Title: You Have Heart
Author: N'kala
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: A 5+1; when Loki told Clint that he had heart, he was closer to the truth than anyone realized.
Author's Notes: So yes, I have been working on this off and on since the first movie was released. With the release of the amazing sequel, I hope to finish this sometime soon.

A few things to note: I do not ship, gen or het, there are no character deaths, and this is noncompliant with canon past the first Avengers movie. This particular train of thought stemmed from the merchandise that appeared with the big 4 on it and ignored Black Widow and Hawkeye. Also? Coulson lives, but the Avengers know about it.

You Have Heart

Chapter One: Bruce

"With all due respect, Director, that's complete bullshit!"

Clint froze just outside of Phil Coulson's medical room, the unusually angered tone of his handler causing him to withdraw. Whatever Coulson and Fury were talking about had clearly upset the still-healing agent, and Clint was determined to find the cause. It had been a miracle that Coulson had survived Loki's attack; Clint wasn't about to let anyone, even Fury, undo all of the doctors' hard work.

"I don't like it either, Coulson, but it's not up to me," Fury replied. "The Initiative is on shaky enough ground as it is with the Council; they don't trust any of them. Adding Barton to the mix-."

"He deserves that spot!" Coulson insisted. "He's worked so hard for it! They can't just dismiss that!"

"He led the eattack on the Helicarrier," Fury replied gently. The words caused Clint to reflexively duck his head and hunch his shoulders in shame. "He was compromised and nearly cost us everything."

"Loki led the attack," Coulson snapped. "Clint was just as much a victim as the rest of us."

"I know," Fury said. "How else do you figure I've been able to keep the Council from having him arrested or thrown into some gulag?"

"They'll touch him over my dead body," Coulson growled.

"They very nearly did," Fury countered. "I'm sorry, Coulson. I'll keep pushing, but right now he's not an official part of the Avengers yet."

Coulson released a frustrated huff of air. "I'm not letting this go," he warned Fury.

"I expected as much," Fury assured him. "Just do me a favor? Don't put yourself back in ICU, huh? I need my one good eye back at work and running herd over the Avengers."

Clint ducked around a nearby corner just in time; Fury strode from Coulson's room, trench coat swirling around his legs. As soon as the director vanished from sight, the archer once more approached his handler's door before hesitating. If he went in now, Coulson would know that he'd heard the exchange.

"I know you're out there, Clint," came Coulson's weary voice. "You might as well come in."

Clint obeyed, an apologetic grimace on his face. "I really wasn't trying to listen in this time, Phil."

Coulson smiled faintly. "I know." His sharp blue gaze narrowed on the brown paper bag and coffee cup that Clint carried. "Are those for me?"

Clint pasted a bright grin onto his face and approached Coulson's bedside. "I figured you'd be going stir crazy in here, now that you're feeling better." He handed Phil the coffee, who took it and eagerly downed half of the cup's contents.

"Easy, Boss," Clint said, reaching into the bag he still held and pulling out a cruller. "You're gonna want taste buds for this."

He set a second cruller on the tray before Coulson, then balled up the empty bag and tossed it into a nearby trash can without so much as a glance. Coulson let out a happy sigh, reaching for one of the pastries.

"You are a godsend," he said.

Clint couldn't contain the sudden flinch, and he lowered his head.

Coulson set his cruller down, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry. Poor choice of words."

Clint shrugged one shoulder, flashing his handler a humorless grin. "At least someone thinks so. Thanks . . . for, you know . . . defending me to Fury."

Coulson's frown deepened. "None of what happened was your fault, Clint." He narrowed his eyes shrewdly. :Has anyone been giving you trouble over this?"

"What, and risk the wrath of the legendary Agent Coulson?" Clint replied. "Please, sir. Your reputation as a bad ass g-man is fully intact."

Coulson's narrowed eyes glinted in suspicion. He recognized the deflections for what it was, but didn't pursue the topic any further. Taking another bit of his pastry, he changed the subject.

"How are the rest of the Avengers doing?" he asked.

Clint latched onto the new topic eagerly. "Your hero's out and about, touring New York on his motorcycle. Someone should probably tell America's number one icon to wear a helmet before some kids start doing the same. All we'd need is some parents suing Captain America for being a poor role model."

Coulson nodded, finishing his first cruller and taking a sip of his coffee. "I'll talk to Nick about that. Stark?"

"The usual," Clint replied. "He went to Malibu for a while, but he's back and skulking around R&D. When he's not making any techs cry, he's pestering Dr. Banner to go back to Stark Tower and work there."

"So Dr. Banner is still here?" Coulson asked. "I'm surprised Stark hasn't managed to convince him to go yet."

"It's not for lack of trying," Clint agreed. "I think he feels safer here. Well, safer in that we have a Hulk cage and it's a lot harder for the army to get to him in a super secret spy headquarters."

"There is that," Coulson said, eating his second cruller. He fixed Clint with a piercing gaze. "What do you think about the Avengers Initiative's chances? Honestly."

Clint shrugged. "You shouldn't ask me, Phil. I'm just a sniper."

Coulson snorted. "You're not 'just' anything, Clint. You see things differently than most people. I trust your judgment. Do you think the Initiative stands a chance at working?"

Clint held Coulson's gaze for several moments before lowering his eyes. He sighed.

"It might," he admitted. "I mean, it went really well when . . . well, when we thought . . ."

Coulson reached out and wrapped a hand around Clint's wrist. He knew how hard the news of his supposed death had hit the younger man, and he doubted he'd ever stop regretting allowing Clint to believe that he'd lost one of the few people he viewed as family.

Clint flashed him a grateful smile and continued. "When the smoke cleared, and things started going back to normal, people had time to really think about what happened. After Thor took Loki back to Asgard, Captain Rogers kind of took off. He's around here and there, but he's kind of retreated back into himself. Dr. Banner came here to work, but everyone's pretty much steering clear of him. They're scared of him, and he's scared of himself. Stark's okay; he'd be good to call on, though I think it's only a matter of time before his near death experience really hits him and we get to witness another spectacular meltdown. Nat's doing all right, but you know how she is."

"And you?" Coulson asked.

Clint shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, I'm not part of the team."

Coulson's fingers tightened around Clint's wrist. "Yet."

Clint smiled softly. "The Initiative could work, Phil. It really could, if we could all the players on the same page."

Coulson sighed heavily, releasing Clint and leaning back against his pillows.

"We need it to work," he confessed to Clint. "With the world changing, it's hard to keep up. The Avengers have to work."

Clint cleaned up what little mess had been made and sat on the bed beside Coulson's hip. "Don't worry, Boss," he said. "We'll figure it out."

The archer waited until Coulson had dropped into a light doze before leaving the room.

Coulson's words and quiet desperation weighed heavily on Clint's heart. He knew how important the Avengers Initiative was, not just to S.H.I.E.L.D., but to the world. If Coulson needed it to work, then Clint would make sure that happened.

With a goal set firmly in mind, Clint headed towards the Research and Development labs where he knew Bruce Banner had taken shelter.

Clint heard them before he saw them.

"I'm not going in there alone with him!"

"Well, I'm not doing it! The guy single-handedly destroyed half the ship!"

Clint turned the corner, frowning deeply at two agents passing a box back and forth as they argued just outside of Bruce's lab.

The first agent shoved the box back into his partner's arms. "I'm pulling rank. You go in."

The second man scowled. "We're both level five, genius."

Clint moved closer to the pair. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Both agents turned at the sound of Clint's voice, frowns creasing their faces. "What's it to you?" the first man demanded. "Shouldn't you be out recruiting for HYDRA?"

Clint fought to keep a bland expression on his face. "What's the matter, Adler? Too scared of your own shadow that you can't deliver a box to a scientist? I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that."

The second man, Adler, glared at Clint. "You'd better watch your mouth, traitor. You never know who might be listening in."

Clint nodded at the open door to Bruce's lab just beyond the two agents. "Maybe you should follow your own advice before Dr. Banner gets sick of hearing you two insult him."

Both agents looked at the door, panic crossing their faces briefly. Adler finally stepped forward and shoved the box forcefully into Clint.

"Then you can deliver this to him, tough guy," he snapped. "Maybe he can finally do something good for a change and squash you like the bug you are."

Adler stormed away, his friend following behind him as he roughly shoulder-checked Clint. Clint gripped the box tightly, taking several calming breaths before walking into the lab.

A subtle hum greeted the archer as he hesitated just inside the door. Sharp eyes skimmed over the equipment and computers around the room, falling on the lab's sole occupant.

"Special delivery for Dr. Banner," Clint announced, hefting the box.

The scientist in question glanced up at Clint, his expression guarded. "Uh, thanks. You can just leave it on the table there."

Clint ignored the dismissive tone in Bruce's voice as he set the box down and wandered further into the lab. He could feel Bruce's eyes on him as he studied the machines and equipment in the room but ignored them.

"Er . . . is there something I can do for you, Agent Barton?" Bruce asked.

Clint moved away from a gently beeping computer and paused in front of a whiteboard half-covered in equations. His eyes traced over the numbers and symbols as he replied. "You can call me Clint for a start, Doc."

Behind him, Bruce blinked in surprise. "Okay. Is there something I can do for you, Clint?"

Clint shook his head, grabbing a blue marker from the whiteboard tray and uncapping it. "Nope. Just curious about what you've been up to in here." Raising the marker, he began scribbling on the remaining white space on the board.

Bruce darted forward in alarm. "Actually, that's a work in progress. Please don't . . ." His voice trailed off as he began to take in what Clint was writing.

Clint finished writing the final variable in an equation with a flourish, capped his marker, and returned it to the tray. "Black and blue markers? We've got to get you some less boring colors."

Bruce wasn't listening to him, his eyes scanning the numbers Clint had just written. He glanced from his work to Clint's, then to the archer himself. "How . . . I've been working on this for days!"

Clint winced, suddenly realizing that his intrusion into Bruce's workspace may not have been as welcome as he had originally thought. "Sorry. I didn't mean to set you back. I can fix it-."

He reached for an eraser and lifted it to the board, but Bruce's hand shot out and seized a handful of Clint's shirt.

"No, wait!" Bruce cried. "I didn't mean it like that!" He met Clint's eyes, his own shyness fading as curiosity replaced it. "How did you know how to write that equation?"

Clint frowned at the whiteboard. "Well, your numbers are about the Tesseract energy spikes and the portals it helped create, right? I remember seeing the same numbers in Selvig's lab in New Mexico. You're trying to find a correlation between the two for another application, like clean energy or something. Now, your numbers are focusing on the gamma waves coming from the device, but those are more residual outputs. I thought that looking at the electromagnetic pulses would be worth pursuing, but Loki happened."

Bruce could only blink at him, stunned. Clint waited patiently for the scientist to respond, quashing the unease he felt growing at Bruce's prolonged silence.

"It was just an idea," Clint finally said. "I'm sure you already considered it."

"I . . . hadn't, actually," Bruce finally said. He studied Clint more speculatively. "Where did you study?"

Clint gave a start. "I . . . nowhere, I just remembered Selvig's team and what they said, and I brushed up on what I didn't know to fill in the gaps."

Bruce finally released Clint to sink onto a nearby stool. "You . . . you read some books?"

Clint's unease was igniting his flight instinct. He was beginning to regret his half-formed plan to get to know Bruce better. "Yeah, I mean . . . I wanted to understand what I was guarding. No big deal."

Bruce closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "Do me a favor, and don't tell Tony that. Okay?"

Clint frowned. "Why not?"

Bruce glanced at the board again, and back to Clint. "Because if Tony knew you could understand advanced quantum mechanics at an application level by just reading a couple of books on it, he will lock you in his tower and never let you go."

The bald statement was so ridiculous to Clint that the archer just laughed, some of his tension easing. "It's just math, Doc. I'm nowhere near your level. Or Stark's."

Bruce shook his head. "Just math, he says." He gave Clint another considering look. "Did you come here for this?"

"What? No!" Clint replied. "No, I just thought, maybe, you'd like to hang out sometime. You know, if you're free or something."

Bruce was giving him that considering stare again. Clint did his best not to fidget.

"I'm . . . not really one for hanging out," Bruce said slowly. "But if you want to drop by to help, or even to just hang around, you're more than welcome. Besides, having someone around to help distract Tony would be a plus."

Clint suddenly grinned mischievously. "No worries there, Doc. I've got plans to loosen him up."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Clint's grin widened. "Actually, if you've got some free time now, I'd love to get your opinion on some things."

Casting one more pointed look at the whiteboard, Bruce allowed himself a smirk. "As it turns out, I do happen to have some free time. What would you like to ask?"

end chapter 1

A/N: BTW, the science/math jargon is just made up. I've read quite a few 'Clint as secret savant' stories, and I'm angling in that direction.