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Clint always felt better higher up, off the ground. He felt even better "perching" and keeping watch over the others. Or just spying on them for his own entertainment.
Ok, Clint had some weird hobbies.
But the ventilation systems catered to those weird hobbies all too well.
Clint had to BEG Tony to let him crawl through the ventilation systems and had to beg even more to let him do it regularly. But he got his way in the end. And the begging was well worth it.
Or maybe it wasn't.
Because everyone was just goddamn boring.
Tony was never doing anything but working on cars, making out with Pepper (Which Clint would GLADLY never see again in his entire life) or building various things.
Steve was almost always drawing, and Clint noticed he was always drawing this solider fellow, who had deep brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Clint figured it was something deep and personal and decided he wouldn't invade Steve's privacy anymore by continuously watching him draw this man.
Thor was hardly ever there in the Avengers tower, and when he was, he was always eating box after box of Poptarts and watching The Bachelorette. Clint remembered crawling away from the vent and nearly yelping when a Thor's thunderous voice boomed. "NO! YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE WRONG MATE!! DO YOU NOT SEE HE IS ILL-SUITED FOR YOU?!"
Yeah, Clint didn't go to Thor's vent anymore.
And Natasha- well, Clint didn't even DARE spy on Natasha in fear of some surprise castration the next day.
As everyone else was boring,
Bruce was not.
And that didn't make a lot of sense. Bruce probably should have been the most boring, one would think he only spent his hours in the lab. But that wasn't true.
Clint saw Bruce in his room a lot, saw him mostly doing Yoga, which was actually quite interesting to watch.
Who knew Bruce was so... BENDY?
When he wasn't doing Yoga in his room, he was reading a book or singing some soft song that Clint couldn't ever recognize or couldn't translate because Bruce was somewhat prone to singing in Spanish. And when he wasn't in his room, he was in the lab. Usually toiling away at some research and other times talking with Tony, laughing and smiling. (For some reason, whenever that happened, Clint would get this sort of bitter feeling that swelled and festered in his stomach.)
Clint spent 90% of his ventilation watching on Bruce.
Clint couldn't exactly explain it, something just kept drawing him back to Bruce. Not that Clint really minded.
It was a normal day for Clint, who was just chilling in the vents above the lab, watching Bruce scribble down words and observations as he watched some strange green liquid fizzling in a glass beaker.
Clint was relaxed, actually. Just hearing various fizzling noises and watching Bruce in his silent environment.
Until it wasn't silent.
"You can stay up in the vents, if you'd like. But you're welcome to come down here too."
Clint nearly banged his head on the top of vent in surprise, he quickly cast his eyes back down through the vent, seeing Bruce still infront of his exoiremnt, in the exact same place.
Clint gulped slightly, opening the vent and jumping down, landing onto the lab floor with a soft 'smack'. He stands there awkwardly, watching Bruce. He clears his throat and moves forward a bit, unsure of what to do in this situation. "Hey."
He watches as Bruce takes off his glasses, folds them, then smiles at Clint, in a way that makes something in his stomach and chest flair up. Bruce's eyes are the softest brown Clint has ever seen before, and his smile is something that could melt even the coldest heart.
"There's easier ways to spend time with me, if that's what you're trying to do." Bruce's voice isn't accusing at ALL. In fact, it's a little too calm and even satisfied for a man who knew Clint had been practically spying on him.
But Clint apologized anyway.
"Yeah, about that. I'm sorry, I just- I crawl around and it gets bored and-" Clint's words are falling out at a quick pace. blurring together in their haste, his hand scratching the back of his neck nervously.
"Clint."
Clint's words off are cut off by Bruce gentle and amused voice. "It's ok. I don't mind. I'd just rather talk to you in person."
That came as a shock to Clint. "Really?" Bruce responds with a nod. "Really."
Bruce looks back at the green liquid behind him. "If I do my experiment while we talk, would that be ok?" Clint blinks a few times, nodding when the words finally connect with his mind.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."
Bruce turns back to his experiment, patting the vacant space on the lab counter. "They're aren't many chairs in here. I'm afraid we don't do much sitting around. But you're welcome to sit there."
Clint doesn't even hesitate before jumping up onto the counter, sitting next to Bruce's workspace.
Oh God, what does he do now? What does he say? He honestly had no-
"So, you speak Spanish?"
Wow.
What a GREAT question Barton. That was amazing.
Clint mentally slaps himself in the head.
Then does it again.
Bruce smiles brightly, nodding, brown eyes only flicking to Clint's form for a moment, focusing back on the experiment.
"Uno aprende rápidamente cuando está en un país en que todo habla español." Bruce speaks the Spanish fluently, accent perfect and strangely attractive sounding on his tongue.
Clint stares blankly, and realizes Bruce is staring back at him, expecting some sort of a reply. "Sorry, all I got out of that was 'Yes', 'Quickly' and something about Spain?" Bruce chuckles, genuine but not in a rude way, just chuckling in good humour.
"I said, 'Yes, you learn Spanish quickly when stuck in an all Spanish speaking country'." (1)
Clint nodded, smiling softly. "You know Spanish, I know Russian." Bruce smiled along with Clint. "I've always wanted to learn Russian, never could though. Teacher was an ass."
To this, Clint laughs whole-heartedly because Bruce, gentle and timid Bruce, whom Clint had never heard even SWEAR, just called someone an ass. It was like watching a zebra chase a lion, strange, but damn entertaining.
"Well, if you're still interested, I could teach you? I mean, when you're not busy. And if you want to, I guess-"
"Clint." This time Clint is stopped by Bruce's word, and a soft hand resting on his forearm.
"I'd love that."
Clint smiles at Bruce.
"Sweet."
And Bruce smiles right back.