Clint/Bobby
He dumped his body armour in the river. His duffel bag of weapons in a construction site. As he got further from the center of the city, he shed more and more of his gear. If anyone found all of them, and put together the chain of clues, it would have been a sign pointing out what direction he was taking; Clint was counting on that.
Once he’d hot-wired a beat up sedan, and thrown the last of his tech equipment into someone’s backyard, he got on the highway, headed back the way he’d come, through the ever worsening city traffic, cursing loudly at the other drivers, laying his hand on the horn when required. It took him three hours to get across the city.
No one tracking him would have expected him to sit through that.
Natasha isn’t answering her phone. Steve’s number goes straight to voicemail. Autopilot has him dialing Phil’s number, and it’s only when he’s listening to the ringing of the machine that he realizes.
He hangs up.
No one else to call. He pushes the pedal down, and speeds on.
Clint stops several hours later, filling up his gas tank at a small station. He swipes his card- declined? He blinks at the card. Swipes it again. Declined. Clint pulls out his wallet, digs around for his other credit card, smiling in apology at the clerk.
Declined again.
“Shit, shit. I’ve got cash.” The cashier barely looks at him as she passes back his change. Clint swears some more to himself, as he walks back to the card, thinking things through. They must have cut off his accounts. Already. This went deeper than he thought. Fuck-
He tries Natasha and Steve again. Nothing. Tries Stark even, though it makes him want to puke. And again- nothing.
“Fuck!”
He takes the turn out of the gas station too fast, speeds down the road. It doesn’t make sense, god this is- First Steve and Nat go silent. Then Pierce pulls him off his long term mission, asks for a private meeting, talking about changing the world. Weird, and creepy, and when Clint bows out of whatever, says he is happy with his work, happy with Fury’s guidance-
Strike team following him, not ones he recognizes, and someone waiting for him when he heads back to the apartment-
Something was rotten in SHIELD, and no one was answering their phones. Just his luck.
“Okay, Barton. Figure this out.” He keeps driving. Best thing to do- stay on the move. Nat and Steve must have just gone on a mission, and they’d answer their voicemail soon, and they’d figure this out.
He checks into a little motel near Westchester, pays with the last of his cash.
When he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he does is check his phone. Nothing. He drags a hand through his hair, figures out how to work the coffee machine, swallows the disgusting stuff it produces. He’ll head to New York, see if Tony’s at the Tower, that’s a good plan. Another coffee, and he’ll hit the road-
There’s someone sitting on his car. His stolen car, but still- There’s someone sitting on the hood of the engine.
Clint stops, carefully lowering the cup from his mouth. With his other arm, he shifts his duffel bag off his shoulder. The only gear he’d kept was his quiver and bows, but still- important. Distinctive though, so won’t pull those if he can help it. “Can I help you?” No sign of a back up team, no indication this is anything more than a single operative.
The man raises his eyebrows. “Well I was hoping to bum a ride, but looks like you need the help more than I do.”
Clint drops the coffee cup. It spills hot and thick over his shoes, and he yelps. “Oh fuck!”
The guy laughs. “Well- that answers that.” He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the short phrase in Clint’s sloppy handwriting. “Bobby Drake.”
Clint kicks the empty coffee cup away, and secures his duffel bag on his shoulder, and smiles. “I- Clint.” He offers out his hand, shakes firmly when Bobby’s calluses press against his own. “You always ask for rides from strangers in hotel parking lots?”
Bobby doesn’t let go of his hand. Jerks his head at Clint’s stolen sedan. “Picked the one with pro mutant stickers. Seemed the safest bet.”
Clint hadn’t even noticed them.
“Okay so like- full honesty? It’s not my car.” Clint had been in a lot of shit in his life, and didn’t have many people he could trust. He had to hope that, fingers crossed and all that, his soulmate would be one of them. Phil and Nat and Steve and Bobby now. “I stole it.”
Bobby still hasn’t let go of his hand. But the smile does slip. “So you’re not- the radical pro mutant gay rights blue haired liberal?”
There’s something about his voice that sounds younger than he looks, still with all that faith in the world that Clint has lost.
“Hey don’t get me wrong- still plenty for all of that. I just don’t usually drive vehicles with such distinctive markings.”
Bobby looks at him, as their fingers slip apart, their hands falling away from each other. Bobby’s eyes go up and down, taking in Clint again with some more careful consideration. “You said- Clint. Clint Barton. Holy fuck, you’re Hawkeye!”
“Hey, look, keep that down.”
“Oh god. That stuff in DC- did you have anything to do with that?”
Clint blinks. “What stuff in DC?” Did he miss something big? Is that why no one is answering his phone calls and the card isn’t working? “Shit, I should-”
Bobby takes a step forward, then catches up with Clint’s panic and maybe a bit of smarts about how Clint might possible react, and backs up. “It was all over the news. Captain America took down SHIELD.”
It’s crazy enough that Clint does a cartoon worthy, wide eyed stare at Bobby. Pokes one of his hearing aids with a finger just to have it crackle and confirm that it’s working. “What.”
“There was a couple of giant ships that SHIELD launched out of the river in DC, and then they kinda blew up? Apparently Captain America discovered something shady going on, the press was going nuts. DC is mostly still on fire- was actually hoping to bum a ride there and help out if I could.”
“Shit yes, of course.” Fuck, and if there was shady shit in SHIELD enough for Captain America to blow stuff up- that had to be connected to how weird Pierce was being. He knew he should have retired when Phil died.
They’re in the car and twenty miles down the highway back towards DC when Clint finally asks, “so... soulmate?”
Bobby holds up his right hand. “Really hoping you meant it when you said you’re good with the mutant stuff.” The air in the car turns cold, and Clint is definitely not watching the road in front of him as a whole ice ball forms in Bobby’s hand.
“Holy shit.” He swears under his breath. “You’re Iceman.”
“You know about me?”
“I’m a damn SHIELD agent! OF course I know about all the weird vigilantes that Fury tried to track down! I got fucking assigned to finding the claw dude for two whole months as punishment duty!”
“Claw du- CAR!” Clint swerves back into the lane, and Bobby throws the iceball out the window as they both let out a shaky laugh. “Okay maybe we save this for once we get to DC.”
“Probably smart.”