Notes: My lovely beta zaataronpita's birthday was recently, and this is her fic present. This is an AU which actually has...a fair amount of existence in my head, but for the moment this is all that is on paper of it, and probably will remain that way for a while unless an idea really bites me. If you're wondering - no, not everything is necessarily above board here. How much Loki is orchestrating events, and how much is truth, you'll just have to figure out on your own.

With thanks to fel-as-in-tumbld and the-city-mouse for looking this over for me! Enjoy.

Also note that this takes place immediately after the events of Thor, though with Clint in a different place, obviously.

It wasn't the first time he'd fucked up. It was looking a hell of a lot like it was going to be the last, though. His head hit concrete again and the sound of yelling fuzzed like a badly tuned radio, and this wasn't a punishment anymore, this was an example. Clint had a feeling this was what people were talking about when they mentioned "bad ends."

"I've given you chances," Bear was bellowing when Clint's hearing clarified again. "Too many, and all you ever do is screw up, Barton." Someone's boot slammed into his stomach and Clint threw up on the floor, nothing left but bile and that tinged unnervingly with red. "This is the last time-"

"I'll say." That didn't sound familiar, Clint thought.

"Who the hell are you," Bear snarled, momentarily distracted, and Clint tried to pry his eyes open and push himself up to hands and knees, even though he knew it would be better to stay down. Too dumb and stubborn for that. He caught a flash of someone tall, slender, and incredibly well-dressed before someone kicked him in the side of the head and he lost track of things for a little while.

He blinked, and someone was screaming. It sounded a lot like Bear, and there was something warm and coppery smelling on his face. "Was I unclear the first time?" That same unfamiliar voice as before, low and smooth and with a vibration to it Clint could feel in his bones. Or was that just the concussion? "The next one of you to lay a hand on him will lose the hand. And perhaps the arm as well. Would anyone else like to challenge me?"

What the shit is going on here, Clint thought dizzily. Every time he inhaled there was a sharp pain in his chest and abdomen that didn't bode well. "No? You are smarter than you look. Now get out."

Clint heard a scramble of feet and tried to pry his eyes open again. His vision was blurry and indistinct, but he could just make out Bear's red jacket where it looked like he was lying on the floor whimpering, at least until someone hauled him off it and all sound cut off with a nasty crack. Sounded like a neck. Probably, Clint thought, he ought to be worried about that.

He heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and started trying to push himself up again, trying to focus so he could get a good look at the stranger. It didn't seem to be working, though, at least not until a blurry shape knelt into his field of vision and fingers brushed lightly against his jawline. His eyes cleared and the figure sharpened into a strange man dressed in black and white, his skin strikingly pale against long black hair slicked back from his face. He didn't look like the kind of guy who wandered around abandoned warehouses in the middle of the night.

"Hello," the stranger said, his voice smooth and pleasant. "Clint Barton, isn't it? I've been looking for you."

Clint squinted. "Huh?" he said, the most articulate response he could summon, and he thought he caught a flicker of amusement, maybe. His head was still throbbing, though, and his whole body hurt.

"I'd like to make you an offer," the stranger said, "but I suppose it can wait until you are a touch less…battered."

Clint took a deep breath, let it out harshly at the stabbing pain that resulted, and pushed himself up to his knees, but he had to stop there again with his eyes closed. "Wh're you," he asked, bluntly, trying to make his brain work. He was beginning to put together that whoever this guy was, he'd killed Bear. Consequently kept Bear from beating Clint to death.

Saved his life?

"Me?" The stranger sounded faintly amused, again. "I doubt my name will mean much to you. You won't have heard of me." Clint focused on trying to work his way to his feet. He needed to…go somewhere. Where, though? Everything he had was the ring's, and he was pretty sure he wasn't one of them anymore. What did that leave?

"Still," he pushed out, stubbornly. He gathered his feet under him and started to stand, and the world promptly reeled, his knees giving out. He didn't hit ground, though. He hadn't seen the man move, but he'd caught Clint easily.

"Loki," he said, after a moment. "You can call me Loki."

Clint shut his eyes, but that didn't stop the world from spinning. Loki. Huh. "Weird name," he said, and blacked out.

~.~

For a moment when Clint jerked awake he didn't know what had awakened him.

A moment later the sound came again, though, and Clint vaulted out of his bed and grabbed a knife because that was screaming coming from just down the hallway and there was only one room that way.

He burst through the door at a dead run, ready for a fight, but there was no intruder to drive off, just Loki curled up in the middle of a snarl of blankets like he was trying to present a smaller target, twitching wildly, the scream cracking into high pitched, quiet keening. "Sir!" Clint said loudly, but other than a particularly sharp twitch, there was no response.

Clint only hesitated a moment before jumping forward and reaching for Loki's shoulder, but he'd hardly started to grab on to give it a shake before Loki moved with a snarl, his right hand flashing up, fingers wrapping around Clint's throat, his eyes full of blank and unseeing rage.

He froze, at once, his heart skipping a beat. "It's me," he said, trying not to let his voice rise even as Loki's fingers started to tighten and he could feel his air supply dwindle. "It's me, Barton-"

Loki gasped, sharply, and blinked, and his gaze cleared. He stared in apparent confusion at Clint for a long moment. "Hawkling," he said, finally, his voice strange and rough, and his hand fell away. "You…startled me."

Clint tried to make himself smile. "I noticed." Loki didn't look at him, scathing or otherwise, pushing himself up so he was sitting against the pillows, and Clint's smile faltered. He didn't say anything, just staring out at nothing in particular, and Clint's stomach fluttered uneasily. "Sir," he said, carefully. "Should I…" he made a small motion toward the door, and Loki's hand snapped out again and caught his wrist.

"No," he said, and Clint fell still, feeling a twinge of shame for the slight quiver in Loki's voice. "Stay. It doesn't need to be…long." He didn't falter before nodding.

"Of would you like me to…"

"Sit. Talk with me. It doesn't matter." One of Loki's hands lifted toward his forehead, and then he pulled it away and seemed to shake himself. "Though…I awakened you, didn't I? My apologies."

"It's fine," Clint said quickly. "I'm a light sleeper." He looked around the room for somewhere to sit, and couldn't find anwhere but the bed. After a moment he sat down on the edge of it, feeling uncommonly self-conscious, a little uncertain. This was new, this was different, and he wasn't entirely certain what the rules and protocol might be. He glanced sideways at Loki when he didn't reply, and found him staring at nothing, eyes fixed forward. "Sir?" he said, carefully, and Loki twitched, shuddered, and turned his head fractionally.

"Mm?"

"You were…" Clint trailed off, and then shook his head. "—never mind." He shifted, uncomfortably, wishing he knew what to do. Loki was holding himself rigidly, with deliberate determination not to move like if he twitched something dire might happen. It sent chills down Clint's spine. "Do you want…"

"If you are about to ask if I want to talk about something, hawkling, I suggest you reconsider." There was a touch of bite to Loki's voice, and Clint shut his mouth hurriedly. He swallowed hard.

"Sorry," he said, after a moment's pause, and after a moment Loki exhaled quietly and released Clint's wrist.

"No matter. There is no call for me to be short with you." He seemed tired, Clint noted, circles around his eyes that he hadn't noticed before, and Clint felt a little flicker of worry. "Relax. Sit back. I do not think…" He huffed quietly, a bitter and almost soundless laugh. "I doubt I will be sleeping again tonight." He tipped his head back against the pillows, eyes cast upward, and Clint took the opportunity to give him a more careful looking over sidelong before making himself lean back, if not to relax. He kept one eye on the door.

"Tell me something," Loki said suddenly, and Clint almost started and turned his head to look directly at him, waiting. Loki lifted a hand and waved it, after a moment. "Anything. A story, something about Earth…"

"You say that and suddenly I can't think of a single thing," Clint said with a little twist of his mouth, and Loki made another one of those soft, soundless laughs, turning to his side propped up on one elbow. Clint met his eyes for a moment and was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze before he looked away again. "Ummm…"

"Tell me something of you. Where would you be, if you were not here with me?"

"Sleeping," Clint said promptly. The look Loki leveled on him was faintly exasperated, but a little amused as well, and that was gratifying.

"I meant a little more broadly than that."

That was easy, too. "You mean if you hadn't employed me? Dead, probably." He didn't bother to sugarcoat it. Or to play dumb. He knew how much he owed Loki and it was just about everything. Loki grimaced, though, seeming displeased.

"Not precisely what I…ah, never mind." Loki shifted, slightly, and his fingers brushed against Clint's shoulder. Clint jumped, jerking reflexively away, startled by the sudden contact. Loki's eyebrows jumped up and Clint controlled his expression.

"Reflex," he said simply. Loki regarded him for a moment, but then laid his hand a touch more deliberately on Clint's shoulder, his eyes half closing. Clint held very still.

"Do you mind?" he murmured. Clint swallowed. Did he mind? He wasn't entirely sure. It didn't feel bad, just strange, and he was suddenly very aware that he was lying on a bed, and Loki was very close. Clint tried to think what was the proper answer, but before he came up with one Loki sighed and pulled his hand away, shifting a little further from Clint at the same time.

"I don't," Clint said quickly, reacting to the disappointment, no matter how slight, but also to a sudden feeling of loss as Loki moved away. He was in foreign territory and navigating blind, but the way Loki looked at him, sudden and slightly surprised, rewarded him with the feeling that he'd made the right call. "Mind, I mean. You can…does it help?"

Loki's eyes narrowed a fraction, and then his face relaxed. "To some extent, yes," he said, after a moment. "It is good to have an…anchor." The corners of his mouth twitched, slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "As it were."

Clint chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, and then shifted a little closer, just enough that his shoulder barely nudged against Loki's, and then held perfectly still, not sure what he expected. With a quiet exhalation, though, Loki simply leaned a little into the contact. Clint's heart fluttered, obscurely nervous. He could still feel the tension in his body and knew better than to comment on it.

"I am fortunate to have found you," Loki said, after a moment's silence.

"Damn straight," Clint said, flippant, and Loki huffed.

"Don't get too cocky. It is only charming to a point." Loki tilted his head back, and Clint's eyes wandered briefly to the long line of his throat before he looked away. "I intended to ask if there was anything you desired that you do not have."

Clint hesitated, but shook his head. "I don't think so. Not that I can think of."

"If you do…tell me. I would be happy to grant it." Loki shifted slightly, leaning more into Clint, and one of his hands landed lightly on his forearm, idly moving up over his skin. Clint tensed, his skin tingling oddly where Loki's fingers brushed.

"Sir?" He said, almost cautiously. Loki hummed in response, and after a moment Clint added, "What are you…doing?" Loki's fingers paused, and Clint shivered just a little.

"Is it inappropriate?"

"It's not really…typical." Clint's mouth felt dry, and he tried to work up the saliva to swallow. He kept his breathing even with a little bit of an effort, very aware of Loki's closeness, of how nearby his body was, and the thoughts that kept drifting into his head were completely uncalled for but he still…

Loki's fingers tapped at the crook of his elbow, and Clint felt goosebumps prickle all over his body. "Am I typical? Are you?" Loki sounded thoughtful, almost, but something else as well. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Clint said, after a moment. His voice sounded strange in his own ears and he could feel his body twitch slightly as Loki's fingers drew little circles on his bicep. He clenched his left hand until the nails dug into his skin.

"Good." Loki's breath was soft on Clint's arm. "I like having you this close." Clint's breathing snagged, and he closed his eyes, something seething uncomfortably under his skin. Loki's fingernail skimmed against his skin and Clint felt his body seize up. "You know, hawkling, don't you," Loki said, his hand stilling. "That I'd never ask anything of you that you weren't willing to give?"

Clint squeezed his eyes closed, not sure how to pin down the squirming feeling in his stomach. "I know," he said, finally, because he did know that. Believe it. Loki had looked out for him this far, and the feeling humming in his chest wasn't fear, exactly. Loki exhaled quietly against his shoulder.

"What would you do," he murmured, after a moment, "if I kissed you now?"

Clint took a couple short, uneven breaths. There's a line, some sensible part of his brain reminded him. There's a line, don't cross it, personal and professional don't mix, but they already had, nothing with Loki had ever been just business.

Loki's fingers caught his chin and turned Clint's head toward him so he was staring right into too-bright green eyes, intent and intense and focused solely on him, and was momentarily overwhelmed. "Sir," he said, voice a little rough, "I think I'd kiss you back."

Loki moved, fingers tilting Clint's head back slightly and then Loki was kissing him, his mouth slightly cool, hand sliding gradually to the back of Clint's neck, and Clint felt his body loosen at that slight weight and pressure. The kiss started out gentle and deepened rapidly, sliding toward fierce, possessive-

He pulled back, and Clint almost gasped, realized that one of his hands was clenched on Loki's arm. He looked to Loki's face and found his eyes half closed, dark, and gleaming.

Cliché it might be, but he could lose himself in that expression. Clint swallowed hard, feeling his eyes widen, and Loki's lips quirked in a smile for a moment before he dropped his head to Clint's neck and nipped at his skin. Without thinking, Clint let his head fall sideways to offer more of his throat, thoughts spinning wildly.

Loki drew back, after a moment, looked at Clint with his eyes half lidded. Clint's breathing picked up again. "There is no penalty if you don't wish to…go on," Loki murmured, and Clint swore he could feel his voice on his skin like a caress. "As I said. I will not ask of you what you are not willing to give."

For a moment, Clint hovered on the edge of doubt and indecision. His heart was pounding and he couldn't think straight. It didn't really matter, though; he already knew what he would say, in his bones, in his chest. Knew what he wanted.

Needed.

He pulled himself up, fingers tangling in Loki's hair, and fixed his mouth at the hollow of Loki's throat. Felt him gasp and shudder and press forward against him like he truly wanted, desperately. It was a flushed and intoxicated feeling, the taste of Loki's skin was electric, and he leaned in and let himself drown.

~.~

Clint came around lying on something far more comfortable than he was used to, staring up at a ceiling that was actually white as opposed to a shade of yellow. He blinked, and realized gradually that he didn't hurt. For a moment, he thought he might be dead, but then someone spoke.

"Ah, good. You are awake." He vaguely remembered hearing that voice, but it took him a few moments to place it, and then he sat up in a sharp movement and stared at the stranger from the warehouse, who was sitting on an armchair not far away, lounging comfortably with his eyebrows raised. "I took the liberty of taking you here to recover. It is…think of it as a safe house that I keep. I hope you do not mind."

Clint stared at him, not at all sure what to make of this. After a moment, he managed a, "Thanks." He realized, belatedly, that the lack of pain wasn't simply the fuzz of painkillers, but an actual lack of pain because his ribs – and everything else Bear and his cronies had broken – were in one piece again.

The guy – Loki, Clint remembered, and what kind of a name was that? – inclined his head. "I also took the liberty of mending your injuries. I have some skill in the arcane arts, and I was…doubtful that you would survive otherwise."

Clint swallowed, uneasiness prickling down his spine. "…right." He pushed that away. "Yeah. Thanks."

Another slight inclination of his head. Clint let himself stare a little longer this time, taking in the peculiar hairstyle and the narrow, almost gaunt lines of his face – and his frame. He looked like a gymnast, hardly the kind of muscle that could take on Bear and the rest. And yet.

Well, he thought, bleakly, that was the end of that gig. He wasn't going back there.

Even if it was exactly what he'd wanted, there was a weird hollow feeling in Clint's chest. However much of a shit deal it had been, it was something, and now…

"Do you remember what I said, prior to your falling unconscious?" Loki asked, after a moment, and Clint glanced at him briefly.

"You said you had an offer."

"So I do. As I think your…prior engagement…is terminated, that leaves you a free agent, yes?" Clint shrugged, and Loki leaned forward, his expression intensifying. "Come work for me." Clint's gaze snapped to meet bright – almost unnaturally bright – green eyes.

"What?"

"Work for me," Loki repeated, sounding remarkably patient. "I have need of…a bodyguard and assistant. Someone at my side I can trust and to whom I can delegate tasks of various natures."

Clint stared at him, blankly. "That doesn't really sound like the kind of thing that I do," he said, finally, not quite flat. Loki shrugged.

"I think you shall perform quite adequately for my needs, based on what I know of you. I have been…observing." Observing. Clint just stared at him a little longer, but Loki didn't expand. He shifted, finally, made uneasy by the intensity of that gaze.

"Why did you come looking for me?" Clint rasped, finally, his voice still rough, dry. "There's plenty of other people who can do the kind of thing you're talking about." He kept his voice carefully neutral. Didn't let it become bitter. No one had ever hidden from him that he was replaceable. Useful, but ultimately not unique.

"Why choose you over them, do you mean?" Loki leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You're skilled. Talented. Clever and loyal. You are known for a unique determination and a strong sense of initiative. And you are the best marksman by any measure on this planet. I need someone like you." His gaze was steady. "You deserve better than menial labor with those who ignore your ability. Wasted potential…offends me."

Clint stared blankly at him, a strange feeling in his chest. You deserve better. He remembered hearing those words, once, from his first master way back in the circus, you're a smart boy. Deserve better than this. Since then, though…

"If you work for me," Loki went on, "You will have as much money as you require to live comfortably. I take my responsibilities to those I employ seriously. I return what is given to me twice over. Should you need anything while you are in my service, you need only ask. All I ask from you is your loyalty and your skill."

He breathed shallowly. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, and he reached for it, remembered you would have died on that warehouse floor if he hadn't come. If he hadn't saved you.

Do you really want to go looking for another ring of scumbags to join?

Loki stood in one smooth, graceful motion. "I don't ask you to decide immediately. You may stay here as long as you wish. It will be safe. When you decide…"

It was like being offered the proverbial hand at the bottom of a pit. Clint had never been religious. He'd never believed in much. But that he was getting this chance, just as he'd hit what felt like rock bottom, seemed like…kismet, maybe. And he couldn't – couldn't – let it get away. Besides…wasn't this what he wanted? Someone to be loyal to?

Someone who might actually deserve it?

"Yes," he said. Loki paused, and glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows slightly lifted.

"Pardon?"

"Yes," Clint said. "I'll work for you."

A smile bloomed on that sharp, angular face, lit up brilliantly green eyes, and Clint blinked, almost dazzled by the transformation, the way the genuinely pleased expression made him look. He felt his heart rise a little in his chest. "You are certain?" he said, after a moment. Clint nodded.

"Yeah. I'm sure." You saved me. And you act like I might actually matter. Clint swallowed, and pushed himself to his feet. "When do I start?"

"Now," Loki said, and turned, taking a step back toward Clint and offering a hand. After a moment, Clint reached out and took it. It felt like a spark, static electricity or something, jumped from Loki's palm to his, and his hair stood all on end. Something in Loki's smile made his skin prickle, instincts humming something like an adrenaline rush. "I keep my word, Clint Barton," he said. "And I look after my own."

My own. Clint liked that, just a little. Liked the sound of it.

"Come," Loki said, then. "There is work to be done."

Clint stood up, slowly. "What are you doing?" he asked, probably belatedly. Loki smiled a little wider.

"An excellent question," he said, and released Clint's hand, slowly. "You, Clint Barton, are going to help me save the world."