Okay, so the blanket mentioned in Best Laid Plans? I thought I'd mentioned it before in the earlier stories until someone asked me if I had and I went back to check. :/ Not sure what happened there, because it's such a strong image in my head. So, you get filler story of Clint's blanket. 5+1, some very short, some ridiculously long. One explicit sex scene.

Clint was thirteen and the corner of his mouth was bleeding. Trickshot didn't like it when he talked back, but sometimes Clint couldn't help it. Sometimes his mouth just said stupid things. He snuck into the Big Top after everyone else was asleep and he climbed up to the trapeze platform. It was dark and quiet and he could see everything. He curled up and fell to sleep. He was safe up there.

When he woke up to the hustle and bustle of the circus getting ready for the day ahead, he was warmer than he thought he should be. Usually perching up there for the night meant waking up at three in the morning shivering. He shifted and dislodged the blanket that someone had laid over him during the night. It was an ugly thing, pink and purple, grey and blue, and it smelled of horses but it was soft and warm. He curled it around his shoulders and laid down on his belly so he could look out at everyone without them seeing him.

Miranda, the woman who did tricks with the ponies, looked up at just the right moment and she winked at him. That explained why the blanket smelled of horses. He liked Miranda, she'd always been nice to him and Barney had a bit of a crush on her. Clint climbed down and put the blanket over the door of the horse trailer with a bunch of daisies he'd self-consciously picked from the edge of the field they were staying in.

When he saw her standing on the back of her pony later she had a daisy pinned to her leotard.

That night, when he climbed the to the trapeze stand again, he found the blanket there, neatly folded. There was also a bowl of rich dark stew, thick with meat and potatoes. Stuck to the edge of the bowl was a note.

Don't try and give it back again, it said and ended with a smiley face.

Miranda looked out for him over the next year or so. She taught him how to cook, took him to the library, cleaned his injuries. Clint would curl up in the blanket every single night. Then Miranda was killed. Nobady cared in the town, the police barely even bothered to investigate. She was just a carnie after all. Then all Clint had was the blanket. Every time he saw daisies after that, he thought of her.