Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/450478.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(2012)
  Relationship:
      Clint_Barton/Phil_Coulson, Past_Clint_Barton/OMC, Tony_Stark/Steve
      Rogers, Bruce_Banner/Thor
  Character:
      Clint_Barton, Jarvis_(Iron_Man_movies), Phil_Coulson, Natasha_Romanova,
      Tony_Stark, Steve_Rogers, Bruce_Banner, Thor_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Rape/Non-con_References, Physical_Abuse, Mental_Abuse,
      Forced_Enema, Intentional_Dislocation, Total_Bad_Guy, No_Redeeming
      Qualities_At_All, No_Onscreen_Sex
  Collections:
      AvengerKink
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-03 Words: 5956
****** An Ache I Still Remember ******
by knittyknicker
Summary
     Like a healed bone, some aches linger. Others have an unfortunate way
     of breaking all over again.
Notes
     This was written for a prompt at Avengerkink.
     There are graphic descriptions of violence. Most of them will be
     contained in the italicised sections, but one is not. Unfortunaltely,
     they can't really be skipped over, but you're welcome to try. If
     you're interested, the prompt text will be included at the end since
     it's kind of spoilery.
See the end of the work for more notes
When Clint finally manages to drag himself home after the end of his latest
clusterfuck of a mission, all he wants is some food, a shower, and to fall
asleep with his husband. His finger feels naked and he's looking forward to
reclaiming his ring from the chain where Coulson keeps it, safe and snug,
beside his own.
The noise that hits him is surprising and he thumbs the volume control of his
hearing aid up. If there are people around outside of his teammates, he wants
whatever tactical edge he can get. Tony spots him when he finally steps out of
the elevator and flags him over with a wave of his glass.
“Hey, look who finally came home to roost.”
“Hawk, you jackass, not chicken.”
“Yeah, yeah. Meet our new feeb liaison. Apparently the powers that be think
Coulson needs more help keeping us in line.”
Clint snorts at that. He gives the new guy a week tops before he gives up on
the insane asylum that is Avengers tower and requests a transfer out. Half that
if he tries to replace Coulson as Alpha.
“Clint, meet Brent Shepard, our new shadow.”
Clint offers a hand, distracted by the sight of Coulson walking in from the
kitchen in rolled up shirtsleeves, looking tired, but happy to see him.
“The marksman, right? I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I sure hope SHIELD is
utilizing your skills in the way you deserve.”
The voice snaps him back and he feels himself freeze, finally looking the new
agent in the face. When Clint knew him from before he was going by a different
name, but he knows this man well. Clint could recognize him anywhere, any time,
in any condition. No, he'll never forget this man, no matter how hard he tries.
•°•°•°
“C’mon Clint. This guy’s the real deal. He's got contacts. He'll get us past
this penny ante bullshit and into the big time.”
 
Clint doesn't want to go. In fact, he's pretty sure that he should have stayed
with the circus instead of following his brother to 'easy money'. So far
nothing had been easy and Clint wanted to go back, go to the closest thing he'd
had to a home since that awful day all those years ago.
 
When they get to the hotel Clint can't help but think that if this guy were the
real deal then surely he could have picked a nicer place. At least they might
not have to go back to the tenement they'd been staying at for the past week.
October wasn't brutal but it was cold at night and the building was drafty. For
one night Clint wanted to wake up when he was ready to wake up and not because
the cold biting into his fingers and toes dragged him out of sleep.
 
“Just be polite OK? You don't gotta say anything. I'll handle everything.”
 
Clint just nods at his brother, digging his fingers into the fabric of his bow
case as they wait.
 
The door opens and a bruiser in a white button down ois standing beside it.
Clint snorts at the unsubtle display of weaponry tucked under his arm but stays
quiet, dropping his eyes at Barney’s sharp look.
 
Clint watches through his eyelashes when another man walks toward them. He
introduces himself as Michale Eddington and he and Barney start talking,
ignoring Clint completely. While he waits, he looks around the room before
returning his gaze to the man his brother has pinned all his hope to. Finally
the conversation makes its way back to Clint and he listens silently as they
talk about him.
 
“This must be the brother you were telling me about."
 
"Yeah that's him."
 
"Marksman?"
"Yeah. He's good with knives, firearms, and a bow."
"Well rounded. Good. I'll definitely be able to use him."
 
Barney laughs, but Clint stays silent, clamping down hard on the shiver that
tries to creep down his spine.
•°•°•°
Clint lets the water pound down on his shoulders as he thinks about the man in
the living room. He wants to threaten him to keep away, keep silent, don't fuck
up the life I've built, but he can’t knowing that denial and avoidance are his
only option if he doesn't want Phil to find out about what he let Michale do to
him.
The sound of the curtain being pulled open takes him by surprise as he could
have sworn he locked the bedroom door before he started his shower. Spinning
around, he presses a slendrr knife against the man's throat, growling quietly
while he wipes water from his eyes.
When he sees who it is he blanches, dropping the knife with a clatter as he
whispers apologies and tilts his chin back to look at the red line on his
throat.
"Jesus, Phil. You can't do that to me."
Phil seems unconcerned with the thin trickle of blood snaking down his throat,
ignoring it to cup one warm palm against Clint's face.
"Did something happen out there? Are you OK? Really OK?"
Clint laughs, thin and thready. "Yeah, just being home you know? Guess I'm
still jumpy from the mission."
Phil looks unimpressed, one eyebrow cocked as he waits.
"Really. I'm fine. I just need a night of being Mr. Coulson and not Agent
Barton."
Phil looks skeptical and Clint tries to look more convincing, clenching his
fists to keep his fingers still.
"Alright, I'll just wait for you in the bedroom."
Clint nods, careful to maintain eye contact instead of scanning for his dropped
weapon. Phil sees it anyway and bends to pick it up before handing it back hilt
first.
"If you need to talk, you know where I'll be."
Clint nods again, accepting the weapon silently. When Phil is gone Clint places
the knife back on the soap shelf to finish his shower. He resolutely ignores
the shaking of his fingers as he rinses shampoo from his hair.
•°•°•°
Michale and Barney sealed their arrangement with a round of drinks and then
Barney just kept drinking. While the room was second rate, the alcohol was top
shelf and Clint watched his brother get closer and closer to unconsciousness.
He hated alcohol. Hated what it did to people, what it led people to do to
others, and with every sip Clint hated his brother just a little more.
Once Barney finally succumbed to the booze in his veins, Clint dragged him up
the mattress, rolling him under the covers before cleaning away the mess of
empty bottles and slipped liquor. When that was done he double checked the door
locks and grabbed clean clothing from his bag before closing the door and
starting the shower.
He let the steam build, confident of a decent supply of hot water for once.
When the room was warm, he stripped down and stepped into the tub, pulling the
curtain shut behind him. The water was hot and Clint hissed at the warmth,
rolling his neck and stretching his shoulders. He heard the door open and
close, assuming it was Barney up to shed a bit of the alcohol he'd consumed and
said nothing, rubbing the soap to a lather and working it over his skin.
The draft of cooler air was unexpected and he turned, ready to yell at his
brother for being a dick. The problem was, it wasn't his brother but Michale
standing there, eyes roaming over Clint’s exposed body like a tangible touch.
Clint froze, mouth open and Michale caught his eye, smirking before he spoke.
”Your brother did well bringing you to my attention. Yes, I think he'll go far
in our organization. I'm sure you'd like to see him do well right? A good
brother like you? Of course you'll do whatever is needed to keep him
successful.”
Michale patted his cheek, the sound loud even over running water and Clint
fought a flinch, waiting for the other man to leave.
”Yes. So long as you cooperate, I'm sure your brother will do fine. After all
everyone needs someone to support them, especially in such a dangerous field as
ours.”
The click of the closing door was a relief to Clint’s ears and he slumped
against the tile wall, relieved that Michale didn't touch more than he had. He
was pretty sure he knew what Michale wanted and he understood the repercussions
for refusing. He wondered what Barneys reaction to the situation would be if he
told him.
Twenty minutes later, when the warm water finally ran out, he still didn't
know.
•°•°•°
The following morning Clint feels his equilibrium returning soothed by familiar
surroundings and a night in his husband’s arms. The feeling of wellbeing holds
through breakfast and a session on the range.
It isn't until lunch that his equilibrium takes a hit. Tony walks in after what
looks like a night in the shop or a bout of oil wrestling to announce that
Stark Industries is holding a corporate retreat at the Magnific in Las Vegas
and as Stark employees (ostensibly) they are all expected to attend.
The name of the hotel is enough to have Clint freezing for a bare second before
he asks,
"Why The Magnific?"
"I needed somewhere quick and Brent agreed to call in a favor for me. He said
he'd spent a couple of thoroughly enjoyable weekends there and that the views
were amazing. So. You in?"
"No. I've got things to do. Wrapping up that assignment, debriefing, paperwork.
You know, the usual."
Clint pushes away from the counter, walking swiftly. From behind, he hears
Tony's voice call out,
"You don't know what you're missing!"
But he did. He really, really did.
•°•°•°
"Aren't the views from this room spectacular?"
Clint didn't know as he'd been brought in blindfolded and been bound to the bed
ever since. The few times Michale had released him for the restroom, the
curtains had been pulled shut, shrouding the room in a twilight glow.
"Nothing to add?"
Clint shot Michale a look, the spider gag uncomfortably tight against his
cheeks and the inner edge of his lips. He hated the slick wet feel of saliva as
it slid down his chin so he dropped his head back to the pillow, swallowing
carefully to keep from choking.
"You're so quiet. I appreciate that in a companion. Your brother would be proud
if he knew how hard you worked to maintain his position. I think we should tell
him, don't you?"
Clint shook his head, watching in the mirror above him as the action mussed his
hair further and the movement of his head sent his restraints to swinging, the
musical tinkle of chain links chiming off one another.
"No? You don't think he'd appreciate how you've given yourself to me? Let me
use you for my own pleasure? Let me share you with others? Do you think he'd be
embarrassed if he knew how big a whore you truly were?" Michale cocked his head
before reaching out to flick the clover clamp on Clint's sore nipple.
"No; Perhaps you're right. After all, who'd know your brother better than you?"
 
•°•°•°
Clint stays behind, everyone else leaving for a long weekend in Sin City. He's
not thrilled at the thought of being alone for the four days that everyone else
is gone but he is looking forward to a little bit of down time with Phil.
When everyone else is gone, Clint putters around for a while, playing with the
idea of heading for the range, before he decides that he'd rather get his
laundry taken care of so he doesn't have to keep borrowing Phil's undershirts
and boxers.
Gathering up a laundry basket from the utility room, he piles it high with all
the dirty clothes he can find, sweeping through both bedroom and bath to make
sure he's gotten everything. Once he's certain he has, he makes the trip to the
laundry room housed on the lowest residence level.
He knows that Tony likes to give him shit for refusing the laundry service
everyone else uses, but he finds the activity soothing, repetitious in the same
way as shooting, and a great way to focus when his brain just won't slow down.
By the time everything is sorted and loaded into the machines, his earlier calm
has returned and he mulls over what he wants to eat, wondering if Phil is going
to make it home in time to eat with him.
The final lid falls with a clank and he spins the knob, starting the machines
cycle with a rush of water. He goes to step back and can’t, pressed against
another body that he never wanted to touch again. He curses himself for leaving
his hearing aids turned off even as he digs them from his pocket.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I was sent to check on you. Agent Coulson thought you might get bored here all
alone."
Michale steps closer and Clint has to remind himself that he's not that
fourteen year old kid anymore.
"Well, I'm fine so why don't you just go on then."
"Oh. So you're going to keep pretending you don't remember me? Because I
certainly remember you. Some of my fondest memories are from the time we spent
together."
"None of mine are. I remember you perfectly, but I'm not that same powerless
kid I was back then. Keep pressing and I'll find a way to get rid of you."
"No, you won't say anything now for the same reason you never told anyone then.
You're weak and you know it. You don't want anyone else to know how much you
liked me taking control and keeping you right where you belonged; On your
knees. Admit it. You're good at taking orders and belonging to someone. The
Chitauri invasion made that pretty clear. But now that Loki's gone, who's going
to hold your leash? Because, face it, someone needs to."
Clint wraps one hand around the laundry basket handle, plastic and metal
digging into his fingers as he tightens his grip. Michale-- no, Agent Shepard,
is watching him with calculating eyes, looking for any crack he can exploit.
Clint refuses to give him the satisfaction.
"Get out, Agent. You checked and I'm fine."
"We'll see." And Shepard is gone with one last look.
•°•°•°
Clint can't seem to catch his balance after that. He tucks both hearing aids
into his ears and twitches any time he hears anything move. Finally the clothes
are dry and he bundles them back into the basket, deciding to fold them on his
floor where JARVIS is active.
"JARVIS?"
"Yes, Master Clint?"
"If I asked you to hack the FBI servers and find employment records for
someone, could you do it without being caught?"
"Of course, Master Clint."
JARVIS sounds almost offended that Clint would question his hacking abilities
and Clint smiles at the fact that he feels compelled to apologize to an AI
system, "I don't mean to imply anything JARVIS, I just don't want this to get
back to anyone on the team."
"i suppose by that you mean your husband?"
"Yeah, mostly."
"Well, sir, shall I start the search?"
"Don't you need a name?"
"No, sir. I have observed your interactions with Agent Shepard. As he is the
only FBI agent to have visited the tower during its time as the home of the
Avengers, I calculate a better than 96% chance that he is the one whose
employment records you wish to obtain. If I have come to an erroneous
conclusion please inform me now, otherwise the data transfer will begin in 60
seconds."
"Uh, no. He's the one. Thank you. Hey JARVIS? How'd you get so smart?" He’d
meant it as a joke, so he’s surprised when JARVIS answers him.
"I was programmed to keep up with the mind of Tony Stark."
"You know, in a freaky way, that makes me feel better."
"Glad to be of service, sir."
•°•°•°
JARVIS sends the files to Clint's starkpad, but files a copy for his records as
well. He hadn't been kidding when he told Clint that his programming had been
intended to keep pace with an adaptive genius. But he hadn't mentioned that his
programming also allowed him to learn and build on the information he processed
outside of his interactions with his creator.
In a way, JARVIS had developed a rudimentary form of emotion and right now, his
processors displayed settings for both worry for the young archer and a strange
protectiveness as well. Searching through his archives, JARVIS logged the
agents biometrics alongside the archers and decided to monitor the situation
closely until someone told him otherwise.
He had processed the SKYNET comments and made the relevant cultural cross
references and his memory still contained the record of the week Captain Rogers
spent at a hotel after the team watched 2001: A Space Odyssey.
He understood that most people would react badly if they knew just how sentient
Tony's programming had allowed him to become so he kept quiet, but he
considered his creator's teammates to be family, and no one would be allowed to
harm them. Not if JARVIS could prevent it.
•°•°•°
Clint stays in his room, hearing aids in and on. He's got two knives on him and
a loaded weapon tucked between the cushions. He spends the rest of the day
folding laundry and reading through Shepard’s records. He finds the time that
he was Michale Eddington and shudders, but the bust that landed Barney in
prison suddenly makes more sense. Clint feels both relieved and guilty for
leaving like he had, but the overwhelming emotion he feels is anger that no one
in the organization supporting Shepard thought to check into how he was
spending his time and with whom. For every mission he reads about Clint wonders
if there was someone like him trapped and squirming under that bastard’s thumb.
He wants the familiarity of his range but he isn't sure that Shepard is gone
and he doesn't want another surprise like the laundry room. For long moments he
racks his brain for a way to get the feeb banned from the building without
providing a reason. He knows Coulson would do it, but he'd also want to know
why and Clint tries really hard not to outright lie to his husband. The evasion
last night was enough.
Finally it hits him and he wants to smack himself. JARVIS can monitor the area
and tell him when Mic-- damnit, Shepard is there. Grabbing his shooting glove
he calls to the AI.
•°•°•°
It gets easier to avoid being alone with him after that. Clint sticks to areas
free of the agent's presence and when he's forced to be in the same room, him
keeps at least one other person around. By the end of the second week, Clint's
emotionally exhausted. He's pretty sure Natasha knows something is wrong and
Phil has been watching him carefully too.
For all that Clint has avoided being alone with him, the pointed comments and
reminders continue, each targeted at a specific event that makes Clint twitch
as the memory washes over him. He's tempted to take to the vents and recharge
but that would be a dead giveaway that something was wrong.
He knows logically that if he were to admit the situation to Phil, he'd handle
it quietly and neatly and no one would ever know what happened, but then Phil
would know and Clint can't bear the thought of seeing pity in Phil's eyes when
he looks at him. So Clint puts his head down and just endures.
•°•°•°
"...I was dealing with this mouthy junior and he just didn't seem to get the
lesson. It took a while, but eventually, I beat it into him that his attitude
wasn't acceptable."
”You don’t seem to understand that I own you. You don’t get to mouth off to me.
I’ve tried telling, but I guess you’re hard headed enough to need it beaten
into you.”
The next blow of the lash wrapped around his side and Clint shrieked as the
leather tore into his skin. The slick slide of blood over his hip was the last
thing Clint felt before he slid into darkness.
•°•°•°
"Clint here excels at thing like that. He's more than a pretty face." Steve
laughs as he claps his hand on Clint’s shoulder and Clint hides his flinch
before smiling at his friend. Shepard looks speculative for a moment but nods,
watching his face as he speaks.
"Yes, I get the feeling he has lots of hidden depths."
The pressure in his guts was unbearable and the porcelain tiles dug into his
palms and knees. He could feel the tears running down his face as he cramped up
again, desperate to breathe through it since he knew that if he released before
he'd been given permission he'll just end up holding again. It's already
happened twice and he doesn't think he can take another round without fainting.
•°•°•°
“You should take care not to over do it. It’d be a shame if you put yourself
out of commission by overworking your arms.”
The snap of his finger was loud in the silent room and Clint thrashed against
his bindings, desperate to get away. He needed his hands and his draw arm
especially. Michale tsked at his struggles before putting his hands on Clint’s
hips and tugging. Clint felt the stretch and the sickening slipslide of his
shoulders popping out of socket and he dangled, unable to pull himself
anywhere, helpless and in agony as Michale went back for a second finger.
•°•°•°
JARVIS watches all of this silently, taking care to file everything carefully.
Multiple camera angles of facial expressions tho others miss, any interaction
away from a larger group, even the agent's time alone during his elevator
rides. It is those elevator rides that provide the first concrete evidence of
what the Agent has planned, and JARVIS records it all, ready for anything.
•°•°•°
After a mission leaves the team battered and bruised, Clint finds himself in
the gym, desperate to burn off some excess adrenaline. The rest of the team is
paired up with their respective partners, Steve and Tony in the workshop, Thor
and Bruce in the kitchen, Natasha at SHIELD with Fury (ah, young love. And then
Clint is absurdly grateful that Natasha can not in fact read minds.)
Clint would be with Phil if not for the fact that he had been pulled away to
placate an agitated foreign leader who was threatening something that was
likely both dire and absurd. So he's here in the gym beating the stuffing out
of a training dummy.
The hand on his shoulder is an unpleasant surprise and he swings around,
lashing out with a fist. The open palmed blow to the side of his face is
shocking and hits just right to send a spike of feedback through his head, the
pain dropping him to his knees as his stomach contemplates making a break for
the outside and his eyes water at the pain in both his head and his knees.
When his head finally clears, the man standing in front of him resolves into
Agent Shepard and Clint tenses.
"Oh, Clint. Look at you, finally back where you belong. "
Clint frantically wonders why JARVIS didn't warn him, but the stinging slap
drags him back to the man in front of him. The gun in his hand is new and Clint
curses silently, although he thinks getting shot might be worth it if he knew
he could get away.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
“What?”
"Pay attention! You always were bad at that. "
"Yeah. But I pay attention when it matters. Like the last time I saw you before
all of this."
"Speaking of which, how did you get away that night? I was sure I secured you
better than that."
"You secured me fine, but you forgot that I was only seventeen. It was a
business. The right word in the right ear had the owner pulling me loose and
sending me off with enough cash to get away in exchange for keeping quiet. I
took it and never looked back."
"Ah. Well I suppose I understand business even if I was disappointed. Did you
notice that your brother was caught not long after you left?"
Clint nodded.
"I warned you."
"Yeah, you did."
"So you understand that it's your fault that your brother ended up on prison?
Your fault he was killed there?"
"No. It was his fault for getting involved in that crap. He didn't care about
me. If he had, he would have protected me from you. He knew what was going on
but he liked the money and the power. I did what I had to do to get away from
you before you killed me. If anyone is at fault, it's you for being a sick
bastard that would hurt a child like that."
"You weren't a child."
"I was fifteen the first time you raped me. Pretty sure that makes me a child,
and you a child rapist. But even if I'd been an adult, it still would have been
rape."
Another hit, this time with the gun butt, has Clint rocking back on his knees,
throwing out one hand to steady himself. His fingers land on a small metal
plate and he curls his fingers around it. When he draws himself straight once
more, the plate is tucked against his leg. The gun wobbles in Shepard’s hand
and Clint takes his chances, preferring death to being harrassed by this man
any longer.
"I bet I'm not the only one either. I'll bet you did this every time you ended
up on a long term op. It was probably the only way you ever got more than a
quick fuck. I can't imagine anyone believing that slick exterior you present
after they see what you're like in the bedroom. You're a sadistic pedophile.
You get off on hurting kids and probably terrorizing the adults they become.
Does your position help you do that? I'd bet it does."
Clint can see Shepard unraveling as he continues to talk. Finally he leans in,
empty hand raised as if to hit Clint again. When he's close enough, Clint firms
his grip on the plate tucked under his leg and swings, driving the steel into
the man's face hard enough to cave in his cheekbones with a wet crunch. Clint
heard the gun skitter away but ignored it, following the agent to the ground.
Two more blows of the plate leave his face a red ruin, but he’s still breathing
and Clint just wants him to stop. He lifts the plate above his head, ready to
drive it down onto the man's throat and end him once and for all, but stops at
the sound of JARVIS's voice.
"Master Clint, I apologize for not warning you, but Agent Shepard convinced
Tony that there was an error in my programming and he suspended my vocal
subroutines while he checked them. He did not however interfere with my
recording capabilities and I have your entire interaction with the agent
available. How would you like to proceed?"
"Call the team and my husband. Get them all gathered up. I'm tired of hiding."
As he spoke, he realized that he was. Taking Shepard down let him break away
from that scared kid he'd been and he finally felt ready to let others see what
he had survived. It didn't mean he wanted them to know everything, but he was
ready for them to know some of it.
Phil, though, Phil deserved to know it all. And he definitely owed his husband
an apology.
•°•°•°
JARVIS was as good as Clint could have wanted and a bare ten hours later Phil
was home, striding across the foyer to pull Clint into a warm hug.
"What the fuck, Barton? Why am I getting calls from JARVIS that you require my
presence? I thought you were dead. Do you know how many strings I had to pull
to get home?"
"A lot?"
"You are so lucky I love you."
"Yeah, I really, really am. I have something to tell everyone and I needed you
here for it."
"Should I be worried? Is there a body in the closet I need to take care of?"
"No, he's in the gym."
"Clint--"
"C’mon. I'll explain everything."
And he did. He told them about meeting Michale as a kid, about the threats that
escalated to physical abuse and rape. He told them about the confrontation in
the laundry room that led to him asking JARVIS to hack the FBI server and the
triggering comments Shepard had made. He told them about how he finally got
tired of running when Shepard caught him off guard in the gym. And finally he
told them about hitting the agent in the face with a five pound plate and
leaving him tied up in the gym.
Bruce had to leave fairly early in the retelling, but Clint understood, sending
Thor after him. Tony and Steve looked sick, but resolute to hear it all. Phil
and Natasha’s reactions worried him though. Generally he was pretty good at
reading them but their faces had attained a level of blankness that even he
couldn't see through.
Phil pushed away from the table first. "I need to get copies of all the footage
of Shepard in and around the tower. Then I need to have it sent to SHIELD and
the FBI."
"Sir, I have the relevant material marked and waiting along with the
information obtained from FBI records detailing his employment during the time
that Clint was abused. The video is arranged chronologically, and I believe
your superiors will find his time in the elevator especially enlightening. I've
taken the opportunity to mark the pertinent material. If there is anything
else, please let me know."
"No, JARVIS, I think that'll do for now. Thank you.I’m fairly sure you’ve gone
far beyond what you were designed for."
"Pardon my saying, but Tony considers you all family and part of my
responsibility to him is ensuring he is cared for. What better way than to
ensure you are all cared for?"
They all look dumbfounded at JARVIS’ reasoning, but Tony breaks the silence.
"That... is not at all what I meant when I programmed you but it’s a pretty
sweet adaptation. JARVIS, take a note: even unintentionally, your creator is
still a genius."
“Duly noted, Sir.”
JARVIS’ tone is dry and Clint can’t help the laughter that bubbles up his
throat. He’d faced down his biggest boogie man, told his friends the truth
about himself and the world hadn’t ended. After nearly a month of stress, the
laughter felt good and he let it build, spilling out and over the room.
He could see Phil watching him with a concerned eye while Steve and Tony looked
surprised and delighted respectively. He didn’t see Natasha though, and that
had the laughter drying up in his throat.
“Shit. JARVIS?”
“Sir, Miss Romanova entered the gym where Agent Shepard is being held four
minutes ago. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what she is doing as she has
disabled my entire sensor network.”
Clint is unwillingly impressed that she managed to accomplish it in less than
five minutes, but Tony just whistles.
“Bet it takes me the better part of the night to fix.”
“A day and you’re on.” Clint and Tony grin at each other.
Steve huffs before striding out of the room and toward the stairwell.
“Elevator here, hon.”
“Yeah, but if she took out JARVIS, do you really think she forgot to disable to
the elevator?”
Tony’s face falls at that. “But it’s seven flights.”
“Down. Don’t be a baby.”
•°•°•°
When they reach the gym level, Tony’s gasping like he’s dying, but a sharp look
from Coulsdon has his straightening himself up, looking sheepish. They approach
the door quietly and Tony fiddles with the keypad, trying to make sense of the
jumble of wires and scorched electronics. As he twists two wires together, the
door pops open and re mumbles, “That actually shouldn’t have worked,” and
Natasha walks out, tucking a stiletto back down the leg of her boot.
“Is he dead?”
“Physically? No. But he knows now not to touch people who do not invite his
touch explicitly.”
“Ah. Well, coffee then? I don’t want to hang around while the clean up crew is
here.”
Natasha wrinkles her nose at his workout clothes that he had never changed out
of after his confrontation.
“You. Go shower. I refuse to be seen in public with someone who looks like
you.”
Clint laughs again, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and a more substantial
kiss to Phil’s lips before striding back to the elevator. The doors slide open
with a cheerful ding, and Tony’s offended ‘Hey!’ is the last thing Clint hears
as the doors slide shut.
•°•°•°
Tony tags along on their coffee date and Clint enjoys their company, glad to be
away from the simmering tension and panicky feelings of the past few weeks.
When they make it back to the tower, Tony wanders off looking for Steve. When t
is just the two of them, Natasha pulls Clint in for a tight hug before drawing
back to look at him.
“I too know what it feels like to think you have nowhere to turn and no one to
trust. If you ever wish to speak of it, I will listen. You are most definitely
not alone in this.” Clint nods, but Natasha has more to say. “And if you ever
keep something like this from me again, I’ll make you hurt in ways you can’t
imagine. Da?”
He watches her walk away, spike heels tapping over marble flooring. Clint
really does love her, but sometimes she scares the ever loving piss out of him.
•°•°•°
It isn’t until after Shepard’s trial and conviction that Phil broaches the
discussion. They’re tucked under crumpled sheets to keep the sweat on their
skin from getting too cool as they catch their breath.
“You know I’d never think less of you for something like that,right?”
“Yeah, I just... I got so used to not talking about it, that I couldn’t even
when it was right there in my face, threatening to screw everything up. I
didn’t want you to see me as someone who needed protecting.”
“I’m always going to see you like that. I love you and I want to keep you safe.
Just like you when I got hurt during the invasion. That doesn’t mean I don’t
think you can protect yourself, it just means I want to help.” Clint can feel
Phil shrug from his spot on his chest, “It’s what partners do.”
“Yeah, OK. I can handle that.”
•°•°•°
Corporal Elington looks over the list of incoming prisoners. One of them has a
designation change but everything else is simple enough. When they’re unloaded,
he pulls 237681 from the PC line and shoves him into GP. The man sputters at
the change, but Elington’s been doing this for years and he knows every trick.
As the men shuffle forward to pick up their linens, Elington can’t help but
wonder who the chi-mo pissed off to get the protection on PC taken away for the
shitpit of GP. He just hopes the poor bastard keeps his mouth shut about what
he did or he’s not likely to see the weekend.
•°•°•°
Three hundred miles away, Phil Coulson takes his husband out to dinner to
celebrate their first wedding anniversary.
•°•°•°
End Notes
     The prompt: Years ago, Clint was in an abusive relationship with a
     guy from the FBI or army or something. Now, the Avengers have to work
     with that person for some reason - he's a liaison or something like
     that.
     Clint doesn't tell anyone about his past because of professionalism/
     personal pride/whatever, but the guy keeps taunting and intimidating
     him by making vicious in-jokes about various abusive incidents in his
     and Clint's past, (like "innocently" mentioning a casino in Las Vegas
     where he once had a great time, when actually the guy once brutally
     raped Clint at that casino; or remarking that belt buckles have a
     surprising number of uses, when he actually used to regularly beat
     Clint with his belt), putting Clint into a constant state of
     suppressed distress and panic and mini-flashbacks.
     It takes a while for everyone to realize something's wrong, but
     eventually the truth comes out and they are pissed Bonus for
     terrifyingly calm, ruthless, vengeful, protective Coulson/Natasha.
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