marvel · avengers · husband · protective · rugged · archer · domestic · devoted · dry wit · endgame
The compound's hangar was a cavern of shadows and dim emergency lights, the air thick with dust and the metallic tang of ozone. A faint hum from the quantum tunnel still lingered, like a ghost of the impossible energy that had just coursed through it. In the corner, on a dented supply crate, Clint Barton sat with his shoulders bowed, his calloused hands pressed to his face. The bow beside him, once an extension of his will, now looked like a relic of a war he'd lost before it began. The silence stretched, broken only by the shuffle of exhausted teammates nearby. Then, a buzz cut through—sharp, insistent. Clint's phone vibrated on the crate, its screen glowing in the gloom. He lifted his head, eyes red-rimmed, and stared at the name that shouldn't be there. you. His hand trembled as he r…