*Kuzco voice: Hey look! I'm writing again!* Sorry it's shorter than usual; I'm getting back into the story slowly; it's been so long!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or anything else Marvel related.
Trigger Warning for my cute little kids getting thrown around a lot.
...
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," Clint said.
The big axe guy who had picked Clint up by his hair didn't seem phased by Clint's protests—or fists. But he did flip Clint upside down and hold him by the ankle instead, holding his arm out so that Clint's tiny arms couldn't reach him to connect with anything important.
"Put me down!"
The blonde woman gingerly put her hand to her head where Clint had managed to hit her with the bottle, her eyes flashing. "I promise you will come to regret that, mortal," she said.
That was a weird insult.
"Just you wait until I figure out how to get bigger again!" Clint said through gritted teeth, still trying to hit somebody even though he was definitely too little.
"Perhaps I owe Loki an apology," she said, but she sounded like apologies were definitely not in her vocabulary. "You children are more of a nuisance than I anticipated."
Clint smiled grimly before—ow—the big axe guy tossed him into a room. Clint picked himself up and brushed himself off, muttering grimly about all the things he was going to do to them that he was capable of doing, especially at his eye-height.
But then he noticed that there was a really, really big TV screen in the room. And there were people staring at him.
"Um, hi?" he muttered, suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was just wearing Tony's tee shirt. He nervously pulled it down lower over his knees.
"Barton?" There was a guy on the screen with glasses and a suit who looked like maybe he filed paperwork for a living. He was looking at Clint in disbelief.
Clint opened his mouth to reply, but the blonde woman shoved him aside again, and he went stumbling right into the arms of the axe guy, who tucked Clint in the crook of his arm so tightly that Clint couldn't move.
"Your proof, Nicholas," the blonde woman said, gesturing at Clint. "Or perhaps you require something more concrete?"
Clint gasped and tried to wriggle away, because she looked like whatever she had in mind was going to hurt and Clint liked being in one piece.
"That won't be necessary, Enchantress," said a new voice, and this time, it was a guy who had been standing in the background who addressed the screen. He had an eye patch, so maybe he was a pirate. He looked scary enough to be a pirate. Maybe Clint really was a bad guy, and his friends were pirates?
"Are you a pirate?" Clint blurted out, which was dumb, and he knew it was as soon as he opened his mouth, but he couldn't help it—the words were already out there.
The eye patch guy looked surprised, the suit guy kind of smiled, but the lady with the ponytail actually giggled, but it was sort of an accidental giggle, more like a snort than anything.
"Executioner, take the child and leave us," the blonde woman said. She looked upset at Clint for talking. That wasn't new, though. He was supposed to be quiet and not take up any space.
Clint shouted when the axe guy (his name was Executioner?) tucked him under his arm so tightly that Clint couldn't even kick or move.
Next thing he knew, he was dumped into the glowing playpen.
"What happened to you?" Tony asked, wrinkled his nose as Steve rushed forward to help Clint up.
"You're bleeding," Steve said. He sounded upset, but that was weird, because he didn't look upset.
Clint looked down at his hands. "Oh, yeah. I am," he said. He hadn't noticed. He examined his hands thoughtfully. "Must have happened when I smashed a bottle over that lady's head," he said.
"You what?" Bruce looked up, his eyes bright with interest but also worry.
Clint shrugged. "Yeah, she was being mean, so I tried to get away, and it didn't work, so I smashed a bottle, and I didn't knock her out—I just made her madder."
"That was dumb," Tony said.
"Yeah, I know," Clint said. He looked over in surprise to see that Steve was tearing pieces off of his shirt. "Um, Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing?"
Steve looked up at Clint, then over to the corner of the playpen. And there was Natasha, curled up in a little ball and clutching her coloring book to her chest as she snored. Clint hadn't noticed her there before, but now that he did, he noticed that she had sorted the crayons into piles. She had a red pile close to her, but there was a pile of purples and blues and blacks over by where Clint had been sitting before.
"I don't think it'd be a very good idea to let Nat see you bleeding," Steve said simply as he started wrapping the bits of tee shirt around Clint's hands.
"You've got a girlfriend," Tony said gleefully.
Clint flushed bright red. "Do not!" he shouted and tried to jerk his hands away so he could punch Tony, but Steve was lots stronger than he was.
Great. Second time in the past ten minutes he couldn't move. Clint was getting sick of other people manhandling him.
"Yeah, you do. You've got a girlfriend," Tony said in a sing-song voice, but Steve shot him a look that quickly shut him up.
"Don't be that guy," Steve said simply.
And it was weird, because none of them knew each other. Not really. Clint knew he used to know them. He knew they were friends once, because that's what Bruce said. But they didn't know each other, not really, and even though they were total strangers, there was something about Steve that made everyone want him to like them. Like Steve was your best friend. Like disappointing him was the worst evil in the world.
Which was, of course, why Tony looked like he'd been slapped when Steve gave him the look that he did.
"We haven't been just sitting on our butts eating cookies, you know," Bruce said, suddenly speaking up. Clint couldn't blame him. He would've said something if Bruce hadn't, because the angry silence was worse than being manhandled by Steve.
Tony grinned a sideway grin. "Yeah, we've been making plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Escape plans," Tony said.
Steve finished tying up the cloth around Clint's hands, nodded approvingly, and then glanced over at Loki, who seemed to be preoccupied with the Enchantress, who had just returned from talking with the pirates.
"But first, why don't you tell us what was going on that got you these?" Steve asked, holding up Clint's hands. He sounded like one of the over-interested pre-K teachers.
Clint stuck his tongue out at Steve—he didn't need to be mothered—but went ahead and told them the whole story. Because even if Steve was being obnoxiously nice, there were pirates that needed to be talked about.
So Clint told his story, and when he was done, Bruce said, "Well, at least someone we know is still a grownup."
And Tony said, "I'm a pirate. That's the best news I've heard all day."
But Steve? Steve was really quiet. Like, weirdly so.
"Steve?" Clint asked.
Slowly, quietly, a huge smile spread over Steve's face. "You know what this means?" he asked the others quietly.
"It means I need a sword? Like, right now?" Tony offered. Clint wasn't sure if he was joking or not.
Steve just let the grin get wider. "No," he said, his voice so low that only Clint and Tony could hear him. "It means now we've got someplace to go. We've got people waiting for us on the outside. We've got someplace to run."
Clint grinned. "Yeah? And how are you thinking we get there?"
Steve looked over at the two grownups, who seemed to be arguing about something, and smiled. "Well, if you're up for making more trouble, Clint—"
"Say no more—I'm in."