Chapter 2
Luck just wasn't on their side, Clint thought viciously even as he took aim and took out two more of the men that had caught up and cut them off from the extraction point. Stiles was curled up on the ground beside him, eyes squeezed shut and hands pressed over his ears, and Clint felt for the kid. He felt it before he saw them – felt the difference when the hostiles were no longer just aiming at him. He ducked up for a second, letting off another shot but even as he did he saw what was going on – the extraction team was here. He crouched down in front of Stiles then, tapping him gently on the knee. The boy opened his eyes and Clint offered him a smile.
“Back up's here.” But even as he said it, Stiles' eyes were looking over his shoulder, eyes widening in fear. Clint moved instantly, and even as the hostile brought his gun up to shoot Clint was hitting the wrist wide with the flat of his hand, bringing himself in to grab the wrist, keeping it wide of the boy and forcing the gun from the man's hand. Then he spun back with his elbow, connecting with the man's head. The man didn't even have the chance to react before Clint was changing his grip to flip the man over, gun in his hand as he held him there on the ground, gun pointed at the man's head. It was then he realized that Stiles was staring at him with wide eyes and he shifted his grip on the gun, bringing it down to knock the man out.
“Barton – status.” he heard Coulson's voice call from where the rest of the hostiles had been moments before and Clint couldn't help his smirk. Trust Coulson to oversee this one personally.
“All good over here, boss.” he called, but he stayed crouched in front of Stiles, sliding his gun away. “You all good?” Stiles nodded, accepting the hand up Clint offered him, and Clint grabbed his pack again, moving so that Coulson could see him. At the sight of him, Coulson made towards them and as soon as he was close, Clint guided Stiles out from where he'd been hiding.
“Sir, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is my boss, Phil Coulson.”
"Hello," Stiles offered timidly, casting furtive glances at Clint, and Coulson watched as his top assassin returned the looks with a calming smile. Though outwardly he didn't react, Coulson sighed internally. This was definitely going to be complicated.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Coulson replied, and it earned him a small smile from both child and archer. Oh this was definitely going to be complicated. "We need to move. The quinjet is waiting." At Clint's raised brow, Coulson gave a slight smile. "Romanov's flying." That had Clint grinning. Natasha had been annoyed that Clint was being sent on a mission without her and he was sure she'd been displeased to hear there had been trouble.
"You'll like Natasha." Clint told Stiles easily, and Coulson didn't miss how Clint had the boy's hand held firmly in his own, carefully guiding him forward.
"What's going to happen when we get back?" Coulson kept walking ahead of them despite having heard the question, and despite feeling Clint's eyes on him, he ignored them as the archer answered.
"Like I said, Stiles. I'm going to stay with you until we figure it out." Now he realized Clint's stare was probably a challenging one, but Coulson wasn't going to challenge this.
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Natasha turned at the sound of Clint's voice and despite having known there would be a child with him she couldn't help her surprise when she saw the boy dressed in Clint's favourite shirt, his tiny hand held in Clint's, her best friend talking amiable to the boy as he helped him along, and there was a softness to him she wasn't used to seeing aimed at anyone outside of their little team. He looked up when they got close and she found herself on the receiving end of one of his grins, the ones that said look what I found can I keep it, and she couldn't help her smile. It only had his grin widening and she found him directing the boy's attention to her.
"See that woman? That's Natasha."
"Her hair is like fire." Stiles replied in awe, and Clint laughed.
"Yeah, it is." Then the boy looked up at Clint nervously and as children did, his whisper carried to her easily.
"What if she doesn't like me?" Clint just gave the boy the softest smile she'd ever seen.
"Nat may look scary but on the inside she's a huge softy. She'll like you."
"She doesn't look scary on the outside." Stiles countered, "She looks nice."
"Then you have nothing to worry about." The terrible logic had the boy smiling, but he didn't argue because they'd reached the jet.
"Nat, I'd like you to meet Stiles. Stiles, this is my partner, Natasha."
"Partner - like love?'
"Sure I love her," Clint said easily, "But not like you're thinking. I love her like family." It had Stiles nodding sagely before he looked at Natasha, tentative smile blooming.
"Hello,"
"Hi there, I hear you're coming back with us." Stiles glanced up at Clint but Clint was still smiling and so he looked back to Natasha, nodding.
"I think so."
"Have you ever flown in a jet like this before?" She asked, and Stiles shook his head. "Come on then, you won't want to miss this." Stiles' smile grew more comfortable and he nodded, walking slightly ahead of Clint now though he kept his hand firmly in the archer's.
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Natasha could understand why Clint had grown so attached so quickly. The boy had the biggest eyes that seemed to stare right into your soul and see the truth about your character with a single glance and he was brave - braver than any other child would have been in his situation. And as he got comfortable with them his cleverness peaked out - in how he reacted to their own conversations and in how his quick fingers mimicked motions they all did with their own with a curiosity that clearly held no bounds. He asked question after question until he received an answer that made sense to him, and it often went beyond what they'd expected him to understand. At one point Natasha had spoken and Stiles' gaze had zeroed in on her.
"Do you speak Russian?" He asked, and they'd all blinked in surprise before she'd nodded.
"I do. How did you know?"
"My mom -" his eyes clouded but he continued. "She used to speak polish. She said words like you do sometimes."
"Do you speak polish?"
"Only a little, I wanted to learn, but-" he shrugged, looking away, and when his gaze wasn't on them, Clint lifted his hands to sign.
"They told him his parents are dead." Clint clarified, be neither could respond because Stiles had looked back up, a new question already in mind.
"Where are we going?" The adults all exchanged a look before Clint answered.
"New York."
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"Stiles in medical?" Natasha asked, surprised to see Clint without the boy, and Clint scowled.
"They kicked me out and Stiles said he'd be fine." The words clearly left a sour taste in the archer's mouth and Natasha couldn't help the foreboding feeling it gave her. Children shouldn't be used to such fear - such pain. She knew better than most what such an environment did to a child.
"Being fine isn't the same as being okay." Natasha reminded him, and Clint looked at a loss. "Let's go check on him."
Clint had barely even glanced through the window before he was cursing, bursting into the room and knocking the doctor with the syringe away before his gun was back in hand and he was all but shaking with fury.
"Let him go." He snapped. Stiles was staring at him in shock but there was relief there as well. Clint had come back to see two doctors holding Stiles still despite his struggles and his tears, and it infuriated him.
"Agent Barton-" one of the doctors began, but before he could finish his sentence Clint clicked off the safety, stilling as he met Stiles' gaze, who stared back, waiting.
"I wouldn't argue with him, doctor." Natasha all but purred, and both doctors clearly hadn't noticed her because they released Stiles as if he'd burned them.
"Get out." The three left immediately and without argument and Clint took a moment to put his gun away, moving closer to Stiles. "Are you okay?" Stiles nodded but he was still shaking and so Clint decided to sit on the bed next to him, lifting his arm to put around Stiles' shoulders. The boy responded by tucking himself into Clint's side, his knees coming up so he could curl up as small as he could, bare feet tucking under Clint's thigh. "Why didn't you call for me to come back?" There was a beat of silence before Stiles answered.
"They said no." Clint went still and that's when Natasha came forward, putting a hand on his knee.
"We're both going to stay with you now. Okay?" She asked, and Stiles looked up to give her a small smile of relief.
"Okay." The two adults exchanged a glance before Clint spoke up.
"What were they trying to do?"
"They wanted to take my blood." Stiles admitted. "But I don't like needles. They hurt." Clint could only imagine where such a fear had come from and sighed.
"They probably need to make sure you're not sick or anything. That everything is clean and healthy." Stiles just shuddered and Clint looked at Natasha for back up and so she spoke up. Ever so gently, she put her hand on Stiles' knee as well, drawing his gaze.
"What if I told you we know someone who can make it so you barely feel the needle? And we'll stay with you the whole time?" Stiles just stared at her, biting his lip nervously.
"Barely?" She put her hand out and he put his in hers hesitantly. She gave his wrist a gentle pinch before running her fingers over the spot to soothe, and he blinked in surprise.
"Just like that." He gave a tiny disbelieving laugh, but he nodded.
"Okay." She stood straight then, lifting a brow at Clint, and he knew what she was asking. Were they going to ask for permission to take the boy? And Clint just shook his head. The doctors deserved trouble for this.