[distressed velociraptor noises tbh]

Clint Barton. 30. Landlord. Hawkeye. Bow and arrow guy. Not Iron Fist. Not Hawkguy. Sometimes an Avenger. Sometimes a SHIELD Agent. Always a human trainwreck. Mostly just wanna sleep TBH.

[deathturnsmeon-deactivated20160]

“You can still be an archer and stand up straight.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Less effort to slouch.”

[justcallmehawkeye]

“I… Clint! Seriously?” She’s picking up a piece of paper, crunching it up into a ball and throwing it at the back of his head. “The least you can do is share!”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Make me, Hawkeye,” Clint calls over his shoulder, drawling it easily and ignoring the ball.

[witchcalledwanda-deactivated201]

“It has,” she replied with a nod, spinning the wooden spoon in the pot so that the contents didn’t stick to the steel. The gesture was casual enough to demonstrate that she was at-ease in his presence. Once she was certain that it wouldn’t burn, she turned the stove off and approached him tentatively, tilting her head to the side. “Do you usually use the window?” she inquired with a slight teasing edge to her voice, “Because I have a door too.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

Clint shrugged a little, not really sheepish about his window-climbing habits, nor ashamed, nor otherwise terribly concerned. “Well, yeah, I figured. Russians. Lot quieter now than they were, but still kinda gross. Had rattle some cages. Window was closer than the door. And easier to open. You should probably move.”

[deathturnsmeon-deactivated20160]

“And yet you continue to slouch?”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Um. Yeah? I’m an archer. My back can take it.”

[justcallmehawkeye]

“No, I want the dinosaur that they drew on the box, like I asked. You can have the pizza box on yours.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Cool.” Clint picked up the pizza box, pizza and all, and meandered off.

[witchcalledwanda-deactivated201]

She recognized the man; she’d harbored him before when he was hiding from some sort of crime syndicate. Perhaps it was with this in mind that she’d offered the non-burglar something to eat.

“I know,” she replied, “are you running from trouble again?” And, with that inquiry out of the way, she casually waited for his response to that and the dinner invitation.

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Uh...yeah. You’re the not-Russian girl. Magic or something. Right?” Clint blinked, glancing around, before deciding she probably wasn’t gonna try and kill him and if she was, there wasn’t exactly anything he could do about being killed via magic, so fuck it. And he entered the kitchen proper, taking his hat off and trying very hard not to look like he’d just fallen through her window. “Uh. Been a while.”

[deathturnsmeon-deactivated20160]

“I’m sorry, but no one who stands that way has a great childhood.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Okay.” Clint continues to slouch. “Rude but okay.”

[justcallmehawkeye]

“Okay, I want that on my tombstone. I really do.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“...That’s a pizza box.”

[ofeideticisms]

Her mouth drops open a little and then she’s shaking her head. “Okay, Clint, now that’s just rude.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

Clint shrugs. “And?”

[ofeideticisms]

She’s shaking her head. “Well, good to know you’re thinking about laughing. That’s always good.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“...At you?”

[witchcalledwanda-deactivated201]

Wanda lifted the ladle to her lips and tasted the contents of the pot. She often cooked with fresh ingredients Pietro brought from their home country and it brought about a sense of ease through turbulent times. “Is almost ready,” she announced, “did you want to stay for dinner?”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

Clint froze. Turned around. Blinked widely at her, hiding his bow behind his back as he turned his back to the window he’d just clambered through. “...Uh...”

[ofeideticisms]

“Too much effort to laugh?” She raises an eyebrow at that. “And what about?”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Laughing.”

[deathturnsmeon-deactivated20160]

She’s letting out a soft laugh. “You just look tired. You know, Clint, you are quite a unique person.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“...Thanks?”

[ofeideticisms]

“Are you laughing at me?”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Nah. Effort. Thinkin’ though.”

[deathturnsmeon-deactivated20160]

“Pleasure to meet you, Clint,” she says, before dropping his hand. And then she’s watching him, carefully. “Are you tired?”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Always. You too. Why?”

[harlequinbutpunnier-deactivated]

“Clint - got it. And what about the dog? Huh? He got a name?” she asked with a tilted head, not paying any sort of mind to where she was walking as she’d allow him to be her guide. Well, minus reaching over with a jolted tug as she reached for a basket on the way by. “Sleep. Sleep is boring. What a waste’a time. Why spend ya time dreaming when you can spend it living? Guess I just got a lot to say. All that time spend in the loony room - those walls never talked back. Suppose it’s ‘cause they’re walls.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“Lucky.” Clint made a beeline for the dog treats as soon as she picked up a basket. It was an ambling beeline, but a beeline nonetheless. “You do you. Sleep is good.”

[justcallmehawkeye]

Kate shrugs, making a ‘I ‘unno’ noise. “That we’re partners and I have to stick with you and deal with shit. Especially shitty stuff that I’ve done in the past.”

[bartxnbartoff-blog]

“’Kay.” Clint stretches and reaches down to ruffle Lucky’s ears. “Well. I need to nap. I fed Lucky. Change his water if he needs?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns and walks up the stairs so he can take a nap.