Clint holds his breath as that big blond head comes his way. He’s not sure what’s about to happen. Thor could head butt him (RIP archer) or kiss him (what does he know of Asgardian customs?!) and Clint had decided to just stay still rather than react.

He just blinks at the other, looking owlish, as he moves away. His breath is released in a haphazard grunt.

There had been something terribly intimate about the touch of their foreheads, but unlike Thor’s plan to attack the evening’s beginnings, Clint is going to put all of that from his mind.

Thor’s affection, while not exactly weird, is a little frightening. Maybe because Clint enjoyed jt.

“Uh,” he says and clears his throat, “thanks? I mean, thanks. I’ll get out of your hair in a few hours.”