Rrrright. Very short today. But there'll be another one tomorrow and that'll be longer. Promise.
Melt-Down
It happened when they were watching a movie. Some cheap horror-flick Stark had rented just so they all could make fun of it.
Clint had wandered off to the fridge to get another beer – yes, the movie really was that bad. When he turned back at the others, it hit him. Right out of the blue, without warning.
Tasha was curled up in one of the armchairs. Banner occupied the other one. Stark and Rogers sat on the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn between them. The spot next to Stark was vacant. Clint had been sitting there, and while sitting, he hadn't noticed anything wrong with it. Now, looking at it from a distance, he immediately saw what wasn't right about it.
Right among them. He had been sitting right there – not slightly to the left or right or above, as usual. He had forgotten to keep his distance.
Clint put the beer-bottle down on the kitchen counter with a loud "clink".
Stark turned to him.
"Everything okay, Feathers?"
That was another thing. Nicknames. That was how it always started. And before he knew what was happening, they'd be calling him Clint instead of Barton. He had to stop this before it got out of hand.
For now, however, he just nodded.
"Fine", he said, trying to sound normal. "I just remembered I got – stuff to do. You'll have to watch the rest of the movie without me. Sorry."
He turned to leave.
Stark frowned.
"Stuff? What stuff?"
"Super-secret spy-stuff", Clint told him back over his shoulder. "Can't tell you or else, I'll have to kill you."
He winked and then, quickly made his exit.
He knew what he had to do.