While There's Still Something Left

Ohhh, shit. It's About to Go Down.

Clint was not a bad guy.

In fact, if you asked probably any of the Avengers, they would say he was awesome. He was selfless. Obviously the comedic relief of the group. He loved his friends like family. He was a great dad and husband. He may have done some things in his life that he regretted, but everyone has a story.

Right now, though, he didn't feel like a good guy. He was dirt. Lower than dirt even. He was dirt that some nasty grimy worm had already eaten and pooped out again. (That's how that worked right? They ate dirt?)

The doors of the lab slid open and Bruce stopped where he was pacing. He didn't look much better than Clint felt which only made him feel worse. He knew for a fact that Bruce was one of two that didn't drink that night, yet he looked more hungover than Clint did that one weekend he and Natasha shared in Budapest.

"He drank it?"

Clint walked slowly over to the chair a few feet from Bruce. "Yeah. All of it."

"No other alcohol?"

"Only from the bottle you gave me." Bruce's face contorted into a strange expression, trying and failing to hide it by taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "I had to recruit Thor, but he thought it was just watered down HoneyMeade."

Clint had quite a few talents, but he especially prided himself on his ability to read people. Natasha had been a great teacher. It was frustrating, to say the least, at how confused he was by this situation. By what little information he had, Bruce's reaction didn't make sense. The concern in his voice, the disappointment of Clint doing exactly what he asked...

"Thank you. I guess that makes us even then."

Clint nodded, but he didn't stand.

"Listen, Bruce. I know you said no questions asked, but-"

Bruce shook his head, making Clint stop. "I'm sorry, but that was part of the deal."

"I know." Clint averted his eyes to the ceiling, his stomach twisting. "I know that, but I can tell this is bothering you. You learned something you didn't like, that's obvious. I just don't see how keeping it to yourself is a good idea."

"I-" Bruce's stern expression faltered. Why did he think this was going to be easy? Just a quick in and out, shake hands, and be done, huh? Clint wasn't just some guy hired to do a job. Of course he was going to be concerned. "I can't say anything yet, but hopefully soon. I still have tests to do. Maybe when I have something definitive."

Clint stared at Bruce until he was noticeably uncomfortable.

"This sucks. I just want you to know that."

Bruce's eyebrows rose and fell. "Trust me. I do."

"The kid said he was going to miss me," Clint said, smiling sadly, rapping a knuckle on the cold metal table. "Told me to tell my daughter hi. He helped her on her homework the other night, did I tell you that?"

Bruce frowned, sympathetically.

"I get if you can't tell me yet, but whatever you found out, no matter how bad it is, just try to remember that."

Clint waited expectantly until Bruce gave him a small nod. What Clint didn't realize was that his mind wasn't clouded by all of the vicious possibilities, just waiting to prove him a monster. It was thoughts like the ones that Clint just shared that had him hesitating.

"Alright then. I have a jet to catch before Natasha can find me. Please try to remind Thor how amazing I am and how lonely he would be if he killed me while I'm gone if he survives."