❝   you’re handling the avengers.   ❞

❝   it’s fine.   i don’t get sick.   these are just allergies.    ❞     -    she says,    accompanied by a suspiciously loud and unattractive sneeze.

sentence starters. @tahitisaved

“twenty seconds ago is ancient history.” sure it is, except that it definitely isn’t, and clint isn’t quite looking him in the eyes. he is instead looking anywhere else: his hair, slightly to the left of his ear, at his shoes at one point. 

“i’m a new me now, man.” from the person he was twenty seconds ago. “you can blame the misbehaving on the turn of the tides. or something like that. no need to write me up.” 

They have him strapped to a chair, special restraints made to keep him at bay. He’s had a good day so far, but they can’t be too careful, especially since he’s actually got a visitor for once. His eyes are cast downward, but they rise when he hears the doors open and in walks Coulson.

                       “if you get some weird ads on your computer, it wasn’t me, ‘kay?”

          it was probably him. like - surely. especially since he’s on phil’s computer, clicking intermittently as he makes his decisions in minesweep. he’s always been so bad at that game. it comes down to brains but clint’s always been told:

          don’t got much of those, boy and had it knocked out of him which kind of proved his dad right but to his own means. whatever. one of them is dead and one of them is playing minesweep so who wins now, huh?