A Fool's Dance

Chapter Fourteen

James shoved people out of the way as he ran through the streets. Barton hadn't replied to any of his texts. He ignored the people cursing at him as he blew past. It took him maybe ten minutes to reach Barton's apartment building on foot when it should've taken at least thirty. He quickly scaled the fire escape and broke Barton's window when he realized that it was locked. He stepped through quickly, hardly noticing that the glass scraped his arm as he did. None of the lights were on from what he could tell, and the tv was blaring.

"Barton?" James called loudly.

He quickly checked the bed and Barton's bathroom before moving quickly down the short hallway to the living room. The tv cast the room in dim lighting, but he could make out the archer's form slumped against the couch. James felt along the wall until he found the lightswitch. Once the lights were on, he wished he'd left them off.

Barton was unconsious and covered in blood, two long cuts across his forearm. He crossed the room and pulled the knife out of Barton's hand. He didn't look to see where it landed after he threw it. James lifted the man up off the couch and carried him into the bathroom. He set Barton down in the shower and began searching for a med kit underneath the sink.

He swore under his breath when he couldn't find one. James turned around and shook Barton's shoulder.

"Wakeupwakeupwakeup!" He yelled, shaking the other man harder.

He let out a small sigh of relief through his nose when Barton's eyes opened.

"You better have a really good fucking reason for this. Where's you medical kit?"

"Don't have one," Barton replied weakly.

James didn't waste any time. He yanked off his shirt and ripped it into long strips. He wound them around Barton's arm and picked him up again.

"I'm taking you to a hospital."

"No! No, you can't. You can't," Barton said quickly, "Please. You can't. Barnes, please."

The sheer panic in Barton's voice caused him to pause. He carried Barton back into the living room and set him down in the arm chair.

"Put pressure on your arm. I'll be right back," James told him.

He ran to Barton's bedroom and stole a hoodie before stepping out into the hallway. He knocked loudly on the neighbor's door.

"Do you have a sewing kit? My friend sliced his foot on some glass."

The old woman nodded and shut her door. James fought the urge to tap his metal fingers on the wall while he waited. A minute or so later, she came back and handed a roll of black thread and a sewing needle.

"Thank you," James told her before darting back into Barton's apartment.

He crouched next to Barton and bent the needle slightly. He quickly threaded it and pulled Barton's arm towards him.

"Explain."

"Can't. I dunno."

"Think of something," James snapped.

He had the first cut stitched up in under a minute and began starting on the second.

"'M tryin'."

He finished stitching him up and rose to his feet. The glare he was giving Barton could send men running, but Barton didn't seem bothered by it.

"Needed a way to cope," he said finally.

"Find a different way. I'm bringing you back to Stark's."

"No! Nononononono, don't take me back. Please don't."

"Get up and pack your shit."

Barton remained seated in the chair, so James yanked him up and threw him over his shoulder. He grabbed a duffel bag out of the closet and began packing Barton's clothes as the man squirmed in his grasp.

"I hate you."

"I'm aware."

"Put me down."

"No. You're coming back to Stark's since you can't live alone."

"It was an accident. It won't happen again!"

James paused and set the archer down. The bag hit the floor and James drew the curtains shut over the broken window.

"I'm staying the night to make sure you don't do anything stupid, Hawkass."

Barton was smart enough not to argue.