Light Up The Night

Natasha was utterly and completely furious to a degree she hadn’t been in a long, long time. Ever since the doorbell rang, shortly after she’d gotten back from her last afternoon class, and she found the red-headed figure that had too many similarities to Clint to not be related to him standing there – including various cuts and bruises across his face - she’d been slowly and methodically plotting how exactly she would murder Clint.

Though she’d noted the similarity in their appearance, she’d raised her eyebrows, and asked, “Can I help you?”

In an almost identical manner to a gesture she’d seen Clint do on multiple occasions, he’d run a hand through his hair and awkwardly said, “Hey there. Is Clint around by any chance?”

She’d just continued staring him down. “And you are…?”

“Barney. His brother. He gave me this address a couple of months back.”

Natasha had strongly considered whether a homicide in this case would be appropriate, and quickly decided that it would. If Barney was telling the truth, Clint had hidden this from her for a considerable length of time. He’d placed her and most certainly the twins in potential jeopardy through this action, particularly through not telling them before his brother could show up. Granted, Natasha had no reason to trust that Barney’s words were true but she had to admit that this seemed likely to be something Clint would have done, given his impulsive nature. There weren’t many other reasons she could come up with for how Barney would have gotten the address.

She’d kept her expression contained, determined not to let any of these thoughts show. “Did he? What a surprise. He’s still at work right now.”

“I can come back later,” Barney had said quickly.

The option was admittedly tempting but not one she was willing to take. If Barney were to be around when Clint and the twins came back, she wanted to get a better sense of him and who he was before potentially placing them in danger.

“You can wait for him. I don’t mind. It shouldn’t be too much longer.” She’d offered him her hand. “I’m Natasha. This is my house.”

“Barney,” he’d offered as he shook her hand. “But I guess I said that already. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” She’d stepped back to let him inside. “It’ll be a surprise. Come on in. We can wait for him in the living room.”

She’d had just enough time to get him inside, deflect his endless thanks, offer him a drink, and get some of the barest details from Barney’s own mouth about who he was before the sound of the key in the lock alerted her to Clint’s arrival. By that point, she’d answered the question of her relationship to Clint, gotten more of a sense of some of the dysfunctional elements of Clint and Barney’s relationship, and learned nothing of value about who Barney actually was as a person, save for the fact that he sounded fairly self-deprecating while discussing himself. Yet another thing he apparently had in common with his brother.

Clint’s initial responses left a lot to be desired. After letting him stammer all over himself, she informed him as calmly as she could that his brother was there.

He’d started with, “Oh shit” and quickly progressed to, “Oh fuck. I’m so sorry, Nat. I’d meant to tell you.”

“I’m sure you did,” she said coldly. “After all, you had a month to tell me. Why didn’t you say anything?” She lowered her voice. “What if the twins had been here?”

Clint’s expression fell. “I know. Shit, fuck, Nat, I know. I guess I’d… I guess I’d hoped that this wouldn’t happen. I’m so sorry.”

“Get in here.” She stepped back enough for Clint to slink his way inside. “I know,” she added, acknowledging his last words as she closed the door behind him to prevent him from attempting to make a grand escape. “Your brother’s waiting for you. He’s in the living room.”

There was no point in asking if he knew when the twins would be arriving; over the past few weeks, they often didn’t return until later in the evening, since they didn’t have early classes to worry about or homework to complete. Hopefully by the time they did come in, Barney would be long gone and she wouldn’t need to navigate that entire situation. If not, she planned to stay close enough to the door that she could intercept them.

Clint reluctantly made his way towards the living room and Natasha followed close behind. Barney raised his head when he came in and for a moment the two stared at one another, both looking equally uncomfortable with this unexpected family reunion.

“So, I, uh, I guess you followed through on the address I gave you,” Clint said unnecessarily.

Barney nodded. “Yeah. I hope that was okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course it was. I wouldn’t have given you the address if it weren’t okay.”

“It just didn’t seem that your girlfriend was too thrilled with me showing up,” Barney pointed out.

Natasha missed Clint’s response. In an effort to not say or do anything she might later regret, she moved past the living room and into the kitchen, where she grabbed two cups of coffee. She’d only been out of the room for a minute or two at most but when she returned, Clint remained standing. There didn’t seem to have been many more words exchanged between the two of them.

She handed each of them a cup of coffee. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Clint hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, thanks, Nat.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, unable to keep herself from giving each of them a searching look before stepping out.

She didn’t go far, just into the hallway where she remained close enough to eavesdrop on anything said, if Clint managed to actually say anything, which seemed debatable. Maybe it wasn’t okay to listen into your boyfriend’s conversation with his estranged brother but when your boyfriend potentially brought more danger than usual into your already dangerous house, Natasha damn well wanted to know what was going on.

There were a few moments of silence before Clint finally spoke. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

Barney laughed in response. “What makes you think I’m in trouble, bro? Everything’s fine with me.”

“Jesus, Barney, you look like hell and you finally took me up on my offer. Obviously something’s going on with you.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you,” Barney said unconvincingly.

Clint’s voice took an edge. “I don’t buy it. I know you better than that. What’s going on?”

Barney he sighed heavily. “Look, everything’s gone to shit for me in New York. I needed to get out of there. I just need a place to lie low until I can get back on my feet.”

Natasha frowned in response to that, a frown that faded the slightest bit as she felt a familiar black ball of fur rubbing against her ankles. She crouched down, carefully and silently, to pet him and brought a finger to her lips to encourage Koschei to remain silent, despite the futility of that gesture.

Clint exhaled slowly, enough that it was more of an answering sigh to his brother’s own. “Look, Barney, this isn’t my place. If it were, then maybe but I can’t be the one to offer it to you.”

There was another beat of silence before Barney said, “Yeah, it’s cool. I get it. It’s Natasha’s place. No worries. Thanks, Clint.”

Natasha heard the wood creak under his feet as he stood and moved towards the hallway where she stood. She backtracked towards the kitchen, catching sight of Clint following after his brother as she looped around.

She hesitated before following after them a few steps behind just in time to hear Clint say, “Wait. Wait, alright, what kinda trouble are you in, Barney? How bad is it?”

Barney stilled with his hand on the door. “It’s okay, Clint. It’s not your problem.”

Everything told her to just let Barney leave, but something about Clint’s expression made her reflect on just how much he’d blame himself if something were to happen to his brother and he hadn’t done anything to help.

She stepped forward. “Tell Clint what’s going on before he decides to come up with an even worse idea than giving you my address. Trust me, your brother can come up with hundreds of worse ideas without even trying.”

“I don’t want to get into the specifics,” Barney said quickly. “The less either of you know, the better. I just need a place to lay low while certain people forget they want to kill me. That’s all. But I can handle it myself.”

Natasha couldn’t help but shoot Clint an exasperated look in response to that. “Of all the things the two of you had to have in common…”

Clint narrowed his eyes at her and Barney tilted his head. Before he could ask a follow-up question, she cut him off. “Would a motel somewhere nearby be enough?”

Barney didn’t say anything, perhaps because he was still questioning Natasha’s last comment, but then he said, “Yeah, I mean anywhere… anywhere would be something.”

“Clint, your thoughts?” she asked.

“If Barney agrees, a motel should work.” Then, to Barney specifically, he said, “I can spot you some money if you need it and if you need anything else, I’ll be around.”

Natasha couldn’t help but add, “Calling ahead of time would be preferable, for the record.”

“Yeah, and keep me updated. You have my number,” Clint said.

Barney ran a hand through his hair once more. “Actually, I… I, uh, I don’t. The phone number you gave me before doesn’t work.”

Natasha wasn’t about to comment on the fact that it had been a prepaid cell phone that she was pretty certain Clint had destroyed somewhere along the line. In an attempt to cover for him, she asked, “You break your phone again, Clint?”

“Something like that,” Clint said, before rattling off his usual number to Barney. “There. You can use that one. It’ll work.”

Barney tugged a battered phone out of his pocket and put it into there. Then, he reached for the door in a clear sign that he was ready to go.

“It was nice to meet you, Barney,” Natasha said softly.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you too. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

Clint tugged a handful of crumpled bills out of his wallet and then shoved them into his brother’s hand. With that, Barney pulled the door open after wrestling with the locks for a few moments, and stepped outside. Clint took the time to lock the door behind him, apparently trying to stall for a few more moments before having to face Natasha’s wrath. She waited patiently for him to turn back towards her before she spoke again, her voice quiet and filled with danger.

“Wow, so he’s also got people wanting to kill him. Is this a family trait?”

Clint buried his face in his hands. “A family trait? Not so much, I don’t think. A brotherly trait, at least.”

“Hopefully it’s not another branch of the mob. That’s the last thing we need.”

Clint exhaled raggedly. “I know I fucked up bad, Nat. I already know that. I don’t need you to read me the riot act or anything.”

“No, that’s exactly what you need,” she snapped. “You could have told me sooner so that we could have prepared for this. We need to tell the twins as well, just in case he comes back.”

“I’ll tell ‘em. It’s my fault, it’s my job.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Natasha said shortly, leaving Clint standing there and heading back to the kitchen.

She focused her attention on preparing dinner, anything that would keep her away from Clint for the time being, until she felt calmer. The absolute jeopardy he’d placed everyone in this household in alone infuriated her. She knew he had a history of making poor life decisions; she’d witnessed enough of them to be aware of this fact, but to have him make such reckless choices that directly impacted other people in the house was over the line for her.

Natasha was almost relieved when the door opened and Wanda came through the kitchen with a quick hello before retreating to the living room where Clint sat in front of the TV.

Clearly Clint’s expression or the overall icy temperature of the house clued Wanda into the fact that something was off, given that her first question upon reaching Clint was, “What happened? Do I need to ask Pietro to come back?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” Clint quickly replied. “Where is your brother though?”

“Let’s just say that he’s spending the night at Darcy’s and leave it at that, shall we?” Wanda said. Clint only had the chance to mutter, “Oh” in a progressively more understanding tone before Wanda followed up with a repetition of, “So, what happened?”

Natasha filed away the information regarding Pietro and let her mind drift as Clint replied to that question, informing Wanda of his brother’s arrival at the townhouse and speaking to his trustworthiness, or lack thereof. She didn’t fully find herself listening in until Clint said, “Look, my brother isn’t… he isn’t an awful person exactly. I mean, I don’t think he’d do anything to put you or Pietro in danger… but I guess I don’t know. You should be safe, at least in terms of him finding out about you. He said he’d call before he comes over again. I’m sorry. I never meant to put you and your brother into this position. Not with everything else going on.”

“I know you didn’t,” Wanda assured him. “I get it. I mean, it’s still your brother. Besides, I trust you. I know you’ll make sure nothing happens. Also, it’s not like we answer the door when we’re here alone and your brother doesn’t have a key... so I don’t see why this would be a problem.”

Thank God for small favors. Natasha thought to herself. Clint giving his brother a key to the townhouse would have been the only thing that could have possibly made this situation worse. While she was glad to see Wanda handling the news calmly, she couldn’t curb the fear that Wanda’s positive spin on everything might be unwarranted. After all, she didn’t know how much trouble Barney was in. There were already enough threats out there between the situation with the twins and Clint’s own run-ins with the Russians. If Barney brought his own set of problems to their door, she had no idea what types of consequences could occur.

Clint’s response to Wanda at least provided a modicum of understanding of the repercussions for this situation and ownership of responsibility for his actions. “I make bad decisions when it comes to my brother and usually… usually it only affects me, so I guess I didn’t think before acting this time around. It was fucked up of me - ” You’re damn right it is, Natasha agreed silently “ – and it was not okay. I’ll do anything and everything to make sure nothing bad happens to you or your brother. I promise.”

“I trust you, Clint,” Wanda said softly. “You’ve been keeping us safe for months. Both you and Natasha. I know neither one of you will let anything happen.”

“That’s way more than I deserve,” Clint said.

Natasha couldn’t help but agree.

Still, there was nothing to be done now. Clint knew he’d screwed up, he’d done the damage control that he could, and they’d both be more vigilant over the next several weeks until certain the danger – if any – had passed. Then again, Natasha wasn’t angry with him for giving his brother the address but for not telling her – or the twins – over this entire time. She could understand the impulse to make the same sorts of decisions he had in the past but not telling her was inexcusable.

She didn’t stop Clint from heading towards the stairs and disappearing into his bedroom while Wanda settled down on the couch with Lucky and Koschei to watch TV. Clint could stand to spend a couple of hours ruminating on what he’d done. She wasn’t about to try to get him out of a self-deprecating spiral that he’d brought on himself. Not until he fully registered her reason for being angry.

He’d have a lot of work to do to gain her trust again. Natasha tried not to dwell on the fact that a few months ago she’d been in a similar position after he’d brought up the possibility of ending their relationship following the attempted hit on him. Since then, her level of trust had been built up close to where it had been previously. Now she felt as though they’d taken another step back.

Clint could fix it though. He’d done it before, he could do it again, and hopefully he’d learn from this particular fuck up. He could start by spending a few hours thinking about what he’d done.

And maybe also spending the next few nights on the couch.

-~-

The absolute last thing Darcy wanted to do when her alarm went off was move. She flailed helplessly in the direction of the sound, only to recall she’d strategically placed her alarm clock on the other side of the room to get herself out of bed in the morning because it was that much harder to hit the snooze button if she were already up. Something was different about this morning than many other mornings but it took the sound of someone groaning beside her to remember exactly the specifics of those differences.

The arm curled around her waist and body pressed against her own was a good clue, as was the chest she’d apparently decided to use as her own personal pillow. The events of the past evening came back to her slowly. Judging by her bare skin and the warmth of Pietro’s own, they had both lost their clothes at some point. Naturally, seeing as she didn’t know many ways to engage in the types of activities they’d been doing while having clothes on.

Reluctantly, Darcy disentangled herself from Pietro – who grumbled all the more and complained in response – and shivered as the comparatively colder air in the room hit her skin. She made her way across the room to shut off the alarm, hugging her arms around her body to hold onto any warmth left, though she forgot all about her discomfort when she turned back towards the bed.

The futon in her studio apartment barely fit her at best and definitely hadn’t been designed for the purpose of having two people share it. Pietro lay tangled in the sheets and blankets, his white hair contrasting sharply with the dark fabric of the pillowcases. Those tangled blankets and sheets didn’t quite cover his entire body – particularly his upper body, where she must have dislodged the blanket when she moved. She could easily make out the black markings covering his torsos in the shape of two wolves, not quite covering up the scar tissue spanning his skin beneath.

She’d asked him about those tattoos the previous evening, while running her fingers over the ink. She’d made a comment about how the sharp and sleek design suited him and he’d responded by telling her that there was more to it than that. He’d explained that it was based on a story he’d heard at some point in his life – he believed earlier on, since he couldn’t remember a time those words weren’t going through his head – about a Native American telling his son – or grandson, apparently the story changed depending on the telling – about how there was a battle between two wolves going on inside everyone.

His exact words, as he told the story, had been, “The idea is that everyone has these two wolves, one light, one dark. The light one is fueled by more positive things, like peace and hope, the dark one is fueled by anger and greed, and how much you feed either one of ‘em determines which one wins. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot, how you can’t control the things that happen to you but you can decide how you’re going to respond… and which one of those wolves you want to feed.”

She’d responded by telling him that, first of all, that was an intense story to be thinking about that often, and secondly that she found the tattoos fitting him all the more after learning that piece of what the designs meant to him. She’d followed the words up by tracing the designs with her lips and tongue and one thing led to another, and another, and there they were the next morning. Every step of the way, she’d checked in with him, to make certain he continued to feel comfortable and could provide any and all consent.

“Liking the view?” Pietro lightly questioned, and Darcy realized she’d been staring at him for the past several seconds without saying anything.

“Naturally,” she said.

His lips curved into a smirk in response to that and she felt relieved when she recognized that he looked – and was acting – like himself. Despite the fact that he’d told her he was willing and comfortable, there had been a part of her that wondered if things might become weird the next day. After all, she’d been his first, which was one of many confessions from him the previous night – or early morning, she wasn’t quite certain. That was bound to raise the potential to make the next morning awkward.

Or maybe Darcy had spoken too soon, given that she had no idea what to say now. There was always the option to return to the futon and attempt to wrap herself with Pietro. That was tempting, given the fact that the temperatures in the room had decreased to near artic levels. On the other hand, the alarm signified that she needed to get – or stay - out of bed and off to Shield or at least make her way towards a place with coffee.

Her inner debate was cut off when Pietro questioned, “You coming back to bed?”

“As much as I’d love to, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to convince myself to leave again. I’m not sure the boss man would be thrilled with that.”

Thankfully Pietro didn’t seem bothered by that in the slightest. If anything, his brows furrowed.

“Good point. I’d wanted to be there when Wanda arrived with Clint.”

And there came the awkwardness and, dare she admit to, jealousy? They’d gone almost 12 hours, with some of those involving sleeping, without any discussion of his sister. It was weird enough to realize that the twins still shared the same bed. On some level, she’d known that from the beginning – it wasn’t as though there were many places for the twins to sleep at the townhouse – but the longer it went on, the more uncomfortable she found herself with it.

It wasn’t that she wondered or worried that the twins were doing anything that crossed the line. That wasn’t it at all. It was more that after a few months of dating Pietro, she still felt like she was the odd one out in this relationship. The twins were ridiculously close and she was the one who didn’t quite fit in with them. The last night proved that Pietro was just as invested in their relationship as she was; obviously things wouldn’t have gone the way they did if he didn’t feel that way, but hearing him mention his sister almost first thing in the morning was a bit of a mood breaker.

Darcy tried not to show any of that. “Good. Then we’ve got a game plan. Jane’s probably not working this morning since she had the shift last night but we can still swing by for coffee and food. I’d offer something from here but there’s not a whole lot in the fridge.”

“I’m all for hitting up the coffee shop,” he said. “Unless we had time for a more proper breakfast.”

Now that, that was definitely tempting. Given the current time and the time she would be expected at work, she’d be running late if she did that but at this point she figured it would be worth it. After all, Steve wasn’t about to fire her, despite his occasional threats to replace her with Wanda – and wasn’t that just an added uncomfortable thought to have bouncing through her head. Going out to breakfast would mean having additional time to spend with Pietro before juggling work and school.

Maybe even enough time to think back on how nice the previous evening had been. There had been pizza and movies – she still couldn’t believe Pietro had never seen Clue until then – before the activities started. For a few hours she’d been able to pretend that everything was normal.

Then again, maybe normal was overrated.

“Fuck it,” she said with a grin. “I know a couple of hole-in-the-wall diners. Let’s do it.”

-~-

Getting across campus when you were Tony Stark was simultaneously simple and difficult. Naturally, plenty of students recognized him and approached him for his autograph or selfies or some combination of both. He allowed a few of the requests before looking to Pepper to clear the path for him. While he could have requested a full crew to follow him on this venture, he’d kept it simple with one photographer and no reporters. There would be enough press conferences in his future.

This was something he should have done years ago. One of his earliest projects had been to finance a scholarship for up and coming, talented students majoring in a science related field and suffering from financial hardship. The recipient of this award had been a young kid, barely 14 if Tony could remember, who was entering college at the age most other kids would enter high school. He’d forgotten all about him, although he might have posed for a picture with him at the time, until Jane mentioned that one of the youngest graduate students to enter G.W. University had just started to work in her lab. Granted, Tony had a lot of questions about what a nuclear physicist was doing hanging out in a lab with an astrophysicist but he didn’t feel the need to ask too many questions at this time. After all, somehow a poli-sci major had ended up as Jane’s assistant for a period of time. Not exactly what he would have expected from such a fine institution of higher learning.

The crowd thinned a bit once Tony made his way into the building and he followed the directions Jane had given him for finding their lab. He gave a courtesy knock on the door before stepping inside, where he saw Jane typing into a computer, accompanied by Thor and two others who Tony had never seen before. Both had dark hair and were younger than most graduate students, which was not unexpected in the case of the young man studying a series of numbers on a whiteboard but a bit more so in the case of the woman in the midst of scribbling out the equation. Just seeing Bruce was enough to remind Tony that they had in fact met before because even hidden behind those wire-rimmed glasses, Tony recognized those eyes.

Maybe that was a stupid thing to recognize since then and now the kid he’d met at the time of the handing off the scholarship had dark hair and equally dark eyes, nothing out of the ordinary. But some part of Tony hadn’t forgotten the weary and wary look in them that he could still catch now or the fact that he could also remember how it felt when the kid’s shoulders hunched down when he’d put his arm around him for the picture, as though he’d thought Tony meant to hurt him. Granted, the man standing here now had shoulders that were straight and back and everything in his body language suggested that in this lab, doing this work, he was in his element.

“Dr. Bruce Banner?” Tony questioned as he stepped forward.

The young man’s shoulders dropped the slightly as he reluctantly turned away from the board. He gave Tony a searching look before saying, “Not yet. I mean, yes, that’s my name but I don’t have my degree, so I’m pretty sure I can’t be classified as a doctor.”

“A degree is just a technicality.” Tony offered him his hand. “I’m Tony Stark.”

“Yes, I remember,” Bruce replied, and Tony noted his clear discomfort as he shook his hand. “Even if your scholarship hadn’t helped me get through college, it would be hard not to recognize you.”

“I’m touched.” Tony looked rather pointedly from Bruce to the woman standing behind him, then repeated the gesture until Bruce seemed to get the point.

“Um, Mr. Stark,” Bruce said, the words forming a bit awkwardly. “This is Betty Ross. My partner.”

“Lab partner,” she clarified, as she stepped forward to shake Tony’s hand with much more confidence that what he’d seen from Bruce. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“The feeling is most decidedly mutual,” he assured her, and caught Pepper pointedly clearing her throat when Tony held onto Betty’s hand just a little bit too long. “Betty Ross. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“You might know my father, General Ross.”

“That’s right,” Tony said, snapping his fingers – and saw Bruce flinch the slightest bit at the sharp, unexpected sound. “I think I had a contract or two through him over the years.”

“I have absolutely no doubt you did. My father often has made questionable choices when it comes to research for the military,” Betty said curtly. “No aspersions being cast on you, of course.”

“Of course not,” Tony said, matching her tone, though in truth he was finding himself liking her more and more by the moment. There was nothing quite like having someone willing to speak their mind to him. Bruce, however, was looking progressively more uncomfortable as the conversation went on.

“Well, it’s been charming to meet you and to see you again, Bruce,” Tony said, making the determination that it was time to end this visit, seeing as there were places he needed to go and things to be done. Not to mention that he was pretty sure if he spent any longer here, Bruce might legitimately crawl out of his skin and that would be messy and unpleasant and not anything Tony wanted to deal with right now, thank you very much. “I’d just wanted to stop by, see how things were going, and get a new mental picture of you, Bruce, since the one I have is pretty outdated.”

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Stark,” Bruce said politely.

Tony quickly cut him off because he wasn’t having any of this overly deferential bullshit. “It’s just Tony. Calling me ‘Mr. Stark’ still makes me think of my father and that’s not a path I want to go down.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and there was the slightest tilt to his head as he studied Tony. “Alright, Tony. I appreciate you stopping by.”

Tony slipped his hand into his pocket and came out a moment later with a small business card. Without missing a beat, he flipped it over, extended his hand to Pepper who continued to be the world’s best mind reader and handed him a pen, and quickly scribbled on the back before handing it to Bruce.

“The front’s how you can get ahold of me at work by calling or just showing up. I’ll make sure JARVIS knows you’re on the list if you want to come by and practice with any of the toys I’ve got over there. They’ve got a great set-up here but there are just some things even a fine institution like this can’t come by. If you’re interested, come on by at any time. I can promise I’m probably not sleeping. If you’re thinking that a work call or visit isn’t of interest, that’s where the number on the back comes in. That’s my personal cell phone. Not many other people have it. But if you’ve ever got a question or, hell, just want to chat one of these days, you can feel free to call me there.”

Bruce examined the card more thoroughly than Tony would have thought was warranted and then slowly nodded and tucked the card into his pocket. “Thank you, Mr. St - I mean, Tony.”

“I’d say don’t mention it but please do and as thanks stop calling me by my father’s name. You’re going to give me a complex.”

He turned on his heel before either Bruce or Betty could reply. Pepper gave him an uncertain look before glancing towards the cameraman with them, and Tony almost imperceptibly shook his head. Yeah, the publicity would be great and he could probably use it, although after a whole winter break of not ending up as one of the top stories on the news or splashed all over a tabloid, his reputation needed a bit less repair than it usually did by this time in the year. Furthermore, the publicity wouldn’t be worth putting Bruce through the discomfort. Tony wasn’t quite sure what was going on with him – though he definitely had several working hypotheses – but there was no doubt in his mind that their relationship wasn’t going to improve if Tony used him to start up a media frenzy.

The most surprising thing as he headed to the door was the look Jane gave him. In part, he was surprised that Jane even noticed his presence since she seemed so intent on whatever project she was working on. In his limited experience with her, that typically signified she wasn’t noticing much of anything until she finished. But he actually got the sense that she’d listened to the entire conversation, and the only meaning he was able to get from the rather dark look she was giving him was an overall sense warning him to tread lightly.

He would have been offended if there wasn’t a part of him that thought she was actually right. While he hadn’t been able to help himself from issuing that invitation to Bruce and providing him with the information necessary to follow up if he were interested, there was definitely something about Bruce that already warned Tony to be careful, without needing Jane’s expression to guide him. Tony didn’t exactly have a good track record taking care of the people he cared about, after all. If anything, he had a history of fucking those things up.

And judging from what he’d seen today and all those years ago, the last thing Bruce needed was someone taking him down in burning flames.

-~-

It had been a good day.

Steve didn’t entirely feel comfortable labeling it as such, seeing as that just seemed to be tempting fate. But he’d woken up to Bucky making breakfast for them, which was a relief for a number of reasons since that meant Bucky had started off with a good day. There was something to be said for having breakfast delivered in bed. Then things got a little dicey since Darcy was a little bit late to work, though she had texted Steve to give him a heads up. It wasn’t much of a problem because Wanda had arrived with Clint, who was dragging ass more than usual but had an extra cup of something sweet and caffeinated from Starbucks to hand off to Bucky. Wanda immediately jumped in to pick up the slack. Steve asked limited questions regarding Pietro’s whereabouts, seeing as he was reasonably certain nothing was going on with the kid since Wanda didn’t seem worried, although there was definitely something going on with Clint. He definitely let things go once he found out that Pietro had stayed over with Darcy the previous evening. Suddenly Darcy’s late arrival made perfect sense.

His early morning appointments went smoothly. By the first time he’d been done with his first one, Darcy and Pietro were there and one didn’t need to be psychic to recognize what had gone down between them the previous evening. Steve had checked in on Bucky, who was between appointments, before heading off to back-to-back classes. With everything running smoothly at the shop for once, despite the state Clint was in, he hadn’t even worried about that. A series of text messages between him and his mom helped to reassure him that everything was fine there.

Despite that, he’d stopped by her house before heading back to Shield and received a ridiculously long lecture for checking in on her when there was no need. She’d insisted on having him return to work immediately, told him to not worry about her, and that if there were any concerns, she would be more than willing to call him and let him know. Admittedly reluctantly, he’d accepted that and headed back to the shop in just enough time to have a short break before his last appointment of the day.

He’d spent that break in Bucky’s office, where he’d been pleased to discover Bucky didn’t currently have an appointment. The two of them had been rather distracted by the time Darcy came in to mention that each of their respective clients had arrived. Steve would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that he’d watched Darcy and Pietro engage in more frequent public displays of affection than anything he and Bucky ever did.

Now the day was over. Clint, who’d been pretty much only monosyllabic all day, left with the twins, while Darcy headed off for an evening class. Steve caught a brief discussion of a plan for her and Pietro meet up once her class ended. Clearly the twins’ freedom was expanding by the day, since Clint hadn’t seemed to have any problem with this plan, although it was plausible that he hadn’t noticed seeing as he seemed lost in his own thoughts. With the shop closed up, Steve and Bucky retreated to the apartment for what felt like the first quiet evening in awhile.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t had any down time over the past few weeks; they certainly had. But between bouncing back and forth between work and class and hospital visits or doctor’s appointments for his mother, Steve rarely had energy by the time they headed upstairs for the night. He’d noticed Bucky dragging as well and checked in with him every so often, just to make certain that he was managing, although Bucky almost always insisted that he was fine.

Tonight, though, tonight was different. Bucky cranked up some ridiculously upbeat music that must have been put on a mix by Darcy because there was no other explanation for why Bucky would have owned anything that sounded like that. Cooking turned into a two-person activity, with Steve using his size to his advantage and ducking under and around Bucky, until Bucky shooed him away to finish up his assignments for the next day.

By the time the food was done and on the table, he’d finished the last of his work and Bucky had fed Winter, who was curled up on his dog bed for the time being, always a positive sign since that meant that Bucky was feeling relaxed. Steve tracked down a nearly hidden unopened bottle of wine for the two of them to share along with their meal and Bucky revealed that while Steve had been finishing his homework, he’d set some brownies to bake for dessert in the meantime. A few glasses of wine apiece later and the bottle finished, Steve got some creative ideas for better uses of the whipped cream and chocolate syrup they were putting on the brownies. Bucky readily agreed and abandoned the whipped cream melting on the still warm brownies for alternate activities.

Bucky was sucking a path along Steve’s collarbone when the knocking started. Steve dug his fingers into the ridge of Bucky’s hips when Bucky tensed and drew back a few inches. He half-considered refusing to let him go to answer the door and instead pretend that neither of them were home. A moment later, as the pleasant haze lifted thanks to Bucky raising his head and ceasing the playful nibbles and licks against his skin, Steve realized that anyone knocking on the apartment door must have had keys to the shop, or broken in, although he doubted someone had broken in just to knock on the door.

This theory was confirmed when Darcy’s familiar – and slightly panicked – voice came through the door. “Boss? Robocop? You guys in?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed and he exchanged a worried look with Steve before scrambling to his feet and heading for the door. He clearly considered this an emergency, given that he didn’t even tug on his shirt first. For as comfortable as he’d gotten over the past several months, there were still few people that he wasn’t comfortable with seeing him completely shirtless, and he kept strict boundaries in place. Right now though, he was breaking one of those unspoken rules.

He opened the door and Darcy stepped inside. The fact that she didn’t even comment on the fact that Bucky and Steve were both shirtless or joke about the various bite marks and bruises marking their skin spoke volumes. Something was very, very wrong.

Almost in unison, Bucky asked, “What’s up, Darcy?” and Steve inquired, “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Hey, guys, sorry for interrupting,” Darcy said, clasping and unclasping her hands. “I was supposed to meet up with Pietro tonight. Thing is, he never showed. I called his cell but he’s not answering and he’s 30 minutes late. I wasn’t sure if I should call the townhouse. I wouldn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily…”

“I think that’s a good first step,” Bucky said. “Maybe something happened there that would explain why he’s late and if not… if not, at least the others would know and we could figure out a game plan.”

Steve nodded his agreement and reached for his shirt. As he tugged it over his head, he stifled a sigh. It was clear that the period of relative calm had come to an end.

-~-

The atmosphere in the shop was easily the tensest it had been in a long, long time. Darcy sat on the couch, her head lowered over her phone, dialing and redialing Pietro’s number as though something might change. Bucky had already called Natasha’s landline to check in and see whether Piero might have still been there. As he’d already suspected, Pietro wasn’t. He’d spoken with a worried Wanda and Sam, who said that they’d be heading to Shield shortly. Sam also mentioned that Natasha had offered to stay at the townhouse in case Pietro returned but that Clint was out. He’d offered to give him a call before driving over with Wanda, to see if he had any news either.

While Bucky manned the telephone, Steve had focused on Darcy, getting her a cup of coffee and offering what reassurances he could to her. For his part, Bucky felt at a loss for what to do once he hung up the phone. There was little point in wandering the streets but if Pietro were in trouble – which seemed increasingly likely – he didn’t want to be sitting around, doing nothing. What the nature of that trouble might be was a mystery to him but given how anxious the usually unflappable Darcy looked, there was clearly more to this situation than Bucky or Steve had been briefed on.

He was spared from speculating further when there was a knock on the front door. He automatically checked before unlocking and opening it to let Sam and Wanda step inside. Sam’s expression was grave and Wanda twisted her rings around her fingers anxiously.

“Any word?” she asked hopefully and Bucky reluctantly shook his head.

Her face fell and she slumped onto the couch beside Darcy. Darcy wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulders and the two began whispering to one another. Trying to discern the nature of their conversation felt intrusive and was far too difficult, which meant that Bucky turned to Sam, who sighed heavily.

“I haven’t heard back from Clint,” he said. “But Natasha called. She said that she might have a lead – and, for the record, I have no idea what that means at all – and said that she’ll check in soon. She promised that she’s staying put at the townhouse, just in case Pietro comes back there.”

“Awesome.” Bucky groaned. “So, for now, we wait?”

“I mean, the first rule of being lost is staying put. Obviously we’re not the ones who are missing but it makes sense for us to stay in those key places, like the townhouse and the shop.”

“But that’s if you’re lost in the woods or something,” Bucky pointed out. “This feels more like a situation where we would need to patrol, send out a team to look for him.”

“And what good would that do if we have no idea where to look?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, sure, we could have a few of us wandering the streets but that’s not going to help anyone. It’s late, it’s the city, and that sounds to me like we’d be asking for trouble more than anything else. Hopefully Natasha will come back with her ‘lead’ and we can follow up on it then.”

That was when Bucky heard something banging out near the back door that led out to the alley. His first thought was that it might be a stray cat making a mess of the dumpster but the noise was too rhythmic and was coming increasingly more desperate and pronounced. Bucky exchanged a look with Sam and then with Steve, who’d knelt down beside Wanda, and then ran down the hall towards the back door. For an instant, he hesitated, listening to his gut impulse and questioning whether it might be a trap of some sort but then, despite the fact that his skin was crawling and there was a strong sense of something being hardcore not okay, he opened the door.

Clint stumbled inside, a bloody body in his arms. His lips moved but Bucky didn’t hear anything. All he could see was that Pietro was absolutely soaked in blood – it covered his face and stained his shirt – and immediately autopilot kicked into full effect. He slammed the door shut behind the two of them and wasn’t aware that he’d yelled for Sam to help until Sam appeared beside him, steering Clint into the nearest office and issuing orders.

Bucky wasn’t aware of what, if anything, Sam said to the others. As Clint carefully placed Pietro on the floor, Bucky focused entirely on the orders Sam was issuing to him and responded automatically – applying pressure to the wound on Pietro’s stomach, a wound that he now recognized as a gunshot – as Sam grabbed one of the medical kits around the shop and started to triage as best he could. Bucky caught sight of Wanda’s horrified face as she dropped down beside her brother and scrambled for Pietro’s hand. Her lips moved, forming Pietro’s name, but he couldn’t hear a sound, despite the fact that he could still register Sam’s voice barking orders at him and Pietro’s strained, stilted, rasping breaths.

Then the world faded in and out and things became hazy. One moment he was in the shop with his hands locked over the wound on Pietro’s stomach, packing it tight with gauze and covering it with duct tape, the next in the desert of Iraq, trying to hold in a soldier’s entrails while bullets struck the ground nearby and the man screamed and there was nothing but explosions and the smell of burned flesh and copper and gunpowder.

Then he was back in the shop with Sam’s controlled voice insisting that someone, anyone call 911 because he didn’t have the medical supplies or training to keep Pietro alive and now Bucky could hear because he caught Wanda snarling through her tears that it wasn’t possible to send Pietro to the hospital because someone, Talbot, would find them and catch them if they did that. Sam responded to that by questioning if Wanda preferred her brother dead and Bucky couldn’t stand to see Wanda’s expression break even more, so he looked down and saw that Pietro eyes were wild and pained and terrified.

“Tony.” A new voice, Steve’s, cut through the static in Bucky’s head. “Tony can help.”

“Then call him!” Sam snapped and resumed giving orders to Bucky.

Everyone else faded away once more, except for Sam’s voice. The room shifted in and out again – one moment, he was telling Pietro to hold on, just hold on, kid – and then in the next, the body in front of him was cold and still and covered in a military uniform and Sam was telling him to let go, that they had to leave, that there was nothing more they could do for him.

Then everything became confusing and disjointed. There were figures who looked somewhat like EMTs but not quite – although Bucky couldn’t quite discern where the difference came in - who pulled Pietro away from him and loaded him onto a stretcher. Sam’s voice was telling Bucky to let go, just as he had in Iraq, and Bucky couldn’t seem to make himself respond until two sets of arms dragged him back. For a moment, there were comforting hands on his shoulders and someone told him to breathe. He heard his own voice say, “I’m fine, I’m okay” but didn’t remember speaking.

The others crowded around the stretcher and Bucky caught Sam relaying Pietro’s vitals to the EMT, Steve asking where they were taking him, and Darcy and Wanda staying as close to Pietro as the EMTs would allow. Clint remained kneeling on the floor, his t-shirt – and why the hell was he only wearing a t-shirt in the middle of winter? - covered in streaks of blood, gore from where Pietro had been laying seeping into the knees of his jeans. Somewhere in the midst of observing the scene, the audio cut out once again, as though someone hit the mute button on his brain, and his peripheral vision cut in and out until all he could see clearly was the image directly in front of him.

He blinked once, twice, and then looked down at his blood-covered hands. It occurred to him that he should find water, to wash them, and that meant finding a sink.

He must have turned too quickly. That was the only explanation he could come up with for why his vision cut out entirely at that point. Bucky considered trying to speak and then his mind shut off entirely and he considered nothing at all.