Chapter Text
The first time the Avengers received fan mail, it had been collecting for a month. The Postal Service at first didn't know what to do with letters addressed to "Thor" and "Hulk". So instead of dropping them off, they had been thrown into a pile and eventually found their way to the ground floor of the Avenger's tower. Tony and Steve had went downstairs to pick up and came back with seven boxes piled with drawings, letters, and gifts. Steve had somehow carried five of them by himself.
Clint and Nat were sparing in the gym when JARVIS asked them to come to the kitchen. They wandered in to find the large pile of mail being poured onto the dining room table.
"What's this?" Natasha asked.
"This is what happens when we visit a school, two hospitals, a nursing home, and go to a fundraiser within a month. The post office didn't know how to handle the letters addressed to," Tony paused and picked up a letter and read it out loud," 'The really big green guy who saved New York', so they stockpiled it for a month and finally gave up. They just dropped it off now. Wanna see what you got?"
Natasha's mouth curved into a soft smile and they sat down to sort through the massive pile that was still being dumped onto the table. Five minutes later, the team was sitting and sorting.
___________
"Hahahaha!! Oh, boy, i never knew how good Hulk looked in pink! If i had known i would have made you indestructible pink tutu!" Tony laughed as he passed a drawing of a pink hulk covered in glitter to Bruce.
Bruce took it and smiled at the drawing. It always made him happy to see that not everyone was afraid of him. He would definitely keep this one. He sat it on the small pile of other handmade pictures and letters and passed another letter to Tony.
Tony grabbed it and read it quickly, before tossing it behind him on the growing pile of fan mail. His pile had somehow moved to the floor when it started taking up too much space on the table. Most of his letters were written by admiring fans who were smart and talented and had a love for science.
Steve opened up another letter addressed to "Capt. America" and read it carefully. He had an interesting fan base, made up of a lot of older folks. People who still remember the old Captain. He smiled as he finished reading it, his thoughts were probably somewhere else right now. He put it back into the envelope and set it aside to be put away with the rest of his fan mail. Steve had a habit of never throwing away fan mail. It was a respect thing he had started back when he was doing his original gig of dressing up and punching out Hitler. Tony gets a kick out of the shoe boxes full of mail he keeps in his closet.
Thor was having a great time to say the least. Nearly all of his mail was pictures. And nearly all of them had either greatly exaggerated his hair or his hammer. Sometimes both. Bruce looked up from the letter he was reading to see a puzzled look on his face.
"You okay Thor?"
Thor looked almost concerned. "I must find this child, for he" Thor held up a picture of him holding hands with a child. In the child's other hand was mjolnir. "has right to the throne of Asgard."
There was a beat of silence before Tony started laughing. Bruce quietly started explaining what the kid had meant by the picture.
"Ah, I see, this child merely admires my strength and wishes to bear it himself one day. I shall await the day he has proven himself worthy of my hammer." Thor boomed. Bruce chuckled but didn't correct him as he picked up another letter Nat had handed him.
Meanwhile Clint had basically been sorting through the pile. He had only come across a picture of himself once, and it was a group drawing. Steve made sure it went on the fridge.
Clint had just handed over a package addressed to Tony which suspiciously looked like a coffee mug when he noticed it. Lying underneath several other cards and notes was an envelope with plain lettering on the front, simply written as 'Hawkeye'. Clint felt a surge of happiness when he saw it and a small grin broke onto his face. He pick it up and ripped it open, pulling out a letter. There was no name on the outside except for for his own, and Clint could only guess who it could be from. Maybe an expiring archer, maybe someone with hearing disabilities, (Don't ask how anyone could know that information since its classified) or from that kid he saved from the bus or from someone who though he was just plain cool, (which he was) or...
The smile fell from his face. His breath hitched and his heart dropped.
'Agent Joshua M. Collins was my husband. He was 27. Our daughter is only two years old. How am I supposed to tell her that a "hero" Killed Her Father! I hope you die and rot in Hell! You Killed Him! You are a murderer not a hero. He was everything to me. You are a traitor to the country. To the world. You're a monster. I'll kill you...'
Clint tried to take another breath. He couldn't read anymore. And he tried to act like he didn't just get punched in the gut. He tried to wipe the shock off his face and hope no one noticed. Tony was trying to unwrap the mystery coffee cup and Bruce and Steve were both reading letters. Thor was laughing and Clint was just trying not to throw up. He felt sick and wrong and guilty. He wasn't guilty, he knew that. He has to tell himself that everyday just to get out of bed. He knew deep down he had no control over his actions on the helicarrier and that the battle of New York was not caused by him. But he still blamed himself. He still knew that it was his fault, and that he had caused...
"Clint, you ok?"
Nat's question grounded him and he suddenly needed air. Something that seemed really hard to get at the moment. Clint nodded and managed a cough but things were suddenly not ok. His breathing was shaky at best. He coughed again, and damn that hurt. His lungs burned. That wasn't right. Somewhere in the back of his mind, panic started to bubble up. Something wasn't right. What the Hell!
He looked up at Natasha, eyes wide with fear, then down at the letter he was holding. It was grainy. Like it had been sealed with a pinch of flour. Shit. Poisoned?! He tried to stand but only ended up crumpling to the floor.
He looked back at Natasha who was rushing to get up, letters flying everywhere, but he managed to choke out "Nat!... Ber...lin!"
It was rough sounding, and ended up coughing in the middle of it but the recognition on her face told him she understood. Her eyes widen as she quickly turned around to grab Tony who was still staring at him. She slapped a hand over his nose and mouth and held her breath as she raced out of the room, dragging Tony with her. Bruce was running towards him as well as Steve and Thor.
"Barton! What's going on!? Woah, hey Barton! What..? Bruce!"
"Clint! Can you breath?! Shit!"
"CLINTON! What has happened!"
Fingers prodded at his neck, and he felt someone take the letter. Panic seized him and he jolted to grab the letter back.
"Noo It's... drugg...." He wheezed. God, his chest hurt!
"Hey, it's okay, it's just Steve, He can handle it. We all can. I need you to try to relax your muscles and calm down. We're going to take you to the medical wing. Inhale, good. That's good. Come on, you can do it again. good."
Clint could vaguely hear Bruce talking to him. And he still couldn't get a full breath. It took so much effort to just move his chest. It felt like it was crushing him. Black was starting to creep around the edge of his vision. His lungs burned and he was getting shaky and cold. Shit, shit, shit, shit..
Clint could hear more people coming into the room. Jarvis was reading off information about whatever was on that letter and the darkness was taking control. He felt himself starting to slip into unconsciousness. Bruce must have noticed because he grabbed Clint's hand and was trying to get him to take another breath.
"Clint! Come on, stay with us! Clint!"
He sounded so far away. What happened?
And then nothing. Just silence.