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“You’re, uh. You’re taking this really seriously.”
“I don’t take anything seriously," Clint lied easily. "But answer the question.”
“That’s not… supporting your point.”
“Doc, you’re one of the smartest guys I know. And you don’t generally make anything explode without warning me. This is a great way for me to keep you company while you’re working. Now answer the question.”
Clint watched as Bruce looked at him out of the corner of his eye and then frowned down at his tablet. Was it still a tablet if it did the hologram thing? Probably still a tablet. “Well… I think that you’ve made a good point about the lack of definitions. There are reasons why legal contracts define things.” Clint resisted the urge to “overreact” when Bruce paused to evaluate Clint out of the corner of his eye again. “I would- with the understanding that I don’t know that much about the nature of magic, contractual or otherwise- be likely to conclude that your… hypothetical man… would not be able to die.” The frown deepened as Clint nodded along.
That was the conclusion he had come to as well, sometime after the first hundred years or so. And that was even before he lost track of where the exact spot he was cursed (blessed? Cursed. They’re basically the same thing. All a matter of interpretation) because the city burned down. “Right, okay. So if there’s no kingdom, no royal family, and so no princess, he cannot make the princess laugh?”
Bruce breathed out slowly enough that Clint would call it a sigh on someone who didn’t spend so much time breathing slowly and deeply. “No… No, I don’t think you… he. I’m really not the right person to ask this. Thor knows people who know magic. Or Doctor Strange? Someone who knows magic would be better for this.”
“It’s a logic-based hypothetical. You’re a logical kind of guy.” Clint knew Bruce wasn’t buying it anymore, if he ever had, but he also couldn’t make himself walk away without a firm answer. It was the most important question in his life. He just definitely wasn’t taking it seriously. What was there to take seriously? Infinite life, infinite dogs and pizza and coffee. Great things, dogs and pizza and coffee. Definitely the kind of things to focus on when the hypothetical man was going to live forever.
Okay, Jesus, he didn’t think Bruce would look at him with that much pity, but they had managed to put a decent amount of “why can’t I fucking die” sort of people in the Avengers. Bruce probably knew a thing or two about surviving your best and worst days and knowing they would never end. “No, Clint,” Bruce started and his voice was so soft that maybe Clint was ready to leave the room after all. “No, if there’s no kingdom and no royal family and no princess, if the hypothetical man cannot meet the conditions of making the princess laugh before he dies, he cannot die. He ran out of time and he’s not going to die.”
Clint looked down at the paperclip he had picked up when he first jumped up on Bruce’s counter. “Poor bastard,” he offered amiably.
Bruce’s face did something complicated. Sorrow and bitterness and pity and then dark amusement, Clint thought. “Yes, Clint. Poor bastard.” Clint nodded and took a drink out of the mug next to him only to grimace. Not his mug, not delicious coffee, and not really Clint’s job to remind Bruce that there were better ways to spend eternity than torturing leaves with boiling water.
“Welp. Now that that’s settled. Think we’ll order pizza tonight?” Clint grinned at Bruce as he set the mug down. Bruce looked at the mug a moment longer before snorting and turning back to his tablet.
“Yeah, sure, why not? It has my vote. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Clint waited a moment longer to see what Bruce would say he was doing next and then decided to take the hint. “Real fun chat! I’ll be sure to come to you again the next time I have a hypothetical.” The door closed behind him before Bruce could reply, just as he hoped.