Chapter Text
Aw, phone.
Why does his phone have to be going off right now, and in the middle of his messed up sleep schedule? This had better be good. He finally fell asleep at 5:26 in the morning. He's been having a harder time sleeping since the incident; every time he falls asleep, those cold, blue eyes sneak into Clint's mind and he wakes up sweating and panting.
Sighing, Clint reaches over to grab his hearing aids and turns them on before putting them in his ears. He grabs his phone and answers it without looking at the name. "What."
"Barton." That voice sounds familiar. "You need to come in." Whoop, there it is.
"Fury. It is the asscrack of morning, and you woke me up to tell me to come in," Clint replied sleepily. "No."
Clint could hear Fury sigh through the phone. "First of all, that was not a request, but an order. Second of all, it is after one-o'clock." Clint was going to reply with a smartass comment, but Fury beat him to it, "I'll meet you in front of SHIELD in thirty minutes." Then he hung up.
Sighing, Clint set his phone back on the bedside table and got out of bed. He got dressed in blue jeans, a purple shirt, and a black hoodie with the Hawkeye logo on the front. Not knowing how long his "mission" will be, he packs a bag with a couple of pairs of jeans and extra shirts.
While leaving his room in Avengers Tower, he grabbed his phone and his bag, and headed to the common kitchen area. In the kitchen, he saw that Steve Rogers had just made a fresh pot of coffee.
"Hey, Clint. I didn't think you'd be up this early," Steve jokingly said, already moving to get Clint's favorite mug from the cupboard.
"Not today, Steve," Clint says, sitting down at the kitchen island. "It's a travel mug today." At Steve's confused face, Clint elaborates, "I got called in by Fury. New mission, apparently."
Steve nods in understanding and pulls out Clint's favorite travel mug with the Hawkeye logo on it. Steve silently pours Clint's coffee for him and hands it over after putting the lid on.
"Thanks, Cap," Clint says, taking a sip of his warm coffee. He stands up and moves to the elevator to go down to the parking garage. Clint hits the button to summon the elevator and steps in once it arrives. He turns back and waves to Steve as he pushes the doen button and watches as the doors slide shut.
Once in the garage, he finds his SHIELD-issued black car and puts his bag in the back before getting into the front seat. He starts up the car, waiting for it to get warm before putting his seatbelt on and starting his drive to SHIELD headquarters. He takes lazy sips of his coffee as he waits in traffic, running late to his meeting with Fury.
When Clint finally does arrive at SHIELD, he parks, takes in his bag and coffee, and enters the building where Fury is impatiently waiting for him near the front door.
"You're late," Fury says as Clint walks up to him. They fall in step as Fury leads them through the corridors.
Clint looks at his watch and suppresses the urge to facepalm. "I'm one minute late, Director. Why'd you call me in anyway?" Clint asks curiously, tilting his head to the side as they turn another corner.
Fury stayed silent for several minutes, thinking carefully about his answer. "We can't talk here. We need somewhere private." That was all that Clint got out of him for the rest of the way to who-knows-where.
Fury leads Clint down to the lowest level of SHIELD and down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway is a door with two armed guards standing outside of it. Fury stops in the middle of the hallway, equal distance from the elevator and the door.
Fury turns to face Clint. "Inside that door," Fury points down the hallway, "is a weapon. The most dangerous being on the planet is through that door, and you're going to be his friend. You're going to talk to him, and hopefully, he'll talk to you. You'll get food sent to you when you get hungry. You'll come down here from nine in the morning until the guards relieve you at five o'clock. Any questions?"
Wow, that was a lot of information. "Yeah," Clint said, "What's his name?"
Fury smiled. "His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He responds to Bucky, too."
Clint nods. "He still have the metal arm?" It's an obvious question. Everyone in the Avengers know that the Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes.
Fury sighs, but nods. "We couldn't remove it without killing him."
Clint nods. He looks up, sighs, and looks Fury in the eyes. "Alright, Fury. I'm ready. Let me go annoy his balls off!" Clint says eagerly, despite his rough night and mission ahead of him.
Fury looks him over and nods. "I'll take your bag to your SHIELD room. The guards will let you in, and bring you food when you request it. Good luck." And with that, Fury turns and heads back to the elevator. Clint starts walking again when the doors close and Fury is nowhere in sight.
When Clint reaches the guards, he's asked to show them an ID. He pulls out his wallet and shows the guard his driver's license. The guard nods his approval and goes to open the door. "Oh! And can you send down a bowl of cheerios?" Clint asked the guard.
"Sure thing, Agent Barton. Anything else?" The guard asked, hand paused on the handle of the cell door.
"Nope! Thanks, bro!" Clint says. The guard opens the door, lets Clint walk inside, and then closed it quickly.
Clint took in his surroundings. He noticed a toilet in the left corner of the room, with a sink next to it. There's a table with two chairs at it, one on each side of the table and perfectly aligned. The light is in the middle of the room and is in a dome cover, shining light throughout the entire room. The last thing is a bed in the far right corner of the room. It's made perfectly, without a single crinkle or wrinkle. Next to the bed is a little table. On top of the bed, lies James Buchanon Barnes, who is reading a book.
James looks up from his book, obviously looking Clint over and assessing him in his mind, before returning to what he was doing.
"Hey, I'm Clint," he introduced. James looked up to him, and closed his book before putting it on the bedside table and sitting up.
He doesn't answer, just sits there.
Clint accepts this and sits down at the table. "I don't mind if you don't talk, but I will. I only ask that you seem like you're listening at least sonewhat. Deal?" He waited for a response for a few seconds, but before anyone could say anything, there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Clint said to Bucky.
Clint stood up, left his coffee on the table, and went to the door. He did a special knock on it and then it opened up.
"Barton, here's the food you requested," the guard said, handing him the big bowl of cheerios.
"Thanks, bro. I'll see you at five," Clint said before the door closed the whole way. Turning back to James, Clint sat back down at the table and began eating his breakfast.
After several minutes of silence, James got up and sat across from Clint in the second chair. Clint masked his surprise and continued eating while James studied him and his cheerios.
"Want one?" Clint asked after James had stared at him for five solid minutes. James looked at him, then slowly reached his hand out, palm up as he waited for Clint to put one in his hand. Clint dropped a few into James's palm and observed him nonchalantly as James looked at the cereal in his hand curiously and ate them, one by one.
"If you want more, you can help yourself," Clint said, going to take a sip of coffee from his travel mug.
"Alright, back to introductions!" Clint announced, setting his mug back down on the table. "As I've said before, I'm Clint Barton. I'm an agent of SHIELD, and I love dogs and coffee. Would you like to introduce yourself, or continue to stay silent?" Clint asks, hoping that James will respond in words.
James stays silent, and Clint sighs. He was really hoping that James would at least give him one-word answers, anything, really. Clint's about to start talking again, but James actually opens his mouth and talks to him.
"Why you?" He asks, voice quiet and uncertain.
Clint blinks and forms an answer in his mind before saying it out loud. "I was chosen because of our somewhat similar background. I don't like talking about it, but you could be the exception," Clint said finally.
They're both quiet for several minutes, with the only sounds being their breathing and the cheerios being eaten. Clint doesn't do well in silence for too long. It reminds him of how deaf he really is, so he always has to have sound around him. Not that he'd say this to James, of course.
"So, anyways, I'm just going to bore you with my life now. It might be interesting to you, or you'll want to throttle me by the end of each day. Oh well, here goes nothing!" Clint enthusiastically said. "I'm an archer and, as you may or may not know, there aren't many of those anymore. Well, I'm the best, and..." Clint trailed off into one of his stories when he shot sixteen arrows at once, and each of them had nailed its target.
Before either of them had realized what time it was, there was a knock at the door before the guard poked his head in.
"Agent Barton. It's five o'clock. You can leave now," the guard said before closing the door again.
Clint looked back to James and smiled. "Well, looks like I'm off the clock for today. I'll be here again tomorrow at nine o'clock!" Clint said, standing up. "Actually, I'll probably be a little late. I always am." With that said, Clint waved bye to James and then turned to knock on the door to signal he was ready to leave.
Clint stepped out of the room, empty travel mug in hand, and said bye to the guards before going upstairs to his room that he was assigned all those years ago. He stepped into his room and smiled. It had been a long time since he last slept in this room, and now he would be sleeping in it every night for who knows how long.
He noticed his bag with his clothes in it, laying neatly on his bed. He grabbed a pair of sweats, boxers, and a black shirt before heading into his bathroom to take a quick shower.
After his nice, warm shower, Clint got dressed and headed down to the cafeteria for some much needed grub.
He saw a lot of familiar, and unfamiliar, faces along the way. The new recruits couldn't make eye contact with him, but other than that, most people seem to recognized him. They probably saw him fight in The Battle of New York last year, and know him as Hawkeye more than Agent Barton, which is fine with him. He got in line and got his meal from the lunch ladies, whom love him, but probably only because he flirts with everyone.
Clint eats his dinner at an empty table in silence. There aren't very many people in the cafeteria, most people like to eat out or in their rooms. Clint usually does that, but he didn't want to be alone right now.
Finishing up, Clint throws away his trash before heading to the archery range. If he has to stay at SHIELD HQ for awhile, then he might as well get in some good practice times.
The range isn't as good as the one at the tower, but Clint makes do. He grabs his usual bow when he's at SHIELD and starts shooting arrow after arrow. He shoots from all kinds of angles, even hanging upside down from the rafters. After about an hour, Clint calls it a day and retrieves his arrows from the various dummies with bullseyes on them, all with arrows in the red center. Clint puts everything back where he got it from and left the shooting range.
Clint leaves the building itself, needing some fresh air before he collapses on his bed for the night. He's just about to head back before he hears a shout for help. Clint doesn't even think before he's running towards the sound, finding the source in an alley that was a block away.
At the beginning of the alley, Clint saw a man harassing a young lady. Clint doesn't even think. He will not let that man harass that lady. Before he knows it, he's knocking the man away from the woman and telling her to run home. She immediately does as told, leaving Clint to deal with her abuser.
Clint had gotten distracted when telling the young woman to run, that when he turned back around, he got a fist to the eye.
"Ow, fuck," Clint mutters as he stumbles back a few steps. He regains his footing in record time and he swings in the critical spots to knock him out without hurting him too much. The other guy lands quite a few punches that will ache later on, but all he focuses on right now is knocking this asshole out.
After a few more punches, from both sides, the guy goes down to lay unconscious on the ground. He's still breathing, so he'll be fine—unfortunately.
Sighing, Clint puts up his hood and walks home to SHIELD. He goes straight to his room and examines himself in the mirror to check for any serious damage. He's definitely going to have a black eye tomorrow on his right eye, an ugly bruise on the right side of his jaw, and a lighter bruise on his left cheek.
He decides he'll ignore his wounds until tomorrow. He's too tired to play doctor on himself. He walks over to his bed and plops down onto it, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up to go be buddy-buddy with Barnes.