Draw the Veil Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is very much an AU story – supernatural in nature, though not connected to the show of the same name. Some humans are shapeshifters. The story is one with no Hulk, but a very smart Bruce (think comics type, from Planet Hulk, forward). Clint normally has blue eyes, but they just don't work for a hawk, so I gave him blue-amber ones; a touch weird, but that's the fun of writing AU! I rightly pin the 'blame' on sussing out Bruce's techno-gadgets on Determamfidd, she of the Hulk Knowledge. Thanks lady! See the bottom for more notes. Own nothing recognizable but my plot, the powers for the shifters, and the crazies.

He woke, mind groggy, senses slow. He lay on the dirt floor of a cave, where he always ended up after his changes. That was good. Before he opened his eyes, he mentally took stock of his physical condition. Slowly tensing and releasing muscles up and down his long limbs, he was able to confirm the proper working order of his body, with no outstanding injuries and no lingering soreness or stiffness from his time as his other self. Once this was done, he relaxed, breathing into a meditative trance, in no hurry to leave.

Shortly, there was a scrabbling at the entrance to the cave that had the man tensing, ready to defend himself...except...

"Banner, you're a difficult man to find sometimes," came a voice he knew very well. A warm, loving voice.

He huffed a laugh, sitting up, opening chocolate brown eyes to take in the sight of his old friend, and occasional lover, Clint Barton, the Amazing Hawkeye, lately of SHIELD. An average man, sandy blond hair shot through with darker streaks and glowing, blue-amber eyes. As marks of their animal sides went, it was striking on him.

"That's the point of a retreat, Barton. Social animal like you wouldn't know the meaning of need to center oneself," Banner retorted, pulling himself into a cross-legged position, back against the smooth rock wall. He'd spent enough breaks from his work as a professor there to appreciate some creature comforts as smooth walls, and he'd put in the work to guarantee it.

"Introvert," Clint said, with affection, settling on his haunches beside his friend. They shared a smile.

"So what does SHIELD's best marksman want with UC Berkeley's third best professor of nuclear physics on this fine April day?", Banner got to the point. Something Clint always appreciated about the man.

"SHIELD needs you, Bruce. There's been a nuke scare. Cropped up on our terrorism nets. Coulson would like you to come in and see if you can figure anything out," Clint explained, head low, not meeting Bruce's eyes. It had nothing to do with the fact that Bruce was more of an apex predator than himself, nor did it have anything to do with shame at ruining the man's vacation. He just hated being the bearer of bad news to people he cared about.

"Damn. You're certain?" Bruce asked, growling in trepidation. He knew this was likely to get ugly, fast.

"As certain as we can be." Clint couldn't reveal more, and Bruce knew why. Their location was under a camp ground, and any sounds within carried. The place was largely left alone because the park ranger for that area was a fellow shifter he'd reached an agreement with. That ranger kept his cave protected from hikers and campers, allowing Bruce to store bits of gear in the far back portion of the cave system he'd claimed for his quarterly retreats.

"All right. Let me clean up the place. We'll need to call the Dean along the way so my classes get handled," Bruce agreed, surging up to his feet, briefly looming over the other man. Some animals took this as a threat, Clint simply sat, waiting for Bruce to move. They had too much history together for dominance displays like the young bucks engaged in.

"Need me to do anything?" Clint offered, looking up at the burly, half naked physicist. He appreciated Bruce's body without being too obvious about it. The bear scientist took good care of himself, was trim, and toned without looking like a steroid jock. His torso was covered in dark hair, and the mop on top of his head was all fluffy curls and salt and pepper color. Bruce gave a lopsided grin to the archer, knowing he was being checked out.

"Go find Jimmy, tell him I'm leaving early. This time of day, he's probably in the south meadow, scaring kids," Bruce told him, smoothly moving to the back of the cave, where the system of tunnels disappeared into the murky gloom.

"Right, be back shortly," Clint said, jumping to his feet. He never landed, instead, blurring into his bird form and flapping strong, brown feathered wings to grab air outside the mouth of the cave to head for open sky.

"Show off," Bruce called, getting a sharp shriek that was almost laughter in return. Bruce chuckled, turning back to put up his supplies and cover the whole with the dark camouflage netting. He grabbed the pack he'd hiked in with, fished out a clean shirt, and tugged it on over his broad, barrel chest. Slipping his wide feet into his sandals, he got moving, knowing to meet Clint at the closest parking lot.

He found Clint leaning against the hood of a powder blue, '67 Mustang convertible, sunglasses wrapped around his face.

"Huh, pulled the 'stang out of mothballs just for me?" Bruce leered as he approached the other man.

"As if. Get your dusty ass over here, fur ball. We need to be in Pismo Beach by 10am tomorrow," Clint moved from the hood to the driver's side of the car, sliding neatly into place behind the wheel. Bruce threw his pack into the open back seat and climbed into the passenger seat, settling onto the cream colored leather with a sigh. Clint peeled out of the lot, startling a family repacking their van, making Bruce laugh. The deep, free sound made Clint smile as he shifted the car onto the highway and into high gear for decent cruising speed.

They traveled in companionable silence for a couple of hours, just letting the road speak to them, the wind rush past. Dinner was a stop at a truck dive, tucked into a back booth where Clint could keep his eyes on everyone and everything. Something Bruce was intimately familiar with, in regards to his hawk.

"So, how's Nat?" Bruce asked over a BLT and bowl of chili.

"Fine, on separate assignment," Clint answered, swallowing a bit of his fried chicken.

"Oh? Damn. Hoped it'd be 'old home week' for us. Well, never mind, we'll have to arrange something later," Bruce said, take a bite of whole wheat, lettuce, tomato and bacon.

"We might get to see her, depends. Her assignment is Stark." Bruce's eyes went large in his surprise and he nearly choked on the food he was trying to swallow.

"Really? The billionaire industrialist? Damn curious now, feather brain."

"Aren't you in luck, we're heading into some rough weather then?" And Bruce grinned, blunt white teeth showing. That was old code for the need to talk openly, which meant the roof would be up on the 'stang. It really meant nothing, but in the old days, needing that privacy was such a luxury, and they had to create something for themselves.

They finished dinner, making time for dessert to compensate for their higher than average metabolisms, and got back on the road, the blaze of the setting sun on their right as they drove southward. With the top up, Clint plugged an iPod into the custom stereo and found the jazz they both liked.

"So, Nat's with Stark," Bruce opened with, leaning his head back, but keeping his eyes on Clint as he drove. The shadows that played across the other man's face highlighted the planes of his angular cheeks and chin.

"Yup. Fury wants to see what he's like since his kidnapping."
"Ugh, read about that. Nasty business. What's Fury going to do with him?"

"Consultant work," Clint shrugged.

"Thought he was out of the weapons business?" Bruce mused, tapping a finger against his chin as he thought back to that long ago article.

"Dunno. Coulson won't talk about it. This other business though..." Clint trails off.

"Yes, how do you know about a possible nuke?"

"Seat pocket behind me," Clint said. Bruce reached for the flap on the back of the bucket seat, and found a manila envelope. Drawing it into his lap, he next reached for his bag and rummaged for the small flashlight he carries for emergencies. He flicked it on and opened the envelope to pull out several reports. A summary sheet on top gave Bruce some details. He read.
"Analysts discovered a cache of radium missing from Arco, NM*. Protests by Children of St Michael noted in the area 2 days prior. Hmpf, them again," Clint grunted agreement. Bruce read on, "Unspecified threat received by Secret Service regarding Presidential trip to Thailand. SHIELD asked to investigate."

"Doesn't sound like much, does it?" Clint said when Bruce reached the end of the summary. Bruce sighed, scrubbing a hand over his fluffy, curly hair as he thought.

"The radium alone is cause for concern. Who else knows it's missing?" Bruce wondered out loud.

"Fifth report," was his answer. Bruce shuffled papers, drawing out the one indicated and skimming the information it contained. The beam of light stayed steady as he read. Apparently several alphabet soup groups knew the material was missing, but SHIELD (re: Fury) had wrangled the job under their auspices. Bruce hummed, considering.

"Well, I guess we'll see when we get there, but too many opportunities here for everything to go tits up, you know that."

Clint rolled his eyes, "Coulson is having kittens because of that report."

"I can imagine. Loose lips and all that government crap." They laugh and Bruce continued reading more of the main report.

It didn't take him long and he was able to soon switch off the small flashlight. Clint hadn't complained, but it was easier for him without the light. Another hour passed, and Bruce could tell Clint needed to rest.

"Hey, bird boy," he called across the soft sounds of Duke Ellington.

"Huh?" Clint grunted, zoned out.

"Either pull over so we can sleep, or let me drive. I think you need it," Bruce suggested.

"Hm, it's a thought, I guess. Where are we?" Clint handed Bruce his phone to try and figure out their location.

"No need man. I know where we are. Here, take the next exit, it'll send us to Hollister. I can make a pit stop," he grinned manically, almost overeager at the idea. Clint rolled his eyes again, and laughs, but takes the physicist's directions.

AN: * - Arco is a made up location, but appears to be a street name (after a Google search).

Ok so this universe is mine, whole cloth/closet, whatever the idea. The only recognizable bits are the fact that these guys are sort of superheroes. As I said in the disclaimer, Bruce did not take that job that led to the creation of the Hulk. But Bruce is a nerdy God in his own right, and I am playing that to the hilt. His intelligence is on par with Tony's, always was; they just work in different areas. Story will reveal their PhDs, I promise, maybe. This is also a threesome, slash fic. My lame attempts at intimate moments will be on display. Go easy on me, please? If you have any questions about the universe I've created, feel free to find me on any of the other social media I belong to. Go to my profile for my various handles. PMs are welcome, as is concrit. Flames are disregarded. If you don't like the pairings, don't read, simple as that. PS - I will likely be putting truly explicit scenes on AO3, as FFNet doesn't like them anymore. I will mention when that happens.