An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers (Part 1)

Clint "Kegger" Barton

"I literally don't believe that that isn't some kind of poison."

"I mean, if you wanna get technical, it is."

"Fuck's sake Clint," you sighed, leaning back onto the couch. "How the hell can I trust this? This is literally the most outrageous thing you've done."

Clint let out a long, healthy laugh, slamming his palm onto his forehead repeatedly until you were staring at him as if he were insane, laughing outlandishly. When he finally stopped he rolled his eyes and then met your gaze with an impish smirk.

"Sorry, this isn't even the most outrageous thing I've done this week. Ever tried brushing your teeth while hanging upside down and cooking dinner? Trust me, it's harder than it sounds."

"I want to ask why, but I don't want to know the answer," you said, collapsing with your head in your hands. "No, seriously, Clint, there is no way you smuggled in an entire keg. Fury laced that shit with mind control drugs, or some kind of memory wipe stuff you guys have secretly been giving me, and you're immune to it because of fucking science, and I hate how paranoid you people have made me!"

"Shut up," Clint said, thrusting a solo cup into your hand. "Drink, and watch the game."

"I don't even think I like football!"

"Good. Drink more," Clint said, tipping his own glass back. "Black it out."

"I've got enough blacked out, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"Hey, don't worry so much about that," Clint said. "Seriously, if booze isn't good enough, what do you want? You might be on lockdown, but I could've been Han Solo in another life. Not much I can't get past ol' Fury."

"Anything not edible. Actually, you guys could probably just build something that injects me with it in my sleep..."

"You're a real downer, you know that?" Clint said, chugging back another glass and dipping down to refill at the keg.

"My life hasn't exactly been sunshine and roses. Probably, anyway, considering I can't remember any of it."

"Hey, if you're that worried about it you should try to trust us a little more," Clint said, tilting his fresh pint toward you. "If anyone has the tech or the resources to figure out who you were and to try to help you, it's gotta be SHIELD."

"Yeah, but that's only if you guys have a vested interest in helping me get better," you pointed out, raising a finger to his unending positivity.

"Do you know what SHIELD stands for?" Clint paused for a moment after he said that, eyes glued to the ceiling. "Stupid question, I know. Well, it stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We're not some shady backwater terrorist organization, and we're not a bunch of evil scientists looking to use you as some kind of guinea pig. We're more like a supersized Homeland Security division than anything. But with cooler toys."

"I didn't know government agencies were in the habit of holding people against their will... then again, sounds about right," you chuckled.

"Hey, it's not exactly constitutional, but when we bend the rules it's because a lot of good people could die if we don't. I'm not promising you anything, but if Fury finds out more about your past, he's gonna let you know. If you want to know, that is. Actually, I guess nobody's really asked you so far... what do you want your past to be like? Sports star, world-renowned scientist, famous author, fashion model... genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, what?"

"I... I don't know enough about even myself to answer that," you said honestly, shrugging your shoulders. The topic was something you'd thought about occasionally but were still too uncomfortable to really press on.

"C'mon, you sit here and watch TV with me all day, you know what the glitz and the glamour of the outside world is. What's the most appealing part?"

"I guess none of that really sounds very appealing." You let out a long sigh, shaking your head as soon as the list was rattled off. "I think I'm done being the focus of attention for a while after this... if I could have a comfortable life, I'd consider that a win. Otherwise, I just want to be left alone for a while. I hope that I have a family, and that I can find them, but not if I've been gone twenty years or something. I want to just come back, shed a few tears, and go back to some kind of normal life. Or if not normal, at least less confined."

"And what are you afraid it will be?"

You glanced over to Clint, but despite the slight edge to his voice he genuinely looked curious, still gazing at the screen and sipping lightly on his drink. You noticed for the first time that he hadn't refilled it in a lot longer than the past few top-offs.

"I don't know. I don't think I want to, either."

"Oh, come on, you have to be afraid of something. You woke up in a cold storage room, chained to the wall. The guys that broke in with guns were the good guys, so there's no way you aren't scared of what the bad guys must be like!"

"No matter how many times you say it, I'm still not convinced on who is good or bad," you growled, a little annoyed with how much Clint seemed to be trying to hammer that point home. "I'll judge based on actions, thanks. So far they haven't exactly been terribly in your favor. But to answer your question, yeah, I could be a murderer. A backwater terrorist. An evil scientist. A dictator, a serial killer, an assassin – I could be a lot of things, but what terrifies me right now most is that at least I can't remember the last prison I was kept in!"

You panted, only just realizing how loudly you'd been shouting. Clint never moved, barely even glanced away from the television as you continued your angry ranting. When you finally stopped he slowly reached forward with the remote, clicking off the power and turning to face you. His face was slightly weary and yet a soft smile touched his cheeks.

"Alright, maybe that was a little ham-handed. Truth is, SHIELD doesn't always come off as the good guys, even to the people that work here. They've done a lot of sketchy stuff, which is kind of what put us in the bind we're in now to begin with. It's got scars, and they run deep. So does every person that works with us. But at the end of the day, none of that matters, because every action we take is one we think is right. You're not gonna be able to evaluate SHIELD for what it is – not while you're stuck here. But why don't you try learning more about the people that work here? You already know I'll talk with you any time, but if you want a real challenge, try getting Fury or Natasha to open up a little more. Actually, if you get Natasha to open up, let me know, because if you can talk her into that, I'm gonna be your Vice President one day."

You rolled your eyes as Clint flicked the TV back on without giving you much time to respond. It was hard to stay mad at him, when he seemed to be the only one among the three you constantly dealt with who empathized with your plight on a level beyond acting. Perhaps... perhaps if he could show a bit of genuine care, you could at least make an effort to show him a bit of trust.

You grabbed a cup at last and leaned further into the cushions, wondering curiously if either team had been your favorite back before you lost your memories.