A/N: Sorry sorry I've been super sick lately and haven't posted here for a long time.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or any related rights.
He'd had to promise to be very, very careful. He promised not to drop her or to pull out any of the tubes feeding into her. But eventually, Bruce caved and wheeled Natasha's bed over to Clint and very carefully let Clint hold her.
"Hi there," Clint said.
She looked back up at him with big, green eyes.
"So, umm, I guess you and me are going to grow up to be best friends," Clint said, still being as careful as he could. She was really small, though, so even with his four-year-old arms, he was able to support her head on his hands. He knew to be careful. He knew how kids were supposed to be treated.
Bruce sat down in a corner, resting against the back of the chair. He looked tired.
"When we get big again, let's go get some ice cream," Clint said. "Bruce is buying."
Bruce smiled softly at Clint. He wasn't so scary when he was tired and when Clint was wearing his really annoying mask. But Clint still liked it when he stayed at a good distance.
"And then maybe we'll go to the movies. You can hold my hand—I guess—if you want. I think that's what best friends do," Clint said. It looked like maybe Natasha was smiling, but she was also really tired. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she snuggled in closer to Clint.
"Umm." Clint wasn't sure what to do. He looked up to ask Bruce for help, but Bruce was also asleep, his head tilted back and his mouth open. He snored, but very softly, not enough to be super annoying.
"Okay," Clint said to Natasha as he shifted his arms, trying to get more comfortable. "I guess you can sleep here if you want. But only for a little nap."
That didn't sound so bad, actually. A short nap. Clint was really tired from hiding from doctors and soldiers in strange uniforms. He closed his eyes . . . .
He heard something at the door.
Bruce's head snapped up, and he was suddenly wide awake, staring intently at the door handle. The something just behind his eyes, the dangerous thing, blinked at Clint, then at the door. "Steve?" Bruce asked mildly.
Then, Clint thought maybe he had fallen asleep and he was actually dreaming, because it seemed like something was coming through the door. Something green and gold and Clint didn't know what it was, but Bruce seemed to, because the dangerous thing inside him started to come out. His clothes ripped. His skin turned green.
Natasha was sleeping soundly, but Clint could hear his heart as loudly as if it was outside of him.
And then the green Bruce monster roared, which woke Natasha. She turned and started to cry, so Clint tried to hold her closer and tried to come up with a good enough lie that she'd believe they were going to be okay, tried to think what Barney said when Dad came around.
"I've got you," he said at last. "I won't let the monsters get you. They can have me instead."
But the green Bruce monster didn't come for them. It looked right at Clint, but then it tackled the green and gold person with horns on his head that had materialized inside the hospital room. The monster dragged that person away, roaring louder than anything Clint had heard before.
Natasha was still crying, but Clint didn't really know what to do. He couldn't run and hide like he would usually do, because he was holding a baby, and he didn't want to take her and run, because the equipment she was hooked up to looked important. He just rocked her up and down, but the green Bruce monster was loud and scary and even Clint didn't have words for everything.
"It's okay," he said, because that felt like something he should say. "It's okay. I promise it's okay." It was a lie, but he felt like maybe it was an okay lie to tell.
He kept repeating his lie over and over again until the thundering green Bruce monster sounded far enough away that even he sort of believed it. Natasha was just starting to quiet down again when someone new stuck his head through the hole-that-used-to-be-a-door.
"You two okay in here?" asked Steve. Clint recognized him from before, but he looked dirtier, like he'd just been thrown through a dust storm. And he had a huge cut under his eye. Maybe he'd been in a fight with the green Bruce monster.
Clint pretended he wasn't crying when he looked up at Steve. He sniffed angrily. "Bruce turned into a monster and attacked somebody that can walk through doors," he said.
Steve just raised his eyebrows. "Uh-huh," he said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it.
"I'm not lying," Clint said stubbornly.
"No, no, I believe you," Steve said. "I'm just not sure . . . ." He shook his head. "This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder."
"You're telling me."
Steve smiled almost sadly, like he was sorry to have disturbed Clint, then said, "I'll see if I can keep the fighting as far away from you as I can."
And then he was gone.
Natasha had stopped crying, but she looked like she might start up again, so Clint went back to talking to her. "We'll go see The Great Escape. I bet you'd like that movie. Lots of people do. My brother Barney snuck into a theater where they were playing it for a drive-in thing, and he said it had lots of action." He looked down at Natasha. "I bet you like action movies. If you didn't, we probably wouldn't be best friends."
Natasha looked up at Clint with big eyes, but when he stopped talking, she looked like she might cry again.
Clint bit his lip, trying to think of other things to talk about. "Bruce says we used to be grown-ups, so maybe there's lots more movies like that we could go see. I don't know what they are, but I'll take you to all of them. We'll get popcorn and candy from the theaters, and we'll stay all the way until the credits are over because the music is sometimes the best part." He looked through the hole in the door but didn't see anyone coming their way.
"I think maybe Bruce and Steve are superheroes," Clint said. "I read lots of comic books. Barney gets 'em for me. And this sure seems like maybe we're living in a comic book. Do you think we're superheroes, too?" Clint looked down at Natasha. "Maybe you are. Maybe you grow up and have superpowers. Maybe I'm your sidekick." Clint smiled. "Yeah, that's probably what happens. I don't have superpowers, but maybe I can help you out sometimes."
Natasha reached up and grabbed Clint's shirt, twisting it in her hands and gurgling something that sounded like gibberish.
"Yeah, you like that idea, huh? Maybe you're Captain Awesome and I'm . . . ." he waved his hand, then looked down at his purple shirt, " . . . The Purple Kid." He grinned. "You take all the bad guys down, and I make sure nobody gets hurt." Clint looked at the door again. Still nobody. "I don't like being right in the middle of the action anyway," he said quietly. "Rather keep my distance."
Natasha smiled.
Clint smiled back. "I wish you could talk. If we're going to be best friends, I should at least know what your favorite color is." He glanced up at the door as he talked, but this time, there was someone there.
It wasn't the green Bruce monster. It was a man with long, black hair and the kind of eyes that Clint had seen too many times right before someone bigger and meaner got their way. He looked like maybe he was wearing armor from a long time ago, but it didn't look like any armor in books that Clint had read. He had a pointy helmet that shimmered into life, and his smile was scarier than the look in his eyes.
"Ah yes," he said in a strange accent, "the displaced agents. True to each other and still clinging to the ideals of a dying regime."
Clint didn't know who this guy was, but he knew he was bad news. So, carefully, he put Natasha down on the bed in front of him and crawled over her, his tiny fists raised. He knew he looked ridiculous, but that was part of his advantage. Being small and underestimated and willing to take a hit so he could bounce back from it and shove that hit right back at 'em.
The man's eyes softened just the slightest bit. "I meant what I said," he whispered. "You have heart."
"Wanna find out how much?" Clint asked. It wasn't much of an insult, but to be fair, it was at least better than shaking in his boots, which was kind of what he wanted to do.
"There's no need," the man said, waving his hand dismissively. "I only came here to collect what's mine." He held his hand out, and that's when Clint felt like he'd caught on fire.