marvelbox | Welcome to New York

Clint guided the Quinjet down onto the landing pad with careful hands and an alert eye. The aircraft prototype handled like nothing else, a joint project with tech from Wakanda and Stark Industries and Clint was still a little overly cautious when he was flying it. When anything with Stark was involved, he was half tempted to expect it to turn into a giant robot or worse, drop out of the sky with warning. Still, he pulled the landing off without a hitch, coming to rest smoothly outside SHIELD HQ as he flipped off the controls and cleared the last of the landing procedures with the pleasant female voice over his headset, who had laughingly returned his flirting and had him grinning as he moved back into the main body of the jet.

It was a strange sight, the two gods and two young women in the back of the jet. Thor was sitting on one of the benches – the place he’d been most comfortable for the flight – while Sif sat across from him, having watched the entire flight from the window with avid interest. Both Asgardians had been understandably wary about being transported in the jet – or metal wingless beast, as it had been originally dubbed - and Clint had had his hands full with talking Thor out of flying the entire way. Lucky Doctor Foster had backed him on that, but it had taken a taunting jibe from Sif to finally get the scowling thunder god on board. Clint was pretty sure he was the only one who’d seen the female warrior flash him a sly wink before following him inside. Clint was fairly certain she was his favorite person at the moment. He had not been looking forward to Fury’s lectures if they’d gotten back to New York just in time to field all the reported sightings across the country of a flying man.

“Welcome to HQ, kids,” Clint retorted with a cheerful grin, his hands propped easily on his hips as he came back. “Safe and sound and all in one piece. I’m sure the welcome party’s out there for you, but I need to get you up to the Director’s office before we wander off for more sightseeing.”

Since that was Clint’s favorite part, no matter how many glowers he got from Fury for stealing SHIELD assets out into the city at large. It wasn’t like he was going to lose them. Although, granted, he suspected keeping a leash on the Asgardians, Doctor Foster, and Darcy was going to be considerably more of a challenge than showing Bucky the sights had been.

Still, the thought had him grinning in anticipation as he hit the hatch that opened the hatch and let the landing ramp lower into the secured courtyard he’d landed them in.

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"Am I allowed to respectfully request to never be sent to New Mexico again?" Clint asked cheerfully as he fell into step with Coulson, although he managed to keep himself one step behind and a little to the left, just over his handler's shoulder as the man strode down the corridor.

"I mean seriously. I think the place is just one giant magnet for clusterfuck disasters."

"You can fill out the necessary forms," Coulson offered. "But I wouldn't recommend it."

There was an entirely unsubstantiated rumor going around that Director Fury liked to keep forms like that in a folder labeled 'amusing punishments.' The truth was, it was actually labeled 'effective deterrents,' and mostly Coulson kept it. That Barton's file was nearly the thinnest of the lot seemed to serve as a kind of perverse challenge between he and the Director.

It was good having him back in New York regardless. With the Loki situation being what it was, he didn't need his sniper roughly two thousand miles away.

He turned at the next hallway, heading towards his office. "And from the looks of things, New York is set to claim that title in the near future. Maybe you should consider taking your next vacation in India."

Clint snorted. "Fuck that. You do remember what happened the last time I went to India, don't you? Nuclear missiles landing in the bay, unreasonable trust placed in shady Brits with vague promises of death defying acrobatics. Also that skeezy rich guy made Tony Stark look like a paragon. I can do without India, thank you."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Maybe I should just give up on the idea of vacations entirely. The last time I tried that, we got invaded by aliens. Although I would really kill for a few days on a quiet beach somewhere with nothing but sand and ocean and someone to bring me those little drinks in the coconut shells. And a little umbrella in it. It needs the umbrella."

He nudged his shoulder against Coulson's as they walked, flashing him a crooked grin. "So when's your next vacation coming up, sir?" he teased, knowing that at least twice now his handler had vanished for a week or so - not on a mission - and Clint and Tasha had placed bets on how long it would take them to find him. They'd both lost and the agent had returned at week's end, tight-lipped about where he'd been and keeping his secrets to himself. Clint was determined to pay more attention next time.

The corner of Coulson's mouth might have twitched. He did remember India. India happened to be the reason SHIELD no longer lent their Specialists out to other organizations (officially). Clint had come back singed and asking for a badge of honor for not throwing himself off the tallest building in the world. India was in his file.

"It could have been worse. All things considered, it wasn't as bad as Budapest." Or Manitoba. But they didn't talk about Manitoba, so by default everything was better than that. "Some people dream about seeing the world you know."

He held the door of his office open for Clint, expression unchanging, though their might have been a spark of amusement in his gaze. "As for my vacation days, I think Director Fury's exact words were 'you're free to them on a cold day in hell.' That might be the destination as well as the time."

Clint made a face. "That's a matter of opinion. I had Nat in Budapest. Despite things going spectacularly pear-shaped the moment we stepped off the plane, it least we were in that shithole together. Not with some crazy idiot with a bigger death wish than me deciding it would be fun to try and fly in the middle of a sandstorm." Clint shook his head as he strode past.

"To this day I am amazed I made it back without several bullet holes or being flattened to a pancake."

"Also I've seen the world," he pointed out as he flopped into one of the chairs in front of Coulson's desk. "Most of it's overrated."

He waited till his handler came in and closed the door before shooting him a smirk. "You know, sir, we've made the acquaintance of a couple gods now. If anyone would know about arranging cold days in hell, I bet it would be them. Would you like me to ask Thor next time I see him?"

Coulson wasn't amazed by very much, but he had to admit, at least silently, getting away with some minor burns had been a miracle. Budapest had been a few fractured ribs and a near-miss with a bit of shrapnel, but it could have gone a great deal worse, and they'd gotten both of their agents back.

He would mention that it was harder to appreciate the sights with bullets flying, but this was Hawkeye.

He eased into the chair behind his desk before responding to that very generous offer. "No."

He pulled a notepad in front of him and reached into his jacket for a pen. They had to get Clint's thoughts in order for the briefing with Fury and Hill. "So tell me again how you ended up in the back of your van."

Welcome to New York

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