かすみ (stranger) wrote,

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( in which insanity is brought to avenge. )

Character(s): Clint Barton, Wade Wilson, Phil Coulson
Fandom: Marvel, specifically The Avengers universe
Rating: G/PG, nothing past mentions of violence really

Clint was hardly sure why they had picked him for the job of recruiting a lunatic like Wade Wilson for S.H.I.E.L.D. All he could remember of the man is how he’d somehow managed not only to not die at his hands, but dodge a goddamn rocket. Though, in an odd way Clint supposed some of that qualified Wilson to at least get a chance at the gig, so to speak. That was a few years ago now - an old job, when Clint was not with S.H.I.E.L.D. - and Clint was currently peering through his scope at a man who seemed quite possibly insane.

Wade was in a car, his hands flailing wildly as he screamed profanities at the steering wheel. Every few moments he would settle enough to casually talk with said steering wheel and then get angry at it for not answering. Then, not long after the moments of calm, he would digress back to the flailing and screaming. The steering wheel had clearly done him a grave wrong. How exactly the inanimate object was supposed to respond Clint was not really positive. One thing he was sure of? This was hilarious to watch.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to recruit this guy?” Clint spoke over the comm.

“Director Fury believes he has potential.” Agent Phil Coulson’s ever calm voice relayed back.

“I think he might be insane.” Clint returned with a smirk and amusement coloring his tone.

“Do you believe you’ll be able to get him to come for a meet?” Coulson asked.

“As long as he doesn’t recognize me, I think I’ll be good on that.” Admittedly knowing what Wilson was capable of, recognition was hardly something Clint desired for this encounter.

“Good.” Coulson left it at that, as radio silence followed that one word.

Clint returned to his scope, peering down it to the car Wilson had been residing in. Shit. Where did the bastard go? He was no longer in the car. Quickly, Clint switched to a pair of tactical binoculars to do a skim of the area nearby. Wilson seemed to have disappeared. Coulson would not like that a simple comm call distracted Clint just long enough to lose sight. He rubbed the heel of his palm into his left eye as someone tapped his shoulder.

He was on the roof of a building, an abandoned one at that. How would someone even know he was up here. Then he felt the mouth of gun barrel at the back of his head.

“Who are you?” Wade asked, there was something wild to his voice.

Clint raised his arms and slowly stood from his perch, voice casual, “Just an observer?”

“You’re from KFC Corporation, aren’t you?” Wade’s voice was skeptical and clearly serious.

“KFC?” Clint blinked.

“Kentucky Fried Chicken. Sworn enemy of Taco Bell and the glory of Mexican food everywhere.” Clint wondered how Wade could possibly sound so serious with such hilarity exiting his mouth.

“No, I’m not from KFC, buddy.” Clint spoke calmly.

“Then why are you stalking me while I converse with Lucille?” Wade narrowed his eyes.

“Lucille?” Clint had no idea who that was. Wait. The car?

“My car, she’s a good girl but she is being rather sassy today.” Wade’s voice was nonchalant as if this was everyday, normal conversation.

“Do you name everything you own?” Clint wondered aloud.

“My katana’s name is Winona. She can be rather stabby, but we work well together.” Finally Wade lowered his gun. “And this gun is named Bea, after the ever lovely Bea Arthur.”

Yup, Clint thought to himself, absolutely insane. He turned to face Wade as he spoke, “I’m here to offer you a job, kind of.”

“A proposition, hmm? A dirty martini indeed.” Wade replied.

“Oh God, not like that.” Clint couldn’t help how baffled he sounded, nor could he prevent the shudder at the prospect.

A sly smirk crept onto Wade’s face, “You totally thought about sexual relations just then didn’t you?”

“For the love of all that is Holy, stop talking about it.” It was sort of making Clint feel queasy.

Wade seemed to then size Clint up, trying to figure out the man in front of him. The two things on Clint’s mind were hopes the other man would not recognize him, as well hope the other man was not thinking of propositions again. After what had seemed like forever, Wade finally spoke.

“Do you like enchiladas?” The question seemed so out of place.

“Enchiladas?” Clint asked with amusement, “You and Mexican food, man.”

“Mana from the Gods above, my papa Odin always did feed me right.” Wade replied with that ever casual seriousness.

There was no denying it, this guy was completely off his rocker. Admittedly, Clint found himself intrigued by the guy. Entertaining would never be a strong enough term to describe Wade Wilson and his eccentricities, “Are you inviting me on a date, for enchiladas?”

“It’s only a date if you want it to be?” With that Wade batted his lashes like a school girl and Clint had never found himself more disturbed than he was in that moment.

“Where are we going to go?” Clint was still in the process of attempting some for zen brain bleaching on himself.


They were now sitting across from one another in a shabby restaurant on the corner of some not-so-nice seeming street in New York eating enchiladas. Clint had pitched Wade the sell on S.H.I.E.L.D. and the other man was still so busy shovelling the monstrous ‘Meat Lover’s Enchilada’ he insisted was necessary to life down his gullet. Clint was vaguely disconcerted by how quickly Wade was working his way through the titan of Mexican cuisine.

“So, what you’re saying is some government organization wants to Borg me?” Wade was licking the sauce off a thumb.

“Not so much Borg you as recruit you.” Clint offered, even though he could tell paranoia was winning.

“Sounds like what you really mean is assimilation.” Wade nodded as if he made some eloquently correct judgment, then he paused, “Wait, do I get to meet Jean Luc Picard?”

“No.” Clint said flatly, a bit of facepalm.

Wade then fell into silence again finishing the last of the rice and beans on his dish before levelling Clint with a serious stare, “And were I to accept assimilation, what would they be having me do?”

“Not to sound cliche, but save the world.” Clint realized that it was probably the most cliche thing he’d ever said and internally scolded himself.

Startlingly enough, Wade burst up from his seat - positioned with one leg up on the seat and hands at his hips. Head to the skies with a craned back neck. Imaginary cape whipping in non-existent wind. Then with a voice full of determination, “I accept thy offer, I shall be the hero Gotham needs!”

To that Clint simply had no words or explanation, he simply and calmly called Agent Coulson, “He’s in, Coulson.”

“Good.” That was all Coulson said and before Clint could continue, the agent was walking into the Mexican food establishment with a suitcase in hand. Seating himself beside Clint he took out a few files and set them on the table, placing the suitcase at the side of their booth for the moment. “So, Mister Wilson, you have opted to aid S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Wade blinked and looked at the man before him, “This isn’t Captain Picard.”

A vein seemed to pulse with veiled irritation on Coulson’s temple before he continued, “We have a file on you here. Similarly to Mister Stark, we do know you don’t exactly work well with others and that there are indeed doubts about how sane you actually are. But, Director Fury believes you would be an asset. Now, due to our analysis we would prefer you work with a capable and relatively sane partner - so for the starting period of your time training with us your partner will be Agent Barton here.”

Clint was listening along to Coulson’s ever calm voice until it finished and he stared at the agent, “Wait, why am I stuck with him?”

“In my file does it talk about how I dodged a rocket?” Wade inquired, clearly glazing over everything temporarily.

“Of course it does, Mister Wilson.” Coulson gave a cool smirk at Clint with those words.

All Clint could hope was that Coulson would not continue on the subject. Given the smirk on the agent’s face he knew about Clint’s use of a rocket launcher in an attempt to take out Wilson on an old mission. But it was all in vain as Coulson spoke again, “That is part of why we feel that Agent Barton is a prime choice for you as a partner. He is after a master assassin, to be specific the one that had been sent after you at the time.”

It seemed to take forever as things clicked into place for Wade’s mind, as it finally did he leaned over the table to give Clint a noogie, voice sinister, “We’ll be best of buddies, with that one Queen song in the background of every mission!”

Coulson seemed quite amused as he began humming Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend”, standing up, gathering his things and heading off, “I hope you’ll give him the tour of S.H.I.E.L.D., Barton.”

With that, the agent was gone, leaving Clint and Wade alone at the restaurant. Clint couldn’t figure out what was going on inside Wade’s mind, but it was unnerving to see such a creepy smile on his face. Wade quietly and simply watched Clint for a long while with that oh-so-creepy smile. Then, finally, he stood up and ordered another ‘Meat Lover’s Enchilada’ with a hum of that song.

Tags: #fanfiction, #public, fandom: marvel universe, fandom: the avengers, pairing: none, topic: fanfiction

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