FIC: Thicker Than Water (5/7) - Brothers 'verse
Title: "Thicker Than Water - Chapter 5/7"
Fandom: The Avengers/The Bourne Legacy
Characters: Clint Barton, Aaron Cross, Phil Coulson, mentions of Natasha Romanoff and Marta Shearing
Pairings: background Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, background Aaron Cross/Marta Shearing
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2032 words
Genre: Family / Adventure / Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: some language, movie grade violence, blood, brief discussion of canonical child abuse in this chapter
Summary: Aaron and Clint learned of each other’s existence a few months ago when Natasha brought Aaron and Marta into SHIELD on Fury’s behest. Now the brothers go on a mission together and get to really know each other when faced with a struggle for survival.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story, though I would like to appreciate a Clint and an Aaron of my own, thank you!
Author's notes: This fic was written for a prompt by my friend soncnica, who asked for brotherly bonding after we watched The Avengers and The Bourne Legacy together :) I hope you like it, babe!
I can't say it enough, lots of love to my betas!!! To anuna_81 for helping me figure out the characters :D And to missm0neypenny for helping me fix my grammar and for making sure the thing was readable, thank you :D And a special thanks to venitinmentem for helping me stay sane and cheering me on.
This chapter will mention non-sexual child abuse. I just want you to be aware of this, it's not explicit, but I did state in the first fic in this series that Daddy Barton was a drunk ass and he beat Aaron so badly that he caused him brain damage. This will be picked up on in the brothers talk about their upbringing.
You can also read this and all previous chapters on AO3
and FFN
“Don’t remember much of Dad. I remember being scared. I remember his belt,” Clint shudders at the memory, and takes a deep breath before he continues.
“I remember a lot of time spent in tight, dark places, hiding. Don’t like those. I think you must have been there with me, because I remember not being alone, and it wasn’t Barney with me.”
“You protected me,” Aaron says and Clint thinks he can detect a note of awe in his voice.
“Barney did, he shoved me into the cupboard under the sink when dad got loud. I must’ve taken you with me, you were so little still. Think we made up stories, I remember whispering.”
“You made sure I was quiet when we hid. You protected me,” Aaron insists and closes his hand around Clint’s bicep, squeezing it.
“Huh, guess you’re right,” Clint replies, his heart lighter all of a sudden.
“He looked out for me, for us, Barney did. I remember him being there after…” he shudders again and points to his back, where thin silver scars mark the impact of his father’s belt.
“What about our mom? What was she like?” Aaron asks softly, and Clint thinks he can hear longing in his voice.
“Don’t remember much. I think she was sad a lot. She sang to us at bedtime. “Singing in the Rain.” She smelled like flowers. Gardenia, I think.”
“I wished I could remember even that much,” Aaron mutters sadly, and Clint’s stomach contracts in sympathy.
He shakes his head softly, “I’m kinda glad you don’t. That way you don’t remember the fucked up shit either.”
“I think I would have liked to remember you,” Aaron states.
“You were better off not to, it seems. If you’d stayed, you’d have ended up in the circus. Or dead.”
“I ended up a lab rat,” Aaron throws back with revulsion in his tone.
“I’ve always liked rats,” Clint replies with a smirk. “There was this guy in the circus. He had trained rats and they were -“ he bites back the rest of the sentence at the look Aaron throws him. “What?”
“So you really were in the circus?”
“Yep, the ‘Amazing Hawkeye, the world’s greatest marksman’.”
“I thought the guys in training were just shitting with me,” Aaron replies, incredulous.
“Nope. We ran away from the orphanage, joined the circus. Ya should’ve seen me perform. I was incredible,” Clint reminisces.
(He doesn’t mention the beatings when he had missed a shot during his performance. Aaron doesn’t need to know that. Natasha knows, and that’s enough.)
“Yeah, I bet you were. You still like to put on a show, old man.”
“Do not. Just have a flair for the dramatic, ‘s all.”
“You’re a right drama queen, that’s what you are,” Aaron deadpans.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, kiddo,” Clint flings back and releases a deep breath as he feels the painkillers kick in.
“I honestly have nothing to say to that,” Aaron replies. “But you obviously must feel better.”
He still feels like shit, but that won’t change until they are back in civilization. “Yep, I think I’m good to go. Just need a hand getting up.”
Clint pushes onto his elbows, tiny dots immediately dance in front of his eyes. His stomach contracts and for a moment he thinks he might throw up as cold sweat breaks out all over his body. Then Aaron’s arm is behind his back, steadying him, helping him right himself.
“Nice and easy, we’re in no hurry,” Aaron calmly instructs Clint, who nods and swallows hard as he tries to keep his stomach from turning.
“Fuck this,” he groans when the world has stopped spinning, he’s drenched in sweat and breathes heavily.
“You’re doing great, don’t whine,” Aaron encourages him as he places Clint’s quiver in his older brother’s lap.
Clint shrugs into it, the familiar weight and feel settling his churning stomach. Aaron puts on his own pack and picks up the Mag-Lite before he snakes his arm around Clint’s waist and pulls Clint’s left arm over his shoulder. “Ready? Or are you gonna puke on my shoes?”
Clint huffs and gripes, “Shut it, smartass. No, I’m good, just gimme a lift.”
Clint grits his teeth when Aaron straightens and hoists him up, the world tilts on its axis for a moment before it rights itself. Aaron’s arm is strong and sure around him, and Clint leans onto his little brother gladly. His leg is once more throbbing from being upright, although the pain is now dulled and subdued. The painkillers have taken the edge off and he is more than thankful for that.
“Do you think you can walk?” Aaron asks concernedly when Clint huffs as he puts a little weight on his leg.
“Yeah, not a wilting flower, you fuck,” Clint grinds out, but his weight is almost completely supported by Aaron, who only holds him tighter.
<><><><><><>
“I’ll believe it when I see it, you stubborn mule,” Aaron smirks back as he helps Clint take the first step. He keeps them close to the right side of the tunnel so Clint can use the wall as an additional support.
“Ass,” Clint grounds out and Aaron grins.
“Jerk,” Aaron spits back as they shuffle forward slowly, his brother’s weight resting almost solely on his aching shoulders.
“Bitch,” Clint replies, taking a bit more of his own weight again. Aaron smirks, that’s the Clint he’s come to know these past few months.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” Aaron deadpans, the Mag-Lite’s beam ghosts over the tunnel ahead of them, it throws the uneven walls into sharp relief. He doesn’t mind the close quarters, never had a reason to fear the dark or small spaces.
“Yeah, ‘m glad too,” Clint huffs, his left hand squeezes Aaron’s shoulder affectionately.
Aaron suppresses a groan at the spike of pain in his back and swallows the sudden emotional lump in his throat.
“You know, I never had anyone who really cared. About me,” Aaron says. “The personnel at the state home in Reno were nice enough, but there were too many of us and too few of them. They tried though, to make us feel at home. And there were always kids to play with, which was nice, especially when I was younger.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clint’s mouth quirk up in the ghost of a smile, so he continues and his voice fills the tunnel together with their shuffling steps.
“I just wanted somewhere to belong when I had to leave after high school, so I joined up. And I liked the army, three meals, something to do. I had friends there, they didn’t mind that I was slow. I did my job and I was thorough, aiming to please. Man, was I eager to please. And that’s all the army wants from an infantryman, right?” He chuckles.
Clint scoffs, “Yeah, been there. Didn’t like it that much… Too many rules, not enough info.”
“Yeah, I understand how that would be strange for a sniper. Now I understand that. Back then I didn’t mind. I wouldn’t have been able to follow the reasoning in most cases anyway,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
“You’re still a bit thick,” Clint quips and earns himself a head slap from Aaron.
“And you’re using a weapon from the Stone Age, asshat.”
Clint chuckles, “But I’m fucking good with it.”
“Yeah, well, I have to give you that. How did you end up with the bow?”
“Stumbled upon it in the props tent. Tried it out, hit the mark almost immediately. Jacques saw me.” Aaron can hear the loathing in Clint’s voice as he says the name and vows to get behind the story of Jacques someday too. “I was all of ten years old. He thought I could make him a lot of money. Or well, money. Thought he could train Barney an’ me to do an act together. But Barney…, well, he sucked. So I ended up a star in the ring while he cleaned the cages.”
Clint’s left hand has a death grip on Aaron’s shoulder and he leans heavily onto his younger brother. Dread settles in Aaron’s stomach as he listens to Clint talk about their older Brother, knowing that Barney’s story wasn’t pretty. Then the flashlight’s beam illuminates a turnoff from the main tunnel in the left wall, and Clint gestures to it.
“That’s our exit,” he smirks and Aaron grips him tighter around the waist as he changes course. This burrow is smaller than the one before and Aaron can feel a shiver run through Clint when the walls seem to press in on them.
“Really don’t like small spaces,” Clint huffs, his voice carries in the enclosed space.
“I feel you, brother,” Aaron commiserates, before curiosity urges him to ask, “So, what happened with Barney?”
“He got jealous, I think. Started hanging with the wrong people. Got into trouble. Jacques was skimming from the circus’ takings. He roped Barney in. I found out by accident, threatened to tell Carson, the owner. Man, I was so naïve. Never believed they’d hurt me, just thought they’d stop. But nope… Guess there was more of dad in Barney than we both thought,” he trails off and Aaron’s throat constricts at the betrayal he can still hear in Clint’s voice.
“They left me half dead in the rain when they split. Carson found me. Took me to the hospital an’ moved on. I was seventeen and on my own when I got out. I was broken and broke. Did some shady stuff to support myself. Joined the army. Then Fury found me and recruited me into SHIELD.” Here his voice picks up and Aaron can feel Clint trying to straighten up, then slump against him with a hiss of pain.
“I’m glad Natasha did that for us, me and Marta. She was so miserable on the run. I kinda enjoyed the challenge, it was like all the training finally had a real purpose, you know? They never told me why I had to do what they made me do. They just assumed that I’d be as pliable then as I was when I was still Kenneth. They were wrong.”
“That’s the Barton pig-headedness,” Clint confirms with a smirk. “Tasha calls it that. Drives her nuts, but she’s the same. Always needs a reason.”
His face clouds as he directs Aaron down another turnoff and continues to talk.
“Barney was the same. Once he’d made up his mind there was no turning back. ‘S how we ended up in the circus. He came on SHIELD’s radar a few years ago. Running with some crew in Boston. I reached out to him and we met. He apologized for leaving me. Turned out he was now an informant for the FBI. We made plans to meet again. He got killed by his own crew in a sting two days later.”
Aaron draws a deep lungful of the stale air, trying to get his suddenly raging emotions under control.
Exhaling slowly, he says, “Sounds like he was trying to make amends. He doesn’t sound like a bad guy.”
“Yeah, he just got the short straw all his life,” Clint concludes. “I’m sorry he didn’t get to meet you. Think he must’ve felt guilty for what happened to you. He never talked about you. He’d have gotten a kick out of you being all Superman now.”
“I’m not Superman, you jackass. You’re the superhero, I’m just a lowly government operative,” Aaron snarks.
“Ya just need a superhero name, is all,” Clint replies, his voice slurring and Aaron has to take even more of his weight.
“Yeah, right. Got any ideas about what that could be, Hawkeye?” Aaron asks, trying to keep his suddenly flagging brother engaged.
“Nope, thought you’re the brains. Or so you claim…”
Aaron smirks, “Don’t sell yourself short, old man. You’re pretty damn smart when you…” Aaron’s pep talk is interrupted by an explosion from the direction they’re headed in.
Clint’s head snaps up to find his brothers eyes as dust rains down on them from above.
“What the hell?” Clint breathes.
Fandom: The Avengers/The Bourne Legacy
Characters: Clint Barton, Aaron Cross, Phil Coulson, mentions of Natasha Romanoff and Marta Shearing
Pairings: background Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, background Aaron Cross/Marta Shearing
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2032 words
Genre: Family / Adventure / Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: some language, movie grade violence, blood, brief discussion of canonical child abuse in this chapter
Summary: Aaron and Clint learned of each other’s existence a few months ago when Natasha brought Aaron and Marta into SHIELD on Fury’s behest. Now the brothers go on a mission together and get to really know each other when faced with a struggle for survival.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story, though I would like to appreciate a Clint and an Aaron of my own, thank you!
Author's notes: This fic was written for a prompt by my friend soncnica, who asked for brotherly bonding after we watched The Avengers and The Bourne Legacy together :) I hope you like it, babe!
I can't say it enough, lots of love to my betas!!! To anuna_81 for helping me figure out the characters :D And to missm0neypenny for helping me fix my grammar and for making sure the thing was readable, thank you :D And a special thanks to venitinmentem for helping me stay sane and cheering me on.
This chapter will mention non-sexual child abuse. I just want you to be aware of this, it's not explicit, but I did state in the first fic in this series that Daddy Barton was a drunk ass and he beat Aaron so badly that he caused him brain damage. This will be picked up on in the brothers talk about their upbringing.
You can also read this and all previous chapters on AO3
and FFN
“Don’t remember much of Dad. I remember being scared. I remember his belt,” Clint shudders at the memory, and takes a deep breath before he continues.
“I remember a lot of time spent in tight, dark places, hiding. Don’t like those. I think you must have been there with me, because I remember not being alone, and it wasn’t Barney with me.”
“You protected me,” Aaron says and Clint thinks he can detect a note of awe in his voice.
“Barney did, he shoved me into the cupboard under the sink when dad got loud. I must’ve taken you with me, you were so little still. Think we made up stories, I remember whispering.”
“You made sure I was quiet when we hid. You protected me,” Aaron insists and closes his hand around Clint’s bicep, squeezing it.
“Huh, guess you’re right,” Clint replies, his heart lighter all of a sudden.
“He looked out for me, for us, Barney did. I remember him being there after…” he shudders again and points to his back, where thin silver scars mark the impact of his father’s belt.
“What about our mom? What was she like?” Aaron asks softly, and Clint thinks he can hear longing in his voice.
“Don’t remember much. I think she was sad a lot. She sang to us at bedtime. “Singing in the Rain.” She smelled like flowers. Gardenia, I think.”
“I wished I could remember even that much,” Aaron mutters sadly, and Clint’s stomach contracts in sympathy.
He shakes his head softly, “I’m kinda glad you don’t. That way you don’t remember the fucked up shit either.”
“I think I would have liked to remember you,” Aaron states.
“You were better off not to, it seems. If you’d stayed, you’d have ended up in the circus. Or dead.”
“I ended up a lab rat,” Aaron throws back with revulsion in his tone.
“I’ve always liked rats,” Clint replies with a smirk. “There was this guy in the circus. He had trained rats and they were -“ he bites back the rest of the sentence at the look Aaron throws him. “What?”
“So you really were in the circus?”
“Yep, the ‘Amazing Hawkeye, the world’s greatest marksman’.”
“I thought the guys in training were just shitting with me,” Aaron replies, incredulous.
“Nope. We ran away from the orphanage, joined the circus. Ya should’ve seen me perform. I was incredible,” Clint reminisces.
(He doesn’t mention the beatings when he had missed a shot during his performance. Aaron doesn’t need to know that. Natasha knows, and that’s enough.)
“Yeah, I bet you were. You still like to put on a show, old man.”
“Do not. Just have a flair for the dramatic, ‘s all.”
“You’re a right drama queen, that’s what you are,” Aaron deadpans.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, kiddo,” Clint flings back and releases a deep breath as he feels the painkillers kick in.
“I honestly have nothing to say to that,” Aaron replies. “But you obviously must feel better.”
He still feels like shit, but that won’t change until they are back in civilization. “Yep, I think I’m good to go. Just need a hand getting up.”
Clint pushes onto his elbows, tiny dots immediately dance in front of his eyes. His stomach contracts and for a moment he thinks he might throw up as cold sweat breaks out all over his body. Then Aaron’s arm is behind his back, steadying him, helping him right himself.
“Nice and easy, we’re in no hurry,” Aaron calmly instructs Clint, who nods and swallows hard as he tries to keep his stomach from turning.
“Fuck this,” he groans when the world has stopped spinning, he’s drenched in sweat and breathes heavily.
“You’re doing great, don’t whine,” Aaron encourages him as he places Clint’s quiver in his older brother’s lap.
Clint shrugs into it, the familiar weight and feel settling his churning stomach. Aaron puts on his own pack and picks up the Mag-Lite before he snakes his arm around Clint’s waist and pulls Clint’s left arm over his shoulder. “Ready? Or are you gonna puke on my shoes?”
Clint huffs and gripes, “Shut it, smartass. No, I’m good, just gimme a lift.”
Clint grits his teeth when Aaron straightens and hoists him up, the world tilts on its axis for a moment before it rights itself. Aaron’s arm is strong and sure around him, and Clint leans onto his little brother gladly. His leg is once more throbbing from being upright, although the pain is now dulled and subdued. The painkillers have taken the edge off and he is more than thankful for that.
“Do you think you can walk?” Aaron asks concernedly when Clint huffs as he puts a little weight on his leg.
“Yeah, not a wilting flower, you fuck,” Clint grinds out, but his weight is almost completely supported by Aaron, who only holds him tighter.
<><><><><><>
“I’ll believe it when I see it, you stubborn mule,” Aaron smirks back as he helps Clint take the first step. He keeps them close to the right side of the tunnel so Clint can use the wall as an additional support.
“Ass,” Clint grounds out and Aaron grins.
“Jerk,” Aaron spits back as they shuffle forward slowly, his brother’s weight resting almost solely on his aching shoulders.
“Bitch,” Clint replies, taking a bit more of his own weight again. Aaron smirks, that’s the Clint he’s come to know these past few months.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” Aaron deadpans, the Mag-Lite’s beam ghosts over the tunnel ahead of them, it throws the uneven walls into sharp relief. He doesn’t mind the close quarters, never had a reason to fear the dark or small spaces.
“Yeah, ‘m glad too,” Clint huffs, his left hand squeezes Aaron’s shoulder affectionately.
Aaron suppresses a groan at the spike of pain in his back and swallows the sudden emotional lump in his throat.
“You know, I never had anyone who really cared. About me,” Aaron says. “The personnel at the state home in Reno were nice enough, but there were too many of us and too few of them. They tried though, to make us feel at home. And there were always kids to play with, which was nice, especially when I was younger.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clint’s mouth quirk up in the ghost of a smile, so he continues and his voice fills the tunnel together with their shuffling steps.
“I just wanted somewhere to belong when I had to leave after high school, so I joined up. And I liked the army, three meals, something to do. I had friends there, they didn’t mind that I was slow. I did my job and I was thorough, aiming to please. Man, was I eager to please. And that’s all the army wants from an infantryman, right?” He chuckles.
Clint scoffs, “Yeah, been there. Didn’t like it that much… Too many rules, not enough info.”
“Yeah, I understand how that would be strange for a sniper. Now I understand that. Back then I didn’t mind. I wouldn’t have been able to follow the reasoning in most cases anyway,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
“You’re still a bit thick,” Clint quips and earns himself a head slap from Aaron.
“And you’re using a weapon from the Stone Age, asshat.”
Clint chuckles, “But I’m fucking good with it.”
“Yeah, well, I have to give you that. How did you end up with the bow?”
“Stumbled upon it in the props tent. Tried it out, hit the mark almost immediately. Jacques saw me.” Aaron can hear the loathing in Clint’s voice as he says the name and vows to get behind the story of Jacques someday too. “I was all of ten years old. He thought I could make him a lot of money. Or well, money. Thought he could train Barney an’ me to do an act together. But Barney…, well, he sucked. So I ended up a star in the ring while he cleaned the cages.”
Clint’s left hand has a death grip on Aaron’s shoulder and he leans heavily onto his younger brother. Dread settles in Aaron’s stomach as he listens to Clint talk about their older Brother, knowing that Barney’s story wasn’t pretty. Then the flashlight’s beam illuminates a turnoff from the main tunnel in the left wall, and Clint gestures to it.
“That’s our exit,” he smirks and Aaron grips him tighter around the waist as he changes course. This burrow is smaller than the one before and Aaron can feel a shiver run through Clint when the walls seem to press in on them.
“Really don’t like small spaces,” Clint huffs, his voice carries in the enclosed space.
“I feel you, brother,” Aaron commiserates, before curiosity urges him to ask, “So, what happened with Barney?”
“He got jealous, I think. Started hanging with the wrong people. Got into trouble. Jacques was skimming from the circus’ takings. He roped Barney in. I found out by accident, threatened to tell Carson, the owner. Man, I was so naïve. Never believed they’d hurt me, just thought they’d stop. But nope… Guess there was more of dad in Barney than we both thought,” he trails off and Aaron’s throat constricts at the betrayal he can still hear in Clint’s voice.
“They left me half dead in the rain when they split. Carson found me. Took me to the hospital an’ moved on. I was seventeen and on my own when I got out. I was broken and broke. Did some shady stuff to support myself. Joined the army. Then Fury found me and recruited me into SHIELD.” Here his voice picks up and Aaron can feel Clint trying to straighten up, then slump against him with a hiss of pain.
“I’m glad Natasha did that for us, me and Marta. She was so miserable on the run. I kinda enjoyed the challenge, it was like all the training finally had a real purpose, you know? They never told me why I had to do what they made me do. They just assumed that I’d be as pliable then as I was when I was still Kenneth. They were wrong.”
“That’s the Barton pig-headedness,” Clint confirms with a smirk. “Tasha calls it that. Drives her nuts, but she’s the same. Always needs a reason.”
His face clouds as he directs Aaron down another turnoff and continues to talk.
“Barney was the same. Once he’d made up his mind there was no turning back. ‘S how we ended up in the circus. He came on SHIELD’s radar a few years ago. Running with some crew in Boston. I reached out to him and we met. He apologized for leaving me. Turned out he was now an informant for the FBI. We made plans to meet again. He got killed by his own crew in a sting two days later.”
Aaron draws a deep lungful of the stale air, trying to get his suddenly raging emotions under control.
Exhaling slowly, he says, “Sounds like he was trying to make amends. He doesn’t sound like a bad guy.”
“Yeah, he just got the short straw all his life,” Clint concludes. “I’m sorry he didn’t get to meet you. Think he must’ve felt guilty for what happened to you. He never talked about you. He’d have gotten a kick out of you being all Superman now.”
“I’m not Superman, you jackass. You’re the superhero, I’m just a lowly government operative,” Aaron snarks.
“Ya just need a superhero name, is all,” Clint replies, his voice slurring and Aaron has to take even more of his weight.
“Yeah, right. Got any ideas about what that could be, Hawkeye?” Aaron asks, trying to keep his suddenly flagging brother engaged.
“Nope, thought you’re the brains. Or so you claim…”
Aaron smirks, “Don’t sell yourself short, old man. You’re pretty damn smart when you…” Aaron’s pep talk is interrupted by an explosion from the direction they’re headed in.
Clint’s head snaps up to find his brothers eyes as dust rains down on them from above.
“What the hell?” Clint breathes.