Who Needs Powers?

Chapter 9: Mom, I'm Different

K and Clint had spent the night more or less with K curling around him as much as she could and Clint holding on even in his sleep, though it was a fitful sleep all the same.

They were woken up the next morning not only by the sun streaming into the windows and lighting the room up but by the sound of the tumblers in the lock falling into place. K gave Clint a little squeeze to wake him up, but she didn't do more than that before Sinister stepped in looking far too smug.

Clint had only just started to wake up when he saw Sinister, and he frowned. "Are you gonna show us where the breakfast bar is?" he said tiredly as K slipped out and stood to block the path to Clint.

"It's time you and I took a little walk, Mr. Barton," Sinister said. "We have much to discuss."

Clint held his breath, looking between Sinister and K and trying to figure out where the line was between getting in enough trouble to lose his mom and satisfying the need to just ... not roll over for this creep. "I... I can talk here," he pointed out. "And I'm really slow in the morning, you know."

"Yes, but I need another blood sample, and my tools are not here," he replied, though he didn't drop his gaze from K, who was very clearly trying to judge how fast she'd need to be and if she could manage it just then. He gestured to the bed and broke into a tight, not-at-all-believable smile. "We won't be long. I'd suggest you at least sit back down before I put you to sleep for the time being."

"You don't have to do that," Clint said quickly, disentangling himself from the covers in a rush.

"You don't know what she's thinking," Sinister said. "I'm trying to help. And if that means keeping her from acting out in your absence, then that's what I'll do."

K narrowed her eyes at that. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said. "You're not being nice to him. You're not giving any kind of a choice."

"Mom, it's okay. I know the difference," Clint said quietly.

"I don't think you do," K said, though Sinister cut across her before she could continue.

"Your choice is simple, though," he told her. "Go back to bed or wait on a heap on the floor." Sinister didn't move, and it was clear he wasn't going to wait much longer for her to decide.

"Mom," Clint said softly, taking the few steps toward her to take her hand. "Just... it's a crummy choice right now, but maybe you can dream up some new ways to cut his hands off and shove them interesting places while I'm gone?"

K let out a breath and turned toward Clint. "I don't think that's how it works, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but I was trying to make you smile," he said, giving her a little smile to prove it.

She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and made her way over to take a seat, though it was clear she wasn't happy about the options in front of her at all. "You don't need to knock me out," she said.

Sinister spared her a glance for a moment before he did it anyway, and Clint could feel his hands tightening in fists even though he was trying to be good. Barney's advice to hit them hard and make it stick was ringing in his head — it was just the "making it stick" part that was holding him back.

"You don't have to do that to Mom and Dad every time they get mad," Clint said, his hands still in fists.

"As far as idle minds go, I absolutely do," he replied.

"You're still a supervillain," Clint said, his eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. He almost wished the guy would do something he knew what to do with like take a swing at him so Clint could give it back to him. This whole... messing with his head thing wasn't something Clint was prepared for.