Chapter 7
Clint Barton, beta, Archer-Extraordinaire(!) That title must always be accompanied by a ‘!’ – the circus was all about the glamour after all), superhero, and however else he chose to identify himself, was quite thoroughly in a conundrum.
Wrapped within his arms was his ex-teammate, who also happened to be an omega. That was where the issue began even though that theoretically shouldn’t have been an issue at all. The fact that Tony was shivering on top of having hypothermia made it a rather large issue. The further fact that Clint was unsure whether Tony was shaking due to cold or ‘substantial levels of emotional upheaval’ (or so the SHIELD shrinks would call it) was yet another issue.
Clint was well aware that he should be encouraging Tony back to the heating pads laid out on his bed. To his daughter. To the blankets.
He knew that.
But the fact that this was an emotional omega who was still emitting scents of distress? That was making it very hard to convince his hindbrain to listen to sense. The fact that it was an omega he cared about just made it all the harder.
Now, normally betas didn’t have the protective sense that alphas were so renowned for, it was true. Yet what were people for if not to be unpredictable every now and again? There were always people who broke the mould; alphas who preferred to be protected, omegas who weren’t remotely submissive and betas who preferred to stir and not be the glue which held society together.
Those people weren’t all that uncommon either. Society tended to accept them just fine.
Society was cooler than seventy-odd years ago when everything had been much more regimented.
There had been peaceful protest marches back in the seventies about how wanted to be more ‘gender-fluid’ – the thing that had really caught people’s attention though was that the marches had involved people from all genders. Alphas. Betas. Omegas. Everyone had been unhappy with the status quo.
So the status quo was altered.
It hadn’t happened overnight, sure, and things weren’t right yet. But they were improving.
People certainly seemed less judgemental if you didn’t fit into the expected role at any rate. Hell, kids were being taught in schools that you didn’t have to follow what stereotypes suggested – that was always a massive step forward.
Anyway, those were all procrastinating thoughts about why it was so damned difficult for him to stop trying to soothe Tony when it was obvious to his more logical thought process that this wasn’t what the man needed.
Time to kick his hindbrain into gear before Tony grew even sicker than he already was.
“Hey, Tony? You registering me still, man?”
Tony nodded slightly, a bare jostle of his head against Clint’s neck that could easily have been caused by the shuddering the other man was doing. Clint chose to interpret it as a nod.
“Alright, I’m going to stand up and grab a towel, alright? Then get you changed out of those damp clothes and then we can get you back with the little’un and warmed up, does that sound alright? I know you’re tired, so you just sit here and let me do all the work.”
Was this how Natasha felt the majority of the time? Contemplating every word and action before she performed it? Weighing up how to act right down to the tiny minutiae.
It seemed important to make sure that Tony knew precisely what was going on, and Clint got consent to his plan – there was something very obviously wrong here, and Clint was beginning to have nasty suspicions that Carl, Tony’s Bonded, was at the bottom of it. The only thing that the Tony had reacted to over the past few hours had been someone mentioning getting in contact with him. It hadn’t been a positive reaction. The group had, as a whole, elected to not mention the man again until Tony was more lucid. Then decisions would be made.
With that in mind then the consent was even more important. Clint had noted with surprise how much power Tony had given up to Carl; prior to their meeting he had always been… rambunctious. Chatty. In control. He had changed hugely during the course of his relationship, but many people did on meeting their Bonded. Nonetheless, it seemed important to let Tony make decisions for himself – divorce himself from Carl within Tony’s, admittedly addled, mind.
With that in mind, Clint hadn’t even wanted to mention Alicia by name in case the thought of her drove Tony out of this half-daze he was settling in to. This docility was pretty terrifying to look at, but if it meant that Tony was losing that scent of panic that had drawn Clint into the bathroom? Then that was only a good thing. Keep the man calm, keep him relaxed, get him into bed and sleeping. Then see what tomorrow would bring. That was Clint’s mission.
If this was how Natasha’s mind worked then Clint’s estimation of her rose even higher than before. It was fucking confusing! Not to speak of exhausting.
Tony’s barely there nod repeated itself, so hopefully the omega was at least a little more with it than he appeared.
He appeared to be in some advanced state of shock, interrupted only those horrific intermittent trembles. He looked so… tiny. It was a cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason, right?
Consent given, Clint made sure Tony was braced by one hand before pushing himself to his feet with a muttered groan. He was getting too old to be sitting on shower-stall floors with shell-shocked teammates having some form of mental break-down, damnit! He reached out with his spare hand and snagged the towel that was handily hanging on the rail. Maybe it wouldn’t be as soft as the Billionaire was used to, but it would dry him off a great deal better than the cool air that all hospitals seemed to harbour.
“Alright there, Tony. I’m going to start to get these wet clothes off now, alright?”
It seemed somehow extra important to make sure Tony gathered that this was happening. You know, flashbacks and all, his mind clearly wasn’t quite with it.
“Can you respond to me verbally, Shellhead? Just want to make sure we’re on the same page and all.”
“…k.”
The slurred response did very little to reassure Clint. Maybe it would be better to try and rub him dry a bit first? See if that would stir some life into the omega. It didn’t matter if this towel got too wet – there were always more. It was so stupid of no one to go into the shower with Tony, just to make sure that he was alright. So foolish of them.
It had seemed important at the time to give him a few moments to collect himself. To assimilate everything that was happening.
Maybe that’s what the billionaire they knew before would have needed. This version of Tony was clearly a different kettle of fish.
Without further pause, Clint crouched back down so the omega was safely encased within his bent knees and wrapped the towel around the billionaire’s shoulders. The beta then proceeded to vigorously rub his hands up and down the man’s shoulders in an attempt to stimulate warmth and dry him simultaneously.
Initially, Tony just sat there, allowing the movements to happen in a passive fashion that ill-suited the man. However, after a moment or two, one hand slowly reached out and caught at the two ends of the fabric, pulling them around his thin frame tighter so as to encase the warmth caused by Clint’s energetic actions.
Clint grinned at the physical response – it seemed like there was indeed life! Now, how to proceed… Getting Tony changed and into warm clothes seemed imperative. He slowed his rubbing down so that the rustle of the towel wouldn’t detract from his words. At least the man’s arms had some colour to them now! Even if it was only reddened by friction.
“You hold that there, Tony. I’m just going to get you some clothes to change into, alright? I’ll be one minute, two tops.”
Clint again paused, waiting until he received a response from the exhausted omega before pushing up from his crouched position (damn knees). He once again made sure that Tony was securely positioned and not likely to topple over without the archer’s physical support before hurrying back into the main room to get some of the hospital-issued clothes he was sure he’d spotted previously.
The contrasting scents on entering the bedroom made him halt briefly – tension and irritation being the strongest things he could smell. “Hey, guys!” he snapped, glaring at each team member and the cop who was for some reason still present. “Tone that down, now!” So what if it wasn’t his place to be giving orders; if Tony came in here smelling that then all of Clint’s hard work would be for naught. “Tony’s alright – was having some issues but we’re getting there.”
Yes, if the cop wasn’t there then he might have said more. Yet if the cop wasn’t there then the room probably wouldn’t have stunk so of tension. However… if the cop wasn’t there, then it was likely that Tony wouldn’t have been either. Clint wanted to be irritated with the man, particularly as he was so obviously there because he didn’t trust the Avengers with Tony in this fragile state.
Yet…
Why was Tony in this fragile state? Someone had let the ball drop, and Clint was having the nasty suspicion that it really was partially their fault.
Maybe the cop had reasons to be annoyed and distrusting with them.
But now was not the time! They could settle all this when Tony was resting comfortably.
“I was about to suggest that you all head to the cafeteria to settle this, but I’m guessing you,” and here he nodded at Walker, “won’t be willing to do that. Give me a bit longer and get Tony into bed and sleeping, then we can talk. He’s the important one here, not whatever drama we’re all cooking up between us, right?”
Without waiting for a response, Clint carried on through the room as though he had everyone’s assent and picked up the clothes he had spied on the bed. He wasn’t interested in disagreements right now.
As soon as Hawkeye re-entered the bathroom, clothes in hand, Walker turned his attention back on the Avengers who were still lined up against the opposite wall and just radiating tension.
How could he alter this situation? He’d had training at dealing with people damnit, and his Ma had brought him up to display some form of manners, surely? He could do this, defuse this tension. Find out quite how culpable these guys were, and then see Tony settled.
Walker determinedly ignored the uneasy churning in his gut at the thought that the Avengers could somehow be responsible for the state of Nearly-2—Tony. That level of uneasiness was right up there with the idea that heroes could be hurt. Was worse, really.
Game time.
Walker did not even attempt to retain the hefty sigh that fled his lungs and making his entire upper torso inflate. Nor did he prevent his hand from reaching up, almost of its own will, to rub at the back of his neck in the most stereotypical example of exhaustion ever.
Walker snorted, absurdly amused at himself for being such a walking cliché.
“Right then lads, lass. Hawkeye’s right, let’s clear this tension quickly, hey? You’re mad at me because I obviously don’t trust you and am refusing to leave you alone with the kid in there, right?” He lifted one eyebrow in a deliberately cocky fashion as he aimed his words at Captain America rather than the group as a whole. Made him less nervous that way.
“I’m pretty certain I’m right on that, so will just continue to lay out the facts as I see them.” Walker hiked his eyebrow up further as the Captain’s mouth opened as if to interrupt. Walker refused to raise his voice with the kid still in earshot, but damn the man if he thought he could just interrupt Walker mid-sort-of-rant.
“You. Will. Wait. I’m speaking.”
That was said with all the force of a southern-born cop, no increase in volume, but with a deep undercurrent of fury and yes, threat, buried within his tone. His Ma would’ve been proud.
“As I was saying. I was called out to try and stop this suicidal, homeless kid from making himself a smear on the banks of the river in Hudson Heights.” He kept his wording purposefully graphic and relished the flinch which ran through the group as a ripple of movement; not a tactic he normally relished, but he was exhausted, damn it. Exhausted and fed up of this team of superheroes who had potentially been one of the causes for Almost-23 being in this state.
His sudden surge of rage surprised even him.
It was possible that this group of people had not been the direct cause for Tony’s state, but their confusion and concern clearly showed that they hadn’t known he was this badly off. Yes, he would not normally blame people’s friends for allowing abuse to occur, but this was not an ordinary group of people.
They were a team.
They were meant to have each other’s backs, to care for each other. Theirs was typically a lonely existence as was any person who worked within the services.
Sometimes a team was all someone had.
That they had let their duty slip so badly…
Walker was beyond fuming.
“Myself and my partner had to stop this kid, this ‘Almost-23’ from jumping more than once. He was that driven. That desperate. That alone. We got him back here to the hospital for him to suddenly recognise that all the pain he was in wasn’t just down to his own injuries, but an over-stretched Bond with his own kid. That’s where you guys came in.”
Walker paused once more to level a glare at the team of superheroes who were looking steadily less and less annoyed and much more shamefaced. Maybe this wasn’t the way that Hawkeye had intended for the tension to be dissipated, but it was sort of working.
“Now. The only reason that I haven’t asked to have you escorted out by security is the fact that Tony left his kid with you. That tells me that he has some form of trust in you, and, more importantly, trusts you with his kid. He knows you won’t hurt her, which therefore suggests that you weren’t the ones who physically hurt him. Or, you know, you’ve beaten him into believing that he deserved everything that’s gone wrong, but I somehow don’t think that he’d entrust his daughter with you even if that was the case.”
One finger slowly raised to tap at his chin idly in genuine contemplation rather than the theatrical movement it was so often used as these days. “I really don’t know what to do here, guys. You’re the Avengers. The epitome of goodness and protectiveness. Yet this has happened to one of your old teammates?”
Right Walker. Time to rein it back a bit – there was such a thing as too harsh and he had leapt over that line with miles to spare. Superheroes were just people too. They made mistakes, and his deductions were logical. That plus their concern really did not seem feigned. Yes, of course, some abusers did feel guilty and horrified at their actions, but the whole team? That wasn’t likely.
He shook his head, trying to clear the anger from it.
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for; it’s been a long day. I’m sore, grumpy and somewhat shocked at the break from routine.” As he apologised he rolled out his shoulders in an effort to release the tension, grimacing at the ache that the movement caused to resound through his body. Coffee. That’s what he needed. Could he go and wheedle one out of the nurses office? Their coffee was so much superior to the liquefied dog-crap the cafeteria served. How would he even get to the nurses office from here? Why were all hospitals such damn warrens, anyway? The tired officer released another heavy sigh as he looked around for a seat to collapse into. It all sounded far too much like effort, plus he wanted to be here when Tony came out again. Speaking of, should he go and knock on the door? They were being a long time in there…
“We…” Captain America’s tone trailed away as he clearly tried to collect his thoughts. The tone was… well it wasn’t precisely contrite. But it wasn’t filled with the barely restrained frustration that had been present before.
“We’ve barely spoken to Stark…Tony in recent years. Not since he moved out of New York. Things grew…difficult. He grew less reliable – stopped always coming out when he was needed. Was purposefully disrespectful. More reckless. It was difficult because in a way he was acting his age in way he never had previously. He was acting out, just like a typical teenager. We, no, I, didn’t know how to respond to his behaviour and didn’t always act well. He and I had several arguments until eventually he just stormed out and moved in with Carl. The rest of the team tried to keep in contact with Tony, but their attempts were rebuffed, until eventually it seemed better to just let him contact us when he was willing.”
Walker tiredly hiked up his eyebrow once more only to be startled as a mug of steaming liquid was thrust in front of his face held by none other than one Bruce Banner. Or the Hulk, you know, the guy it was incredibly wise to do what he told you to. “Th-thanks.” Stammered the officer, startled by the sudden movement.
“You looked tired,” came the reply from the seemingly perpetually rumpled doctor with a strained smile. “I figured that I’d be able to help with that, at least.” If there was an overtone of bitterness and self-hatred to the man’s tone? Well… it was deserved. Right? Somehow Walker’s rant, combined with the Captain’s admittedly truly repentant and pathetic expression, seemed to have drained all the residual anger from the grizzled man’s frame.
“I’m sure none of you meant any harm.” He begrudgingly admitted, “and in a way I’m holding you to impossible standards because of who you are. That’s just as wrong in its own right, so I am sorry. Where to go from now? Fixing this. Who could have caused this situation? What happened. Finding that out is the priority. My money is on his Bonded going from his earlier reaction. It’s unusual, but it does happen.”
Banner was just about to reply when the door to the bathroom reopened revealing Hawkeye with the kid tucked securely under his arm and wrapped up in several layers of towels. “Here we go, Tony.” He was murmuring soothingly as he near carried the three-quarter asleep man to the bed. “Let’s get you settled.”
Bruce immediately made his way over to the bed, conveniently out of the duo’s path and carefully passed the sleeping Alicia to Natasha whilst lifting the numerous blankets up so the nearly comatose billionaire could just slide in with no distractions. As soon as he was settled, Natasha returned the slumbering infant to her mother while Banner tucked the pair in securely.
“Tony?” the doctor whispered, not wanting to alarm him, “is it alright if I start up an IV? You need some fluids pretty badly.”
No-one quite predicted the omega’s response.