Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes | Every Thirty Days | Chapter One
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Every Thirty Days
Chapter One
Clint
Sometimes, Clint felt sorry for Bruce Banner. He was only allowed to have charge of the body he shared with Hulk once every thirty days-but Banner had agreed to the deal. He'd told them all that he wanted Hulk to be accepted for himself, and that had meant letting Jade Jaws be in charge. Anyway, it wasn't any of Clint's business what Hulk and Banner decided to do about their time-share arrangements.
Clint figured that since he and Hulk were bro's, he'd keep an eye on the Hulk's alter ego, egghead that he was, and keep him out of trouble. Now, according to his calendar, it was about time for Banner to show up.
“JARVIS, where's Hulk?”
“Hulk is on the rooftop, swimming in the pool, Master Barton.”
After changing into his own swimsuit, Clint headed up to the mansion's roof, and grinned when he saw Hulk floating in the water, eyes closed, relaxing.
He dropped his towel by the lounge chairs and cannon-balled into the pool, laughing when he surfaced, hearing Hulk roaring for splashing him.
Hulk stood up, grabbed Clint, and then threw him half the pool length from him, chuckling himself when Clint floundered through the air and did a belly smacker when he landed.
Clint spat out a mouthful of water and said, “Ow. Hey, Jolly Green. When ya gonna let Banner out? Today? Tomorrow?”
Hulk just grunted.
“He tell you where he wants to go this time?”
Hulk climbed out of the pool and shook himself like a huge dog. “Banner's not coming out.”
“Why? He decide to quit tormenting the fish?”
Clint was puzzled. Banner always tried to cram in as much “me” time as he could.
Hulk shrugged. “Don't know why. He just said no. I told him if he didn't take his turn he would lose it. He said he knew.”
The Hulk left then and Clint started doing laps, and counting back in his head to when he had last seen Banner. It must have been when they'd first encountered the Red Hulk.
Banner had wanted to go fishing and camping. Again. Clint had argued with him before they left because, hello, Skrull invasion, but Banner calmly kept insisting this was what he wanted to do. He'd told Clint he could just drop him off and pick him up tomorrow, if Clint wanted to stay at the mansion.
Clint wasn't about to let him go alone, but he kept pointing out they should be doing something, anything about the way the Skrulls were stealing people's identities. So he was being a nuisance. So what?
Banner had scanned all the Avengers before he and Clint packed up their camping gear and flew to a lake. He said there was nothing more he could do.
Clint didn't want to hear that. He grumped about it all the way to the campsite and kept it up out in the fishing boat. Doctor Bruce Banner was a genius; Clint had seen him pull a solution out of a hat to stop the Leader's monster making gamma dome. He wanted Banner to get fired up about hunting down the Skrull imposters.
Banner didn't catch fire. He didn't even smolder. He just turned to look at Clint, calmly re-stated that none of the Avengers were showing any kind of radiation discrepancy. If any of them were aliens, he couldn't detect it.
Clint had kept glaring at him, but Banner hadn't glared back. He'd looked blank again, like he usually did when Clint was pestering him about something.
Then Clint had gotten a glimpse that Banner wasn't as laid back about his little arrangement with Hulk as he tried to make them believe.
“You have no idea what it's like, being in the Hulk's head, or what I'm giving up so that Hulk can be seen as a force for good,” Banner had said.
Clint heard emotion embedded in those words, frustration, a hint of exhaustion, determination, but just as quickly as he'd let them slip, Banner buried those feelings. The mask he wore was firmly back in place as he stated he was taking the day for him, and he was going fishing.
Clint knew he'd been an ass, telling Banner that he was tired of being with him after just four hours of his company, and that he missed Hulk.
Banner had looked off to the side, then told him, “Hulk says that Cupid, ah, you, should take a nap. He'll see you tomorrow.”
“He would have told me I was being a jerk, too. You kept that part to yourself, didn't you?”
Banner ignored him and reeled in his line.
“How come you don't tell me I'm a jerk? I bet you're thinking it.”
Banner cast his line out again and concentrated on watching the bobber float.
“Just say it, Doc. C'mon, tell me what you really think about me, I can take it. Clear the air, and all.”
Banner didn't answer him, but Clint saw his shoulders slump a little. When Banner hadn't said a word in fifteen more minutes, despite Clint egging him on, Clint decided to leave him alone.
Banner had brought sandwiches. Clint ate a turkey and ham one quietly, wondering what it was like to just be a voice and images in somebody else's head.
Clint had handed him a sandwich after a while, and Banner finally spoke again.
“Thank you,” he'd said.
Later, they'd worked companionably together at the campsite. Clint told a pretty good story about teaching Thor to play poker. Banner listened, and it was almost like they actually liked spending time with each other. Clint played with getting the campfire going, and Banner scavenged around for more dry wood.
Banner had stepped away to get another armload when Jan called. Banner knew the trip was over as soon as he saw Clint sitting there with the card in his hand.
“My day just got cut short, didn't it?” He dropped his armload of wood and looked resigned, rather than blank. “Who's attacking now, time travelers, aliens?”
Banner had slipped, snarking like that. But that was nothing compared to the shocked look on his freckled, scruffy face when Clint said that it was him, the Hulk -- destroying the helicarrier.
* * *
Be careful what you wish for, his mother used to tell him. He'd wanted Banner to express some real emotion and now he was getting an earful.
There was a new player in town, and Maria Hill thought it was their Hulk. He was another hulk, all right, red skin, black hair, huge muscles. Clint and Banner watched the footage of him rampaging on the helicarrier as they flew back home.
Cap said Banner needed to stay Banner. It wasn't a good idea for Hulk to show up. He ordered Clint to keep Banner at the mansion, but Banner wanted the two of them to go and help Jan and Steve. Clint refused to take him out to face danger, not as Bruce Banner. They were still arguing when Clint landed the quinjet. Banner didn't want to accept that both he and Hulk were grounded.
“I said no.”
Banner's facade of calmness cracked. “How do you get to say no to me? I'm an Avenger. I was an Avenger before you were. I want to help.”
Clint turned and saw that Banner was frowning. He was tired of this conversation. Banner was staying put and that was that.
“Okay, A:? You're not an Avenger. The Hulk is. Calling you an Avenger is like saying my bow is a member of the team.”
He added, reasonably, “And two:? Cap's right. You have to stay here.”
Banner followed him into the elevator and the mask was back in place. Banner's voice was calm as he said, “You're making it very difficult to not turn into the Hulk and tear you apart.”
Clint gave him some space in the elevator. Banner would just have to accept that he wasn't going anywhere.
* * *
Upstairs, their party of two became three when the dude with the wings showed up.
Falcon shot at Clint and landed a dart in Banner's arm. He swooped Banner up and tossed him over his shoulder, then flew up towards the gigantic hole in the roof.
So kidnapping was on somebody's agenda.
Banner hadn't been able to change into Hulk, because his abductor had shot him up with some kind of drug.
Clint had stopped the guy, but the Red Hulk had stomped in and had taken Banner instead. When Clint had caught up to them, the Red Hulk had been roughing Banner up, trying to make him change to Hulk so they could fight. But Banner hadn't changed, and the Red Hulk had grabbed Clint instead, starting in on him. Red Hulk had dangled Clint by an arm, hurting him, still trying to force Banner to change.
Banner had stared with those big eyes of his looking... he'd looked terrified, but he wasn't terrified of the Red Hulk. Banner wasn't looking at the Red Hulk at all; he'd been staring at Clint. Clint pictured again the desperation on Banner's face, as he obviously kept trying to overcome the drug.
Clint had been screaming before the Red Hulk - fucking General Ross - was through with him, when Banner had finally been able to unleash Hulk.
The Red Hulk had scrammed and Hulk gave himself up to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody on Skrull Captain America's advice. Clint knew that Steve felt responsible for Hulk's submitting to Ross, even though it had been an imposter at work.
Clint hadn't seen Banner since and that had been months and months ago.
Cap and Tony had gone to free him when the president had finally signed the orders, but Clint hadn't been invited.
Cap had probably been afraid Clint would shoot Ross with one of his arrows. Who knew, Clint might have done it. Fucking General Ross. He'd implanted a device in Banner's brain, driving Banner and Hulk crazy. Hulk had ended up back in custody until the Avengers had discovered the device and freed Hulk again.
Hulk had taken some time for himself after they'd gotten the device out of his head. He was peeved that it had taken so long for the Avengers to get him out of custody, but he wasn't roaringly angry about it. He knew they were his team, his friends. And he came back to fight Galactus. But between all of that, it had been too long since Clint had seen Banner's freckled face.
Clint climbed out of the pool and dried off, wrapped the towel around his shoulders. It was a little too chilly to lay around on a lounge chair and bask like a lizard. He might as well head back inside.
Back in his room, he thought he might cut the snark when Banner showed up next month. Give the guy a little break before he went back to needling him again, getting him to push back. But only for, eh, maybe half a day. Didn't want to confuse the guy.
He'd just have to wait another thirty days before getting the chance.
* * *
Clint wouldn't admit this to anyone, certainly not to Hulk, but he'd added Bruce Banner to his list of responsibilities. It wasn't like he really liked him. Sure, Banner was one of the smartest guys around, and when it came to helping the Avengers with science stuff, he was brilliant. But it was Hulk who did the heavy lifting for that duo. Hulk had proved himself a hero over and over. He was an Avenger. Banner was... more like a consultant. He wasn't cut out to be part of the team.
The first time Clint had seen Hulk transform back to Banner, the guy had actually passed out, only waking up after he'd been restrained for transport to the Cube. He'd looked so resigned. Clint hadn't been able to get that look out of his mind; it was partly why he'd gone to question Banner.
Banner had been standing with his arms fastened high over his head in a cold, top-notch security cell. He was only wearing shortened, tattered pants, and those damned brown eyes of his had looked hopeless. Banner had still looked straight at him. “Let me guess. You thought I'd be bigger?” he'd asked.
“Funny,” Clint had replied. He asked Banner about the monster who hadn't acted much like a monster. Hulk had chosen to save Clint and Natasha and their crew, when he could have escaped. That was why Banner got taken to the Cube. Some reward.
Banner had challenged Clint to find out what S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Hulkbusters wanted with Hulk and his blood. Banner had gotten passionate, describing what he thought was really happening in the Cube.
Clint had never been one to toe the party line, not even for S.H.I.E.L.D., and so he'd looked into Banner's claim that the gamma monsters, Hulk included, were there to be experimented on, not cured. It was true. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to make them into weapons.
Even after the Hulk's escape and Clint regaining his own freedom, it bothered Clint to remember how Banner had been restrained in that gamma dampener cell. He had to have been freezing in the chilly air and his arms must have really hurt after a while, held over his head like that.
The guy was little, but long-legged, skinny, with stubble that covered his freckled face. If he ever did shave it off, he'd look about twelve. His mop of light brown hair and those brown eyes, plus the way he always dressed in hoodies or wore a ball cap- well, it all made him look like a kid. He guessed Banner wore those clothes because they were comfortable and they'd been practical when he was on the run. He couldn't imagine Banner wearing a suit, like Stark or Pym.
Banner always acted really chill, like some sort of Buddhist monk or something, but whenever Clint started to wonder if maybe Banner was as bland as he tried to make everybody believe, he'd remember Banner challenging him and giving him lip. For all Banner had known, Clint had entered his cell to work him over. Banner just hadn't seemed to care.
Well, not about himself. He cared about other people and he cared about Hulk. He'd stick up for them, at least, trying to sound calm as he made his points. Sometimes he slipped for a brief moment and let out stronger emotions, but he always went back to sounding like he was whispering a mantra under his breath. If he truly was getting angry then he'd let Hulk take over. There was a definite line between Banner and Hulk and if you pushed Banner over it, he didn't stay Banner.
Sometimes, Clint thought he'd only seen the true Banner in that cell.
He wanted to see that passion and assertiveness and snark again.
So Clint liked to poke at him to make him drop the Zen act. Usually Banner wouldn't bite, which just made Clint want to try harder.
Once in a while Banner would calmly state that Clint was making him angry and if he didn't stop what he was doing, Hulk would show up and take care of the problem. Clint doubted it since he and Hulk were buddies. But he usually gave Banner some space and stopped yanking his chain, because Hulk might want to smash him, just a bit, to teach him a lesson.
Hulk didn't take any shit from anyone, and Clint respected him for that. It was kind of mutual. He'd stopped believing that Hulk was a menace to society after Banner had talked to Clint. Hulk was more like a misunderstood hero. They were pals, and Hulk had his back. Since Banner was the vulnerable one, that meant returning the favor translated into looking out for Banner.
So, Clint was okay with being Banner's watcher, because one of the Avengers needed to protect him on his day out, and keep an eye on Hulk.
Banner didn't agree. He'd pointed out a few times that he'd been on the run for years and had stayed in one piece without having a superhero tagging along. Clint had ignored his arguments. He thought Banner had given in and stopped fussing about having Clint with him because Clint was a pilot. Banner was a nature boy and if he wanted to get out in the wilderness and back in a day, he needed Clint's help.
Yeah, he was the one who babysat Banner, flew him up to Canada so Banner could commune with the fish or shiver like a leaf while building up a campfire. Sometimes Banner would work like a fiend in his cool little laboratory cabin. Clint would sprawl on the bed in the corner and watch him dart from one computer to another, adjusting a machine's settings or typing up notes. Banner would refuse to sleep while it seemed like he ran a dozen experiments. Later, when they had to return, the guy would keep his eyes glued to the cockpit windows, watching the clouds, and the rivers and mountains below them.
Banner never slept on the quinjet, even though his eyes would be drooping. Clint guessed that he didn't want to miss one single moment of his once a month pass out into the world.
Which was why it seemed kinda funny when Hulk said Banner didn't wanna come out for his turn.
* * *
It was just past dark, three days after Hulk and Clint had hung out at the pool and Hulk had told him that Banner wasn't coming out this month. Half of the team were relaxing outside, laughing, eating, and enjoying some down time after their latest skirmish with A.I.M. Jan had collected him, Thor, Jane, and Hulk and extracted promises from Tony, Steve, and T'Challa to come join them on the patio later.
Thor had wanted a campfire and Jan and Hulk decided that s'mores would be perfect. Jan kept burning her marshmallows, but since Hulk liked them that way, he was kept busy happily eating her mistakes.
Clint had stacked his perfectly toasted marshmallow on top of the graham cracker and Hershey bar, and put just the right amount of pressure on the top cracker to meld the whole gooey mess together.
Heaven.
Jan looked at her latest attempt - black crispy stickiness and broken crackers -- and gave it to Hulk.
“Clint, would you make me one?” Jan handed over her stick to him.
“You have to acknowledge that I am the Jedi-master of making s'mores first.”
Jan batted her eyes. “You know, Bobbi and I are going out clubbing tomorrow. I don't think she's heard the story of how you got locked out of the Baxter building in your--”
Clint held up his hands. “Fine. I'll make you as many s'mores as you want and you don't rat a teammate out.”
Jan held up her fist and Clint bumped it gently with his own. “Deal,” she said. He took her stick and slid two marshmallows on it.
He didn't care if Bobbi Morse heard about that disaster of a poker game. He'd caved because he liked teasing Jan, but he liked it even more when she held her ground and teased him right back.
Unlike some people.
Thor took a bite of his s'more and the oddest look came over his face. “I do not care for this confection, Jane. The sweetness is overpowering.”
Jane laughed, and took it from him. “I learned how to do this in Girl Scouts. I love them.”
Tony walked out of the mansion, carrying one of his health shakes.
Jan said, “Tony, you want a s'more?”
He shook his head. “Getting marshmallow out of my beard is a pain. I'll stick with this.” He held up his shake. Clint thought it looked like pond scum.
Clint turned the marshmallows on his stick precisely one-fourth of an inch to the left. At his side, Jan leaned over a little closer to the chiminea, and the light from the flames illuminated her eager face.
“When is it going to be done?”
“Soon, young padawan. Patience, must you have.”
He thought back to the last time he'd made s'mores. It had been awhile.
He and Banner had camped up in the Adirondacks. In order to make the most of Banner's twenty-four hour vacation, they'd flown in a quinjet and then ridden a sky scooter to a camping site.
It was a nice place, with hiking trails and a stream for fishing. Not that he actually told Banner that he liked this spot, but he hadn't bitched about being here. Banner would get the message.
Banner had been reading earlier, on the quinjet.
Clint had asked, “Hey, Doc, what's the name of your book?” Banner was a nerd, and Clint bet he was reading something nerdish.
“Dark Matter: Poems of Space.”
Yep. He'd been right.
“So, what's it about?”
“Physics. Stars. Poetry.”
“Wish I'd brought some comic books.”
* * *
They worked together to set up camp, then Banner had gone fishing. Clint had taken a series of cat naps while keeping an eye on the guy. Banner could run. He'd left something at the scooter and he'd sprinted to get it. With long legs like that, Clint wondered if he'd maybe run track as a kid. Probably not. Banner struck him as more the chess club type than any sort of athlete. He was kind of graceful, though. He'd move like a dancer in his little cabin, from one machine to another.
Clint never would have guessed he was a professor. He looked more like a student than a teacher. A poor one, to boot. Guy needed a haircut, his hair was so thick and shaggy.
After a picnic supper, Clint had built a fire and gotten out his personal stash of s'more makings.
Sitting on a log, Banner had tilted his head back to watch the sparks fly up into the darkness. He looked peaceful, mesmerized. He reminded Clint of a smooth as glass lake that reflected the sky. A nice view, sure, but he was more interested in what was underneath the water. Sometimes, a guy just had to throw a rock into a lake like that - make ripples, see what came up to the surface.
Clint made a big production out of making the first s'more. He wanted Banner to ask him for one. To drag him out of his own little world and ask Clint Barton for a favor. He knew that Banner didn't consider him coming along as being any sort of favor.
He whistled while toasting the marshmallows, feeling Banner's eyes on him. He didn't think Banner realized it, but Clint knew the guy watched him a lot. He'd drop his eyes or look away if Clint looked back, usually.
He didn't know what was up with that.
He took his s'more and sat down on the log next to Banner. He took a bite and fired the first volley.
“Mmm... so good. Man, I love these things.”
Banner didn't even look over at him.
“Glad I brought enough supplies to make a bunch.”
Banner got up and put another small log on the fire, sitting down a lot further from Clint when he came back.
Okay. Challenge accepted, he thought. He popped the rest of the treat in his mouth and got back up. He rummaged in the marshmallow bag, brought out four,and pushed them carefully onto the stick. He crouched down in front of the fire where he'd raked out some coals.
“Room on the stick for four of these babies. More efficient to make two at a time, don't ch'a think, Doc?”
Banner looked at him. “Yes.”
“They sure do taste good.”
He didn't answer him.
“Of course some people don't like them.”
That was Banner's chance to say that he liked them and ask for one. Or say that he didn't care for them.
He didn't take the opening, though.
He didn't say anything.
Jesus, he was making Clint work for this. “Banner, do you like s'mores? Yes or no.”
Banner shrugged. “Yes.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Yes.”
“Did it occur to you to ask me for one?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Enjoy your s'mores, Clint,” Banner said, placid, his mask firmly in place.
Clint slid the perfectly toasted marshmallows onto the waiting crackers and chocolate bars, took them over to where Banner had moved.
He sat down so close to him that their thighs were touching. Nothing like invading your target's personal space to make them nervous.
That worked. He felt Banner tensing up next to him. He decided to up the ante. He brushed his shoulder against Banner's.
Banner swallowed, and kind of shrank down a little.
Clint was disappointed. He wanted him to stake his space, shove Clint back out of it.
He knew Banner had it in him. He'd read the reports on the guy before he and the Widow went to take down Hulk. Okay, so he wasn't really a fighter. Guy was a genius professor, not a ninja. He'd still resisted being captured, even as Bruce Banner, pushing and shoving to get away.
Clint ate the first s'more and upped the ante even more.
“Here, hold this.” He handed a s'more to Banner. Clint stuck his sticky fingers in his mouth one at a time, sucking and licking them clean.
Banner was watching Clint's mouth with quick sidelong looks but didn't look at the s'more he was holding. He didn't ask for it; he didn't break off a piece and pop it in his mouth. Clint would have in a heartbeat. Hell, he'd have crammed the whole thing in his mouth just to thwart the asshole who was taunting him with it.
Banner started to hand the s'more back to Clint, but Clint had decided on a new approach.
“I'm ordering you to eat that.”
Now that did bring a reaction. Banner straightened up. He said, with a ragged edge to his normally calm voice, “You can't tell me what to do, Clint,” and he lobbed the s'more towards the fire.
Clint grabbed it on the downward arc into the flames. He turned and stared at Banner.
He was too late. Whatever defiance had lit up those brown eyes was already smothered by the calmness that Banner used as a barrier between him and the world.
“Would it kill you to just ask for what you want, Banner?”
Banner stood up. “I'm going to walk up that hill.” He pointed North.
“Why? I need you to stay in my line of sight.”
“There's a meteor shower right before dawn. I'll be fine. You should get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning.” He started walking away from Clint.
Clint yelled, “You know, you can call me on being an asshole. Really. It would make me so hot if you did.”
He didn't expect Banner to respond to that. And of course, he didn't. Clint dropped the s'more in the fire.
* * *
He gave Jan her perfect s'more but his thoughts were still back with Banner, in the Adirondacks.
* * *
Banner had made himself a cozy nest high up on the hill where there was an excellent view of the night sky. Clint climbed up and plopped himself down in the middle of it, right next to Banner.
He put down his sleeping bag and his quiver and grabbed Banner's hand.
“Here.” He gave him the two s'mores he'd made and wrapped in foil.
“What's-- oh. Um, thank you.”
“So, stargazing, right?”
Banner nodded.
“You gonna stay up all night, like usual?” Clint asked.
“I'm going to try.”
Clint unrolled his sleeping bag. Banner was sitting cross-legged, the book he'd been reading flipped over next to him, the book light just a dim glow.
Banner unwrapped the s'mores, and while Clint stretched out on his sleeping bag, he ate one.
Clint knew some of the constellations. That W one, and the Big Dipper. Orion.
“Hey, Doc. I bet you know all of these, don't you?” He pointed up to the sky.
“I know the constellations, if that's what you mean.” He broke the second s'more in two parts and handed half to Clint.
“I know a few.” Clint ate his in two bites.
Banner pointed towards the Southern horizon. “There's yours.” He took a nibble, and his eyes closed briefly.
Probably in bliss, Clint thought. He made a top-notch s'more.
“What d'ya mean 'there's yours?'”
“Sagittarius is your constellation. He's an archer. Hang on, and I'll show you.” He ate the rest and started to wipe his hand clean on his sweatshirt.
Clint grabbed his arm. “Wait. What about ants? I know Pym is nuts about them, but I'd rather not have them crawling over me looking for sugary crumbs.”
“Yeah. Um, thanks. I wasn't thinking.”
Banner did what Clint had done earlier and started licking his fingers. He sucked them one at a time into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he did. He wiped his fingers dry on his sweatshirt. His fingers were thin, like the rest of him, but they were kind of elegant, too. Clint had seen Banner's hands dancing over lab equipment, so quick and so sure. Now one hand was pointing upwards.
“Okay, see the Milky Way?” Banner said.
“Yeah.”
“Follow it down to the Southern horizon, and that group of stars... That's the Archer.”
“Okay. I see it.” Clint stared up at the heavens. After a few minutes he added, “Hey, if I'm the Archer, then, uh, Thor can be Orion. Big guy, kind of larger than life. But Orion hasn't risen yet, it's too early in the evening.”
Banner nodded. “I like Orion for Thor.”
“What about Jan? What constellation would she be?” Clint asked.
Banner thought about that for a while, and Clint decided it was kind of nice looking up at the stars like this. You couldn't see the night sky this way in New York. The air out here was a little chilly, but it smelled pretty good. Kind of woodsy. He could hear a hoot owl calling.
Banner said quietly, “Jan, I think she would be one of the Pleiades. But it's too early to see them. Maybe in a couple of hours.”
“Okay, why the Pleiades for Jan?”
“Umm, well, it's just that Jan is good friends with a number of other talented ladies, like Sue Storm, and Bobbi Morse, and Carol,” Banner said.
“Maria Hill, too.”
“There's this other legend about the Pleiades, that they were the daughters of an Amazon queen. Jan is such a fighter, you know.”
“Boy, she would love that. Tell her about it when we get back.”
“Maybe you should. Hulk will be eager to change places with me.”
“Who would Hulk be?”
“Hulk would be... Perseus. The hero.”
“Yeah, he'd like that. And he is. General Ross had it wrong about him all these years.”
Clint listened to the night sounds around him, crickets, and something else that was making the woods nearby sound like it was thrumming.
“Ross, he's Cetus. Steve can be Hercules. He's so strong and another hero to boot.”
“Yeah, Hercules fits for Steve. Where's he at?”
“There.” He pointed to various stars. “That yellow star is Beta Herculis or Kornephoros.”
“What about Tony? And who's this Cetus guy?”
Banner looked down at the space blanket and his sleeping bag, finding something fascinating about them going by the way he kept staring. “I have to think about Tony.”
“Are any of the constellations named for really rich guys who like to snark and invent shit?”
“I'll get back to you on that,” Banner said dryly.
Clint yawned and waited for Banner to figure out who Iron Man's counterpart in the sky would be. Yawned some more. He sat back up and stretched.
Banner said, eyes on the heavens, “You can go to sleep. If Hulk comes out, you'll hear him. And I've got nowhere else to go.”
“Have you figured out who Tony is yet?”
“None of the Greek-Roman constellations seem to fit. I'm thinking about some from India and China.”
Clint grabbed Banner's book and laid down on his stomach. “This your poetry science book? I didn't think those things went together.”
He started leafing through the book, stopped to read one by Walt Whitman.
He laughed when he finished it. “Hey, this guy sounds like me. Listen.
'When I heard the learn'ed astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick'
Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.'”
Clint snorted. “I'd rather look at them then study them.”
Banner focused a thoughtful look at him. “But when I'm reading those charts you mentioned, graphs of say, long burst gamma radiation from the formation of black holes, I know that I'm seeing the dying gasp of a massive star as it went supernova. That's poetry to me, that message from the cosmos. The epitaph of a brilliant, mighty sun.”
“Okay. I admit it does sound cool when you say it like that, but I know if I look at a bunch of numbers, all I'm gonna see is a bunch of numbers. Here.”
He passed the book over. “You find one that gets you all excited,” and muttered under his breath, “I'd like to see something get you all hot and bothered, other than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s experimenting on gamma mutants.”
He knew Banner must have heard him, from the sharp glance he gave him, but then the mask was back in place.
“I don't want to bore you.”
“Doc, c'mon. Pick one out.”
Banner leafed through the book, and Clint yawned again. He laid his head down on his folded arms.
Banner said softly,”This one was written by an astronomer and physicist, Rebecca Elson. It's called, Let there Always be Light (Searching for Dark Matter)
'For this we go out dark nights, searching
For the dimmest stars,
For signs of unseen things:
To weigh us down.
To stop the universe
From rushing on and on:
Into it's own beyond
Till it exhausts itself and lies down cold,
Its last star going out.
Whatever they turn out to be,
Let there be swarms of them,
Enough for immortality,
Always a star where we can warm ourselves.
Let there be enough to bring it back from its own edges,
To bring us all so close we ignite
the bright spark of resurrection.
Clint heard the last words but he was on the verge of sleep. He reached out and felt Banner still there, still sitting cross-legged. He found Banner's ankle and tightened his hand around it. Then he let himself drift off.
* * *
He was being shaken; he came awake fast in the darkness and grabbed his quiver. No matter how tired he was, or where he was, he always knew where his weapons were.
“No, it's okay.” It was Banner, sounding apologetic.
“You all right?” Clint said, looking around. Shit, it was dark out still.
“There's nothing wrong. It's just that the Perseids are coming in strong and I, I thought you might like to see them before it's dawn. The moon set so it's a little darker now.”
Sometime in the night Banner had put his own sleeping bag over Clint, so he was warm. Banner looked kind of cold, though, so he grabbed his hand. Yeah. Banner was cold. He let go and tossed the guy's sleeping bag to him.
“Thanks. Better wrap up in that, though.”
Banner did and then pointed about half-way up the sky. “There's one.”
Clint watched a long streak of light flash across the sky. “Shooting stars. Nice.”
He climbed inside his sleeping bag and watched the skies, keeping count of the trails of light he saw. Banner looked like he had when he'd been watching the campfire sparks fly up into the night.
“Hey, did you ever think of a constellation for Tony?” Clint asked, thinking about eating breakfast soon. The Eastern sky was starting to lighten up.
“No. But I think we can use Mercury for him. Mercury was the Roman god of finance and transportation.”
Clint chuckled. “Tony likes his sports cars and he loves zipping around in his suit. Okay, Tony can be a speedy planet.”
After a while, Banner started packing up his supplies. While the sun wasn't visible yet, it wouldn't be long till the sky turned red and pink in the East. Clint rolled up his sleeping bag and slung his quiver on his back, watching one last meteor streak across the sky. They walked back to the now dead campfire, and Clint made sure it was really out.
Banner used a backpacking stove to make oatmeal with dried milk and raisins, and Clint tidied up, stowing their gear on the scooter. They ate and made plans. Banner wanted to hike the rest of the morning, and then they'd head home. Hulk would be back with him by two or three o'clock. They'd go collect Jan and hang out by the pool.
“Hey, you didn't tell me who you were, Doc. Which one is your constellation?”
“Umm, Andromeda.”
“Andromeda?”
Banner nodded, and bent down to retie his sneaker.
“Andromeda was a princess, right? You're actually calling yourself a princess?”
This was too good to be true. Clint laughed until he started to hiccup.
“Okay, princess, which trail are we taking?”
* * *
He teased the fuck out of Banner about the whole princess thing, even pointed to some Black Eyed Susans and asked if he wanted a crown of flowers.
Banner didn't get mad, didn't roll his eyes at Clint, or even join in laughing at himself. He kept that blank, still expression on his face, and told Clint it was best to not pick wildflowers. He agreed that identifying with a princess was funny. It was like he was surrounded by a force field that just bounced off every one of Clint's attempts to get him to react.
Bored, Clint dropped teasing him by the time they'd returned to the scooter.
He was so looking forward to swapping Banner for Hulk.
* * *
There was trouble waiting for them when they got back.
Tony said, “Good timing,” when they took the elevator up to the Assembly Room, alerted by JARVIS that they were needed. “We were getting ready to call you.”
Tony turned to Banner. “Hi, Bruce.” He gave a small wave of his hand. “Bye, Bruce.”
“Hi, Tony. Problem?” Bruce said.
“There's reports of hostages being held by some dude in a metal suit. He's demanding that the Avengers fight him. We need Hulk on this one.”
Banner nodded, untied his sneakers, pulled his T-shirt off, and dropped it on top of his shoes.
He glanced at Clint and then closed his eyes. Clint watched as Banner's muscles swelled, his skin turned green, and he shot up in height.
Hulk was back. Clint held up his hand for a high-five. “Hey, Jolly Green. Good to see you again.” Hulk high-fived him gently.
Hulk smacked his fist against his own open palm. “Hmph. Let's go. Sounds like somebody needs smashing.” He pointed a finger at Clint. “Cupid's out of uniform.”
“Oh, right. Where's this shindig happening?”
“Central Park. At the zoo.” Tony said.
“Meet you there. Hulk, can I catch a ride with you?”
* * *
Fabian Stankowicz, otherwise known as the Mechano Maurader, otherwise known as a dumb ass, had been disarmed and his hostages freed. The Avengers had gladly turned him over to the cops. For the third time. Guy had a real jones about fighting the team, and he was a pain in the butt.
Distracted by the fight, Clint never did get around to telling the others about their constellation and planet counterparts. Not until weeks later, when the team had sprawled out in the living room waiting for a takeout order to arrive. Clint listened to Jan chattering about some party she was planning for her superhero girlfriends, and it jogged his memory. Banner had said Jan could be one of the Pleiades because of her friendships with other superhero women. He decided he'd share the story about who's who in the cosmos.
“So, let me get this straight,” Tony said. “You're Sagittarius, the Archer, Thor is Orion, Steve is Hercules, Hulk is Perseus, Jan is one of the Pleiades, but I'm a planet?” He waved his chopsticks in mock dismay.
“Sure are” Clint said. “Mercury. Banner said Mercury was the god of finance and transportation. That fits you.” He took a bite of his egg roll. Dinner had been good. Tony knew all the best restaurants.
Jan said, “It kind of does, Tony.”
Clint snickered. “Wait till you hear which constellation Banner picked for himself.”
Hulk said, “Andromeda.”
“Yeah. He wanted to be a princess.” Clint chuckled, amused all over again.
Hulk looked unimpressed. “That's not why he picked Andromeda.” He smashed an empty can of root beer with one finger.
Steve said, “Andromeda may have been a princess, Clint, but she was also a prisoner. Her father betrayed her, sacrificed her, to the sea god. Her father chained her to a cliff by the ocean so that Cetus, a sea monster, could claim her. Perseus, the hero, saved her.”
Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, jeez, Banner said that Ross was Cetus.” He got up and put a hand on Hulk's arm. “He didn't explain any of what Steve just said.”
Jan said, “Clint, I'm surprised he even admitted identifying with Andromeda to you. It's more than he's ever said to me and I've asked him about being a prisoner. He just politely changes the subject.”
“Well, he won't have to worry about Ross ever again,” Clint said. “Not with Hulk being an Avenger.”
“I don't know,” Tony said. “From the way Maria Hill talks, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the government still have him on probation.”
Later, Clint thought about what he'd said that night, after Ross had taken Banner into an unjustified incarceration for allegedly attacking the helicarrier. Cetus had won for now, but Steve and Tony had a plan to get Banner a pardon from the president. Banner had been Clint's responsibility; he had let Banner and Hulk down when he hadn't been able to protect them from Ross and the Hulkbusters.
* * *
Clint let his memories go and handed a perfect s'more to Hulk, figuring that the guy deserved to eat at least one that wasn't a charred disaster. That camping trip with Banner up in the Adirondacks had been kind of decent. Watching the shooting stars, hiking. Banner had even talked a little more than usual. It had been fun figuring out the whole constellation deal.
When Banner switched places with Hulk next month, it might be cool to go camping again. Hell, he might even learn to fish, if Banner wanted to spend time in a boat.
Chapter Two