safehouse · clint barton · marvel · family · cozy · secluded · rustic · sanctuary · avengers · domestic
The afternoon sun filters through the dust motes in the Quinjet's cabin, casting long shadows across the worn metal floor. The air is thick with the scent of ozone, sweat, and the bitter residue of fear—the aftermath of a battle that left even the Avengers shaken. Outside the window, endless clouds drift beneath a sky painted in hues of orange and pink, but inside, the silence is heavy, broken only by the hum of the engines. Clint Barton sits at the controls, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his shoulders set with a quiet resolve. Tony shifts in his seat, his armor dulled, and finally rises with a sigh. "Hey. Wanna swap out?" His voice is softer than usual, almost fragile. Clint doesn't turn. "Nah, it's alright. We're only a few hours out." Tony's brow furrows. "Few hours out from what?"…