Still set in the winter soldier!Clint au, but somewhere in the messed up timeline.
Featuring Steve, and strike team made of good guys loyal to Clint.
Steve Rogers got used to stark tower fast enough not to get surprised at the increasing number of floors or rooms, he had his own place in the tower, courtesy of tony stark once again, who thought he would feel more comfortable there than in whatever apartment shield could provide for him, and honestly? Steve was grateful for that, despite having his own place anyway. There were moments, after a mission, when the not so silent company of the other man was more welcome than ever, moments after a mission when he tried to shut his eyes and all he saw was a strange, huge plane going down down down and straight in the ice. Moments when he saw his friends, old and new, falling because he couldn't reach out in time.
Tony stark was grounding. With his mouth never shutting up as he worked, with the background tinkering with this or that. He was grounding and Steve curled as he used to do when his body was much smaller and dozed off.
So it came a bit of a surprise when he stood in the hall of the S.T.R.I.K.E. compound and wondered exactly how big it could be, and how many people actually lived there, only to find out Alpha team owned the place.
"you look like a new piece of furniture, Cap."
He blinked and watched the man who silently appeared on one door on his left and rested, arms crossed over his bandaged chest, against the door frame.
"and not the kind Brock would like to have, sorry." he smiled, a bit lopsided but still a smile. Steve tried to smile back.
"I thought you were still at the medical facility, Clint... Your ribs, and that gash at--"
"I thought you were still in bed!" came a second voice, slightly high-pitched, from around the corner. footsteps echoed on the grey pavement and a disheveled rumlow appeared, face flushed red and sweating.
"oh, I'm not the only one who should." Clint retorted, his smile falling as soon as he saw the other man. "as long as I don't heavy lift things I can walk. It will help healing faster. What were you doing? Training? With a fever?"
Brock swayed a little on his feet, breath labored and short, using the wall to remain upright, barefeet on the pavement, Steve noticed. He seemed to pout for a second.
"not training." oh, he was definitely pouting. "I thought the living room could use a bit of dusting. Jackie hates--" his words got lost in an incoherent mumble, he blinked several times and Clint sighed. "he... Jackie. Dust. No, no. No dust, he--" shivers broke through his body and Steve knew it wasn't just the fever, he saw that during his sleepless, restless post-mission days at stark tower, out of the corner of his eye, when stark thought he was asleep and his constant mumble and tinkering faltered.
Clint caught him, his ribs loudly protesting as he took the other man and they slide on the floor, brought back to reality by a low whimper Steve noticed how the archer flinched ever so slightly, arms closing around Brock, fingers carding at the back of his neck, words murmured quietly in a foreign language Steve didn't recognize immediately. He saw rumlow slump against him, shivers never really stopping, nor the incoherent mumble, not for the following two or three minutes, before he went limp against Clint, and he sighed trying to rearrange their position and failing, ribs screaming even louder.
"I could use a little hand over there, Cap." he said, trying to keep his voice even, neutral, not pained or too worried. Then he sighed again leaning against the wall when Steve relieved him from the extra weight.
"I normally can deal with it, carry his stubborn ass back in bed. - he said slowly rising back on his feet. - ribs dint agree with me now, and I don't want to call the boys, they all deserve all the rest they can get."
Once more Steve found himself nodding without another word and following Clint deeper in the compound.
"we all took quite the hit as you probably heard. You're there for that, I suppose."
"Natasha said I would have found you there." he admitted lowering the man on the bed and watching as Clint fixed the blankets around him and put the IV back in his arm before stroking his head carefully. "I wanted to check on you."
Clint smiled again, more sincere than before, even grateful, then he motioned quietly out of the room and in an open space where he flopped down on a couch.
"we have a medical facility here, separate from the shield one. - he explained. - while I like, and trust them I still prefer to nurse my own wounds. And..."
He stopped and sighed. Steve saw that look too before. Defeat. Regret. Guilt. A mission going-- South.
"jack is in the icu now." he breathed out, like it was extremely hard to say that, to admit it. Steve only met Jack a couple of times, tall man, with more scars he could count, dangerous looking. "east building, past the training ground." Clint continued, he briefly pointed south before his arm moved to the correct direction.
"I -- - he swallowed and breathed out again, lips trembling and his hands now tightly closed in fists. Anger. - I led him into a trap. I should've gone myself but--"
"you were surrounded and wounded, boss. - a new voice cane from behind them, Clint closed his eyes, nails digging in his palm painfully. - jack was the closest. it wasn't you, It's not your fault. None of us blame you." a woman, hair pulled in a high ponytail, passed behind the couch and briefly hovered by clint's shoulder before squeezing it lightly." we all would do the same, we would do it anytime, we'd di---"
"you say that one more time I'll knock your teeth out, Jen. I'm warning you." he growled, catching Steve by surprise. The woman didn't seem fazed by that, she smiled at him, squeezing the shoulder once more before leaving the room.
"copy that, boss." she said as she walked away, deep in her voice Steve heard a silent "but you know we all mean it."