Mr. Green, Steve. Steve, Mr. Green.

The Introduction

Steve, like most of the Avengers. Considered the Hulk a monster. Such a different creature from the highly intelligent and soft spoken Bruce Banner that they seemed worlds apart. The Hulk was useful, chaos and pure violence and strength with just enough control to make a war force of his own. But he was more animal than man. Brute and beast. A weapon to be used carefully then packed away as quickly as possible before he flew off the handle and beyond that tenuous edge of control.

Then there seemed to be a shift in dynamic.

The whole team knew vaugely the details of a chemical explosion in Bruce's lab. That Clint had been there and trapped inside with Bruce when the doctor lost control. The details were vauge and Clint and Bruce never gave much of a straight story but one thing was certain, Bruce had lost control and Clint, somehow, had talked the Hulk down.

Whatever odd bond the pair had formed was not broken when the transformations came and went. It had cemented.

Instead of shying away from them when the work was done the Hulk hovered at Clint's flank. Though still growling, snarling and aggressive in the worst way he seemed almost lamb like following on Clint's heels where ever the archer went. The Hulk still roared at the rest of the team, always seemed to have one arm cocked back and ready for a punch, ready to attack, but not with Clint.

The archer would speaking soothingly, reassuringly and even tones. Smiling gently and even teasing just a bit, teaching the Hulk little hand games and telling him how well he'd done in the fight. The Hulk would eventually sit back on his hunches, completely focused on Clint, making soft rumbling and creaking sounds and Clint would respond as if he completely understood each sound as well as he did English. Before to long the Hulk would seem to get drowsy, fall into kind of doze, curling up as he shrunk back down into Bruce. Clint would actually talk him through the transformation, soothing him as the bones snapped, muscles tore and everything realigned itself.

After seeing the transformation in a state of calm Steve realized the first of many truths about the Hulk. He was in the kind of pain that would kill most men.

Steve started to really watch when Clint and the Hulk were together. Both in the midst of battle and in the aftermath.

The soldier saw the way Clint fearlessly looked into Hulk's eyes and would gently chide him if he did something to dangerous for comfort. Instead of screaming and commanding or being aggressive in return for the Hulk's behavior the archer showed the Hulk what had gone wrong, explained why it was wrong and how to avoid it. More often that not the Hulk clearly understood and would perform some small act of contrition, making soft and mournful creaking noises and hums. Apologizing in a way.

Steve learned the Hulk was not without a sense of right and wrong; that he was not without regret.

The team would watch as Clint spent much of the after math distracting the Hulk with little games. Simple things like clapping games, little rhymes that the Hulk made an effort to repeat or if the ruins and rubble provided for it, simple drawn out games. Tick tack toe or hang man usually with the chosen word being something simple, usually a name of one of the team. Steve was startled to witness that not only was the Hulk capable of learning these games, he was fully capable of remembering them and expanding on them. It wasn't long before the Hulk had certain favorites that he was ask for, the words on the hang man went from simple names to more and more elaborate and longer words. The Hulk started to invent his own games, using parts and bits from the others or dreamed up in his own imagination and would teach them to Clint, punishing the archer with each mistake by gently knocking him over. While Clint would sprawl on the ground the green leviathan would make low huffing sounds and then pick the archer up, set him on his feet again to teach the game all over again.

Steve learned that the Hulk was not a mindless machine, not a weapon to be used. The Hulk thought and planned and problem solved. That the Hulk was intelligent.

Steve saw that Clint would always do his best to turn the Hulk's attention to himself. Always speaking reassuringly and evenly which always seemed to calm the green leviathan. Especially if Clint promised they were safe, promised he wouldn't let anything else happen to the Hulk, that they were going to go home.

Another truth, perhaps the most important of all. The Hulk wasn't angry. The Hulk was afraid.

The idea that the Hulk was afraid, afraid and panicked every time they went into a fight and that Steve was the one urging him into the situations, it made the soldier sick to his stomach. Almost violently ill.

Steve didn't know what to do; he couldn't fathom ordering a frightened soul into the midst of battle, not like that. But they truly needed the Hulk in their arsenal. And Steve would not pass the responsibility off on to another of the team, unknowing or not.

Steve didn't have time to ponder on the predicament. They were called out far to soon for his liking, they were exhausted and over worked but they were needed.

It didn't go well at all.

They brought down their target but at the expense of their own. Clint was knocked unconscious and unresponsive. His pulse thready and Steve was terrified for a moment as he did his best to staunch blood seeping sluggishly around a piece of shrapnel lodged between his ribs. The Hulk... the Hulk was inconsolable. He had for a moment hovered nervously before a cross word from another member of the team threw him into a rage. There was nothing to be done but tranquilize him to the gills and haul him back to SHIELD HQ.

Steve knew Clint wouldn't be happy about that. Not one bit.

It was three days of Steve sitting worriedly at the archer's side, waiting for him to wake up. The shrapnel had been dangerously close to a lung. They kept him in an induced coma to let the wound heal a bit. Knowing Clint, the archer would not have been so idle. Steve hated it. Hated it even more because every day he could feel the vibrations and hear the roar of the Hulk somewhere far below, out of sight and trapped in one of the circular rooms of heavy polymer plastics, caught in a fit of rage and fear. Steve was sick over the whole thing.

When they gently roused Clint from his drugged unconsciousness, the archer smiled good naturedly at Steve, even passing a few weak teases… before a thud and roar that rattled the building.

Steve quietly told Clint what happened, his head dropped in shame and face flushed. Clint rumbled reassurances and told Steve if he wanted to make up for it to help him now.

The soldier was reluctant but the guilt was more than enough to get him moving. He helped Clint pull out IV and unstuck heart monitors. They tightly bandaged up his torso and helped him into a pair of loose fitting scrub pants and a tee shirt. Clint leaned heavily on Steve as they made slow way out of medical and far underground to where The Room was.

The Room was only a slightly larger version of the cage on the Helicarrier. Same design and purpose. Clint hated those things and said as much. Once they were inside the amphitheater around The Room Clint barked a command for everyone out. There had been hesitation and Steve's sharp order sent anyone that lingered scurrying away quickly.

All had gone quiet and the Hulk was watching them warily though the glass. He was shivering and crouched back in a corner and Steve felt a twist of sympathy in his stomach. Clint had cussed, snarling about why they always had to drop the temperature. The Hulk and Bruce alike hated the cold.

Clint stiffly went to the control panels and turned the temperature up. Raising it to a balmy temperature that would suit the green leviathan far better. Hulk seemed to uncurl a bit and started making a low noise in his chest. Just a splintered fraction of a sound but he made it over and over, watching Clint as he moved.

Steve asked quietly what the sound was, long accepting that this was Hulk's own language, his means of communicating.

Clint has responded simply and casually. It was his name. 'Clint' in Hulk-speak.

Steve didn't really know how to process that.

He'd watched Clint go through the security checks, putting in his code left and right and switching red buttons to green over and over and over until there seemed to have been a calm settled over the amphitheater. The Hulk was poised in the far edge of the room, watching and waiting impatiently almost, shifting his weight from one foot and hand to the other. Dark green eyes flicking to Steve over and over and growling softly.

Clint clearly noticed and as he made his way towards the sealed door, he reached out and took Steve's hand and tugged him along behind. The soldier stalled a bit nervously, looking between Clint and the Hulk. Clint keyed in the code to the door and looked towards Steve. Telling him that as soon as the door opened to jump in, land on his back if he can and just lie still. Clint'll do the rest.

The soldier half panicked at what he was being asked but after a moment nodding in agreement. The hiss of the airlock giving way, the door sliding back and Clint leapt at the same time Steve did. The bumped into one another and landed in a tangled heap on the floor. Steve went deathly still and Clint seemed to do the same but after a moment the floor vibrated a bit as massive footfalls headed towards them. There was a low, huffing sound and Clint exclaimed that it wasn't funny. Steve twisted his head and looked up. The Hulk was hovering over them, a lopsided grin on his face and dark green eyes warm and sad at the same time, old in a way that Bruce's were, old from a long life of running, living in fear, a life without laughter.

The low huffing sounds, thudding in and out of the Hulk's chest were bursts of air that could only be called chuckles. Steve let his head drop back and smiled up at the Hulk, who smiled right back.

Clint huff and made a motion between the two, "Steve this is . this is Steve."

Steve untangled an arm and held out his hand toward the Hulk. The green leviathan twitched a bit at first, flinching as if expecting Steve was going to strike him. Then the green leviathan rolled back on his haunches, lifting a large hand and awkwardly gripping Steve's forearm in his whole hand gave a firm shake, jerking the soldier's shoulder up and down roughly but obviously saving him from a crushed hand. The Hulk kept sneaking glances at Clint as if making sure he was doing it right, clicking and humming nervously. Clint was laughing but praising the Hulk, lightly bumping his knuckles against the Hulks and Steve's hand-arm shake.

The archer grinned happily, "I see this being the start of a beautiful friendship. Now. Steve. Get offa me, you're crushing my spleen."

A/N: Yes yes yes. I LOVE Hulkeye. It's my favorite bromance and second favorite paring. I get sucha huge kick out of Clint and Bruce and Hulk being chummy. Hope you guys liked!