Picking up the boxed, plastic version of himself, Clint repressed a shiver at the not-quite-likeness in the doll's too-white eyes. "Does Bucky know about this?"

It was Steve who answered. "No. He'd already left for Laos by the time Tony came to us with the idea."

He nodded. "You all better hope he finds them as weird as I do," was all he said. Tony, Natasha and Sam chuckled, smirked and grinned respectively; Steve, Peter and Bruce all looked rather nervous.

Besides the archer figurines ("Your very own Archer's Initiative!" according to Tony), everyone had gotten him regular birthday presents – things like a fletching kit from Natasha, a hawk adoption from Sam, a pair of custom-fitted purple shoes from Jan – and the day was going well, considering it was his first one on American soil in a while. It wasn't totally perfect, though, and he was reflecting on one particularly big imperfection when Natasha found him towards the beginning of the evening.

"You know he'd be here if he could," she said, folding herself next to him on the couch.

Looking up from the mug Bobbi had bought him (purple, with 'I heart Coffee' printed on the side), Clint tipped his head back and sighed. "Last time we spoke he said he'd be back tomorrow," he told her. "Thought he'd at least try and call, though."

She poked him in the side. "Stop moping. Weren't you in Kazakhstan for his birthday?"

"Turkmenistan, and we both were, so it wasn't so bad." The day had been too hot, and they could barely interact without breaking cover – and crossing an entire market square – but they'd at least had half an hour between downing the target and extraction to celebrate. Bucky's present, the most expensive bottle of whiskey Clint could find, had been bought in an airport store.

"There's probably a reason he couldn't get in touch," Natasha said gently. "You know how these missions are."

"Yeah," he sighed. Looking back at his new mug, he then asked, "Will you help me pack all these up? Think I've had enough celebrating today."

She raised her eyebrows. "Already? Sure you don't want to give it another few minutes?"

"Nah," he said as he stood. "I'm all birthday-ed out. 'Sides, Bucky might've left a message."

Natasha rose as well, taking the mug from him with a soft look that said it was a pathetic excuse – which he knew; JARVIS had promised to alert him if Bucky called while he was on another floor – but one she was letting him get away with. "If you're sure."

Ten minutes later, he was back in his and Bucky's apartment, and immediately aware that something was different since he'd last been around. Listening hard, his eyes were drawn to the bedroom, where a faint rustling was heard, shortly followed by an under-the-breath cuss. He approached the room slowly, trying to work out who it could be, because JARVIS hadn't said anything, which meant there could possibly be more –

A long stream of Russian identified the intruder for him, and he burst into the room to find Bucky, ribs bandaged, chest, arm and face littered with bruises, struggling to get on a pair of jeans. His head snapped up as Clint entered, expression instantly turning sheepish, and after a glance at his torso he asked, "Give a wounded soldier a hand?"

"You said you'd be back tomorrow," Clint said once Bucky was half-dressed (Clint was making him forgo a shirt while he 'catalogued' his injuries).

Getting more comfortable on the bed, Bucky gave him an apologetic smile. "Wanted to surprise you," he admitted. "Didn't count on busted ribs and a late flight."

Clint brushed his fingers over the edge of the bandages. "Did the others know you were coming back early?"

"Just Tasha and JARVIS."

He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. "I feel betrayed, JARVIS."

"I apologise, Agent Barton. That was never the intended outcome."

"Shut up, JARVIS. It was mine and Tasha's idea, Clint, he was just our unwitting accomplice." Clint grumbled, and Bucky whacked his side ineffectively. "Hey – present time. You'll have to get it, though; it's in my bag. White envelope with your name on it."

Pulling out said envelope, Clint returned to the bed, curiosity writ on his face. Inside was a card to a shooting range in New York, along with a letter congratulating Francis Barnes on his new membership. "You got me membership with a city range?"

Nodding, Bucky sat up to explain (failing to hide a grimace at the movement). "I thought it might be nice to sometimes get away from all this. I know the Tower has Stark's unbeatable designs and a personal supercomputer to answer to your every whim, but if you feel like it, you can go to a place where you're not a secret agent or a costumed hero – you're just a regular civilian who likes to practise archery. And, I dunno, maybe I'm your ex-army boyfriend who comes along for the show sometimes…" Trailing off, he scratched the back of his head. "It's not great, I know, but I couldn't –"

"Francis Barnes?"

He chuckled. "It was the first thing I came up with. Uh, sorry."

Gift still in hand, Clint leaned over and kissed him deeply, pulling away earlier than he liked only because Bucky was injured. "Don't be," he whispered, thumb ghosting over a bruise as he cupped his jaw. "It's awesome. Thank you, Buck."

Bucky smiled as Clint kissed him again. "Anytime," he said. Clint slipped the membership card back into the envelope. "So – what else did you get?"

Later, with Bucky dozing against his side, Clint glared at the Hawkeye figurine now snugly 'embraced' by Bucky Bear and plotted how he was going to make Stark and the others pay.

AN: Prompt: "CLint's birthday? (a bit late considering it's was june 18)"