Chapter Text
When they finally rescued Clint and Jan from the rubble, Clint demanded to know what had happened to Hulk. When Steve told him, Clint punched him in the jaw.
“Hey, Hawkeye!” Jan said, grabbing him. “Easy there!”
Steve was rubbing his jaw a little, but with a thoughtful expression directed at Clint, rather than one of pain or anger. On another day, Clint might have mentally examined this reaction more closely—but at the moment he was all rage.
Clint snapped, “Steve, you’re our leader, fine, but right now I have half a mind to—”
Jan tugged at his arm again, distraught. “Clint, stop it! Steve was just trying to help!”
Clint pulled away from Jan, still eyeing the Captain narrowly, and more than ready for a round of fisticuffs. The last time, when SHIELD had gotten their hands on Hulk, they’d put him in the Cube. The day Clint had spoken to Bruce… he’d been in that enormous, Hulk-containing contraption, looking skinny, pale, and dirty. He hadn’t looked good, and that was putting it mildly. That had been SHIELD then, and now that the military had gotten their hands on him, there wasn’t—Clint didn’t—
Steve’s hands were up, palms open. “Focus now, Hawkeye,” Steve said. “What with everything going on, we didn’t need another fight. They won’t do anything to Hulk—and in the meantime, we need to take care of the Skrull threat first.”
When Clint continued to look at Steve with murderous intent, Steve persisted, “You need to do this for Hulk. What good will it do to fight for him now, if there won’t be a free planet for him to return to later?”
Clint stared at Steve, breathing hard. Then he sat down, and he put his face in his hands. He couldn’t figure out why his chest was hurting so much, like something squeezing down.
He thought: Hulk had been the only one who’d defended him, in the face of Tony’s accusations.
And now Clint had let him down.
They’d all let him down, but maybe—maybe Steve was right. They had to stop the Skrulls. After that, Clint could focus on beating up General Ross within an inch of his life.
Jan put a hand to Clint’s shoulder, and Clint did not shrug her off.
“Fine,” Clint said, and not looking at Steve. “Fine, whatever you say, oh glorious leader.”
“That’s the spirit,” Steve said.
Clint grimaced.
---
So Clint waited.
And he waited.
And then when he found out that the Cap had been a Skrull all along—
---
After the defeat of the Skrulls, Clint went looking for Hulk, and he made Tony help.
It took two weeks for them to track down where the Hulk was being held, and they talked for about two minutes about waiting first for Hulk to be officially cleared of the old charges, all of the SHIELD paperwork—or Tony talked at Clint until it was quite clear that Clint was this close to trashing Tony’s computers. The conversation had ended pretty quickly after that.
Clint guilted Steve into letting him go, making it clear that—proper protocol or no, it was now as much Steve’s responsibility to get Hulk out as anyone else’s. Steve was pretty easy to persuade, actually. There would be a moment, later, when Clint would recall the idea that Steve himself had been prisoner in a cell for many weeks himself, not to mention the negative way the public was viewing him now…
Whatever. Clint didn’t care for the reasons, he simply wanted to get things done, and to get Hulk back.
---
Tony hacked into the military computers and security systems.
Clint broke into the cell.
Bruce and Hulk had been in military custody for nearly a month, now, and Bruce was sitting in the dim corner of the room, looking small and alone—and Clint felt something in his chest tighten. He didn’t care for Bruce in the same way that he did for Hulk, but he also knew damn well that Bruce was Hulk’s family, and you looked out for family, and Clint looked out for Bruce.
Clint walked over slowly, careful to not spook the smaller man, and he said, “Hey, hey Bruce—“
Bruce looked up then. His face was haggard in the dim light. Clint felt his hand tighten on his bow, even as Bruce’s eyes narrowed, then cleared when he saw who it was.
Clint knelt down, and then cautiously touched a hand to Bruce’s shoulder. “We’re busting you out—sorry it took so long for us to find you—”
“Steve told us to surrender,” Bruce snarled, suddenly tense and drawing back. “That worked out so well, didn’t it—“
Clint pulled his hand away. “It was a trick,” he said, feeling a little numb. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t Steve—a Skrull was—I should have come right away, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” Clint took in deep, shuddering breath, “Look, never mind that, we have to get you out, now—“
And then it wasn’t Bruce anymore. The Hulk was looming over him, clothes shredding, and for a moment, Clint looked up and he didn’t—
But Hulk was simply sitting there. In fact, he was very close, hunched down so that he could look Clint in the eye. For a moment, there was an expression like irritation, or anger—but then the expression had smoothed away into something that Clint found he couldn’t parse out. It was a quieter look, somehow.
“So Cupid finally made it,” was all Hulk said.
“Yeah,” Clint said. “I guess I finally did.”
And then the prison guards finally showed up.
And Clint and Hulk exchanged the old, familiar looks.
And then they were busting their way out of there.