After giving the wallet back to your ex-boyfriend, Clint came back in and waited in his usual corner.

You kept glancing over at him as you worked so you saw his phone ring and him answer it.

When he finished the call, he came back over to you.

"Uh... (y/n), I'm sorry but I actually have to go. I've got an... appointment." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow breifly but quickly placed a false expression of concern on your features.

"Oh no, are you alright?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I'm fine. I-" he cut off, noticing that you weren't buying it.

"It's quite a long story. One I can't tell here, so I'll leave my number here." He grabbed a paper coffee cup from the counter and a black marker pen, scribbling on his number while you chewed your lip.

"Call me when your shift's over and I'll see what I can do." He said, tapping the counter before walking out, obviously in a hurry.

You stared blankly as the door swung shut behind him, the bell jingling cheerfully.

You stared at the cup and the pen, sat expectantly on the counter as you input the number into your phone as a contact.

Why.

Why did he have to go? Why couldn't he explain? How could expect you to just wait in suspense?

Because he helped me.

You swept the cup and pen to the side as another customer walked in, a woman with a small child.

You took her order, trying to sound cheerful but you didn't think you sounded it.

You brought the cake and coffee to her table when it was ready, then went back to the counter to find a man waiting.

His hair was blond and longer than a lot of guys hair, just a fraction shorter than Thor's. He watched you as you went back behind the counter with eyes as green as the newest leaves.

"Hi." He said, an english accent present in his voice.

"Hey." You said, picking a stray cup from the side of the bench and looked up at the rather attractive man expectantly.

"Do you make hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

"Brilliant. One of those then, Love."

You found yourself blushing, but scribbled the order on the cup.

"Can I get a name?" You asked.

"Peter."

You nodded, writing the 5 letters on the cup in your neatest writing.

You made the hot chocolate and shortly handed it to the blond.

"Cheers." He smiled. It was then that you noticed Clint's number on the cup.

Peter followed your gaze and laughed, "Not good enough for you, was he?"

You bit your lip, "No. I put my number in his phone already."

Peter nodded and smirking, he went to sit in the table closest to the door.

You glanced at him a few times, to see him looking at something in his phone. You watched him nod slowly, glance outside the door at a silver van, glance at you, then glance outside again.

You felt your heart begin to race, and you weren't sure why. He was just checking his car was still there, wasn't he?

The van backed up a bit, so it was almost perfectly in line with the door.
Someone was picking him up?

The woman and her son got up to leave, leaving Peter as your only customer.

He smiled at you before typing something else into his phone.

You jumped as the van doors slid open and a man with hair of similar length to Peter's walked in. He didn't even glance at Peter as he walked straight to the counter, leaning on it with both hands.

"Do you sell smoothies?" He asked and all of a sudden Peter stood up, shooting you with a gun of some kind but you felt no pain, just a sharp pierce as the bullet or dart hit your shoulder.

You let out a gasp as you fell forward, collapsing on the counter. The new man reached across and pulled you over the counter, holding your arms behind your back.

You couldn't move your arms or legs, you couldn't scream for help, you felt like a doll. Helpless.

You were carried to the van, aware of Peter following, hot chocolate cup in hand.

The van doors slid shut once you were inside and you felt it begin to drive away as you slipped in and out of consciousness.

----
Later, you were pulled to your shaky feet and led out of the van, now stopped.

Peter held a hand to your forehead, pulling your head back into his shoulder. His other arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, pinning your arms to your stomach. He still held his half drunk hot chocolate.

You were led to a small room where Peter pushed you to your knees in front of another man in a chair, his hair was chestnut brown and he had a large purple bruise and stitches on one side of his face.

"Get the phone, Alec." The man said to the blonde man who had dragged you out of the shop.

Peter crouched beside you, murming in your ear, "This is Dylan. Do as he says and Hawkeye will be here in no time to take you for that drink."

You were confused for a second and then you felt stupid. Clint Barton. Hawkeye from the Avengers. Of course.

You were passed a phone with a number you recognised as Clint's typed into it.

"Tell Clint what's happened. Honestly." Said Dylan, his voice not revealing a hint of emotion.

You nodded and Peter pressed the call button. The call was on speaker phone.

"Hello. Clint Barton." Hearing his voice made your heart race even faster.

"Hi Clint. It's me, (y/n)."

"Oh! Hi! I was wondering when you'd call. Is your shift over? I'm nearly finished so I can come by and pick-"

"Clint. Listen. I need your help. Please. There's these men they- Clint, I don't know what to-"

"Slow down, (y/n). Where are you?" Clint said, his voice calmer than you expected.

A hand was suddenly clamped over your mouth and Dylan spoke in your place.

"Now that's the funny thing. I'm going to send someone to pick you up from the coffee shop. Don't be too long."
He hung up the phone and you felt sudden dread. What if he didn't come for you?

---
To be continued... I guess.