Chapter Text
0) Prologue
Contrary to popular belief, HYDRA does not have files on all of the Avengers. Or, at the very least, Bucky has never read them. He’s read a lot of HYDRA files though, so he can pretty confidently assume.
They have a very, very detailed file on Steve Rogers - Captain America - which makes sense. There’s sort-of a file on Tony Stark, moreso a collection of footnotes. He’s briefly covered regarding the Avengers Initiative as “owner of Stark Tower”, and mentioned again in the mission briefing from Howard’s- well, Bucky tries not to dwell on that one. Beyond those files though, the individual members that make up the Avengers are spoken about as a whole, never as individuals.
In an ironic way, Bucky’s pretty happy about that.
For one, HYDRA’s apparent disinterest in the other Avengers likely contributed to his eventual ability to break their conditioning. HYDRA’s lack of files on the Avengers also means that he doesn’t have to try and get to know them through memories of dossiers, clouds of facts and figures.
For example, he learns that the Hulk - Bruce - is an avid enjoyer of tea, and an absolutely fantastic cook. He learns that Tony Stark is deeply, almost unnervingly curious, and sharp as the crack of a whip to match. Meeting Thor feels like learning a whole new language, but once he catches on to the key themes of “brotherhood” and “Back on Asgard…” he fares pretty well. He learns- maybe just remembers- what the presence of the Widow feels like. She calls herself Natasha now. The name is new. He’s still learning that one.
They are, for all intents and purposes, much like he expected them to be. A group of people clearly a cut above the rest. They have flaws, sure, but they are comforting in their expectancy.
Clint Barton, however, is a whole different story. Any HYDRA files Bucky had gotten his hands on had pretty much glossed over the archer. From their point of view, he was a support role. A dangerous one, sure, but not one apparently worth more than a one-off mention.
Where the other Avengers fell right in line with his expectations, Clint defied preconceptions he didn’t even know he held. He didn’t get a chance to actually meet the man until months after he had officially been cleared from SHIELD custody and moved into Stark Tower. Barton had been on a long-term infiltration mission, but word around the breakfast table was that he had gotten back late last night.
This was proven true when Barton, wrapped almost fully in a fluffy purple blanket stumbled into the kitchen and body-checked him away from the coffee pot without so much as an “excuse me”. The shock of someone voluntarily touching him toppled Bucky over, until Clint shot a hand out from the depths of his fuzzy cocoon and hauled him back up by the elbow.
“I thought you were s’posed to be built like a tank. C’mon man, stand up.” he mumbled, still not sparing a tired glance in Bucky’s direction. He could only watch as Clint’s shuffle out the room tangled his blanket around his ankles, tripping him up and almost sending him careening to the ground.
--
He thought he had a pretty solid idea of Barton after that, but he was proven wrong only hours later when an Avengers alarm went off. Quickly, the team mobilized, but Bucky caught the torn expression on Steve’s face as his eyes darted between Bucky and his team.
“Go, punk.” he groaned.
“Buck, I don’t mind staying if you want me to-” Steve began, but Bucky held up a finger to cut him off.
“Go. I’m fine. Peachy keen, even.” And really, he was. I mean, as well-adjusted as he could be, coming out of 70 years of brainwashing. Steve just nodded and left, grim set to his face.
JARVIS had ended up pulling up a variety of news channel footage and comm links, mashed together into a semi-comprehensive live feed of the battle. Bucky watched intently, analyzing strategy and taking mental notes. While Natalia- Natasha and Steve’s familiar fighting styles brought him some subconscious comfort, it was Clint he found himself drawn towards more often than not.
“Having trouble worming your way outta that one, Tony?” he gleefully calls, firing a volley at the giant robot worms squirming through the streets. Bucky snorts, despite himself. The arrows embed themselves deep in the tiny gaps of the mech armor, immobilizing the creature as a soft foam expands from the impact point.
Tony just groans. “You coulda hit me, bird-brain!” he shoots back, blasting a worm headed for Clint. Clint just laughs and shrugs.
“Oh, please Tony, you know I never miss! If I hit you, it’d be on purpose!”
This Clint Barton (or rather, Hawkeye, Bucky muses) is a far cry from the clumsy asshole who almost pushed him over this morning. In fact, it seems he’s done a full 180, nothing but (horrible) jokes and grace and competency on the battlefield. It’s a difficult sight to reconcile.
--
So difficult, it seems, he finds himself still turning it over in his mind late into the night. Even now, as he leans against the counter in the communal kitchen, waiting for his popcorn to pop, he’s still caught up on it. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t aware he had company until she spoke.
“Got something on your mind, James?”
Natalia’s voice startles him out of his stupor (though he absolutely did not flinch, no matter what anyone may say otherwise), and he turns to face her. She’s draped over the other side of the counter, swirling her own mug contentedly with a single eyebrow arched at him. She looks remarkably put together, as usual, despite the late hour. He suddenly feels very shabby in his sweatpants and t-shirt.
“It’s nothing.” he denies, but he can tell she sees right through him. She doesn’t answer, her slight smirk speaking for itself. He caves after only a moment.
“It’s Clint.” he mumbles, ashamed in his admittance. Natalia just nods in understanding.
“Mm, that makes sense.” she hums, pausing to sip from her mug. “He can be a lot.” Bucky shakes his head.
“It’s-” he begins, hesitating as the microwave beeps! to signal his popcorn is ready. He pops the door open as he continues.
“HYDRA had a bunch of files. Nothing too personal, from what I could find, but little bits and pieces about each of you. Gave me a sorta ‘baseline’ to go off.” he explains, dumping the popcorn in the bowl. “Clint didn’t have more than a sentence.”
More of a word, if he’s being frank. Archer , his file said. That was it. Kinda hard to predict anything about the guy when you’ve only got one archaic skill to go off.
“And that’s bothering you?” she asks, popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth.
“I don’t know anything about the guy! He’s a total wildcard. At least with everyone else, I had an idea of what your powers were before I moved in. I know jack-squat about him.” Natalia gives his rant a sly smile that instantly sets him on edge.
“What?” Bucky asks, trying to analyze her body language for clues. It’s a useless endeavor with her, but one he tries nonetheless.
“It’s just funny, that’s all.”
“I don’t appreciate this Natalia.” She ignores his glare.
“When I first met Clint, I hated him.” she recalls, a far-off remembrance in her eye. Bucky settles in to listen. “I was still with the Red Room, his job was to bring me in. He absolutely infuriated me. Everywhere I went, every step I took, I could never outrun him for long. I got to thinking, he must be some kind of advanced human, the same way I was. So I tested it.” She ends her story there, and looks at James expectantly.
“And?” he prompts, rising to the bait.
“Clint Barton is one of the most remarkable human beings you will ever meet.”
--
Natalia was the worst.
See, she had planted this idea in his brain- this concept that Clint Barton’s superpower is something truly incredible, enough to make even her awestruck - and then she hadn’t told him what it was.
So, in a feat his SHIELD-issued therapist would delight at, he actually starts a journal over it. Granted, it’s not the emotional exploration the shrink wanted, but hey, it’s something. (He does tell Steve he’s journaling his emotions though, just to get the guy off his back.)
Bucky doesn’t start at the front of the journal. No, instead he starts in the middle. The front feels too exposed, too open of a place to be theorizing about Clint Barton, jotting down his notes and observations. He resolutely does not examine why he feels that way.
On the first page, he keeps a list of things he knows about Clint for certain:
- archer
- should not be spoken to until he’s consumed at least a pot’s worth of coffee
- will stop mid-battle to pet a dog
- almost everything he owns is an egregious purple
He pauses at 5, realizing how little information of importance he knows about Clint. While yes, number 2 is important if one intends to survive a morning, none of the information is anything that gives him anything to work off. Racking his brain, Bucky eventually comes up with a 5th piece of information, one given to him directly from the man himself. One thing that gives Bucky a great place to start.