Clint was fine. See, look at him smiling, nodding, and agreeing. Look at him plain just not caring. He was fine, fine, fine, and he dared someone to say otherwise. Besides, it wasn't like anyone else cared. No, the decision was set in stone.

Loki was joining the Avengers.

Oh no! A villain joining the superheroes? Well whoop-de-doo, guess who else was not very happy? That's right, him! You know, the guy who had been mind-controlled and forced to kill his teammates?

But no, Loki had redeemed himself. He'd saved the Earth several times, and Thor was exceedingly proud of his little brother. And Tony was so happy having someone who understood magic. Someone who he could finally test science against magic and (hopefully) create some shields against it. Steve was happy as well, because Loki actually listened, and with Clint and Hulk running off to do whatever they wanted, the Avengers often were only at half-strength.

And Natasha… Natasha was happy. He'd rarely seen her so happy, in her own stabby way. There were very few men who could weave lies like her, and even fewer who, once realizing they'd been outsmarted by a woman were fine with it. Plus, well, there was some kinky stuff going on in the bedroom.

So yeah, four out of six of the Avengers had been perfectly fine with Loki moving in.

As for Bruce… well… Clint didn't know what the mild-mannered scientist thought about the god. And Hulk wasn't counted in for these kinds of decisions, which normally Clint and Tony would protest, but today's meeting was rather perfunctory.

There hadn't been much of a warning, just Fury gathering the Avengers to get a vote on whether or not to allow Loki in as an Avenger. It wasn't even a real vote, because Loki was already hanging around the tower more often then not.

But Fury was obviously pleased to have the demi-god on their side (which hurt like nothing Clint had ever felt before because Loki had almost killed Coulson, and he still remembered the sheer devastation that Loki had wrought, but Coulson insisted he was fine, and Clint was as well) and the rest of the team had instantly voted him in, Bruce after Tony had nudged him.

And, since Clint is fine he agreed. He gave his consent. Look at him ladies and gentlemen; the former circus clown was so smart it was a miracle. He could even do trick bowshots, which was a crap superpower these days anyways.

It wasn't like he was having dreams about the mind control. He wasn't. He hadn't had them in nearly four months now, and he had counted every last day. So, he didn't see any good reason to disagree. None whatsoever.

It didn't matter if he disagreed anyways; it was pretty clear who everyone was going to side with.

Imagine this kids of the world: A lowly archer with good aim, too big of a mouth, and a tendency to dig himself a deep, deep hole in social situations. Versus- wait for it- a demi-god. A demi-god that could charm politicians into giving up a couple million dollars to fund the Avengers, had snarky good looks that he just couldn't compare against, and magic. You have three guesses on who the Avengers would choose, and the first two didn't count.

So yeah. Loki. Avengers Tower. He was totally cool with this, and he could totally deal.

The first time Clint had run into Loki officially after he had first moved in, it had been shortly after midnight, and Clint had been completely unarmed, still sleep-fogged after returning from a month-long stalking mission that gave him only four hours of sleep a day.

Loki's dark eyes caught his own light ones, and he froze, foot hovering a hairsbreadth from the floor, drowning in the onslaught of memories. There wasn't a single shred of doubt left in his mind. Simply glorious purpose as he walked the halls, bow humming softly in his hands, the red painting the walls and dripping slowly, slowly, filling the entire hallway, and it was up to his neck, but it didn't matter because he had a mission, but there were hands grabbing his ankles trying to pull him down and he couldn't breathe-

"Barton." Clint blinked, and realized that he was crouched on what had to be the highest point in the entire tower, trying to grip an invisible bow.

Below him, Bruce Banner stood patiently, holding what looked like to be a knife. He… He really, really wanted that knife. It technically wasn't a throwing knife, but he knew how to throw it anyways.

Banner was still waiting patiently, apparently not off-put by his staring. Which was odd. Then again, it wasn't like he knew much about the doctor- he knew Hulk far better. Hulk was his wings, and his catcher. Clint couldn't name how many times he'd nearly missed making very intimate friends with the ground.

Now he was feeling a little ashamed that he hadn't gotten to know the doctor a little better. So he smiled as best as he could as he began the climb down from the top, forcing his voice to ask cheerfully, "Anything I could do for you doc?"

"Natasha wanted me to pass this on to you, and to tell you that she is going to be out on a mission for the next two weeks." Banner was rather unruffled despite the fact that it was still dark here outside, and he'd been ordered by a master assassin to pass on a weapon. "She said that she was going to pass it on to you herself, but she got distracted by Loki and then she couldn't find you."

Wait, since when could Natasha not find him? She knew him better then he knew himself. She shouldn't be confused. "She tried your room, the air-ducts, and the archery range, before time ran out. So I volunteered to find you."

"Found me pretty quick I presume?"

"I asked Jarvis." Bruce replied, handing the knife over, pressing the handle in Clint's palm, the cold of his hand shocking Clint just for a moment.

He yelped, and yanked his hands away, before reaching out to grab Bruce's hands again, completely forgetting the concept of personal space. "Your hands are freezing Banner! What did you do, stick them in a freezer for a few hours?"

Bruce snorted, a corner of his mouth tilting upwards, so Clint figured he didn't do too badly, "No. They're like that naturally. There's a reason why I naturally migrate to warmth."

Clint shook his head in disbelief, squinting at the hands, "I don't know doc, you sure you don't have frostbite?" He squinted at the hands, feeling the rough calluses beneath his fingers, marks from washing everything by hand for years, not yet smoothed away by his stay in the Avengers Tower.

The tips of his fingers brushed along rough fingernails, and that's about when the spy realized Bruce hadn't actually answered him. He glanced up, and Banner was staring at him. Right. Social situations. See how he failed.

"Thanks for passing on the knife." It was Natasha's alright, smooth and perfectly balanced. She knew he had been thrown off his game, even if she wasn't sure of the reason.

Clint flipped it in one hand as he tested it out- the metal wasn't something he recognized. "I'm pretty sure it's a knife that either Loki or Thor gave her." Banner offered, face completely smooth except for sharp brown eyes that watched him… for what exactly?

Clint smiled through suddenly gritted teeth, nodding in response. It was fine. Perfectly fine. He was still over what Loki had done to him.

Bruce made a small noise, and Clint turned to look to see the scientist staring at a reflective surface of Tony's high-tech machines with surprise. Dim starlight and the city lights barely gave them both enough light to even cast a reflection.

Abruptly, Banner's lips pursed, and he whirled on his heel to stomp towards the stairs.

Clint blinked after him, before quickly catching up, "Geeze Banner, bi-polar much?"

"No Barton."

"C'mon, we were having a perfectly good conversation about knives, right?"

"No Barton."

"What crawled into your bed and died Princess?"

"If you don't shut up within the next two seconds, it will be you."

Silence.

The hell? Since when did Banner do stuff like that? Hulk likes me, right? "You wound me Banner, Jade Jaws likes his cupid the best you know."

Dark brown eyes turned to him, as Bruce smiled eerily, "I know. That's why I gave it two minutes."

Knew? Barton's eyes narrowed at the slightly hunched back, as Banner's fingers tapped against the thigh of his leg, a pattern that didn't quite make sense. Okay, now he was the one getting pissed-

The elevator doors whooshed open and Clint nearly ran straight into Loki.

Nearly, because Banner was suddenly there inbetween them, glaring slightly up at the demi-god. "Loki. What are you doing here?"

"My lady wanted me to check on her… partner, because she could not." Nice to know Natasha still cared about him. "I trust you are well archer?"

Clint nodded, forcing himself to remain calm, calm, calm and open. The knife remained deliberately loose in his hand, body posture not giving away a single feeling to those who didn't know him.

"Actually Loki, I wanted to talk to you."

The demi-god actually kind of flinched a little, looking to Bruce. Bruce smiled, sweetly, but Clint could feel something in the air, charging it with electricity. "Have you been using your magic in the tower?"

"Only for clothing and when Stark requests." The prince actually looked a little hesitant, a far cry from his normal arrogant prick behavior that could give Stark a run for his money. "Why do you ask?"

Bruce's lips pursed, as he considered the question, before he shook his head, and bypassed Loki in the elevator to head towards the stairs. "Just checking. I need to go test something."

Clint nearly screamed at Bruce not to leave him alone here with Loki, before biting his tongue. It wasn't like he could actually say it. Besides, he had a knife. And he was an adult, and he would deal with it like an adult.

It wasn't so bad, with dawn slowly creeping over the horizon, filling the sky with light. It chased away the shadows and the darkness, and promised him that he would be in Loki's blind spot. So yeah, he could handle this.

"Archer."

"Yo." Anything else he could have said turned to ash as he kept perfectly balanced on his feet, ready to start running if he had too.

"Natasha wished for us to settle any differences we may have left between us. She made it very clear that she finds you to be a very important part of her life." Years of working together did that, but Loki already knew that. He had made Clint tell him that.

He had made Clint tell him about Barney and he hadn't even willingly told Coulson about that. "So I was hoping that I could be assured that when it comes to battle we will not try to kill each other."

"Sure." See, look at the mature adult calmly and rationally discussing things with another adult. Wasn't he perfect? He should be put into a sainthood program, right beneath Bruce.

Loki nodded, apparently taking his words for what they were, and gestured, "I'm heading down, Steve said he is going to make breakfast."

Go into the tiny metal box with the person that had ripped his mind out and broke it? Sure, why not? Clint stepped into the box, forcing himself to relax, and felt his heart slowly begin to pound its way out of his chest.

It hurt, his heart beating so fast, choking up his air pathway. Loki was staring at him, as if about to dissect him, and he could see it already, the staff reaching for his heart, threatening to drown him the warm comfort of having only one purpose and-

The doors whooshed open, and Loki stepped out. He watched him go, still frozen in place, trying to convince dead feet that they did want to move, that they did want to go after Loki and towards Steve's amazing pancakes. "Are you healthy Barton?" Loki's voice was charming even when he wasn't trying, and Clint found himself feeling for the knife, but it was slimy in his hands.

"I'm going to bed." He announced instead, and like a little kid, jabbed the close door button before Loki could reply.

He'd do this by degrees, get used to Loki bit by bit like poison.