Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or any of the related rights or anything Marvel or Disney. Although I do own a Disney princess coloring book.
"Clint?"
Clint groaned. His whole head hurt, and he felt like someone had run him over with a truck. And it was nice and warm and dark, like cuddling up in a blanket, when he was passed out, so he wanted to go back to sleep, thanks.
"Clint!" That was a new voice, more urgent-sounding. Clint thought maybe he recognized it.
And then an earsplitting: "KINT!"
Clint sat right up, his ears still ringing from the high-pitched scream. He looked over to see Natasha sitting with a smug smile on her face, her arms crossed proudly as Steve and Tony and even littler-and-not-green Bruce looked on in surprise (Bruce still had half a cookie in his mouth).
He looked around. They were still in the tower, but in the living room. It looked like they were surrounded by a glowing green fence, like a playpen but more magic and sparkling. But there were cookies and milk and sandwiches and even some toys to play with—though Clint wasn't sure about all that, because he was pretty sure the people who had turned them into kids were not to be trusted. No matter how yummy the cookies looked.
Clint groaned and rubbed the back of his head absently. It still hurt, but he'd had worse. Probably. Maybe. "What happened?"
"Loki threw me at you," said Bruce, and he sounded embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
"Who's Loki?" Clint asked. It was hard to get his mouth to form words, but he could do it if he concentrated hard enough.
"He's the green and gold guy," Steve said.
"Who, as it turns out, actually has magic!" Tony said like no one had told him that in the first place. "Weird, right?"
"Yeah. Imagine that," Clint deadpanned, then looked over at Natasha, who had taken two cookies from the plate in the middle of their playpen and made her way over to him to give him the second one.
"Kint?" she offered, her eyes wide.
He took the cookie and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, Nat," he said. She kept staring at him, though, so Clint took a bite of the cookie, and Natasha giggled delightedly.
"She likes you," Tony said, watching Natasha with guarded interest.
"Well, I grow up to be her sidekick, so I figure we've got to start somewhere with our friendship," Clint shrugged, grinning as Natasha settled down to sit beside him, nestling right up next to him with wide eyes and a snaggle-toothed grin.
"You seem to know an awful lot about our futures," Bruce said. He had this quiet way of speaking, like he was careful about the words he chose to say out loud, and Clint wondered why he was so well-behaved when anyone else should have been way upset.
"Well, I didn't know it until you guys told me," Clint pointed out. "Bruce, you used to be a doctor. And Tony, you had a robot! And Steve, you . . . ." Clint paused, unsure what Steve's superpower was. "I don't know what you can do, but you fight really good."
Steve raised both eyebrows and muttered something that sounded like "yeah right," but he didn't argue.
"You guys told me so," Clint said, almost pouting, crossing his arms over his chest. "Back when you were grown ups and Loki hadn't gotten to you."
"Okay, okay, it's not that we don't believe you," Steve said, even though that's clearly what they were thinking. "It's just that this is all really hard to . . . ." Steve waved his hand, at a loss for the right words.
"Yeah," Tony agreed, nodding wholeheartedly. He crossed their glow-y playpen to examine some of the toys and then sighed in annoyance. "Don't even have anything cool. Just some blocks and coloring books."
Natasha followed Tony to the toys and looked through the coloring books until she found one she liked. She came back with a fistful of reds and purples and blues and settled down with her Disney princess coloring book. She held the purple crayon out for Clint. "Kint?" she offered.
He grinned and took the purple crayon. "Thanks, Nat," he said.
She beamed at him.
"I'm gonna get a sugar headache just watching you two," Tony said, making a disgusted face.
"She's my best friend!" Clint said.
"Yeah, but she's a girl," Tony pointed out.
"She does have cooties," Bruce said, and he sorta sounded like the grownup doctor version of himself, like he was telling Clint he had the flu or something.
Clint crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his friends. "Nat's special. She's too Canadian to have cooties."
"Oh, is that where she's from?" Steve asked.
"Yeah," Clint said. He wasn't sure, but he figured it couldn't hurt to sound sure.
Tony didn't look like he believed Clint, but before he could say anything, he looked up and saw something and dived for cover behind Steve. Bruce also hid behind Steve.
Clint looked up. There was a really tall lady, with blonde hair, looking down at him. He recognized her as the lady he had seen before with Loki, and he knew she was trouble when she reached down to grab him under his arms to pick him up.
Natasha threw her blue crayon at the lady, but it didn't help Clint. Natasha screamed and threw more things, but that also didn't help.
He was lifted out of the playpen and into her arms. She balanced him on her hip as she carried him through the tower, and Clint thought about trying to run away, but there was a really big guy behind her with what looked like a big axe, so Clint thought maybe he should just be quiet and watch. Listen. See what he could learn.
He could also turn on the cute. That sometimes got grownups to give him what he wanted. He turned to the blonde lady and made his eyes bigger. "You're pretty," he said. That was true, after all. She was very pretty, but it was a scary kind of pretty. He didn't tell her that part, though.
Her lips curled up into the slightest smile, and she bounced him on her hip. "I can see why they call you Hawkeye," she said with a small laugh.
"Is that my superhero name?" he asked, and this time, his smile was real. That was a cool name, and he liked it, and he was going to definitely use it.
She laughed. "You're no hero, child," she said.
Clint tried not to frown. He bounced back quickly, plastering the smile back. "Yeah, I know. I'm a sidekick. Nat's the real hero."
The lady laughed again. "Of course. She is the superior fighter. But I'm afraid you're much mistaken about your roles here. She is the superior assassin, yes, but as I understand it, you are almost as skilled in the art of killing."
Clint could feel his heart dropping into his chest. He remembered Tony saying that he was probably a supervillain, and Clint wondered if maybe they worked together.
No. No, that couldn't be true. Because of Steve. "Steve's not a bad guy. And he's my friend," Clint said.
She laughed again, and it was a mean kind of laugh. "Steve Rogers is a friend to all. You are no different from any stranger he may happen across."
"You're a liar."
"Is that so?" her eyes flashed dangerously, but also playfully, like she was toying with him.
Clint crossed his arms across his chest. "Where are we going?" he asked at last, unable to stand much more talk about the hero he wasn't.
"Your friends require . . . proof."
Clint didn't like the smile on the lady's face. He figured he should probably run now.
He bit down hard on her hand, so hard that she dropped him, and then ran for the nearest small space, something he could slip through that the big guy with the axe might trip over.
There was a hallway to his left, and he took it. There was a big, glass table, and lots of beer and other alcohol, like a bar inside the tower. Clint knew what bars looked like, but this one looked really fancy.
He ducked underneath the table first, crawling on his hands and knees. The big guy with the axe didn't even blink, though. He just picked up the table and threw it into the wall, where it shattered.
Clint could feel tears in his eyes, but no, he was not scared because that was dumb. He was just tired and needed a nap and that's why he was crying.
He'd seen this work in movies. He figured he could get his hands on a bottle that was big enough to smash over the axe guy's head. That should knock him out, right?
He sprinted for the bar, and he felt the air rush by him as he narrowly avoided big, grubby hands. He ducked behind the serving area and grabbed the biggest bottle he could find—and also lift—and heaved himself up on top of the bar.
He hit the first thing he saw.
The bottle shattered.