Chapter Text
Being near your soulmate can heal wounds and mend broken bones. It can cure disease and make you feel younger. This is a handy trick for people in dangerous professions. If you’re close enough to your soulmate you can even prevent death.
This would be great, except Clint is currently lying here on the ground bleeding out while Natasha is several states over.
“Dammit, Clint.” Steve drops his helmet to the ground and presses one broad hand to the wound in Clint’s stomach. “What were you thinking?”
Bruce stands to one side, trying to be unobtrusive. He tries not to blame himself for this, but that’s a little difficult because it actually is his fault. If he’d been Hulk he could have prevented this injury, although he’s not sure if Hulk would have done it for someone they don’t know very well.
Clint lets out a burbling laugh. “Got him though, didn’t I?”
Steve glances at the destroyed AIM-mobile, then at Bruce. He looks concerned. “Yeah, I guess you did. Doctor, can you help me?”
“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce says, but he still adds his hand next to Steve’s. “We just need to stabilize him, right? If we can get Black Widow here…”
“Clint, can you hold on? I’m going to call her.” Steve starts to stand, but Clint stops him with an airy wave of his hand that is strangely lucid given the amount of blood he’s lost.
“That won’t do any good.”
“Why not? Aren’t you bonded?”
Clint shrugs and pulls a face. His skin is pale now and his breathing is going shallow. Bruce knows that his facade will quickly fade. He can’t pretend not to be deathly injured for long. “Nah, we, uh. Don’t do that.” He moves his hand like he’s going to scratch his ear, but ends up writhing in agony.
“Stop moving,” Bruce commands. He glances up at Steve and can see the gears turning in his head. He’s got the look of a man who wants all his people to get out alive, but he’s added the variables and doesn’t like the result.
“Is there someone else?”
“Nope.”
Steve sighs. “Is there someone else you could bond with?”
It’s the second most surreal moment of Bruce’s life. There’s dust on his upper lip that keeps making his nose itch. The city is in ruins. He can hear sirens, but they’re miles away. Clint is bleeding out under his hands and looking nervous and cagey.
“Never had anyone I wanted to do that with.”
Bruce gets the impression that’s a lie.
“We’ll call SHIELD. They must have a contingency for this.” He’s already on the line.
Bruce knows that Steve can’t offer. His bond with Bucky Barnes made national news. The president officiated the ceremony after a full pardon for the Winter Soldier. There’s no one else around. It’s the three of them, stuck in a hole. Clint’s eyelashes are fluttering as he struggles to stay awake.
Bruce had never bonded with anyone. It’s a sort of dull realization that washes over him. He’s wanted to. What person alive hasn’t? You get companionship, love, affection. The healing thing is nice, although after Hulk he doesn’t need that as much. He got close to asking Betty, but he kept talking himself out of it because, really. Who would want to bond with him?
So maybe it’s selfishness that makes him say, “I can do it,” in a quiet whisper.
Clint blinks at him. Steve frowns at him. They both look at each other. After a moment Clint shrugs one shoulder again and winces and goes limp. He’s about to pass out, but Bruce shakes him.
“Clint, is that okay?”
“S’re,” he slurs. “Y’got nice eyes.”
“I’ll officiate,” Steve says, sounding far more sure of himself than Bruce feels should be possible. He gets down on one knee and says, “Repeat after me.”
Bruce sort of blanks out after that.