Clint (and Thor, Too)
Clint would just like to start off by saying he was already having a really bad day.
He'd just come back from a SHIELD mission that was supposed to be only three days and ended up being eight. He hadn't slept in twenty-six hours. Fury was being a dick. Then, just as he was getting ready for bed, a team of sorcerers attacked New York and the Avengers were assembled.
So Clint was firing arrow after arrow at the sorcerers and the monsters they were summoning from other worlds, and he was Not Amused.
One of the sorcerers saw him and cast a spell. The roof Clint was perched on shook, then grew a mind of its own and bucked him off like a wild bull. Clint went flying.
Luckily, there was a balcony just a couple stories down that he managed to grab onto. He hoisted himself up and re-surveyed his surroundings. He blinked. The bad guys and good guys had...swapped places. Weird.
And his com was down. Just static fuzz in his ear. He couldn't even hear Steve barking orders. That was annoying.
Clint notched and aimed an arrow.
His bow was yanked from his hands by a rope of webbing.
"Hey!" Clint reached for his backup bow, the collapsible one in his pocket. Spider-Man jumped on the balcony with him, holding up his hands. "Don't do it, Hawkeye."
"You snatch my weapons in the middle of a battle and expect me not to kick your ass?" Clint demanded. "Whose side are you on?"
"Yours! You were about to shoot Thor!"
"No, I wasn't! I was about to shoot the guy in the yellow cape, the one with the giant scorpions."
"He's all the way over there." Spider-Man pointed to Natasha, who was on a giant wolf's back bringing it down.
"Is your head stuffed with webs?" Clint demanded.
"Hawkeye, I don't know what's going on, but you just tried to shoot your teammates--"
"Bullshit!"
"--and your eyes are glowing blue. Which is concerning."
Clint's blood turned to ice. He snatched a tiny mirror from another pocket and checked.
"What'd the mirror ever do to you?" Spider-Man asked, watching it shatter at Clint's feet.
Not again not again not again not again not aga--
"Hey, hey, Hawkeye!" Spider-Man grabbed Clint's arms and shook him a little. "Stay with me, okay? I think one of those sorcerers cast a spell on you. I'm gonna go take him out; just sit tight."
"I can't, I can't," Clint rambled. "I can't do that again, I barely survived Loki, I can't, you can't make me do this, I don't want to hurt them, I don't--"
He was cut off by webbing.
"Okay, I've officially gone from annoyed and confused to full-blown freak-out," Spider-Man said. He plopped Clint down on the balcony. "Sit here, sit tight, you won't hurt anyone. I'm gonna take down the sorcerer and then come back. Got it?"
Clint nodded, muted by the webbing. Spider-Man jumped off the balcony.
Clint watched him punch someone who appeared to be Steve, before Natasha got him in a sleeper hold. As soon as "Steve" was down, Clint's vision flashed with blue, went blurry, and then re-adjusted itself.
"Steve" was the sorcerer in the blue cloak. Clint's original target, who he thought was the one with the yellow cape, was indeed Thor.
Spider-Man said something to Nat, who looked up at Clint. She made her way up the balcony while Spider-Man webbed up the unconscious sorcerer.
"He didn't make your panic attack any worse, did he?" Nat asked, prying the webs from Clint's face.
Clint shook his head. He'd managed to get his breathing under control and remind himself that he wasn't mind-controlled by Loki and he wasn't going to start shooting his coworkers and friends (who were now more of a family, not that he'd ever tell them that).
The fight was over by the time Nat had Clint de-webbed and Clint had his bow back. That was fine. Even without Clint's hands shaking with nerves, he wouldn't trust himself to fire at any live targets for at least a couple of days. They made their way to ground level to regroup with the others.
"Man of Spiders, it is good to make your acquaintance!" Thor boomed, slapping him on the back. "Thank you for your assistance for this battle."
"Hey, I'm the lucky one. I'm about two seconds from completely fanboying on all of you. Fair warning," Spider-Man said.
"Want me to sign your spandex?" Tony asked, lifting his face plate.
"Tony," Steve scolded.
Spider-Man waved it away. "Eh, he's just jealous 'cause he knows I look better in it."
"You wanna bet?" Tony challenged.
"No," all the other Avengers said. Clint loved Tony to death, but he did not need to see that.
"All right, all right," Tony grumbled. "How 'bout Italian, on me? Spidey, you're invited."
Spider-Man looked like he was about to agree, when he paused. "What time is it?"
"Almost one in the morning. But don't worry, I know this great place that's open 24/7..."
Spider-Man shook his head. "Can't. Other people deserve their fair share of Spider-Man."
Or whoever your alter ago is, Clint thought, but didn't say. The man had stopped him from killing the other members of the team (that was going to be fodder for this week's batch of nightmares, no doubt about it); he deserved his privacy.
"Are you cheating on us with another superhero group?" Tony demanded. "It's the Fantastic Four, isn't it?"
"Well, Reed Richards looks almost as good as I do in spandex..."
"Leave now, before I tear out your tongue," Natasha threatened.
Spider-Man jumped away from her. "Yes, ma'am."
They watched him swing around the city's buildings until he disappeared. Clint turned to Steve and couldn't believe the words that came out of his own mouth: "You know, the Tower has a lot of extra rooms..."
Steve blinked at him, then gave a hesitant sigh. "We'll think about it. I'm not sure how much I trust a man who hides behind a mask."