An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers (Part 1)

Best Friends Forever

You strolled into the living room with an ice pack clutched over your head, the fourth one of the day. Despite the additional cooperation you'd been giving him, Fury seemed determined to abuse it to the point of no return. In exchange for him providing you with more information about your own condition as well as the people around you, you had given Fury permission to draw more blood and do more tests. A part of you wondered if there was any point to agreeing, sure he would just drug you and take it anyway, but he had seemed receptive to your efforts so you hoped that even he had a line he wouldn't cross.

Probably a foolish hope, but hope was all you had these days. Hope and a hell of a blood-loss induced headache.

"Hey, all done with Mr. Poke'n'prod?" Clint asked as you strolled in.

"You've got good ears," you muttered, noting that you'd barely walked into the room and he wasn't even looking your way.

"Caught your reflection, actually," Clint said, never looking away from the TV. "My hearing's actually pretty crap, I'm legally deaf, didn't put the hearing aids in today either. They're kind of a pain."

"Wait, then how are you-"

"Legally deaf. Also, I'm reading your lips."

"Reading my-" You paused, even though Clint didn't interrupt you this time, gazing off into the television in front of you. Clint was watching some old western, and it was so bright and flashy with the action scene going on that you could barely even see Clint in the glassy reflection of the screen, much less make out enough detail to accurately read his lips. And that was with your vision, which Fury had already said was incredibly accurate and Clint seemed to think was better than his own... apparently only at reading lines of text on white backgrounds.

"What the hell do you do for SHIELD?"

"Sharpshooter," Clint said casually as you sat down across from him on the couch.

"Oh really? Like how good a- FUCK!"

You winced and grabbed at your forehead, already sore as hell and now in even more pain. Without hesitation - without even really looking your way - Clint had flicked a rubber band into your forehead, dead center. It didn't even hit your eyes when it connected, bouncing off and landing on the floor ahead of you.

"That good."

"Look, haven't I had it rough enough?"

"Hey, I tried being friendly, you barely drank anything."

"I had ten cups!"

"Barely. Anything," he repeated, shrugging. There was something off about him but you were finding it difficult to tell what. Clint was obviously less friendly, and almost seemed annoyed at you, but you couldn't imagine what would've caused it, considering you hadn't spoken to him since the last time he was in charge of your babysitting, and he'd seemed pretty friendly then. Maybe he was just having a bad day?

"Look, I'll get smashed with you next time, for now I feel more like the morning after... Fury has been running me ragged. Blood tests, urine tests, tissue samples... pretty sure he'd take a sample of all my bodily fluids if I let him."

"Gross," Clint noted, "but you might not be wrong. Reproductive capabilities regarding whatever they did to you and all that. Wouldn't want your children to grow four extra arms and start punching gods in the face."

"You play too many video games," you replied, chuckling - although you stopped when the throbbing in your head intensified.

"Life is a video game when you work for SHIELD," Clint said. You weren't totally sure whether he meant that in a good way or not.