Clint flew into the main kitchen three seconds behind Thor, whistling a light-hearted tune as if nothing important had happened that day. As if he hasn't just made a deal with Loki that in one week's time he would have a decision. He doubted one week would do anything to change his mind. But he was sort of excited to see all of the things Thor would do to try.
Bruce and Steve were sitting at the kitchen island. Bruce was buried behind a tablet, plate of food left forgotten in a wave of inspiration. Steve was just sipping at a cup of coffee, apparently content with doing nothing.
Clint settled down next to them as Thor went for his normal box of pop tarts, wishing he could at least say hello. But at the same time glad for an excuse not to talk to Steve. He knew the man hadn't known Clint could hear his words the day before, but they had still cut deeply. Clint found himself unable to quite meet him in the eye. Instead looking at his own shuffling feet and giving a quick nod as Steve greeted him.
They sat in relative silence together (as silent as any room containing Thor ever could be) as the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes. Eventually Bruce blinked and looked up from his work and noticed Clint for the first time. The huge grin that spread across his face made Clint feel like laughing. Bruce could say what he wanted about still being nervous around large groups but they all had noticed as he grew more and more relaxed around them all. Also, Clint couldn't help but feel a little bit of joy any time he got a reaction of any sort from the man who was so good at keeping himself separate emotionally.
Bruce opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a shout from Steve. "What happened?"
They all spun to see Tony shuffling into the room, half of his face hidden behind a bag of frozen peas. Natasha was two steps behind him, a cheshire grin on her face. She slunk past him and quickly grabbed herself a cup of coffee before curling up into a seat, the look on her face saying that she knew that this was a good story.
Tony glared at her before glancing around the room. Clint noticed that he seemed to flinch as his eyes landed on Clint. Which, okay, that was weird. But not as weird as the fact that Tony completely ignored Steve's question. Instead crossing to the freezer and switching out his half-thawed bag of peas for an ice pack that Coulson insisted they keep a stock of.
"Tony?" Steve's voice was strained and thin. All of their eyes followed Tony as he slunk across the room, hopping up so that he was seated on the counter. "Tony, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Steve." Tony's head was dropped and his free hand was picking at the hem of his shirt. "It's nothing; just a black eye."
"Did you have another accident in the lab?" Bruce asked, trying to hide a smirk.
Tony shook his head then turned to look at Clint, again flinching slightly as their eyes met. Clint quirked his head and Tony quickly looked away before glancing back then looking away again before his eyes finally settled on the space just above Clint's head. "Have you seen Coulson?" he asked.
Clint shook his head, now thoroughly confused.
"He was looking for you. Earlier."
"Okay..." Clint said, forgetting for a moment that he didn't have a translator on until he heard the chirp. There was no mistaking it that time. Tony most definitely flinched. Flinched so hard that he nearly dropped the ice pack.
"Right. Translator." Tony mumbled, pulling a silver band from his pocket. He dropped it on the counter in front of Bruce, muttering, "Could you. Busy." before slinking quickly out of the room and back towards his lab.
Steve was right behind him, shouting "Hold on, you still haven't said what happened!"
There was an awkward silence as Bruce leaned across the table and easily clipped the new translator around Clint's neck, first unclipping the small tracker Tony had put on him. This translator was heavier than the previous two but by this point it was almost a comforting feeling, he was so used to having one around his neck.
The very second it was clipped in place, Clint spun to face Natasha who hadn't moved from her seat. "What the hell was that about?"
She smiled wider. "Tony's just a bit jumpy. He's regretting some words he said and the consequences of them."
"What words?" Bruce asked at the same second that Clint asked "Consequences from who?"
Both of them were drowned out by Thor asking "The Man of Iron often does not think before he speaks. Though I am troubled that his speech may have brought harm to him."
"I don't know what he said." Natasha was practically purring, loving seeing Tony being made an ass of. "But I can tell you who gave him that black eye." She paused, giving in to the need to add tension. "It was Coulson."
;;;
Phil barely hesitated long enough for Fury to say "Come in." before barging into the Director's office. Fury nodded at him. "Good morning, Coulson." Then he noticed the way that Phil was flushed and out of breath and Fury's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"
"It's Barton, sir."
"Has he switched back?"
Phil shook his head. "No. And unless we do something, it's possible that he never will." Fury's eyes widened slightly. Phil pressed on before he could start asking questions. "I have a plan, sir. But it's tentative at best and I'm going to need your full authorization to do whatever I have to."
"Of course." Fury relaxed just a hint. "Do whatever you need to do to get our Agent back."
;;;
The day had passed with an unusual slowness for Clint. But that may have been the fact that he was hyper-aware of every passing second. It was as if there was a giant hourglass over his head, slowly counting down his last days before this life was permanent. Knowing that somehow threw the entirety of what he was giving up into sharper relief. To the point where Clint had to go down the the range and just stare longingly at his bow. Which did nothing for his state of mind. Especially not once Thor tracked him down and started going over all of the heroics Clint had ever achieved as Hawkeye.
Clint had listened to Thor's stories for an hour before getting too overwhelmed. The list of things he'd accomplished with his bow was extensive, he knew that, but the way Thor told it, it felt like he'd single-handedly saved the world a dozen times. Rather than make Clint feel proud of everything he'd accomplished it made him even more determined to stay as a bird. Thor could see a squirrel manage to cross the road without getting hit by a car and spin it so that it sounded as if the entire fate of the universe had been spared. There were other agents that were at least fairly competent as marksmen that could take over that portion of his job. Though even the thought of that made Clint's whole heart ache.
He spent the rest of the day going back and forth between the living room and his normal perch on the balcony. Initially, he'd only come inside because it had started raining again and he didn't enjoy getting wet. But then Nat and Bruce had started having a Die Hard marathon and damn, if that wasn't one of Clint's favorite movies. Though he'd flown back out to the balcony ten minutes into the second one, unable to stand it any longer. Nat had promised to come and find him before they started the third one and he'd settled down on the still-wet balcony railing and allowed his mind to drift.
He didn't think about anything in particular. Just whatever happened to pop into his head. The time he and Barney had gone to a pet store a few weeks after joining the circus and Clint had immediately fallen in love with this tiny little canary. It was the brightest yellow he'd ever seen and kept flying back and forth across it's cage as if it were looking for a way out. Clint had been tempted to either buy the bird or simply open the cage and see what happened. Barney had talked him out of both. But he'd still snuck back there the next day and had smuggled the bird out under his jacket. A hundred yards from the pet store he'd let the bird fly free. It had immediately shot straight into the air and flew up higher and higher. It was the first time Clint had felt a bone-deep need for wings and the first time that he'd felt as if he was trapped by not having them.
In his years as a performer, Clint had remembered that desire every time he flew from a trapeze. The rush of air past him as he dropped into the net below was the happiest second of any day. It never failed to clear his mind and bring a smile to his face.
Then there were the hundreds of missions where things would have been so much simpler if he could simply fly. But SHIELD had taught him how to fly jets and helicopters and every sort of small craft and it had almost been good enough. He never got to feel the wind or sunshine or go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. But he could soar through the sky. And that was more than that little boy releasing a canary had ever hoped for. So he accepted it and was thankful and he moved on.
But joining the Avengers had changed that. Suddenly he was part of a team where two of them flew. Actually flew. True Tony was only with the help of a machine and Thor was because of Mjolnir, but still. They had carried Clint a few times, when a mission called for it, and again, things had been so close to perfect. He could feel the wind now. And the sunshine. (or smoke, as it more often was) But he still wasn't free. He still had to rely on someone else to take him where he asked to go. It was flying though. Really and truly flying, so once again, he'd accepted the limitations and had moved on.
He had had his desire under control. Clint went weeks between the dreams of flying and didn't stare wistfully out of windows (that often). He had been clamping down on his childhood dreams and had come to terms with the fact that it was never going to happen. Not the way he wanted it. It had felt like a huge step in growing up into a mature adult, not that Nat wouldn't laugh at him being called anything close to mature, but it felt like it to him. He had stopped dreaming and had focused on reality and the missions and team members in front of him.
And then Loki had gone and given him wings.
Clint stared straight down at the ground hundreds of feet below him. Nothing between it and him besides perfectly clear air. Every fiber of him wanted to just lean an inch forward and pitch head-first towards the ground. To hear the wind whistling past and see the ground getting closer and closer until he was just inches above it then spread out his wings and ride the wind back up again. He closed his eyes, remembering his one day of freedom. Where he had finally, finally been as free as that canary.
Then he remembered the look on Coulson's face as he had checked Clint over for injuries. That fear and tension and worry. He remembered the way Nat's face had pinched too tight. They were the reason he'd come back. And they were the reason he would stay grounded now. Because as much as it felt like it was ripping his heart apart to not jump off this balcony, it had ripped his heart out too when he realized just how much he'd worried the two people he cared about most.
A voice in the back of his head wondered if maybe he was being selfish, wanting to stay as a bird. If this wasn't just his stubborn childhood self rearing it's ugly head again. But it was drowned out by the memory of Tony and Steve's conversation. Clint wasn't doing this for him, he was doing it for the team. He was doing it because they needed him this way. Because he could help them more this way.
Clint's mind felt like a jumble of thoughts and emotions and other people's needs. He wanted to make it all stop. To shut everything out for just three minutes. Just three minutes where he could not feel guilty about loving the wind in his feathers. Nor feel wrong about missing the feel of his bow in his hands. He wished he could just enjoy his time as a bird and then go back to normal. That this could just be vacation rather than being turned into his life. He wished that there was a way that this could become something fun rather than a chore. Something to enjoy rather than just one more thing he's done because he other people needed him to.
But when had wishing ever done him any good before.
When had he ever denied the people he loved something that he knew they truly wanted.
If they needed him to stay like this forever, then he would.
Even if it meant making a deal with Loki. Even if it meant never holding his bow again. Even if it meant never hugging or kissing anyone again. Even if it meant he would always need the heavy metal band around his neck in order to be understood. They were all sacrifices he would gladly make. Because that child with the canary had grown up realizing one thing, sometimes our dreams turn into nightmares. And he would do anything it took to keep other people's dreams alive, even if it meant killing all of his own.