It’s been a long day for him, honestly; barely had any time to sleep the previous night (fightin’ crime and all, what you gonna do right) and he couldn’t skip any classes so– here he is, at the nearest Starbucks, ordering the most sugary of all frappuccinos, with whipped cream and caramel and chocolate and honey, lots and lots of honey.
(– He doesn’t always order this, he just- felt like he needed a reward for yesterday’s work, alright? So it sounds extra obnoxious than the usual.)
And he will move along to wait for his order, checking his phone and scrolling through his Facebook page as he does.
Clint’s played with his phone, minding his own damn business ( editing photos of Lucky and putting funny filters on them because that’s just who he is ) listening to this kids gross order of caramel and chocolate and fucking honey, and he stopped for a second, peeking up from him phone.
He knew that voice. He had heard that somewhere. His hearing aids were turned up, and he could actually make out the sound of how this kid was ordering it. Helped that he was like, less then a foot away from him too. He eyed this actual child in front of him, trying to make out where he might know him.
As he walked away, Clint quickly ordered his black coffee and stepped toward the kid, holding a dollar out, fake innocence on his face as he smiled, needing to hear him again. “ Kid. You dropped your cash. ”
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