I've done all the dumb things

When Clint gets to work, first, he has the paperwork for acquisition forms on his desk. Beamon's unlucky enough to still be caught in traffic, so he shifts them to her desk. She's the team leader in the office, anyway; he shouldn't get shafted just because he's the one who requested the items.

He digs in Echo's file cabinet before pulling out the relevant form (though, still, Unforeseen Incident doesn't exactly involve alien bars with good coffee) and settling in to write.

He's wearing headphones, and they're just-off mission from New Mexico (where other aliens showed up), so for the first couple hours his team ignores him as they catch up on their own paperwork.

Something enters his periphereal vision and he raises up a hand to block it before realizing it's a mug of coffee. He glances further up at the person offering it, his sniper partner Schmidt.

"Hey, thanks," he says, taking one of his ear-buds out as he accepts it. He pulls open his desk drawer to grab a protein bar. He offers it to Schmidt, but she makes a face so he takes it for himself.

Schmidt leans against the cubicle divider, taking a drink from her own mug. "Don't worry about it. What's got you antisocial?"

Clint grimaces. "Need to know. Sorry, Schmidt."

"Say no more."

--

Jan's in town, which means it's easy enough to ask for him to deliver the file to Fury when he next sees him, or Coulson. It's only for Fury to open, but Clint would be more comfortable with Coulson having his hands on it than Jan who he's only known for eight years.

Clint spent a long time staring at the maps and detailed lists he'd created before giving it to Jan, searching his brain for any extra clue, but there wasn't anything else left for him to deduce.

The sheer weirdness of what happened oozes up on him, into his brain and under his skin, once the file is handed off.

If he leaves early, and spends the rest of the afternoon in Balboa Park watching people go about their every day lives --

Well, everyone has those days.