Archive of Our Own

In the end, they simply let him go.

Whatever he’d become was nothing like what they wanted or planned and the liability of trying to contain him just wasn’t worth it. The serum hadn’t killed him like all the other test subjects, but it hadn’t turned him into a super solider either. They viewed him as a failure, as a freak. Termination had been their first response, but nothing they did took. Every time they were sure they’d managed to kill him, he woke up a few hours later as though he hadn’t been stabbed, shot, poisoned, electrocuted or suffocated. The death toll from trying to keep him contained was more than they could afford. They tossed him out into the woods in the middle of winter with nothing but the clothes on his back and he didn’t even know where he was.

“This is some serious bull shit.”

Hydra probably assumed he’d go back to SHIELD, but Clint Barton wasn’t such a romantic that he dared hope he might still have a place among them. And that thought was painful as hell. It wasn’t so much that he’d forgotten how to make it on his own, but now that he was well aware of what it was like to be among such company the loneliness bothered him in ways it never had before. The thought made him feel cold.

Somehow, he managed to get by for nearly six months. When he was freed and decided to go to ground he could have half assed it and let them find him. But he’d rather be remembered for who he was than whatever they’d turned him into and so he did his best to ensure that none of them could find a trace of him. Sometimes he considered himself a coward, but he honestly believed that it was better to let them think he had been killed while a captive of Hydra than see what they had turned him into.

For the most part, he didn’t even feel that different. Time felt different, slower, and it was only by paying close attention to the calendar that he even recognized that days were passing. He recognized the improvement in his senses, but it was easily ignored. Less easily ignored was his desire for blood. It was no different from his desire for regular food and he did his best to keep it sated without hurting anyone. Clint had seen enough vampire movies to be wary about ignoring the craving. The last thing he wanted to do was go on some rampage and starting killing everyone in sight. It seemed simpler to just take what he could from people who would never remember what happened.

Clint kept to the shadows. This wasn’t some literary drama, so the sun didn’t burn his skin (or make him sparkle, thank god) and he looked the same as he always had, but he still preferred to stay out of sight. He’d walked for a long time after they’d released him. Once he came to the ocean he stood in a secluded area and watched the sun rise and set until he lost track of how many days passed. One day he reached a small coastal town in Latvia and it seemed as good as any place to stop. He spoke Latvian with a convincing enough accent that they thought him from the city and he got by doing odd jobs. He went by Fricis Filips due to a sentimentality that he knew well very was foolish but still couldn’t manage to contain because Phil Coulson would always be at the top of every mental list he made of the things he missed the most.

The knot in his chest never fully seemed to loosen, but after a while he became comfortable and accepted that he would make in his life there. It seemed so simple. SHIELD would have already found him if they could and though he wasn’t exactly happy he recognized that he’d found a good place.

He could have ignored the fire. It wasn’t like he knew anyone trapped in the building, but he’d never ignored someone in need before and he wasn’t planning to start now that he was all but impervious. On his darker days he did wonder if they’d stolen his humanity, but he’d read enough about the Red Skull and Captain America to know that those thoughts didn’t lead down a path he intended to take. Maybe he wasn’t human, but he was still a person and he wasn’t going to stand back and watch people burn to death like it meant nothing.

Hours later the building was totally destroyed, but no one died and none of the flames that licked at his skin left even the faintest of marks on his flesh. Clint hadn’t realized at the time that the local newspaper snapped a photo of him and ran it with the article about the fire and his heroics. By the time he saw the photo and story from the paper posted in the local convenience story, it was already too late.

It was stupid to try and run again and Clint knew that, but he couldn’t help it. He was halfway to back to his house to grab his stuff and go when a nondescript car veered off the road and blocked his path on the sidewalk. Despite his desperate wish that it be anyone else but him, Philip Coulson was the Agent who stepped from the car.

“I thought you were dead.”

The words were quiet, but Clint didn’t have to strain to hear them.

“We found the facility, but you weren’t there and we thought you dead. But they said they’d let you go,” he continued. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Go back. Just go back and say you didn’t find me. Its better for everyone.”

Phil’s eyes narrowed a little, “You cannot seriously think I’m going to leave here without you.”

Phil’s ability to so easily read him had never bothered Clint until then. He’d never before had a secret he wanted to keep from the other man. They’d worked well together from the moment they met and it had seamlessly transitioned to a friendship he’d never wanted to be without.

“Please. Please, just go.”

Clint wasn’t aware that he was begging until Phil’s entire expression changed to deep worry, “What are you afraid of, Clint?” He took a few steps forward and raised his hand to touch Clint’s arm. “Let me help you. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I want you to come home.”

The touch was warm and for a moment Clint felt his body begin to relax. Phil had always had that effect on him for reasons that he had long refused to consider but went far beyond just an amiable working relationship. For a moment he thought about just going back to SHIELD with Phil. Maybe he could manage to hide from everything what he’d become. Except that became impossible when there was a sudden breeze.

The scent on the wind alarmed him, because it was the best thing he’d never encountered. The desire hit him like a punch in the stomach and he wanted Phil so badly and with more detail that he’d ever allowed himself to consider. He wanted him beneath him, above him, in bed and he wanted his press his lips against the pulse in his neck and-

Phil’s hand moved down Clint’s arm to his hand. “Let me help you.”

Clint wanted his blood.

He startled badly and pulled away from Phil with a strengthen that nearly sent the other man reeling. Even though he’d fed the previous day the fangs in his mouth began to extend and in a few moments he wouldn’t be able to keep them hidden in his mouth. He tensed and Phil’s eyes widened.

“Don’t you dare, Barton,” he snapped, his worry giving way to fear and then anger. “God damnit, don’t you dare!”

Clint shifted his weight, prepared to bolt, but Phil knew him far too well and tackled him before he could move. They hit the ground hard, but it was nothing to Clint, and before he even realized what he was doing he’d rolled so Phil was trapped beneath him and his hands immobilized at his sides. He pressed his mouth against the pulse in his neck and-

“Clint.”

He threw himself backwards, rolling off Phil and moving to his feet before the other man had even finished his name.

“I’m sorry,” he managed. “I’m so sorry. Don’t try to find me. Just let me go.”

“Wait, what-”

Phil had always been startlingly good with words. That he might use them to calm Clint, to cajole him to stay or explaining was too frightening and Clint ran. He ignored Phil’s shouts for him to stop, and ran away.

He didn’t stop until he tired and belatedly realized that the sun and set and risen more than a few times. Clint didn’t know where he was and he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. A far away sound caught his attention after a moment he realized it was helicopters. Standing, he checked his pants pocket before shoving his hands in his sweater and feeling the small tracking device.

“No. No. Shit FUCK,” he bellowed, startling the nearby birds.

Throwing the tracker on the ground and taking off in a new direction was pointless, but he tried anyway. It took a truly ridiculous number of soldiers and what should have been a lethal dose of tranquilizers to subdue him. Clint felt fuzzy for a while and by the time it cleared he found himself handcuffed to a bed in the infirmary at the SHIELD headquarters.

No one was around and he snapped the handcuffs right off his wrist and disappeared into the vents. They noticed he was gone within moments, but by the time they got around to viewing the security footage of his room he was well hidden within the vents and ducks of SHIELD.

Phil was in the building. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so aware of Phil’s location, but he ignored the temptation to go to his office and instead made his way to the Director’s office. And it suddenly occurred to him that the universe must hate him, because of course Phil was in Fury’s office.

“They gave him such a high dose of tranq’s in order to bring him in that the on call doctor was literally screaming about permanent brain damage,” Fury said tightly. “They weren’t even sure he’d ever wake up. How the hell is he suddenly gone?”

Phil’s voice was equally tight, and there seemed to be a bit of weariness in it, “I don’t know, sir. But he got out of his cuffs and disappeared into the vents. He won’t be able to get out of the building, but we don’t have any ability to track him there.”

“And by got out of his cuffs you mean he ripped them off,” Fury said after a moment. “So Barton was captured by Hydra and the little of their notes we managed to recover make it clear that he was part of some kind of experiment. For some reason they let him go and instead of returning to base, he vanishes. What the hell did they do to him that he’s too scared to come home?”

“I don’t know,” Phil replied. “He wouldn’t talk to me. Sir, he was scared. I think he was scared of us.”

“Must be fucked up if Barton wouldn’t talk to you,” Fury remarked.

“Whatever it is, no matter how bad, we’ll deal with it.”

Fury nodded. “Can you think of how we might be able to tempt him out of the vents? He’s one of our best Agents. I’m not losing him over some stupid bullshit.”

“I have a few ideas,” Phil said after a moment. “But I need you to leave it to me.”

“I left it to you before and Barton bolted,” Fury remarked. “What makes this any different?” He hesitated briefly, “Phil, do you think its possible that you’re just too close to this? Whatever the problem is, do you think that Barton might be more comfortable with an Agent he wasn’t so connected to?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that our relationship isn’t like that? Look,” he said tiredly, “Barton bolted when I tried to bring him in, but then you sent someone else to get him and they nearly drugged him to death. Let me handle this.”

“Hm.” Fury nodded after a moment. “Very well. I’ll leave it to you for now.”

Clint followed Phil back to his office because he wanted to be around the other man. Phil went directly back to his office, locked the door and took a small device out of his office drawer. It let out a high pitched whine that made Clint wince once he’d turned it on. He moved to stand in the middle of the room and look up, startling close to Clint’s spot in the duct.

“It interrupts all surveillance. I know you’re up there. Please come down and talk to me. I’ll help you get out of the building if that’s what you really want, but you have to talk to me.”

Clint began to edge backwards.

“I just want to talk to you,” Phil said. “I thought you were dead and you’re not, but when I finally found you, you ran. Clint. Tell me what you’re into and I’ll help you. Even if… Even if its just to help you leave and disappear again. And I won’t look for you again.”

It wasn’t just the words that persuaded him, but the tone. Phil sounded…he sounded hurt and Clint couldn’t deal with that. He slipped out of the vent and landed easily on his feet a few feet in front of Phil. The other man took a step forward, but halted when Clint raised his hand.

“Don’t come any closer and don’t touch me.” He frowned, “You put a tracker on me.”

“Because I know you well enough to know that you don’t always listen to reason straight away. I didn’t think Fury would send someone else after you,” he said. “Were you hurt?”

“No,” Clint replied.

Phil nodded slowly, “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

“I heard what you and Fury said,” Clint admitted.

“Were we right?”

“I don’t belong here,” Clint replied, “I don’t know what they did to me, but it changed me.”

“Clint-”

“No! This isn’t something you can fix, Phil. They changed me into something and I don’t even know what it is because it’s so far from normal. I wasn’t about to trade one prison for another and I-” Clint bit back a growl, “I didn’t want you to know!”

“We-”

“You!” Clint shouted. “From the moment they turned me into this thing I didn’t want you to know about it. You were the absolute last person I ever wanted to know. But you couldn’t just let it go and you had to find me and your neck-”

“My neck?”

Clint took a step back because it was manageable, but he wanted Phil so bad that it scared him. He let his eyes flutter closed for a moment and listened to the sound of his heart and his breaths and felt most of his tension ease.

“Your blood.”

“What?”

“I crave blood. Fuck,” Clint rubbed a hand over his face. “I crave blood,” he repeated, allowing his fangs to extend enough that they were clearly visible. “Yours… Yours more so than anyone else I’ve encountered since this happened.”

Clint was sure Phil would be afraid or horrified and he was entirely unprepared for the sadness that swept across his face. Phil closed the distance between them and took Clint’s hands in his.

“We’re going to get through this,” he said gently.

Clint studied his expression for a moment, because his reaction didn’t make sense. “Oh,” he said suddenly. “I see you. You think me a liar.”

Phil’s grip tightened, “Never.” His hands moved up Clint’s arms to his shoulders, “But I know some of what they did to you and-”

“So not a liar, just crazy.”

“No,” Phil snapped, “Clint-”

Clint let his fangs elongate and parted his lips slowly. Phil went still, the widening of his eyes the only sign that anything was amiss.

“Still don’t believe me?”

“It’s-”

Clint didn’t want for him to reply, because the sound of his heartbeat betrayed him. Phil was close enough him that he didn’t realize Clint had moved until the archer hooked a foot behind on his legs and shoved him. Clint directed Phil’s fall towards the couch and his hands slipped into Phil’s jacket and took hold of his gun before he landed. Phil was still, his heart skyrocketing, and Clint wondered for a moment if he was afraid. But his eyes weren’t on the gun, they were still glued to Clint’s face.

“Clint?”

Clint pressed the gun against his own shoulder.

“Stop!”

He’d been shot in the past and it hurt like hell, but when he pulled the trigger it felt more like being punched in the shoulder. Clint grunted in pain and managed to put the gun to the side before Phil sprang off the couch at him.

“What the hell, Barton!?” Phil’s fingers pressed into the hole in Clint’s shirt and tore it enough to expose the wound. The smashed bullet had only partially pierced his skin and rivulets of blood dripped down his side from the edges of the wound. “What…”

Clint exhaled slowly and rotated his shoulder, watching as the bullet was dislodged and fell to the floor between their feet. “You think letting me go was their first option? They made damn sure there wasn’t any possible way they might kill me before realizing that just letting me go was easier than replacing all the guards I was killing.”

Phil didn’t reply. He watched in silence as the bleeding slowed. “Do you feel pain?”

“Not like I used to,” Clint admitted. “And I don’t have super healing or anything. This will take a while to fully heal.”

“And this is why you were afraid to come back?” Phil asked, looking from the wound to Clint’s face. “You thought we would…. Hate you? Lock you up? Experiment on you? Do you really think I would ever let that happen?”

“I’m a thing,” Clint spat. “Maybe this isn’t the worst that they could have done to to me, but did you miss the part where I said I crave blood?”

“I heard you,” Phil replied softly. “But I’m still stuck on the part where you ran away and hid. Because you thought you couldn’t come back.”

“Phil,” Clint began, “I couldn’t risk it.”

Phil’s mouth tightened, “In what way have I failed to prove that you can trust me, Clint?”

“What?”

“I’m your handler,” Phil said with a sort of forced calm. “But you ran from me at a time when I should have been there to help you.”

“I trust you more than anyone else I’ve ever met,” Clint said in a rush, because this was suddenly going wrong and he didn’t fully understand it.

“But you didn’t trust me to protect you.”

“That isn’t it at all. I didn’t trust myself to handle my shit if you looked at me like I was a freak!” Clint shouted. “Because there is nothing here for me if I don’t have your-” He exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Fucking hell.”

“If you don’t have my what?”

“Your whatever,” Clint managed. “Your friendship. Just you.”

Phil’s breath caught, “You…” He reached out for Clint’s uninjured arm, hesitating briefly when he flinched away. “I don’t think you are a freak and I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

“I’m like some kind of vampire monster thing,” Clint spat. “Even I think I’m a freak. I drink blood. I’ve drunk the blood of a hundred drunk people.”

“So you said.”

“I want your blood.”

Phil shrugged, “Well you can’t have it all, but I’ve got some to spare if it comes down to it.”

“Don’t joke about this. Don’t!” Clint shouted.

Phil met his gaze evenly, “It wasn’t a joke, Clint.”

“You cannot possibly be serious,” Clint insisted, but he’d calmed in the last few minutes and his heart was steady and even. Just listening to it was soothing.

“It’s not much of a sacrifice if it keeps you here,” Phil said quietly.

“Why are you taking this so well?” Clint demanded. “Did you already know? Did they tell you what they did to me?”

“A little,” Phil admitted, “And we managed to recover some of their notes. They didn’t give any details, but I suspected. I was worried… I was worried you might be like Banner.”

Clint froze, because for all that he hated what he’d become it had never occurred to him how much worse it could have been. He might be a freak, but he could still control himself.

“I don’t want you to-”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Phil interrupted. “You have no idea what I felt when I thought you were dead. I mourned you.”

“Phil-”

“I mourned you,” he repeatedly quietly, “Probably far more than I had any right to. When I found out you were alive I felt like I could breath again.” His shoulders slumped. “I promised I’d help you leave and hide again if you came and talked to me,” he said. “I won’t break that. I’ve never wanted to break a promise like I do this one, but I won’t. Because if you leave and I never see you again… Isn’t there anything I can do to persuade you to stay?”

Clint stared at the scant inches of space between their feet. Phil wore his normal dress shoes and Clint wore black converse that were probably as old as him.

“Do I really still have a place here?”

“If you want it,” Phil replied.

Clint nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Phil’s gaze but he nodded. “I want it.” He peeked up, his nerves settling at the small smile on Phil’s face. “But-”

“The rest is just details.”

“I’m a vampire. It’s more than just a detail.” He felt his fangs begin to grow in his mouth and averted his gaze from Phil’s face.

Phil took a step closer, “You lost blood when you shot yourself. Are you hungry? I mean, do you need blood?”

“Yes,” Clint admitted. “Maybe I can get some from the infirmary or-”

“Or,” Phil tilted his head to the side.

Clint pressed his face against the side of Phil’s bared neck. “You’d really let me…?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to give me this,” Clint whispered. “Not if its just because you think its what I want. Not if its only because you think it will make me stay.”

There was a small and increasingly quiet part of his mind that told him this was a terrible idea. It was one thing for Phil to insist he wasn’t a monster, but this was different. It was too much and it was so intimate and Clint wanted it.

“I know that,” Phil said easily.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Phil replied.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” He pressed his nose behind Phil’s ear and thoughtlessly followed it with a kiss.

“Yes, you do,” Phil whispered. “You know. You must know by now how I feel about you.”

“I’d only ever hoped and felt so stupid for daring,” Clint admitted.

Phil turned and pressed a kiss to the corner of Clint’s mouth. “Not stupid. Not stupid at all.”

Clint kissed him carefully, but froze when one of his fangs nicked Phil’s lip. Breathing heavy, Clint stared at blood welling up on his lower lip. After a long moment he rang his tongue against the bloodied lip. Hydra had only given him blood in bags and after he’d been freed he’d only fed from those so drunk they’d have never remembered the encounter. It had been satisfying, but far from enjoyable.

It was different with Phil.

Between his smell, the taste of his lips, Clint felt a sharp spike of arousal. Phil stared up, his eyes wide, and licked his lips. Clint caught him in a tight embrace and shifted them to the couch. Phil’s heart was loud, but there was no scent of fear so Clint pressed his lips against the man’s neck and bit down as gently as he could.

Phil’s blood filled his mouth and Clint moaned. Phil jerked in his arms, a slew of uncharacteristic colorful language slipping from his lips. He thrust up against Clint, his hands tangling in his hair. When he was done, Clint licked at Phil’s neck until the two small punctures clotted.

“How do you feel?”

“Spinny,” he whispered. “And kind of floaty.”

Clint frowned, because he’d never seen a reaction like this. And he’d taken far less than he usually did. “I didn’t take that much. Do you feel lightheaded?”

“No,” Phil managed. “Endorphin rush. I feel so good. Does it feel that good for you?”

Clint shifted their position on the couch so that Phil was sprawled against him. He trailed his fingers up and down Phil’s arms and let his eyes slip closed as he listened to his heartbeat.

“It feels good, but its different,” he admitted.

“Just imagine what it will be like when we fuck,” Phil whispered.

Clint pressed a kiss to the puncture marks on his neck, smiling a little when Phil moaned in pleasure. He was mussed, his tie askew and his shirt partially pulled from his pants. “I like you like this.”

“This means you’ll stay? You won’t go?”

“I won’t go,” Clint promised.

He would stay, because Phil was right. The rest was just details.