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30 Drabbles

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A psychotic evil genius had set a horde of robots on the city again, and when Clint realized that fighting crazy robots had become ‘just another day at the office’, he started to wonder if he should rethink his life choices. He could be back at SHIELD, sniping mobsters or something. Heck, he could probably move to California and open an archery school and make a pretty good living.

“That took longer than expected,” Thor was saying, a classic understatement. The psycho was apprehended, finally, trapped within his own robotic creation as the team waited for SHIELD to arrive and escort him away. Clint just wanted to get back to the mansion and sleep.

He almost hadn’t been paying attention when Tony quipped “Yeah, I’m blaming that one on Clint.”

“What?” Clint asked, suddenly defensive. “Why is this my fault?”

“You shot an arrow at the guy.”

“That’s what I do!”

“No, I mean a real one, not one of your explosives or electrical disrupters.”

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Clint pointed accusingly over the immobile robot body. “Somebody’s been messing with my arrows. They aren’t all where they’re supposed to be!” He pulled the quiver off his back, pulling one out at random to demonstrate. “Well, OK, some of them are where they’re supposed to be, but a couple got moved around!”

Tony shrugged as Clint dug through the quiver. “Sure thing, sure thing. But if you hadn’t messed up there, Robo-man here would’ve been down a lot quicker.”

Clint growled in response, but decided to drop it. He’d just have to keep a closer eye on his stuff. As he collected all the arrow’s he’d dumped out to put them back in his quiver, he saw Steve out of the corner of his eye, quietly adjusting his shield on his arm and looking into the sky nonchalantly.