God, Clint would do despicable things for a cup of shitty bodega coffee right now.
He opens the bedroom door and blinks. Roy dragged his favorite armchair into the hallway, and he’s keeping watch through the open door of the spare room. Roy’s got his bow within reach, and for all that he’s sprawled out lazily, Clint knows he could have an arrow aimed and ready in the blink of an eye.
All the kids are crowded around the open door, peering inside and attempting to whisper. Clint pokes his head around the doorframe and finds Deadpool and Wolverine sprawled out side by side on their backs, ankles and wrists webbed together. Both of their uniforms are absolutely covered in dried blood.
Clint blinks again. “Huh.”
Little Jay punches him in the thigh and loudly hisses, “Shhhh!”
Snikt.