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Whumptober '18 - Clint Barton

Chapter Text



When people said that your childhood is going to define the rest of your life, they couldn't be more right where it concerned Clint Barton.

The circus gave him the skills with a bow and gymnastics that he would use until he died. Trickshot and Swordsman made him into the main act, made him into someone adored by the masses, even while they instilled the values of being able to take care of yourself.

After the abuse by his father the circus was the best thing that could have happened. Clint spent nearly all his time with Barney, training, having fun. He couldn't imagine doing anything else with his life ever.

Finding Swordsman stealing from the circus shattered the illusion of happiness. The offer to become partners was as ridiculous as it was insulting. Clint would never join someone stealing from family.

There was no doubt in his mind that Barney would take Clint's side and help him make Swordman pay for what he did.

“You didn't say yes? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Barney looked absolutely livid and Clint frowned at him uncertainly.

“But the circus is our home. You said so.”

The sneer on his brother's face was ugly and Clint found himself shrinking back.

“You're the headliner. They only let me stay because of you.” Barney grabbed the collar of Clint's Hawkeye costume with both hands and shook him. “How do you think I've earned my keep?”

The realization chilled Clint to the bone. “What? But..”

“You know what? I'm done. I'm done being second best.” Barney pushed Clint a few stumbling steps back, before reaching behind his back and pulling out the knife Swordsman had gifted him a couple months ago on his birthday.

“B-Barney? W-What are you do-doing?” Clint held up one hand, stumbling back as fast as he could, but Barney was older, taller with longer legs.

The next minute was a blur.

Clint managed to keep the knife away from him, but they grappled, they fell and rolled over the ground. The smell of grass was overwhelming and Clint felt stones dig into his skin and rip it open.

A noise, a grunt, filled the air and they stopped, Clint on his back with Barney above him. They were both panting, looking at each other wide eyed and for a few seconds Clint didn't realize what had happened.

Warmth spread over Clint's fingers, dripping onto his stomach.

“You stabbed me”, Barney said, his words a whisper.

Oh God, what had he done?

Barney tilted to the side until he fell, the hilt of his knife sticking out of his stomach where blood soaked his clothes. An uneven dark circle like it had been merely cherries that had been spilled.

“Barney.” Clint's voice was shaking. What did he do?, a continuous mantra in his head.

Barney's mouth opened, but he didn't speak. He choked and blood came out of his mouth.

“No. No. No. No. No.” Panic shut down Clint's brain. He couldn't think. He couldn't help. He couldn't...

Shouts from the circus. The sound of a siren. The knife in his brothers stomach. The blood.

Clint ran. Clint ran like he had always had run. He ran like he would always run his entire life. Plagued by nightmares and with the start of a life as a lonely mercenary. It was the only way to try to right what he had done, but it was never enough.



Chapter Text

Clint always says he sees better from a distance. It makes him the best at finding threats approaching or seeing a formation that should work better.

It stops him from being where he needs to be on time.

When he arrives at the farm, silence greets him. Silence and the overwhelming smell of death.

His legs are shaky as he ascends the stairs of the porch and walks into the house. He already knows what he will find, but he can't accept it. There is a part of him that is still hoping for a miracle.

The front door squeaks on hinges that Clint meant to fix for months, but never got around to.

They never cleaned up, Clint thinks automatically as he steps over a doll and a tiny car.

“Laura?”, Clint calls out, stretching out a hand to steady himself on the wall.

There is no answer.

It takes an eternity to walk to the bedrooms, but he sees the blood splattered over the walls and his chest tightens, his breath short and his eyes burn.

Sobs racks Clint's whole body as he stumbles forward and collapses on the bed, on the cold bodies of his family, Laura and Cooper and Lila and sweet, sweet Nathaniel.

His fingers claw at their clothes, already torn and blood soaked. There are the distinctive shapes of an adult and three children, but they're cut up and blood soaked and completely indistinguishable.

Clint's tears run hot down his cheeks and grief hurt like physical pain.

The only person who knows about this place is Natasha. Not even Fury or Coulson. There is no one else who could betray him, who is capable of this.

He doesn't have the energy to be angry. All he can feel is pain and hurt and for what is he still here?

All he can do is curl around them, his hands, his body, his tears mingle with their blood, his blood.

They are gone.

Clint's hand, his red hand, grabs his gun and brings it up to his head.

No one will find him. Everyone who cared is gone and the blackness swallowing him was oblivion.



Chapter Text

Clint Barton had always been a light sleeper. Hazards of being on the run.

It didn't really register as a problem until he wasn't on the run anymore, until he had a bed under the safe roof of the Avengers' Tower.

Sure, the alarm to assemble could go off at any second, day or night, but no one would ever be able to get past JARVIS.

With a sigh Clint rolled over onto his side. He had been just laying here for who knew how long, but he couldn't sleep. He was tired, but his body just wouldn't let him sleep.

When was the last he slept without getting knocked out? He couldn't remember.

A sound of frustration escaped him as he got out of bed and put on some pants and a shirt. There was a strange sensation for one second, but Clint just shook his head and made his way to the range. He might as well do something he liked instead of staring at the ceiling.

He entered the range with a yawn. Damn, he was tired.

Shooting his bow chased it away a bit, but it was still there, just simmering under the surface.

After only thirty minutes, his hands started to shake and black spots appeared in his vision. He blinked and stopped shooting, trying to see if it would go away, but it didn't.

“Clint, may I suggest pushing training to tomorrow and going to sleep?”, JARVIS' voice echoed through the room, calm and polite as always.

It pissed Clint off.

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”, he snarled. He knew he needed to sleep. He wouldn't be here if he was able to, would he now?

His hands were still shaking and his bow fell out of them to clatter onto the ground.

He could only stare. His bow had never touched the ground unless he had wanted it to. Still. Strangely he didn't feel anything.

God, what was happening to him?

He was angry one second, absolutely apathetic the next. His body wasn't obeying him anymore.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he could never hold his bow again? Without that he was nothing. He was a specialist, but without his specialty of shooting a bow that title would be for nothing too.

When did Clint get down on his knees? When had his palm started bleeding from his nails digging into his skin?

His thoughts were moving sluggish and his body felt heavy.

He couldn't even sleep right. He was good for nothing.


Chapter Text

His magic filled every pore of his body. Loki Laufeyson had never felt as powerful as he did right now.

These humans could do absolutely nothing to stop him. After he had taken the people he needed and settled in his new hideout he gave himself some time to recuperate from his trip through the portal to enjoy himself.

While Selvig and others set up the equipment and everything he needed, Loki settled on a crate to the side.

His scepter clasped loosely in his hand, he called over the archer. The one who knew how his opponents operated, who knew their defenses and where to strike. The one who had been Loki's best decision to make his.

With the archer's intel they would be able to infiltrate his enemies' headquarters and conquer them.

But now he wanted something else.

“Kneel, pet”, Loki ordered and grinned as Barton went down to his knees without hesitation. Loki loved it when they knelt.

With a small use of his magic Loki spelled open his clothes in the front, releasing his half hard dick to the air.

“Please me, pet”, Loki purred and rolled back his shoulders as Barton leaned forward and gave the best blowjob of his life.

Around them people walked back and forth, seeing them, but not saying anything about it. The ones under Loki's control were jealous and the ones Barton had brought on did not want to be next.

Loki pushed the fingers of his free hand into his pet's hair and pushed him down, choking him, relishing in the sound and the convulsing around his dick.

Loki loved having such an obedient pet.

Loki saw red when he felt his connection with Barton rip. They might think they were winning, but they had absolutely no idea what the Chitauri could do.

Man of Iron knew how to talk, Loki could give him that, but Loki's magic was too powerful.

He put his scepter against the Man of Iron's chest and he laughed triumphantly when he saw the other's eyes glow blue.

“You belong to me now. Go, fight them.”

With the Man of Iron and the Chitauri the city was being decimated and these so called Avengers didn't stand a chance.

Loki stood on the roof, next to the Tesseract, when the Man of Iron finally brought Loki's pet back to him.

“Poor thing. You lost your way, but now you're where you belong.” Loki stepped forward to where Barton had fallen on his knees. Oh, he looks so pretty down there.

“NO”, Barton shouted, eyes wide as he tried to move backwards, grab for a weapon, anything. “No, stop! Stop, please. Please, don't.”

“But, pet”, Loki said, grabbing Barton's chin in a grip stronger than any man. “We had so much fun together and now it will never end.”

Barton's eyes lit up blue and he relaxed into Loki's hand.

“How about a collar? That way everyone will see that you belong to me.” Loki trailed a finger over Barton's jaw down his throat, not even causing a twitch. “Forever.”



Chapter Text

Nerves fluttered in his stomach as he straightened up his tie for the tenth time this minute.

It had been expensive. In fact, the whole suit had cost more money than Clint usually paid for anything in a year. But it was a good investment.

At least he hoped Tony would appreciate it.

Clint was already at the restaurant Tony had chosen for their anniversary dinner and while it was most definitely very posh and expensive, the atmosphere was also pretty cozy and the woman that had shown him to the table had been as friendly and relaxed as someone working in a lowly diner.

A year ago they had had their first date though Clint always rolled his eyes when Tony called it that. It had been one of many parties Tony had thrown and Clint liked hanging out with his friends and dancing and booze, so of course he had gone. Somewhere between his tenth shot of tequila and trying to get Tasha to drink anything, he had ended up on the dance floor making out with Tony. They hadn't even really danced, just stood plastered to each other, fingers grabbing shirts or hair or an ass cheek. After they had woken up in Tony's bed, half dressed and more than a little hangover Clint had invited Tony out for breakfast and they had started dating. Clint had never been happier.

The air got knocked out of Clint's lungs as he spotted Tony saunter into the restaurant wearing a suit himself and looking absolutely incredible. Clint wanted to bury his hands in Tony's hair and kiss him senseless. It calmed him a little that he knew there would be plenty of time later for that.

“Hello, beautiful”, Tony purred as he came up to their table and Clint stood up to greet him. He pressed his lips to Clint's cheek and a hand to the small of Clint's back, his fingertips brushing against Clint's ass causing him to shudder and glare at him.

“I'm going to drag you out of here, if you continue”, Clint warned and Tony laughed as he settled in his chair.

“Is that a promise?”

Before Clint could retort, a waiter arrived and asked what they would like to drink.

The next thirty minutes they made conversation filled with innuendos and Clint's recollection of how Natasha decimated her opponents in the martial arts practice this morning. Their feet touching under the table. It was terribly romantic.

Their food came and it looked and smelled so good Clint's mouth started to water. The sound he made around the first bite might not have been the appropriate for the setting, but Tony gave him a heated look and Clint didn't care.

Another ten minutes and Tony trailed off in the middle of the sentence. His hand with the fork hovered in mid air and his eyes were a bit unfocused.

“Tony?” Clint frowned and put down his own fork in favor of reaching across the table to touch Tony's hand. “You okay?”

“I...” Tony reached up to press his palm against his chest. His breathing became shallow and his face was losing color. In a blur of motion he was clawing at his tie and shirt catching skin in the process, red lines across his throat.

“Tony”, Clint shouted, rushing around the table, catching Tony as he fell out of his chair. “Tony.” His voice broke as he frantically tried to think of anything he could do to help.

But Tony couldn't breathe, his panic and fear writing plain on his face and Clint couldn't do anything.

“Please. I've got you, Tony. Please”, Clint rambled on, clinging to Tony, touching him all over, but he wasn't smart like Tony. He didn't have any doctorates or went to MIT. He could just watch as the life drained out of the love of his life.

Then someone fell down on their knees in front of them and stabbed Tony's chest with a syringe. Before Clint could react, Tony's eyes flied open wide and his chest inflated with a huge gasp.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Tony chanted as his hands roamed over his torso, breathing in quickly. “You said my life.”

The stranger ducked his head and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Everyone would have.” His mess brown hair fell down to hide half of his face. His suit was ill fitting, dirt and crooked.

“I've called an ambulance and the police”, their waiter told them, his phone still in his hand. “Someone in the kitchen had tried to run, but we got them.” He looked furious.

Clint didn't care about all of that. Later he would, but right now he just hugged Tony as tightly as he could, no intention of ever letting go.

“What's your name? I'm totally going to repay you”, Tony said over Clint's shoulder, not sounding at all like he had been close death, but his hands under Clint's jacket were shaking.

“It's Bruce. Bruce Banner, but it is really not necessary.” He sounded uncomfortable.

“Oh, it is most definitely necessary. I think we'll be pretty good friends from now on.”



Chapter Text

Clint couldn't wait surprising Natasha by coming back early. She always hated when he went off on business trips that took longer than a week. It was the only thing they argued about.

But now, after only four days instead of the initial 9, he was unlocking the door and putting down his suitcase on the ground against the wall.

Her keys were in the bowl on the little table, so she was definitely at home.

He smiled as he started to wander around to look for her. In hindsight, he should have probably called out her name.

There were sounds coming out of their bedroom and Clint walked over there, before his brain could identify them.

On their bed, on top of the black and red sheets Clint and Natasha had picked out together, she was laying sideways and on her back holding up her legs with her hands while a man, (no, not any man) while Phil Coulson, Clint's best fucking friend, pounded into her with one hand wrapped around her throat and the other in her hair, stretching back her head.

She was moaning as much as she could with limited air and Phil's grunts filled the room.

Clint was frozen in the doorway, not feeling anything in particular and absentmindedly he knew he was in shock.

After several more seconds Natasha started to shiver and show all the signs that she was about to cum. Phil pulled away the hand around her throat and she shouted out her orgasm, as he slowed down his thrusts and then pulled her up and into his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him with abandon as her hips ground into his hips.

Now, finally, the anger appeared.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Both of them startled and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Clint”, Phil said, but didn't follow it up with anything. The usual cool facade had completely disappeared.

“I didn't know you would be home today.” Natasha reached over and pulled the sheet around her as she got off Phil's lap.

“Oh, no need to be modest. Every one of us has seen you naked already.” God, Clint was so angry and hurt and he wanted to lash out. These were the two most important people in his life and they had lied to him.

“We didn't want you to find like this”, Phil said and Clint rolled his eyes.

“Didn't find out at all, more like.” Clint crossed his arms across his chest. “How long?”

Now Natasha looked angry as she got to her feet and straightened up in a way Clint usually found intimidating and very arousing. Now it made him even more angry.

“You were never here. What did you expect?”

“Now it's my fault that you fucked my best friend? Did the oxygen deprivation finally catch up with you?”

“Phil could give me what I needed and we fell in love.”

For a few seconds Clint could just stare at her, mouth open, arms falling to his sides. “Then you fucking talk to me and don't lie to me and sneak around my back for however long”, he shouted, slamming his hand against the door frame, not even registering the sting.

“A year”, Phil chimed in. He was now standing beside the bed and had pulled on a pair of pants. “It's been over a year.” He didn't look like he was affected by anything and even though Clint knew what a good poker face he had, Clint was furious that the situation didn't seem to affect Phil at all.

“Get out”, Clint said and then again, louder and more forceful. “Get out!”

“Clint”, Natasha started, but he interrupted her.

“Get out of my fucking home right now.”

During the minute it took the two to get on their clothes and get out of the apartment Clint just stood to the side, silent, ignoring any attempt to talk to him.

When he heard the front door shut, he ripped the sheets off the bed and threw them into the corner, followed by the picture from the bedside table that shattered on impact with the wall.

Panting Clint stumbled back until his back hit a different wall which he slid down on to curl up on the floor and finally let the tears that had been threatening fall.



Chapter Text

The tension in the room was heavy with various emotions.

“He didn't vanish into thin air”, Steve said. “There has to be something other than JARVIS' search we can do. No offense, JARVIS.”

There was no response from the AI. Everything that wasn't running security was focused on finding any hint of Clint anywhere, after all.

“Maybe he ran away”, Tony suggested half heartedly, earning glares from all of them.

“He wouldn't run away. Those days are behind us.” Natasha stood unnaturally still in the middle of the common living room.

Everyone else was either pacing or sitting on the couches, but all of them were worried. It had been a while since a big battle and even the villains only targeting individuals had been quiet.

“Sir, something arrived in your mail.”

Tony waved impatiently. “Who cares? I told you to only...”

“It is about Agent Barton”, JARVIS interrupted and the big television on the wall turned on.

Everyone faced it. Gasps and curses filled the room as the dark colors shifted and revealed a single chair in the middle of what looked like an otherwise empty room. On top of the chair a man was tied. Thick ropes around his torso and legs. His arms were not visible, but it seemed as if they were tied behind his back.

His head was hanging down in front but the Avengers would recognize that disheveled blond hair anywhere.

“Clint”, Sam breathed, saying what they were all thinking.

“Trace it”, Tony ordered, even as he grabbed one of his tablets and started typing frantically himself.

Footsteps were audible, echoing a little as a second later another man stepped into frame. Only his feet to his collarbone was visible, but Natasha was cataloging any tiny detail that could help her identify him. It wasn't easy. The clothes were just black and too big to help see the body itself with no hint of any symbols or smears of any kind of dirt.

Now that we're live”, the man's voice wasn't modified at all. He wasn't afraid he would be found.

A shiver of dread ran down Natasha's spine. Those types were the most dangerous.

We can have some fun, while you can decide who's gonna give in first.” The kidnapped grabbed a handful of Clint's hair and pulled up his head.

Blood had already dried on the right side of his face and a bruise had appeared at his jaw.

Pure murderous intent shone out of Clint's eyes. “If you even think for one second that I'm gonna give you any information, you're an idiot.”

The movement was so quick it was nearly over before it had even begun. The kidnapped had pulled up his knee and slammed down Clint's head. More blood spurted from Clint's nose and he cursed up a storm.

“Tony”, Steve said, his whole body tense and ready to spring into action. He felt absolutely helpless. He was not good at just waiting.

“I'm on it”, Tony snapped back. “This guy's good. It tells me that the stream doesn't exist.”

Well, someone is going to give it to me. Either it's you or the lovely friends watching. Simple.”

“Fucking bastard is enjoying this”, Bucky snarled, the chair creaking where he had grabbed the back of it with his left hand.

Option one: You or your friends are going to give me the Iron Man schematics, the super serum formula, access to all of your bank accounts, StarkIndustries patents and the Avengers vaults. Option two: I'm going to hurt him until you do.”

“Ambitious”, Bruce remarked calmly, though he felt anything but. As soon as they knew where Clint was he would be releasing the Other Guy who only gladly would protect what he considered his.

Tony's laugh was far from amused. “That joker just sent me an open channel to wire over all those things.” He had the same rule as the FBI. Never to negotiate with terrorists. And he was not going to start now.

A tiny part of him knew though, that he would give absolutely anything to save someone he cared about.

No?”, the kidnapper asked and looked like he shrugged. “Okay.” He leaned over and pulled back a baseball bat which he swung at Clint's torso without hesitation. Five times.

The chair under Bucky's hand fell into pieces and Steve looked like he was about to attack Tony any second.

Clint spit blood onto the ground, his head rolling to the side lazily as the rest of the body tried to curl into itself. “Black Widow can hit harder than that.” His teeth were painted red when he grinned.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes the kidnapper beat Clint while Tony cursed and didn't get anywhere, while the team got more and more agitated but had no release, while Clint made taunting remarks, but got visibly tired and pained.

And then, one particular heavy hit, Clint groaned and went completely slack.

The kidnapper laughed. “The Amazing Hawkeye. Can't even take that much torture.” He turned his back on him to face the camera. “You finally changed your mind? Not that I mind. This is fun.”

While Natasha had become more and more statue like, Bucky had picked up pacing and Bruce was going through several calming techniques that Sam had joined in.

They weren't going to handle a lot more of this.

And suddenly there was a loud crack and the kidnapper crumbled to the ground revealing Clint standing behind him with the chair in his hands. Even before the other man was completely still Clint started bringing down the chair, again and again, until he was even more blood splattered and the chair had been reduced to splinters while the kidnapper was just an unrecognizable mess of flesh.

Panting Clint was just standing still for a few seconds, before he looked into the camera. “Come get me?”



Chapter Text

The cough wrecked Clint's body and he curled even tighter under the blanket.

He felt like complete garbage.

His voice had become a scratchy mess. His eyes were super sensitive to anything. His nose alternated between stuffy and running. His head felt heavy and was pounding like crazy. On top of all that he was sweating like a pig, but was as cold as that time when he had gotten turned around in Antarctica.

He sniffled and coughed again.

Damn, he was also hungry again, but there was no way he could move, not with how cold and weak he was.

He should have been more careful, but who could have predicted that the supervillain of the week was amused by people getting thrown into the Hudson? Even Steve hadn't been spared, but that guy was probably already running around without any hint of a cold. Usually Clint enjoyed the enhanced stamina, but most definitely not now.

That's what Clint got for being the only human on the team. Did it count when Tony had a suit of armor, but was otherwise human?

What would Tony look like wearing an actual suit of armor like they had in the middle ages? Now he was picturing him on a horse with a lance. Thor would probably join in. And he had both of them in armor and on horses riding into battle in his head.

Groaning Clint closed his eyes and burrowed his face deeper in his pillow. He was getting delusional. The fever was really getting to him.

The last time he had been sick Barney had still been there to take care of him.

The thought of his brother brought tears to his eyes. It had been so long since he had seen him. So long since he had hugged him. So long since he had seen him alive.

A hand touched Clint's forehead and it felt so good.

He pushed into it, whimpering. His eyes wouldn't open all the way, but he could see a blurry blond person leaning over him.

“Barney”, he croaked trying to stretch his hand out, but he was too weak. Hot tears rolled down his chilled cheeks. “Miss you. Wh're you?”

Two hand cupped his right hand and Barney knelt next to the bed, pulling Clint's hand to his cheek. It felt so good.

“I'm right here, Clint. I'm not going to leave.”


“I promise.”

Tired Clint smiled, his eyes closing. “Lov' you.” He fell asleep immediately.

“I love you too”, Steve said, brushing away some of Clint's sweaty hair from his forehead and then pressed a kiss to it.



Chapter Text

Two hundred and six days.

That's how long Clint had been alone, stranded on Mars, after his team had left him during a storm. He didn't blame them at all. He would have thought he was dead too and he was glad the others had been able to get back on the Hermes at least.

All that didn't absolve the fact that he was the only human being on a whole planet.

Sure, he had food for now and there was kind of communication with Earth and kind of a plan for getting him, but he was still alone.

Two hundred and six days without seeing his team, without touching another human, without seeing Tony's brilliant smile at a joke Clint had made.

Clint ached with how much he missed them. Being surrounded by their stuff and wrapped in their spare suits was just not enough.

They must be blaming themselves so much right now. Especially Steve. That guy had always shouldered too much responsibilities for things that weren't his fault.

Closing his eyes Clint took a deep breath and tried to sleep, but even though he had been working all day and his body was screaming at him, his brain wouldn't let him sleep. His thoughts constantly circled from how cold he was, how lonely and alone he was to how bad the others were probably feeling and if whatever NASA was planning to get him off Mars would actually work or if he would die here, and back to the beginning to start it all again.

Some days were easier. His sole focus was on producing enough food and water, on keeping the deadly Mars air out of his home, not leaving much room for any other thoughts, but then others he would just spiral in this dark place he could barely keep himself out of.

He was glad that there were no really sharp object around, because in some moments it would have been so easy, so relieving to just...

But no. Clint was a survivor. He would survive this too.

Now he just had to actually believe it.

Chapter Text

Phil Coulson prided himself in being actually invested in his students. He treated them as equals with respect until they did something that would take that respect away, though not many did. Apparently his disappointed face was severe and the students didn't want to ever experience it. That was completely fine with him.

Among the teachers Phil was also the one with the most patience, next to Melinda May, though Melinda didn't have to use it too often, because the students were too afraid of her to do anything that would break the rules.

So it was usually Phil who dealt with the so called trouble makers that Nick would have thrown out because of the slightest infraction. People who didn't know Nick as well as Phil did always wondered how Nick had managed to become Principal with his loud dislike of children. Phil knew it was because Nick still cared about all his children and could circumvent all the bullshit from the School Board to do what was right.

Speaking of trouble makers.

Checking the attendance of his English class Phil noticed that Clint Barton hadn't shown up again, making it the third day in a row. Barton was absent more often than he wasn't and he loved mouthing off to the teachers, though that one Phil had to hear from everyone else. When Barton actually showed up he was always quiet and offered up insightful opinions to the books they were reading. Sometimes he failed to hand in an assignment on time, but if it wasn't for that and his frequent unexcused absences he would be able to get an A-.

Tapping the tip of his pen against the sheet of paper Phil wondered whether or not to wait and see if Barton would show up the next day, but decided against it.

After classes Phil looked up Barton's address and made his way over there.

The house he stopped in front was a regular two story family home with a front lawn and white picket fence. A twin to the one next to it and the one next to that one and so on farther down the line.

A couple jogged past him with a friendly greeting to him and the others currently outside, tending their garden or chatting or enjoying the sun. Everyone seemed to know each other and be friends or at least friendly towards each other.

All in all it definitely was a nice neighborhood and at odds with the old, falling apart clothes Barton always wore.

Phil could hear the door bell echo faintly through the house and after a bit the front door opened to reveal a tiny blonde woman wearing a red sundress and a smile.

“Hello, I am Phil Coulson, Vice Principal of SHIELD Academy. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” She stepped to the side and waved him in. “Edith Barton.” She offered up her hand and he shook it. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, lemonade?”

“No thank you. I'm fine.” He took a seat in an armchair as she sat down on the couch. “I was wondering if you know where your son Clint is and if it was possible that I could talk to him for a moment.”

“Well, he is upstairs.” She looked up, her expression a mixture of worry and confusion. “Did something happen?”

“Clint is a bright student. The classes he attends he has brilliant things to say, but I have to say he doesn't attend a lot.”

“What are you saying?” She looked like she had a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“The last three days including today Clint hasn't shown up to classes. I wanted to make sure he wasn't sick and no one had called it in.”

“No. No, he wasn't sick, I mean. He told us there were no school this week for teacher conferences.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Excuse me. I have to call my husband.”

Phil nodded. “Of course. May I use your restroom in the mean time?”

She gave him directions and he went to the hallway, listening for her to start speaking before he walked upstairs in search for Clint's room.

Yes, he probably shouldn't be doing this, but he rather talk to Clint first to hear his reasons behind all this, before the parents could monopolize the conversation. It had happened too often.

There were a couple of doors in the upstairs hallway, most of them were ajar and Phil could see a bathroom, the master bedroom and a storage room with a washing machine. The last door was closed, but when Phil got closer to it to knock there was a loud sound as if something had crashed behind it.

Instinctively Phil rushed forward, opening the door. What he saw made his blood freeze and then boil in anger in rapid succession.

While it was clearly the room of a teenager it was also pretty sparsely furnished. A tiny bed, a desk and a wardrobe with two posters on the wall and nick knacks on the desk, but nothing much more.

A radiator had been fixed to the wall, though even the winter was generally too warm to ever need one. The real purpose seemed to be able to attach the handcuffs that were currently chaining Clint Barton to it. Clint who crouched low to the floor just barely out of reach of where the wardrobe had crashed. Clint who was only wearing jeans and a tank top showing more skin than he had ever done in school even during the heat wave. Clint whose skin was littered with bruises in various stages of healing.

“Clint”, Phil said unable to say anything else.

Clint had his head down and what Phil could see of his face was scared and disappointed. At the sound of Phil's voice Clint looked up abruptly with wide eyes and a brilliant smile lit up his whole face. Bruises shaped like hands wrapped around his throat.

“Knew you would figure it out”, Clint said, his voice hoarse, wincing and causing the handcuffs to rattle which made him flinch even more. His wrist was rubbed raw, maybe even bleeding.

Phil stepped over the wardrobe and pulled out a paperclip from his pocket that he always carried around. Not for situations like this, but he could use it now anyway.

In less than a minute he had picked the lock and gotten Clint to his feet.

In the next minute Phil had Clint downstairs past a frantic Edith Barton who was shouting things about how it was all Clint's fault and what a monster he was and inside his own car all without touching him.

A week after that day Edith and Harold Barton were in jail and Clint officially moved into Phil's house even though he had already been staying there before that and a couple months after that Phil signed the official adoption papers and Clint changed his name to Clint Coulson, per his own request.



Chapter Text

“We can only wait now”, Steve remarked as he settled down on the ground and against the wall. Clint sat down next to him, his bow and quiver beside him just like Steve's shield just in case they were found by the wrong people.

They had been separated from the other Avengers during a fight with some leftover HYDRA agents and while they had managed to get away, they also got caught in a snow storm and got completely soaked before they found the tiny hut in the middle of nowhere.

Tony had put a tracker in Clint's equipment though Clint was sure that Tony hadn't figured out that he knew about it, so the chance they would find them if they stayed put were pretty good. Due to the still raging snow storm it would most likely take some time though.

A shiver wanted to wrack Clint's body, but he suppressed it. Yes, he was cold and he would love some hot coffee or even a heater, but it wasn't that bad.

“Bucky is gonna kill you”, Clint said, trying to create something to distract himself. He could still feel his toes and fingers so that was good.

“You were the one who threw himself off a building last week. I've been good for over a month.” Steve was smirking, the smug bastard.

“You ran into gun fire without your shield earlier”, Clint said, though he wasn't too sure. Had that been in a different fight? They all seemed to blend into each other.

Steve chuckled. “He is going to coddle us both for a while.”

He... Who was Steve talking about again? Oh, Clint wasn't that cold anymore. That was good, though his fingers were cramping around his bow so he put that on the ground. Oops, it fell.

“Hey, Clint, you okay?” Steve leaned closer and put a hand on the back of Clint's neck. “You're freezing!”

“Mmh, not cold at all.” Clint's eyes were closed. When had they closed? “You're warm.”

And Steve was. It was like he had spent time on the sun itself. Or like he was the sun.

That made sense, right?

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me.”

Clint loved being called sweetheart by his boyfriends, so he opened his eyes and found himself slumped half on top of Steve without no recollection of how he got there. He probably should feel alarmed, but Steve just felt so nice.

“That's it. Just keep looking at me. I'm going to get you out of your clothes and then we're going to get you warm, okay?”

“'kay”, Clint mumbled and pawed at Steve's uniform with uncoordinated hands. If he was naked, Steve should be naked too. That was the rule.

Clint blinked and Steve was talking to him again, begging him to open his eyes, as he rubbed his hands over Clint's back and curled his body around him. He was getting warmer, though in a burst of clarity he was realizing that his body was shutting down.

“Steve”, Clint said and it sounded weak. “Love you.”

“No. Don't you dare. Stay awake and then you can tell me. Then you can tell Bucky and he won't kill you.” Steve pressed his face into Clint's hair and his hands moved faster, trying to warm him up.

“Love Bucky too.” His words were slurring and he could feel a kiss on his forehead and wetness drop onto his cheek, before he lost consciousness for good.



Chapter Text

Clint couldn't move for many reasons.

His body was not reading any signals coming from his brain, his muscles too exhausted.

His mental energy had been spent completely in the last couple days. Not that he was actually able to keep track of them continuously.

The straight jacket kept his arms wrapped around his torso as he laid on his back on the bed in the tiny room they kept him in.

Oh, and let's not forget the drugs they keep pumping into him if they didn't want to try to convert him at the moment. They left him numb and sluggish to everything around him. He didn't feel out of place, any need to get out or to fight these people keeping him locked up here against his will.

By the time the drugs had left his system enough to coherently form a thought he was already strapped into a chair surrounded by doctors and interrogators with no chance to get out.

Clint just closed his eyes against the questions, against the brainwashing, trying to get some rest. Any second they would...

Electricity raced through his body, arched his back and stopped any other thought but pain. After not feeling anything for so long his nerve endings went into overdrive. A scream tore out of his already sore throat.

He would never give them what they wanted, so they should just be done with it. This was just a waste of time for them and making just so tired of it all.

Another burst made him scream. Something must have happened. They were more brutal than usual.

As he came down, his head hanging down, he could taste blood and all his limbs tingled.

There was a sound, but his ears were still ringing and he couldn't identify it. Then there was one more scream and it took Clint a second to realize that it hadn't been him this time.

Slowly he forced his head to tilt up only to stare for a minute, not really comprehending what he was seeing.

Bodies littered the floor around him, blood splattered all over and the wall was missing, bright sunlight pouring in and blinding Clint. His eyes had not seen the sun since he had been captured there.


He blinked up as someone stepped through the hole. His breath hitched as he recognized the silhouette.

“I'm hallucinating”, Clint croaked.

Warm hands touched his forearms and Clint shuddered as the restraints came off.

“I'm here. I've got you.” Natasha cupped his cheek and tried to help him out of the chair, though she had to catch him, because his legs gave out. “I've got you.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“Finally.” Steve stood over her shoulder, a beard covering the lower half of his face and looking as tired as Clint felt. “God, finally.” He sank to his knees and pulled Clint and Natasha into his arms for a fierce and long hug.

Clint sank into it and cried in relief. No one said anything about it.



Chapter Text

Everything was going great. Or so Clint had thought.

He and Sam had been living together for a couple of years, had been a couple for nearly double that. They went on dates and were disgustingly domestic according to their friends and Clint for one was as in love as he had been at the beginning.

And then, slowly, Sam wasn't around as much. They still had dates going out and spent time at home together, but Sam was going out more on his own, not really saying who he was meeting or what he was doing. Though Clint didn't ask too much. He was not going to be the crazy paranoid boyfriend.

They also still had sex, as passionate and satisfying as ever, but Clint couldn't help but worry.

What if Clint had become too clingy? What if Sam had met someone that was far more worthy for the amazing guy Sam was? Clint had been so lucky to find him and get as much time as he had, but he didn't want this to end.

The room was still pretty dark when Clint woke up and saw Sam putting on his clothes as quietly as he could. As if he were sneaking away after a one night stand so there wouldn't be an awkward morning after.

It hurt.

“Where you going?”, Clint slurred, wrapping himself tighter into the blanket.

“Uhm, meeting Steve. You know, hanging out.” Sam was great under pressure, had been awesome in pararescue, but he was also an incredibly bad liar.

Sam never lied to Clint. It hurt even more.

“Kay”, Clint said, burrowing himself completely under the blanket so he was hidden away and Sam couldn't see the tears welling up. Clint heard the sigh of relief and bit down on a sob.

Losing Sam would absolutely destroy Clint. Wasn't there anything he could do?

He spent the day pacing back and forth through their apartment reliving all the memories they had made together and trying to form a coherent speech in his head.

It all disappeared when the front door opened and he came face to face with Sam who blinked at him in surprise, before smiling. It wasn't his usual carefree brilliant smile.

“Hey. I thought maybe we could cook something together tonight.” He lifted up the bags he had brought with him and kissed Clint's cheek as he passed him. “There is something I wanna tell you.”

Panic tied Clint's stomach into knots. “I don't want to hear it”, he blurted out rather loudly and Sam looked at him surprised. “I mean.” Clint exhaled shakily and got closer to Sam, grabbing his arms.

“Clint, what's wrong?” Sam cupped Clint's face with both hands, rubbing his thumbs over Clint's skin.

“Please don't leave. I change whatever you don't like, I promise.” Great, now Clint was begging and being pathetic. “I love you so much and I don't want to lose you. Please. Stay. Stay with me and I will do anything you want. I swear. Please.”

“Clint”, Sam said, looking like he wasn't too sure what was going on. “Clint, baby, I love you too. I have absolutely no intention of ever leaving you. Ever.”

“Really?” Or was he just saying that?

“Really.” Sam empathized it with a toe curling kiss that had Clint clinging to Sam so he wouldn't fall.

“Then the last couple of weeks. Why did you...” Clint wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he had to know.

Out of all the things Sam looked embarrassed. “I had a plan, you know. I should have known you wouldn't just go along with it.”

Before new dread could settle in Clint, Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny, purple velvet box. Clint's mouth fell open and he could only stare as Sam flipped it open to reveal a simple gold band settled in black fabric to keep it upright.

“After a romantic dinner I was going to propose to you. And I was secretive the lately because of this, but also because I was looking for a house for us two to move in. Maybe get that dog you always wanted and maybe, after actually getting married, look into adoption a bit more. You know like we...” He didn't get any further.

Clint tackled Sam onto the floor where he proceeded to kiss them both silly.

A couple of hours later Clint snuggled into Sam where they were still laying on the ground naked and whispered a single word into his ear.



Chapter Text


Being a captive of Loki was nothing new. Every once in a while Loki and the Avengers clashed in a fight and either it didn't go Loki's way and he grabbed Clint or his purpose had been to grab Clint from the very beginning.

The first time Clint had been furious and had broken out with a big explosion.

After the fifth time Clint realized that it was laughable easy to escape again and again.

The sixth time he wanted to see what exactly Loki had even planned for him.

Clint was left alone at first like always and he scouted out all the corners to figure out how to escape just in case, before he sat down leaning against one wall and waited. When Loki entered the room it was with a weird expression and confused body language.

“It seems this is finally the room that can hold you”, Loki said slowly, coming to a stop in front of the bars. It put him in a spot to look down on Clint who just tilted his head against the wall with a smirk.

“Maybe I am exactly where I want to be.”

The last reaction Clint expected was for Loki's lips to part and eyes to darken with a look that Clint identified as desire. Clint's surprise had him moving and out of there in minutes.

The other Avengers were used to Clint coming back later after a fight, so they were all scattered around the place just relaxing. They just waved when he walked in and didn't even notice the turmoil Clint was in.

Loki... wanted him? Had this all been a weird scheme to get Clint into his hands? But why was it always so easy to get away? Was Loki just bad at this or was it on purpose?

The seventh time Clint didn't even wait until being captured and instead went up to Loki directly.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought it would be obvious.” Loki smirked. “Acquiring these funds would be...”

“I'm talking about taking me prisoner all these times.”

There was a crack in Loki's confident demeanor for just a second.

Clint stepped closer and the crack opened further. “What do you want to do with me?”

The next thing he knew was Loki wrapping his hand around his throat and invading his personal space with a heavy air around him. “I want to destroy you. I want to tie you up, so you will have to take whatever I am willing to give you.”

The breath caught in Clint's throat even though Loki wasn't even squeezing it. The images Loki's words summoned made Clint incredibly hot under his collar and he hadn't known until now how much he wanted that.

“You think you can be enough to get me there at all?” Clint was a bit breathless, but he was still full of snark.

Loki's eyes darkened. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The eighth time Clint let himself be captured without a fuss and Loki didn't give him time before following him into the cell and pinning him to the wall. Clint tried, but Loki had him reduced to an aroused, sobbing mess within ten minutes.

The tenth time Loki used purple rope to tie Clint's wrists to the cell bars, before flogging his ass and fucking his ass until Clint hadn't been able to sit the next day.

The twentieth time Loki took Clint to an actual bed and teased him to the point that Clint was crying with how much he needed Loki to make him cum.

Afterwards Loki had Clint pulled tight against his body, carding his fingers through Clint's hair and pressing kisses onto Clint's shoulders.

Clint loved these moments nearly as much as the sex itself. Later he would blame the high he was still riding.

“I like you.”

Loki's fingers paused for a moment, but he spoke, before Clint could panic about ruining this thing they had going on. “I like you too.”

Clint burrowed the dopey smile in Loki's chest.

The twenty fifth time Tony was being an especially annoying pain in the ass, so one of Loki's minions had to take Clint into his cell. It wasn't that big of a deal, until the minion wouldn't leave.

“I'm going to make you talk.” The minion pulled out a baton. “Loki may have to get you here all the time, but I will get all the information out of you this time and he will give me a reward.”

“You should really rethink that, buddy.” Clint smirked at him, while he felt out the handcuffs behind his back. They were too tight to maneuver out of like this.

That of course enraged the minion so much that he just started to hit Clint with uncoordinated swings of the baton. There was nothing Clint could really do.

Clint ended up with a bloody nose, bruised or even cracked ribs, a cut on his temple and a hurt shoulder. Curled up in the corner of the room he tried to wiped away the blood from the face on his shirt, but the bastard hadn't unlocked the cuffs and with his injured shoulder he couldn't maneuver enough to get them off.

“Welcome back, honey”, Clint drawled as Loki walked in, looking delicious in his battle clothes as always.

The second Loki caught sight of Clint the grin that had been forming fell away and his expression turned murderous. The cell bars disappeared in a puff of green smoke as Loki stalked in and knelt beside him.

“Who did this to you?” Loki destroyed the cuffs into a million pieces and gently touched Clint's shoulder who hissed and instinctively backed away. “I'm the only one that can hurt you.” His eyes and the air around him were glowing with his magic that wanted to lash out.

“Nothing new.”

“You're mine. You will tell me who did this to you and they will pay.”

The twenty sixth time Loki gifted Clint a collar that would mark him officially as his, but would blend into his clothes enough so it wouldn't hinder his work.

The thirtieth time Clint managed to gather enough courage to tell Loki that he loved him. It was also the last time Loki ever went against the Avengers in the obvious way he had before. There was no need for it anymore, when they would practically spend all available evenings together.



Chapter Text

When Tony said he had a surprise for Clint later and he should get dressed in some decent clothes, Clint was ready for some crazy expensive gift that he had every intention giving back. How Tony still believed he had to buy Clint stuff to make him stick around, Clint couldn't figure out.

So Clint dressed in some jeans that hadn't ripped in some way and the soft red sweater Tony loved seeing on Clint.

No one from the others said anything, but one by one they kind of left the mansion with random reasons. Clint rolled his eyes at the not at all subtle way of his team mates.

Clint was just chilling on the living room couch watching some random reality TV when the front door opened and he heard Tony call out for him.

“In here.” Clint turned off the television and stood up to meet him.

“Close your eyes, babe.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but indulged him. “They're closed. Did you get a giant teddy bear again?”

“Oh come on. That was once.” Tony came closer, his distinctive footsteps followed by someone else that Clint couldn't immediately identify. There was a moment he was worried someone was threatening Tony, but Tony was capable of taking care of himself and he would have said something, anything that would hint at it.

“And I will hold that over your head forever.” Clint allowed himself to smirk and he felt Tony stepping up to him, before grabbing his hands and pressing a kiss to Clint's lips.

“Alright.” Tony moved to Clint's side, still holding his hand. “I know how you hate it if I try to buy you stuff, but considering your birthday coming up I wanted to do something.”

“Tony”, Clint tried to start, but he got shushed.

“Because I love you. Now.” Tony squeezed his hand. “Open your eyes.”

In the second before Clint opened his eyes he was already ready to roll his eyes and make fun of his boyfriend, but also kiss him senseless for the intention.

Clint opened his eyes and the smirk on his face fell away. His heart was stopping and all the things Tony was saying were just white noise to Clint's ears.

Only a few feet in front of Clint was Brock Rumlow, his high school best friend, first boyfriend and the person Clint had lost his virginity to. All while no one knew they were in a relationship. All while Clint had no idea what a healthy relationship was.

They were just hanging out in Clint's room. They had already kissed and made out for a longer period of time, but when Brock crowded Clint against the wall and kissed him, while undressing Clint, Clint let it happen.

Because this, sex and what surrounded it, was a natural progressing of things, right?

Brock just pulled off all the clothes, bit a trail down Clint's throat and shoulder, trapping his wrists in a tight enough grip to bruise and rubbing his own hard dick against Clint's. It was arousing to have the person you liked this close, but when Brock grabbed his biceps and shoved him roughly onto the bed face first, the arousal dimmed.

Was this how sex was supposed to be?

The thought repeated in his head over and over again as Brock went up behind him and shoved his fingers inside Clint roughly before doing the same thing with his dick.

The bruises Brock left on Clint's arms from pinning him down lasted for over a week, but by then Brock had left new bruises from manhandling Clint around places without consideration.

They were together for a couple of years, but when Brock went off to college he left Clint behind because he wasn't good enough. Clint internalized that for years after that until he finally realized that what the two had had, hadn't been okay at all.

The short thing he had had with Natasha, even though it wasn't meant to last at all, taught him that it was okay to take care of himself and be in a relationship that was sweet and caring.

Clint had though he had been over Brock Rumlow for a long time now, but having the man standing in front of him brought everything back.

“Man, it's good to see you again.” Brock grinned widely and stalked closer, just as big and intimidating as Clint remembered. “You look great.” He went in for a hug and revulsion Clint felt was so powerful that his body acted on autopilot.

The crack of bone as Clint's fist connected with Brock's jaw was the most satisfying thing. He ignored Tony as he swung again and Brock fell on his ass clutching his nose.

“Get out of our fucking house or I'm going to fuck you up so much, you will never walk again.”

Brock hightailed out of there like his ass was on fire.

“Clint, what the fuck?” Tony looked completely confused, especially more so when Clint wrapped himself around him in the tightest hug possible.

The next hour they just lay on the couch with Clint ruining Tony's shirt with his tears until Clint was ready to talk about it for the first time of his life, feeling a huge weight lift off him he hadn't even known was there.


Chapter Text

Clint got the call during some meeting he couldn't remember the contents of if his life depended on it. It was on his second phone. The one only his family knew to contact him on.

“Mama is not moving”, Cooper said, his voice shaking and Clint heard the tears.

Without another word to Hill Clint was out of the meeting room and in a jet on his way towards his farm in minutes. The only thing he could think of was getting there and doing anything in his power and whatever wasn't in his power to make sure Laura was okay.

Anxiety was making his leg bounce as he flew as fast as he could coax the jet.

The engine was barely turned off as Clint jumped out and sprinted to the house and called out for his wife.

Lila appeared around the corner and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the big bedroom.

Still breathing heavily Clint froze in the doorway and stared at the bed. Glowing with happiness Laura was propped up with a mountain of pillows, a tiny bundle of blankets in her arms she was smiling softly at.

Lila and Cooper climbed onto the bed and snuggled up to their mother's side who looked up with a brilliant smile as she noticed him.

“Come over, darling, and meet the newest addition to our family.”

“God, I thought something had happened.” Clint carefully bent over and pressed a kiss to Laura's lips first, before doing the same to each of his three kids'. Wow, he had another kid.

The wonder never dimmed.

“I'm confined to the bed for a couple of days. Doctor's orders.” Her face showed her absolute distaste at the notion she wasn't capable of moving around.

Clint laughed and hugged Lila when she spread her arms in demand.

Moments like these Clint thought his body couldn't contain the love he felt for all of them.

Chapter Text

Steve noticed pretty fast that something was wrong.

Although Clint was trying to act like it was every other day, but as Steve glanced at him during class he saw the sweat at Clint's temples and the way he curled his right arm around his stomach as he took notes with his left.

“Are you okay?”, Steve whispered as he leaned over.

Clint just grinned at him and went back to face the front. It did not dissuade Steve's worries.

After class Steve grabbed Clint's arm to keep him in his seat. “If you're not well...”

“I'm fine”, Clint interrupted him and tried to pull away, but Steve held on.

“You're clearly not. If you're sick you should go rest or even go to a doctor.”

The look Clint gave him was full of ridicule. “I have another four classes today and archery to teach. I don't have time.”

“Clint, your scholarship will be fine if you take off one day.” Because Steve knew exactly what Clint was thinking.

They knew each other for years. In middle school Steve did some volunteering work in the youth center and Clint had court ordered community service. Somehow they hit it off right away and were best friends ever since. Sure, Bucky and Clint usually had arguments who was Steve's best best friend, but since Bucky had started seeing Sam, he usually liked to tease Steve more about when he and Clint would finally hook up and get rid of the sexual tension between them.

Bucky was an idiot and had no idea what he was talking about.

“I'm fine. Get off my back”, Clint snapped and pulled away sharply, though before he could storm off like he obviously wanted to, his face lost all colour and he stumbled over to promptly vomit into the next trashcan.

Other students gave him a wide berth and Steve heard the word hangover a couple of times, while he went over to Clint and rubbed a hand over his back.

“M sorry”, Clint mumbled when he was finished, still half hanging over the trash can. “Know you're just worried.”

“It's okay. You're going to let me take you to the hospital now?”

With a heavy sigh Clint sacked a little and gave in.

Because Steve wasn't family he had to wait in the waiting room and was only updated through the texts Clint sent him. Apparently his appendix needed to be taken out.

Googling the symptoms Steve shook his head at Clint. Of course he would be enduring the pain to the point of risking his own health.

It took hours of waiting and drinking some coffee and chatting with Nurse Sharon who was definitely flirting with him for Steve to get another text from Clint that confused him a little, but also relieved him massively.

Clint: miss u <3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Steve smiled fondly and got the room number out of Sharon, feeling a little bit bad on using her like this, before making his way over there.

As Steve stepped into the room Clint looked up and his whole face lit up like the time he got his new bow. In his hands was a purple long tubed vomit bag that fell as he stretched out his hands making grabbing motions in the air.


“Hey”, Steve said and pulled up a chair to sit next to him. As soon as he was in reach though Clint grabbed him and hugged him fiercely, rubbing his cheek against Steve's.

“Missed you.”

“You're high on drugs, right?” Steve patted Clint's head and then got him to lie back again. He needed to not rip his stitches.

Clint blew raspberries into the air before his head rolled to the side and he grinned at Steve a bit silly. “You're pretty.”

“Thank you. You're much prettier.” Steve wanted to hit himself. Clint might be drugged up, but he still shouldn't say things like that.

Strangely Clint's smile disappeared and his eyes went a bit unfocused. “Josh always said that.”

Jealousy reared its head, but Steve pushed it down. “Who is Josh?”

“Foster dad.” Clint looked past Steve as if he was seeing something else, before looking back at Steve. “You're better. You're just so good. I don't deserve you.”

Steve frowned at him and grabbed his hand. “What are you talking about? You're amazing.”

For a few seconds Clint just stared at Steve's hand grabbing his. “You would be gentle. I know you would.”

“Clint, what are you talking about?” Steve leaned forward and Clint mimicked him, bringing one finger of his free hand to his lips.

“It's a secret”, Clint whispered, though it was still pretty loud.

“You can trust me.” Steve knew he shouldn't do this with Clint not really in his right mind, but he also knew Clint would never say anything if it was any other time.

“I love you.” Clint was still whispering. “I wanna kiss you. I wanna have sex with you. Real sex.”

Steve looked like a fish out of water. His brain didn't seem to commute what Clint just said.

“Sex with you would be amazing.” Clint was talking in a normal volume again as he rolled his head back to stare dreamily at the ceiling. “The way you draw. Your fingers will be so gentle. Or rough if we want to. God, I had fantasies about that dinner table at our place. I tested its weight.”

Steve's face was burning and he was struggling to keep up with all the revelations.

“Josh just liked the bed. It wasn't fun.”

It took Steve a second to go from CLINT WANTED TO HAVE SEX WITH HIM to Clint mentioning his foster father again. What did the one thing have to do with the other?

“That was a secret too. Josh said to be quiet. It was time for us away from everyone else. That wasn't real sex.”

Anger slammed into Steve like a freight train. “What happened to him?” He was already thinking of recruiting Sam and Bucky to pay a visit to Josh.

Clint hummed, then looked back at Steve with a smile that was so innocent Steve was scared for a second. “Car accident.” He closed his eyes. “M tired.”

“You nap a for a bit and I will be here.” Steve squeezed Clint's hand again, still reeling a little.

“You gonna kiss me good morning?”

Despite everything Steve had to smile at him. “I will.”

Hours later, when Clint woke up and the drugs weren't too much in his system anymore, Steve leaned over him, brushing strands of hair off his forehead before kissing him softly on the lips. The stunned expression was adorable, before the memories flooded in and he blushed bright red.

Bucky was gloating for years to come.



Chapter Text

Bucky and Clint were making their way up to the common floor to attend movie night, when suddenly the elevator came to a stop with a lurch and the lights turned off.

“What the hell?”, Bucky muttered. He was used to the Tower being better than state of the art and something laughable like a power outage would never affect it. “JARVIS?” 

There was no answer though Bucky hadn't expected one. 

“You wanna bet how long it will take Tony to get the power back on?”, Bucky asked in the direction Clint had been standing in previously. 

“You think we can get out of here before then?” The sound of clothes rustling before Clint cursed. “I left my phone downstairs.” 

Bucky frowned a little. Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed that Clint's voice was starting to shake. Patting down his own pockets Bucky tried to find his own phone, but he already knew he didn't have it with him. Yes, he was adjusting to modern daily life pretty well, but he still regularly forgot to take the phone everywhere with him. 

“We have to get out.” Clint moved and then the sound of the elevator buttons being pressed was audible. They didn't light up like usual and Clint pressed them more frantically. 

“I'm sure Tony is already working on the power. We'll just have to wait.” 

“I'm not going to wait”, Clint snapped back and Bucky blinked in surprise. “I'm getting out now.”

“Clint, calm down. What's going on?” 

“I am fucking calm.” Now Clint was kicking the panel. “Is it too much to ask to not be trapped in a metal box that could fall at any second?” 

“You know the Tower's security as well as I do. In case of a power outage everything will be locked down.” Bucky reached for Clint in an attempt to maybe calm him down some and only noticed because of that that Clint was shaking. “Clint, what's really going on?” He stepped closer, putting both of his hands on Clint's shoulders. 

“I'm already basically deaf. I can't... I can't lose my sight too. I can't. And.” Clint took a deep breath and there was a pull on the front of Bucky's t-shirt, fingers grabbing it tightly. “I'm really fucking claustrophobic.” 

Bucky pulled Clint closer to hug him tightly. “Is that why you don't like actually spending the night together?” 

Clint only nodded against Bucky's chest. “I know I'm pathetic.” 

“Oh, darling, you're so far from pathetic. You're the bravest person I know and I know Captain America.” Bucky squeezed Clint tighter and kissed the top of his head. 

“I'm calmer now. You think we can exploit that thing?” 

Bucky grinned even though they were still bathed in darkness. “I always wanted to try that, but JARVIS always blocked me.” 

So they ended up with Bucky punching a hole through the ceiling with his left hand and hoisting Clint up through it, before jumping up and pulling himself up behind him. 

After they had scaled the elevator shaft to the common room floor and Bucky had forced open the doors, they basically fell through them into the living room and the lights turned on at the same time.  

The other Avengers stared at them incredulous as Bucky and Clint grinned brightly at each other, before Clint kind of jumped into Bucky's arms to kiss him. 

“Thank you”, Clint whispered. 


“What the hell did you do to my Tower?”, Tony screamed and Clint dissolved in laughter. 

Chapter Text

It was all because of the week from hell.

On Wednesday there was the elimination of a human trafficker by the border to Mexico who had an army at his disposal. That wasn't too bad and also not that unusual, sadly. 

Thursday Doom decided it was time to try to take over New York and though it was tedious to clean up all his robots, with the Avengers and Fantastic Four it was over pretty quickly. 

Friday Tony had the brilliant idea to throw a massive party and while it was fun at the time, the hangover the next day was terrible. Especially because Fury had the actual SHIELD agents running simulations and doing training the whole Saturday. 

On Sunday Clint tried to actually chill and get some hours of sleep, but Tony blew something up that shook the whole Tower and made the air stink terribly. 

Monday Doom attacked New York. AGAIN. There hadn't been enough time to properly gather forces, but it was still annoying. 

In the middle of the night from Monday to Tuesday Thor showed up with the Bifrost making a ruckus on the roof which meant whatever family obligations Thor had attended were over and Loki was free to terrorize them again, so Clint had to keep alert for any pranks coming his way. 

It didn't help that nightmares were rearing their heads again. 

Clint was capable of surviving and functioning on not a lot of sleep, but he was only human, despite what everyone else was thinking. 

Not even an entire pot of coffee was enough to shake him up. He was just glad no one was around when he walked into a wall and just rested his forehead against it for a couple of moments. Sleep would be so amazing right now. 

Steps were audible and Clint straightened up into a position that was more casual and normal. 

“Clint”, Bruce greeted and went over to the kettle. “How are you?” 

“I'm fine”, Clint said sharply and left the kitchen, not seeing the confused look Bruce was giving his back. 

When Bruce was too tired to function the Hulk would take over and help. All the others were able to be in perfect condition with one hour of sleep due to serum or an AI. Only because Clint was tired didn't mean he didn't still deserve to be on the team. 

“Don't forget movie night tonight”, Steve called over from where he was disappearing in the elevator. 

“Yes, yes, yes. I've got it, Tony.” He didn't even notice the mistake as he just continued walking around aimlessly. Maybe he should just go to the gym and train. 

Warming up with the sandbags he felt his mind slip even as his body didn't. His exhaustion was pretty much taking over and wouldn't let him actively think about something. 

So when there was a pop above him and green confetti rained down on him Clint could just blink and stare at one piece that had caught on his glove. He didn't know how long he was just staring, but when he looked up Loki was moving towards him with a weird expression on his face. 

“Are you aright?”

Clint scowled automatically. “Don't make fun of me.” He also took a swing at Loki though it was laughably easy to dodge. 

Fuck, he thought as he swayed a little. His hands were also shaking and he was fighting to stay upright. His last nap even had been so long ago. 

The next blink was too long, his legs buckling and when he opened them again he was only still standing because Loki was holding him up. Clint stared at him as Loki lowered them both to the ground and a yawn cracked his jaw. 

“What are you doing?” With dismay Clint noted that his words were slurring and his body was finally shutting down. 

“Even though we're enemies, it doesn't mean we can't worry about each other.” 

Clint would have loved to snark back about Loki finally discovering his heart, but his eyes were finally slipping shut and sleep was pulling him under while he was mumbling something. 

A solid thirteen hours later he woke up in his own bed and barely caught the green shimmer surrounding his bed dissolve, before a cacophony of sounds were audible. The Avengers alarm, some of Tony's favorite music blaring out of every speaker and someone shouting. 

Finally feeling completely refreshed after the week he had Clint smiled. 


Chapter Text

It was maybe the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him. And considering that he had had to run across his college campus only armed with a pillow, was saying a lot.

But those days were behind him. Clint was now a respectable member of society. Or something like that.

So it was on his way home from work when a car ran into him. Or he ran into a car. Semantics.

He still ended up face down on the ground, sharp pain flaring up in his knees and in his head. Cursing he rolled to the side, far too familiar with the feeling to mistake the blood running down the side of his face as anything else. His head was still hurting like a bitch and he had to blink away black spots in his vision.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

Fighting to stay conscious Clint looked over to see a man wearing a button down shirt and a sports coat kneeling down beside him.

“An angel has descended for me. I must be dead.”

The man looked like he was embarrassed and reproaching Clint at the same time. “How hard did you hit your head?” There was a bag beside him and he pulled some cloth out of it. “What's your name?”

"I forgot. Tell me yours instead?” Not his best work, but he was bleeding, cut him some slack.

The wry look the man gave him was super attractive, before a focus took over his expression and he started to clean up Clint's face. “I'm asking to check your mental state.”

“You're a doctor”, Clint realized. Oh he shouldn't be flirting with a doctor. There was no way someone like Clint was good enough.

“My name is Bruce. What's yours?” He was still dabbing at his forehead, leaning in close. Of course he had brown eyes.

“Clint. I love brown eyes.” He blinked. Had he said that out loud?

“That's good to know.” Bruce leaned away to grab something out of his bag and put it on top of the wound.

When Clint felt for it, it seemed to be like a simple band aid.

“Come on, let's get you to your feet.” Bruce took Clint's hands and pulled him to his feet, before having to catch him due Clint's legs giving out and his vision blurring.

“Sorry, sorry”, Clint mumbled, blinking. “The world is still spinning.”

“Where were you going, Clint?”

Clint tried to concentrate on that. He had been thinking about it before he hit the car, but he just couldn't get it to come to mind.

“Taking you to coffee to thank you for saving my life?”

At least Bruce looked amused while he rolled his eyes. “I hardly saved your life. You have a concussion, I believe, but you're fine.” His hands felt amazing on Clint. “Do you have someone that can look after you?”

Clint was so distracted by being in Bruce' arms it took a second for his brain to catch up. “No. It's just me.” Wow, that sounded pitiful.

“Maybe I'll take you up on that coffee, though it will be tea for me and something without caffeine for you.” The look on Bruce face could may be classified as fond and Clint grinned at him brilliantly.

Running into a car might have been the best thing he had ever done.

Chapter Text

Clint hadn't planned to get caught. But then again, who did?

It had just been a series of small time robberies. Impossible to pull off if you weren't The Amazing Hawkeye, but he had always taken only things that weren't too valuable, so wither the owners had been too embarrassed that their impassable security had been passed or they just didn't bother to report it.

Everyone won.

But then, because of Barton Luck (yes, it was in need of capital letters), someone got murdered in one of the places he had broken in before and the cops arrested him for it although his break in had been a whole before that.

His punishment was a stay in the most dangerous prison in the United States.

Riots and violent altercations every day, guards who were wither paid off by inmates and let the top dogs do whatever or got off on utilizing their power to beat the crap out of them.

Clint learned all that on the way to the prison, because the guy sitting behind him had been there before and was apparently very sadistic.

Considering all that one might think that the Barton Luck had done all it could to get Clint in a terrible situation, but of course, just as he thought it couldn't get words, it got extremely, horribly worse.

They were paraded in during dinner and no one bothered to be quiet as they talked about them, eyed them speculatively.

Clint felt like a piece of meat.

He also felt the foot tripping him causing his very undignified fall flat on his face.

Laughter surrounded him and reminded him of high school. Only more dangerous.

Standard issued shoes stepped into his view. “You need help over here?”

Clint scrambled up on his knees knowing the vulnerable position he was in and looked up.

The man was tall and broad with an eye patch and two other man flanking him. While the man in the front was smirking and looked menacing, the one on the left looked more like an accountant than a criminal. And the one on the right had the face of movie posters and the muscles to burst out of his shirt's seams.

“Arrived and already you know where you belong”, the man with the eye patch said and Clint paled, before trying to get on his feet, but the movie star darted forward and behind Clint to push him down again with his hands on Clint's shoulders.

Clint struggled, but his angle wasn't good enough to counter the strength.

“Suppose you're pretty enough.”

“What are you in for?”, the accountant said, his voice mild and if he wasn't on the side of who was obviously some kind of top dog, Clint would probably feel more relaxed.

“What's it to you?” Clint glared up and continued to struggle. Never let it be said that he ever backed out of a fight, even if the odds were stacked against him.

The smirk vanished and the dark expression was scaring Clint. “You're new, so I will let it slide, but remember.” He grabbed Clint's chin, digging his fingers in painfully. “I'm the boss here.”

The movie star let go of his shoulders and then kicked his back, so he sprawled onto the ground again.

He could hear them move away and when he looked up, other people were moving out of their way quickly.

This was a great start to his sentence, but he supposed if he just stayed out of their way he would be fine.

Later he was led to his cell and the guard pushed him in unceremoniously.

The man sitting on the lower bunk bed looked up and smirked. “Well, well, well.” It was the man with the eye patch. Of course it was. “Looks like we're going to have some fun.”



Chapter Text

There was a lot of cover.

Too much, Clint thought from where he sat behind a heap of rocks. He was brilliant, but there wasn't anything to do if he couldn't see them.

Bushes and trees, junk like old tires and half intact structures were scattered around for miles and somewhere around here his prey was hiding.

He checked over his gun, before he started moving silently around the rocks and forward.

Originally it was a one man job. Get in, find the targets and eliminate them before they eliminated you. This time it wasn't a matter of finding a perch and picking them off one by one. They were aware he was coming for them and they were armed and ready.

Shortly after Clint had deployed Phil had joined him. It wasn't supposed to be like that, but Clint had never been able to say no to his husband and he would probably never start.

Rustling in front of him made him duck down and wait until one of his targets moved through the bush, clothes snagging on some branches and giving Clint the perfect opportunity to shot the target in between the eyes.

Sadly the gun he was using was not suppressed so the shot echoed and Clint didn't wait for the body to hit the ground.

He ran as fast as he could without making any noise.

Two more shots were audible. None of them were at Clint and each other them were in different places. He assumed one of them was Phil, because only one of those shot were followed by a volley of shots and Phil was nearly as good as Clint. So that would mean his targets were finally turning on each other.

Another series of irregular shots not too far away from where he was at and he swerved towards it. Maybe he could pick up any strays.

He heard the target taunt from the cover of a tree which bore the signs of being shot at multiple times.

“You know there is no way out of this”, Phil called out and Clint moved to the side away from Phil to go for a flank.

Phil and Clint were a great team. They had worked together for so long and knew each other so well that Phil kept the target talking as Clint lined up his shot and took them out.

Grinning Clint made his way over to Phil to maybe steal a kiss before they continued.

Phil moved around a tree and smiled at him. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through his stomach like it always did.

Then suddenly, quick as a snake, Phil raised his gun and shot.

Stumbling backwards Clint's back hit a tree he slid down on, clutching his stomach and staining his fingers red. “You shot me. You fucking betrayed me.”

Phil's smile was pitying. “Oh honey, there was always gonna be only one survivor.”

As Phil just walked away without a second glance, Clint tilted to the side and ended up on laying on his back staring up at the sky.

He just couldn't believe that Phil shot him. They were supposed to be a team.

And now Clint was laying surrounded by junk, betrayed by his husband and not even able to finish the mission.

“I'm dying”, Clint said out loud to no one in particular and looked up as someone approached from the side. “Nat, Phil shot me and I'm dying and I was horribly betrayed.”

Natasha looked down and Clint felt the judgment. “Stop being dramatic and get up.”

“But Nat”, he whined and got kicked into the side.

“Phil won the game. It's over.”

Sighing Clint watched her walk away, red paint streaked over her back which made Clint feel a lot better. If anyone had been able to sneak up on her, of course it had been Phil.

When he joined the others Tony was complaining how Phil and Clint had tag teamed him and the others were rolling their eyes at them.

“Don't be too mad, babe”, Phil said and pulled Clint in, when he was close enough. “I had to. You were my biggest competition.”

Clint wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or angry. The kiss he received and the whispered promises of the sexy things in his future melted him.

“Pathetic”, Natasha commented and even though Clint glared at her, he couldn't really disagree.


Chapter Text

It is the time of the year again.

The snow melted and the temperatures are rising and the moon will be full soon.

Clint knows what it means, but it doesn't make it any easier.

Clint's village is far from any bigger city, far from the capital with its knights and the King, and so not worthy of their attention. The village has to fend for itself against the Monsters living in the woods close by.

Clint calls them Monsters, while others, the Elders, call them Gods. Gods who were displeased at them, making their harvest sparse and their water polluted and their children sick.

All that are stories told by the Elders of the time before the Sacrifices.

In all of Clint's twenty years each one someone volunteered to be sacrificed to the Monsters/Gods on the first full moon in the spring just before the farmers plant the seeds of their crops.

The Elders say ever since the sacrifices started the chosen ones ascended to heaven and they village never had a bad day again. The family of the people volunteering were bestowed the highest honor, doors decorated with the sign of being blessed by the Gods.

Many are excited if someone out of their family decides to be the one. Many fight over the right to be the one to die.

Clint is in no way one of them. Clint is the one to leave the village and scout around the place of sacrifice and further into the woods trying to find any signs of the monsters who took his best friend Steve years ago. Clint doesn't believe Gods look down on them and judge them. If Gods are so cruel to want the death of them and are so powerful they are able to destroy them, why be content with only one person and grant the village with balanced weather and food and water?

It may be fair to humans, but it doesn't seem fair to Gods.

So after years of searching, after years of being alone with no family and no real purpose aside from searching, Clint is done.

He doesn't believe in Gods, but he believes that the village believes it and he is not going to let someone else lose their best friend like he had.

The Gathering before the sacrifice starts and Clint steps up and announces his intent to be the sacrifice, to be the one saving the village and no one fights him. The Elders don't like his questioning attitude and everyone else doesn't want to lose a family member even if it brings honor to them all.

Red streaks through the sky as he is paraded to the pole in the clearing a long march into the woods.

Feeling scared and resigned Clint steps onto the little podium. Rope bites into his wrists, probably rubbing it raw, but it doesn't matter anymore. Clint is going to die and hurt wrists are the least of his worries.

The Elders chant and Clint looks up at the sky at the appearing stars trying to find some moment of peace. Maybe he will be able to revenge Steve by taking one of the monsters with him, because he has no delusions of surviving the encounter.

The chant stops tears pool in his eyes as everyone stares and the symbols etched around him begin to glow red. He didn't expect to feel this bad, but his hands are shaking as he holds onto the pole and ropes to have something to anchor him.

The symbol glow brighter and brighter until they seem to explode and Clint closes his eyes against it.

He expects nothing and is surprised to find himself still breathing seconds later as he blinks the red out of his vision.

“Just to be clear”, Clint says, seeing silhouettes of several person like things. “Having humans sacrifice themselves for your amusement is the shittiest thing you could do. Monsters or Gods or whatever you are.” His voice isn't even shaking too bad. At least he will die proud.

“Oh, a mouthy one”, someone mutters and Clint raises his chin in response.

“Why are you here, little one?” It is a female voice, melodic and gentle and most importantly close enough to reach.

“Remember Steve? Little, scrawny sacrifice six sacrifices ago?” Clint takes a deep breath, holding the image in his mind. “That was my friend and I don't like my friends taken from me.” With a tug Clint frees himself from the ropes the moment his vision is back fully and takes a swing.

He misses as the female moves backwards swiftly.

Three person like things are in front of him. The female and two men. The female has flaming red hair and both men have brown hair, one longer, one shorter.

“I like this one”, the one with shorter hair says and he isn't the one who had talked before.

“What's your name?”, the female asks and Clint squints at her suspiciously.

Why do they want to make him pliable if they are going to kill him, if they are powerful enough to influence the weather?

“Steve”, the one with the longer hair shouts and Clint blinks and blinks more when another person emerges from Clint's blind spot from the right of him.

“You know you're not supposed to use name yet, Bucky.” He's tall with muscles and blond hair. He can squash Clint's head with his hands alone.

“Breaking your own rule there”, the one with shorter hair comments with a smirk and earns a glare from the blond.

“Tony”, the female says and Clint looks back and forth between them all.

He is very confused. He also seems to make a sound, because the blond turns to him and his eyes widen.



“It's me. Steve.” He puts a hand on his chest that is not scrawny at all.

Clint's suspicions don't leave him. The alertness doesn't leave his body.

“The sacrifices the village are making don't die. Gideon Malick thinks he is taking over, but we won't let the Council. Instead we take them in.” The blond pretending to be Steve spreads his arms drawing Clint's attention to the wooden houses around the square they are in, the well and personal items scattered around.

“Clint. My hawk.” Steve's voice dips low into a tone Clint is familiar with. His hand taking Clint's is just as warm as it was six years ago. “Please, believe me.”

“My eagle”, Clint says back and hears someone gagging beside him.

When the sun rose up in the morning Clint thought this was the day he would die. Now, with the sun disappearing for good, he knows it was the day he was reborn into a family he deserved.


Chapter Text

It was at once a perfect day to sail and a day like any other.

The Avengers slid across the waters smoothly and beautifully, created with the best materials and kept up by the best crew a Captain could wish for.

At least Clint believed that was the case, but he was called not right in his head more than once in his life.

He braced his elbows on the walls of his nest and looked down. There was nothing except water as far as the eye could see anyway. Especially his eyes.

On deck his crew moved around under the bright sun, scrubbing the deck, hauling rope around and going after the usual tasks. Clint could see them talking, but the only sound that drifted up was the occasional bit of laughter.

Clint had the best eyes of all of them, had the job of seeing ships or land or whatever might appear around them and he enjoyed the solitude most of the time, but it was isolating sometimes.

The shirt he had abandoned immediately after climbing up was laying on the ground and he pushed his foot under the material to kick it up, so he could use it to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Barton”, Steve shouted up and Clint turned to the steering wheel where the Captain was standing next to their navigator Sam and Steve's second in command Natasha.

A lot of people swore up and down that women on a ship, especially a pirate ship, was bad luck, but they never had had any causalities.

“What do you see?”

“Water, Captain”, Clint shouted back, because he was an asshole.

Steve rolled his eyes at him and went back to talking to Sam and Natasha. While Clint couldn't hear them, he could read their lips, but he didn't do it this time. It just wasn't the same.

Hours later, when the sun was closer to the horizon than it was to its highest point he spotted something. He squinted and the dot became a ship heading right for them. And it was fast.

“Sail ho!”, he shouted and there was a pause as everyone on the ship seemed to hold their breath at the same time. “A Spanish one!”

At once everyone was moving again, running to their stations as they readied themselves for a fight. Clint itched to join them, but for now his job was up here without weapons, giving a steady report until the Spanish were on them and he was needed on a cannon.

Sometimes Clint was amused by the fact that his place was either up high or down below deck.

Not now though.

The Spanish had been a real pain in the ass lately as they changed their routes and seemed to hunt them down specifically. Although they hadn't managed to get any of them in custody to hang or just kill them directly, they had damaged the ship and Tony had bitched about it endlessly.

The ship that was coming for them was faster than them and looked like no other ship Clint had ever seen. While it bore the standard Spanish flag it wasn't one that they had encountered before.

When there was nothing more Clint could do from his nest, he climbed out of his nest to get onto one of the nets and to get down.

There was a loud cannon explosion and the splintering of wood and Clint was tilting, falling.

He was too high up to just jump into the water or land on the deck, as the mast tipped racing downwards. Of course he was on the wrong side of the mast and he could only close his eyes, as he hit the water hard and was pressed down by the mast on top of him, sails fanning out around him.

Pain radiated over his back and through his head, a couple bubbles escaping his mouth.

He couldn't think, but instinct made him try to move, try to kick out to get back to the surface. Something tugged on his foot, pulling him down (Or was it up?) and making it impossible to move forward. He tried kicking harder, move his arms with more strength, but he was getting nowhere.

His lungs were now screaming for air and panic made his movements uncoordinated. He was drowning and going to die and Clint did not want to.

Water flooded his mouth, his thoughts were slowing down and black invaded his vision. He didn't even know if his crew managed to survive, though he was sure they did.

During his last blink he saw red fire dancing over the surface and hoped he died so they could live.




Chapter Text

Clint woke up disoriented, his thoughts slow and fuzzy. The light of the room was dim, but Clint could still see that the room was nearly completely empty. There was a table with stuff on it Clint couldn't see and the bed Clint was laying on, barely a mattress and without any sheets.

Shaking his head he tried to clear out the cobwebs, as he sat up. Or at least attempted.

He was laying on his belly, his wrists and ankles cuffed and secured with rope to each of the bedposts. Air was hitting his whole naked body and there was something taped over his mouth.

No amount of trashing, squirming or pulling on the cuffs, managed to get them to give even an inch.

“Well, look who's awake.” Tony moved into Clint's field of view with a smirk. “Bucky was already getting bored.”

Clint could only manage incoherent sounds of protest and question.

“You weren't lying.” Bucky was somewhere behind Clint and then there was cool metal on his calf, stroking upward slowly and ignoring Clint trying to squirm away. “He definitely has a very fuckable ass.”

“And he loves being smacked around. Don't you?” Tony grabbed Clint's chin, just laughing faced with his glare. “You wanna fuck him?”

Fuck no, Clint shouted, but it wasn't more than a garbled shout. He still pulled and pulled at the cuffs, but he was getting nowhere, especially when Bucky put his metal hand on the small of his back and pressed down, pinning him in place even more.

“Don't mind if I do.” His right hand came down to grab Clint's ass, getting a feel for it, before smacking it, hard.

Clint jolted, his body straining to get away, to stop this, but there was nothing he could do.

A couple more smacks to each ass cheek, before there was the sound of a belt opening.

“You know, I am a bit jealous.” Tony sat down next to Clint's head, his hand on Clint's neck, pushing down his head even more.

Fingers pushed into Clint's hole roughly, not bothering being careful just making sure it wasn't tight enough. “I'm only interested in his ass. Use his mouth for all I care.” Hands grabbed Clint's hips tightly, pulling them up just enough for Bucky to shove his dick inside him. He didn't pause, just burrowed himself completely before he immediately started fucking him.

Pain brought tears to Clint's eyes.

“Don't try anything stupid”, Tony warned Clint who hadn't even realized that Tony had pushed down his pants enough and knelt next to his head. A hand grabbed Clint's hair and another ripped off the tape over his mouth.

Clint gasped from the pain of that and the relentless pounding of his ass which Tony used to just push his dick into Clint's mouth. He was pushed back and forth, moans of the two men filling the room while Clint choked and cried and was utterly helpless.

More slaps turned Clint's ass completely red and Bucky just fucked him, racing towards his own release.

By the end of it Clint was coated inside and out with cum, utterly exhausted and bruised all over.

Tony and Bucky uncuffed each of his wrists and ankles, before climbing onto the bed with him. Hands rubbed over Clint's back and through his hair gently, together with kisses.

“Better than I imagined”, Clint said, his voice hoarse, enjoying the way his boyfriends pressed against each side of him.

“I'm glad, doll”, Bucky said gently, kissing Clint's temple.

“Any time”, Tony grinned. “Wasn't like it was a hardship.”