The sheriff is drunk again, but that’s hardly news in Storybrooke.
Clint can’t ever remember seeing the man sober, but so long as Stark gets the job done no one complains. Besides, the town seemed to have a soft spot for damaged little Tony, who saw his father gunned down in front of him or some shit like that.
Scratching absently at his arm, Clint’s phone buzzes on the table.
From the name flashing across the screen, he knows what the text is about and just ignores it. It can keep for a bit, no one will die if he doesn’t answer.
Storybrooke is quiet today, but it’s always quiet. That’s why he came here anyways, to get away from the noise and corruption of the city, away from the constant urge to get a fix.
He’s scratching at his track marks again, still not healed even though it’s been years, and Clint frowns. It’s almost funny, a crackhead and a drunk are all that protect the mean streets of Storybrooke.
Just once, Clint wishes something interesting would happen, that he’d get called out for something more interesting than kids egging Rodger’s place, or tp’ing Fury’s car.
Almost on demand, the phone rings, and Clint lurches forward to pick it up before the first ring even ends.
"Sheriff’s office, Barton speaking."
"Deputy Barton." Clint resists the urge to shiver at Mr Laufeyson’s voice, the man had always given him the creeps, him and his weird little pawn shop. "I saw some… odd looking young men and women walking down the street. They looked a bit lost, would you or the sheriff check on them please."
It wasn’t a request, nothing Laufeyson asked for was ever a request, and Clint sighed at the thought of being sent out like an errand boy again.
"Sure thing, Mr Laufeyson, right on it."
Hanging up the phone, Clint grabs his jacket as he crosses over to where Tony’s snoring across his desk. With a rather gleeful grin, Clint smacks the back of Tony’s head, trying not to laugh when his boss wakes with a yelp.
"Get up, we got work to do."
(not a happy ending) - an avengers/once upon a time AU