[ prompt ] [ inbox ] // @cxpt -> ❝ are you sure you’re alright? ❞ [clint barton]
With the symbiote situation squared away, which taking on a whole underground city under of carnage symbiotes in San Francisco alone had been stress inducing, Clint didn't know what he was feeling. It felt weird to be back in New York.
A call had gone out to Katie to pack up all his stuff and ship it back out to New York. He might as well come home. Settle up back in Bed-Stuy, reclaim his home. The last time he had thought he was coming back to New York, he had been there two days before being whisked away by America Chavez to help Katie on the West Coast. He had ended up staying there.
Now he was settling back in, standing alongside with Captain America and he doesn't know how to saw that they had walked past the bar, this would be a few years ago, where Bruce asked him to kill him. Just seeing the place brought feelings that he had buried like the ghost. Being home felt like there was something inside his skin and he didn't know how to itch it out.
No, he wasn't doing alright. He hadn't seen that bar since the very day that arrowhead was passed into his hands. The years were catching up with him, had started to catch up when he kept his feet in LA for longer than a few weeks. What was going on New York? The mayor election, the symbiotes, it's all panic inducing and the only thing that's been helping him he was nightly beer buzz.
Mask it. Lie. You are fine, there's nothing building inside you, clawing your chest cause something feels wrong.
❝ Doing peachy, Steve, nothing beats an Avengers team-up kicking alien parasite ass. Feeling on top of the world for that. ❞ He claps the side of Steve's shoulder as they walk, coffee cup shifting to the other hand to do so. ❝ Good fighting with you, Boy Scout. I missed those dulcet tones of your commands ❞

















