Fic: The Short Straw (Avengers/SPN)
Title: The Short Straw
Fandoms: Avengers/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Clint, Coulson, Castiel, Sam, Dean
Word Count: 1416
Summary: Clint drew the short straw and had to interrogate the Winchesters but he didn’t plan for an unexpected visitor.
A/N: For shadownashira - sorry this is a little later than planned. Hope it’s something like what you wanted and that you enjoy it - thank you for being my friend :)
Clint nodded at the agents standing at the entrance of the SHIELD headquarter holding cells and waited for them to open up the door for him to pass through. He’d drawn the short straw - yet again - and now he just wanted to get this interrogation over and done with as soon as possible. From the information he had so far been able to gather the two brothers he was about to speak to were nut jobs - and if the look Natasha had shot his way as he’d left was anything to go by, she was in agreement with him.
Stopping outside one of the cells, he looked through the one way window in the door to observe the first of his suspects. Sam Winchester was tall and pacing up and down the length of the room. Next door, his older brother looked more confident, lounging back against the wall and smirking in Clint’s direction as if Dean knew he was there.
He took a step back and turned to one of the agents. “I’ll see them both together in interrogation room B. You don’t need to cuff them - there isn’t a lot they can do here.”
“It’s protocol, Agent Barton.”
“Stuff protocol. Cuffing them is just going to put them more on guard than they already are. If any of the higher ups have a problem with that they can take it up with me.” Clint didn’t hang around to debate any longer, instead walking straight to the interrogation room and taking a seat behind the table to wait for the suspects to be delivered.
Interrogations like this weren’t really his thing. Shooting someone in the leg for information out in the field or conducting surveillance unnoticed were both things he had no problem with. But sitting behind a desk, talking to people who felt way too safe within a room with four walls, always took too long, didn’t guarantee results. Still, it was his job for the day and he’d make sure Sam and Dean Winchester talked, if only to prove to Fury that he was capable of doing it.
The brothers were shown into the room and didn’t struggle as they were led to their seats, Dean dropping down into his first before Sam followed. Clint watched them in silence for a moment, just to see what they’d do, but abandoned that tactic as soon as he realised they were settling for watching him right back.
“Dean and Sam Winchester - pretty full rap sheets you’ve got.” He wasn’t surprised when it was Dean who replied.
“What can I say? We seem to get accused of a lot.”
“I don’t care about what you get accused of. I care about what you do.”
“And what do you think that is?” Sam asked.
“Cops in St Louis think it’s murder - are they right?”
“No.”
Clint leaned back in his chair, looking at each of them in turn again. Despite their files and their reputations they didn’t seem like nut jobs or like murders to him. If anything, the way they were presenting themselves reminded Clint of a lot of the SHIELD operatives he knew, hiding something from the general public for their own safety. But Clint wasn’t the general public.
“Okay, here’s the thing, Winchesters. You were found trying to break onto this compound muttering about things coming back from the dead. Now, my colleagues out there - some of them think you’re crazy. I’m not so sure - I’ve seen a lot of things that shouldn’t exist in my lifetime so I’m not going to write the two of you off until I’ve listened to what you have to say. So start talking.”
“What do you want me to talk about?” Dean shrugged. “I can talk about cars or the weather or Lindsay Lohan or-”
“Or we could tell him the truth.”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“I’m serious, Dean. Did you not hear what he just said? No cop or whatever has ever spoken to us like that.”
“You could tell me the truth.” Clint, pretty sure that he had Sam hooked now, looked straight at Dean. “Like your brother just implied, I’m no ordinary government worker.”
“Dean.” Sam inclined his head, a pointed look on his face.
“Fine. Fine, but if this goes even more balls up I’m blaming you, Sammy.”
“I’ll take full responsibility. Now tell him.”
Meeting Clint squarely in the eyes, Dean nodded. “It’s about Captain America.”
Glad that Steve hadn’t ended up being the one sent to do this job, Clint kept his expression s neutral as possible. “Explain.”
“Okay, so everyone got really happy because they think there’s a new Captain America - some sort of descendant of the original, right?”
“That’s what all the papers say, yes.” It had been Stark’s idea to leak that rumour in order to reassure the public that the impossible - someone coming back from the dead - hadn’t happened.
Dean snorted. “That’s the press for you. See, here’s the thing: this Captain America is the same Captain America, it’s obvious from the photos. And if there’s one thing my brother and I have learned over the years it’s this: what’s dead should stay dead. If he’s back, that’s not a good thing - soon there’ll be side effects or the great icon of America will start killing people. So let me ask you - are you going to do anything about it?”
Wondering what Dean would say if he could see what Steve was up to right now - helping to put together packs for a charity that Tony was patron of - Clint decided he was back at his original assessment of the brothers: whack jobs. He was just about to tell them so when the door to the room opened and Coulson gestured at him to come outside to talk.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said as soon as the door closed behind him, “they’re convinced that Steve is going to suddenly turn axe-murderer or something.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah, you know - tall, blond, Captain America?”
Coulson nodded, giving a tight smile. “Any ideas why they think that?”
“They’ve worked out that our Captain America is the same one that fought in the war but they’ve got some crazy ass idea that he’s, I don’t know, a zombie or something just waiting to turn bad.”
“Their file says they’re killers. I don’t think they are.”
Glad that Coulson - someone whose judgment Clint trusted implicitly - had got the same read on the brothers, he sighed. “Me either. But it doesn’t make a difference - once we’re done with them they’ll have to go to St Louis.”
“Do you know when you’ll be done with them?”
“With all due respect, sir, I’ve just started and rushing won’t achieve anything.”
“Of course, Clint. I understand that.”
He raised his eyebrows at the use of his first name but pressed on. “It’s a shame information about Steve is classified, really - maybe if they knew he’d never actually been dead, just frozen, they’d be a little happier.”
Coulson was quiet for a moment before “Yes, Sam and Dean don’t know that. Clint, if it’s all the same to you I’d like a moment with the brothers.”
Stepping aside, he debated asking why Coulson had assigned him with the task if he was going to take over after just a few minutes but he stayed silent. “I’ll just wait here, then.”
“Thank you, Clint.” Coulson walked into the room and closed the door firmly behind him.
Clint glanced along the corridor at the agents stationed there before entering the room next door where he could see what was happening in the interrogation room through a one way mirror. He hadn’t been ordered not to do so. The Winchesters were standing, Coulson talking quietly enough that Clint couldn’t hear him and then he was reaching two hands out to touch each of the brothers. In a second, Sam and Dean were gone and Coulson crumpled to the floor.
He hit the alarm and reached for the gun he always kept in his ankle holster before running next door, closely followed by three agents. Upon seeing no immediate threat, he holstered his weapon and barked an order to lock down the building.
“It’s too late,” Coulson, coming out of unconsciousness, looked grim, “they’ve gone.”
“But how?”
“The angel. The angel touched them and they went.”
“Angel?” The only person Clint had seen touching the Winchesters was standing right in front of him.
“Yes, Angel, Barton. The Angel’s gone too.”