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Clint’s not sure when it got there, but the first time he notices the new key dangling from his Merida key ring is when he holds it out with his pharmacy rewards card extended to the cashier. He accepts the bag holding his children’s cold medicine (it tastes better, okay?) and wanders back out to the sidewalk in open confusion.
The key is shiny and recently cut, and Clint hasn’t needed to replace any lost keys or gained anything with a lock attached in ages. Logically, then, someone else snuck it onto his key ring, and that’s kind of a disturbing thought.
Clint works with super secret spies, sure, but even amongst SHIELD there aren’t many who could manage to first get ahold of his keys and then slip them back where they found them without his noticing. Fury or Hill probably could, but he has a hell of a time thinking of a motive for that. Tasha, sure, but slipping him a key to something he doesn’t know what it goes to isn’t the kind of cryptic she usually goes for. That leaves Phil, who, admittedly, has the easiest access to Clint’s keys given that they’re usually laying in a heap with his clothes at the foot of Phil’s bed, but Phil is upfront with him about stuff despite his sneaking capabilities.
Phil is his best bet, though, so Clint slips his mobile from his pocket and hits speed dial #1.
“I’ve got at least two more hours before I’m even flirting with being late to dinner,” Phil says as soon as he answers.
Clint grins and nearly hops on to the invitation to tease, but then he sneezes unexpectedly and that makes his keys jangle. “Did you do something to my keys?”
Phil snorts. “Took you long enough. I was starting to worry you’d gone farsighted, and we’d need to get you some glasses. Granted, you could probably pull them off exceedingly well.”
“I’d be your very own sexy librarian, babe, but that doesn’t answer the question." Sniffling, Clint rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "Well, okay, it does, 'cause you obviously did, but—what’s this key?”
“It’s your key.”
“Sure, fine, but what does it go to?”
“The door.”
“You’re being difficult on purpose.”
“Not really, you’re just a bit slow tonight,” Phil jabs lightly. Then his tone drops suddenly to one of concern. “Is your head still bothering you?”
Clint shrugs even though Phil can't see him. “Pretty sure it’s just a cold.”
Phil hums lowly, and Clint easily recognizes it as Phil’s I-don’t-believe-you-but-I’ll-let-it-slide-for-now hum. “Head to the apartment and set up on the couch. I’ll meet you there soon.”
“What, like at your place?" Clint frowns and brings his other hand up to rub at his temple, feeling his headache coming back. He flinches when the pharmacy bag smacks against his neck. "How am I supposed to get in if you’re not there yet?”
"While I’m more than aware that you’ve had no trouble breaking in before," Phil says with a sigh, "That won’t be necessary seeing as you have a key this time.”
“What key?” Phil doesn’t respond. Clint sighs and is about to snap at him to stop messing around when it clicks. “Oh. That key.”
“Yes. That key,” Phil agrees.
“I feel like I’m not usually this clueless?”
Phil laughs, but it's soft and fond. “Blame the cold, sweetheart.”
“Yeah. So, just so we’re clear—the key?”
“You’re moving in, Clint.”
“Right. Cool. See you at home, then.”
Clint can hear Phil’s smile in his voice. “See you there.”