Mr. Rogers And ME [BL]

"That's because he cut off that ridiculous long hair of his!" Clint shouted, indignant. "Otherwise, how could I possibly forget the guy who shot an arrow at me from a hundred yards away, snagged my collar, and almost got me killed when I fell down a flight of stairs?!"

"Oh, so I guess you also remember how you missed every single shot at the same distance, huh?"

"…"

Clint's face froze as if struck by lightning, and his gaze started darting around nervously.

"Uh, I was injured, okay? My brain wasn't working right."

Attempting to gain sympathy, Clint clutched his forehead with an expression of exaggerated pain. "I was hit by that orc's dark magic! Didn't you hear what that fossil said? It causes confusion! I don't remember anything right now!"

Natasha's smile only grew more unsettling.

"First of all, I don't recall hearing anything about them having magic." Her expression was dangerously sweet, and Clint shuddered involuntarily. "Second, what the elf described as 'corruption' is roughly equivalent to what we'd call an infected wound. So, Barton, you merely hit your head, and I can confirm that a concussion doesn't damage memory. It just lowers your already limited IQ."

Clint: …Don't be like this, Natasha. QAQ

I'm already this pitiful—doesn't your conscience hurt?

"Oh, but I seem to recall someone trying to act even more pathetic to gain sympathy just a moment ago?"

With a sharp click, Natasha swapped out the magazine in her pistol.

Then, without hesitation, she kicked Clint's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling off the stretcher.

"Enough whining. This isn't over yet. Get up and get to work. Stark's figured out where these disgusting things are coming from. The Captain and the others are heading there now."

"Oh." Clint lay sprawled on the ground, feigning death with a soul-crushing sense of defeat. "Are we going too? Can I just… not?"

"If you'd like, sure."

Shooting a nearby orc between the eyes, Natasha Romanoff smirked coldly.

"After all, it's not my job that was on the line."

"…"

Clint clutched his chest, feeling as though he'd been brutally struck down yet again.

...

"I'm never thought we'd meet again."

Steve stood on the rooftop, having just bashed the last charging orc away with his shield.

His expression was complicated as he greeted Lirael, who was smiling faintly while holding Clint's bow.

"You didn't tell me yesterday that you were this skilled with a bow."

"Well, now you know."

Lowering the bowstring with a composed air, Lirael stood his ground, radiating an aura of righteous integrity, with not a hint of embarrassment at being caught red-handed.

"Speaking of which, I should express my gratitude again for your help yesterday. How about grabbing a cup of coffee together after work?"

"My God—you're holding my bow, using my comm channel, standing in my position, and now you're trying to flirt with the Cap—"

Before Steve could respond, Clint's indignant rant came screeching through the comms, only to be abruptly cut off by a loud thud.

A second later, Natasha's voice took over.

Having just kicked Clint into a wall, she sighed, giving Steve an apologetic look through the comms.

"Nothing just happened. Please, carry on."

"Oh… okay."

Knowing better than to investigate Clint's unfinished outburst, Steve decided to let it go.

Lowering his gaze, he surveyed the battlefield, counting the scattered corpses of orcs.

Roughly a third of them bore expertly placed arrows in their vital points.

He turned back to the elf, his expression growing even more peculiar.

"Actually, you don't owe me any thanks. With your abilities, you'd have been fine even without my help."

"No, you can't say that."

Lirael modestly waved his hand. "You diverted the robber's attention, saved me and my colleague, and resolved the hostage situation—that's a fact. I only made a small contribution in comparison."

…but you gave someone a concussion.

That's hardly a small contribution.

Remembering the elf's feat of smashing a Hydra agent's head with the leg of a bench, Steve couldn't help but twitch slightly at the corner of his mouth, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Fortunately, at that moment, Tony's message came through, calling all the Avengers to assemble.

He had located the lair of the monsters.

Steve shook his head, slung his shield onto his back, and turned to leave.

Just as he did, his gaze met Lirael's.

"I understand that you're probably someone who doesn't want to get involved in things like this."

His ocean-blue eyes were warm and understanding, yet they carried the unwavering resolve of a soldier.

Steve looked at the slightly dazed expression on the elf's face and hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"But right now, among all of us, you're the only one who understands these creatures. It's likely to be dangerous, but I'd still like you to come with me to eliminate them completely—"

"I swear I'll protect you."

"Will you?"

There was such genuine sincerity in Steve's gaze that it carried an almost magnetic pull, making it hard for anyone to refuse.

That sense of unshakable trust, so rare and moving, was something that Lirael had only ever felt before in the presence of the Star-Spangled Banner himself.

His favorability skyrocketed instantly.

A gentle smile spread across Lirael's face.

Although he had grown strong enough to no longer need anyone's protection, he couldn't help but be moved by the solemnity of Steve's promise.

"Of course." The elf nodded, his smile bright and warm. "Defeating orcs has always been my responsibility. Even if you hadn't asked, I would've found a way to follow you."

Besides, he needed to uncover where these creatures came from.

These eternal foes of all living beings in Arda—enemies he had clashed with countless times in his long life—were not something Lirael could ignore.

"That's great to hear."

Steve let out a sigh of relief and nodding his head gratefully at the elf.

At the same time, he pressed on his earpiece to call Falcon for a lift.