InsaneJournal

Who: Clint Barton and Parker.
What: A meeting in an unlikely place. Well...unlikely if you're not them.
Where: That would be telling.
When: Evening.
Rating: TBD.
Status: In progress.

To say that Clint was upset about Loki's presence in the city was a bit like saying the sky was slightly blueish or that oceans were, on occasion, somewhat damp. There weren't words to adequately describe the dread and horror Clint felt just thinking about the fact that the Asgardian was here. Their conversation over the network had left him feeling shaken, particularly in the wake of what he'd learned from Bruce. Coulson was dead. The man who had brought him into S.H.I.E.L.D., who had been his handler for years and his friend for almost as long, was gone. Loki had killed him. But, more than that, it was Clint's fault. Because Clint had been the one to help Loki escape. Mind-controlled or not, he blamed himself. Just seeing the god's face was enough to send a sharp spike of guilt through his gut.

So he was hiding, because somehow that was better than worrying ineffectually. He knew that Tasha would worry, because they'd been friends a long time and that was what she did, and that neither she nor Bruce wouldn't think it was a good idea to just go off by himself, but he needed to clear his head. And as much as he really wanted to shoot something, specifically a certain Asgard bastard, he knew that wouldn't be the best move right now. If he grabbed his bow now, he just knew he'd end up going after Loki, and there was no way that wasn't going to end badly. So, instead, he'd focused on a different sort of coping.

Most people wouldn't call hiding out in an air vent a normal or sane means of dealing with problems, but Clint had always been a bit of an odd ball. He liked high places, away from people but where he could watch the world around him. As a kid, with Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders, he'd found perches around the tight rope or the trapeze, sitting around and watching. Even at S.H.I.E.L.D. he tended to keep to the rafters or the vents, watching the junior agents as they went about their business. He'd always learned the best gossip that way.

After missions that went bad, the ones where they hadn't been quite good enough but not the close calls that sent him to the range until his hands bled, he tended to hide out like this, waiting out the itch that settled in his skin. He'd even had a favorite air duct back at S.H.I.E.L.D., where he would hide from paperwork and his superiors and just exist. This vent was new to him, and therefor lacking the instant ease the ones back home provided, but it was comfortable enough. He was in a building near the apartments, lying on his stomach and doing his best not to think about Loki and the sense of losing himself. It wasn't much, but it helped.

At least, until he heard the slightest noise in the vents. Other people might not have noticed, but Clint wasn't other people. He noticed things. He halfway hoped it was a threat because, while fights in vents were ridiculously impractical, he could use a chance to blow off some steam. Instead though, he spotted a vaguely familiar blonde head. Huh. That was unexpected. "Fancy meeting you here," he said at last, giving Parker a small smile.