Leaves swirl overhead, reminding Clint of the trapeze training Annie had been doing earlier that morning. They glowed in orange, green, and even a mustard yellow as the sun shines through the bulky bunch of clouds plaguing the blue sky, glistening along the remaining drops of morning dew.

The air was crisp and smelled of freshly baked goods, the most prominent odor being pumpkin. That was just the norm around this time of year as the trees grew more and more dormant and the temperatures dropped to match the wind chill. Clint lifted his nose to it and inhaled deeply, taking in the whole of the smell if pumpkin.

Whether the intoxicating aroma of the vegetable came from the local bakery, or the littering patch of them outside the tall grassed field, Clint didn't care. It just smelled like warmth and comfort; like his old bedroom with Barney. Clint frowned, realizing how long it'd been since he'd thought about his old house. It never really was a home anyway.

The boy shifted his feet from the white concrete sidewalk and onto the very edge, getting close to falling right into the street. A car passing by noticed and honked at him, it translated directly to, careful there buddy!

If Clint heard, he didn't show it. He was simply too invested in balancing his two tiny feet on the edge. One foot in front of the other and repeat again and again. Clint looked up and smiled at the image of the peeking sun. It almost waved from behind a parting cloud, cheering him on. Maybe the world wasn't all bad, and not working his odds against him.

He made it a good few feet before wobbling unsteadily. The eight year old stuck out his arms in an attempt to stabilize himself, but his scrawniness wasn't particularly helping to win the case. And eventually, what's up must come down. The sun disappeared beneath foggy spots of foaming grey.

Clint's smile wavered when he felt the impact of the hard asphalt street, but it was nothing compared to the things he'd seen and faced head-on.

Natasha couldn't help it; she laughed. Tony mentally noted the moment, just in case it would prove handy in the future.

Clint groaned, not in pain, but from annoyance. He continued to lie there until remembering the main reason he'd come down into town: pumpkin pie. The already strong smell kept teasing him all the way from the circus grounds, until Annie offered him the money to buy one.

The kid came to his feet and exhaled loudly. Then, he grinned widely and checked his cargo pants pocket for the dollar bill entrusted to him. A bird chirped ahead, sitting on top of a shop sign, as if she were encouraging Clint like the sun was. And sure enough, the lazy star was out again, pointing him in the right direction.

So, he looked past the Halloween decorations of zombies and ghosts and skeletons to read the sign:

Buttermilk Bakehouse
Treats and Sweets?
We got it all!

Exactly the place Clint was looking for. The door opened with a chime and an older looking man stepped out. In hand was a small brown paper bag, the wafting smell of butter drifted up, making Clint's mouth water. This didn't go unnoticed by the man, and he offered a kind smile.

"Here, kid," He reached into his bag and pulled out one of several croissants.

Clint shook his head in disagreement before murmuring, "No, sir. Keep it, I'll be fine."

"Not sure if I quite believe you," Mystery-Man snorted, warily eyeing the obvious skinniness of the boy in front of him. "But... You gotta name?"

"I could ask you the same question," Clint remarked. Was this man trustworthy? Annie had warned him of talking to strangers.

Always the sassy one aren't you, Hawkeye? Steve thought, and Tony smirked.

"Well I asked you first, didn't I?"

Clint scrunched up his face, realizing Mystery-Man had a fair point. "Clint," His murmuring barely reached the man's ears with his dissipating hearing, but he seemed to understand all right.

"Jorge," The man replied. And with that, Jorge patted Clint on the back and started down past him to the opposite side of town. He absentmindedly hummed a song and knew that he'd see the boy named Clint again, knew that Clint would be destined for many great things.

***

Later that afternoon, Clint held a cardboard package with an orange and spiced pie. He walked right into the circus and immediately attracted the attention of Barney and Jacques, who were practicing near the Exchange.

There was no need for the pair to pretend like Clint didn't know, seeing as he figured it out pretty quickly; he did always have a knack for sticking his nose into places it oughta not be. He'd first learned of it a few days before his birthday.

The Exchange had orange and yellow lights strung up for Halloween, and even a few jack-o'-lanterns thrown in for good measure. The show on the night of the spooky holiday would also have a special feature. It was an annual tradition by now to go big or go home, and was great excitement to whatever hicks got lucky enough to see it.

"Barney!" Clint's whining pierced his brother's ears, Barney desperately tried to hide a dagger behind his back.

"I'm here?" Barney's voice raised about an octave and he glanced round wildly before his eyes landed in his mentor. Jacques just shrugged.

"Are you gonna perform with that sword?" Clint blurted.

Barney withdrew the dagger from behind his back and smiled apologetically. Jacques spoke up before he could though, "Well, this isn't exactly how we wanted you to find out, but yes. I'm training Barney to do what I do!"

Clint's eyebrows furrowed together and his lips turned up into a pout. "B- but... Isn't it dangerous?"

"It's not unless you're careful 'bout it," Barney assured him eagerly, before deciding to add, "Which we are. Very careful, I mean."

Jacques nodded in agreement. He wasn't surprised about the younger Barton discovering their little secret, but rather about how little he seemed to care. Had Barney said something to him?

"What's that, Clint?"

Clint puffed up his chest with pride. "A pumpkin pie from the bakehouse!"

Barney walked over and ruffled his brother's hair affectionately. Jacques just observed the interaction, wincing as if he were burned. He could see how their relationship would break and fall over time; the start of the end.