#bcrtonhawk

[thebetterhawk-archive]

@bcrtonhawk​​

It’s a surprisingly nice day out. Sunlight filters through the trees as it dapples the leaf strewn ground. Spring air smells different than winter; the crispness of fall is absent and the humidity of summer has yet to set in like a sticky second skin. Instead, it’s some middle ground that sees some New Yorkers in sweaters and others still in their puffer coats. Kate herself has found a happy medium and walks with her hands tucked into her purple pockets. 

Normally, Lucky would be on the walk with them. Taking the dog out has become a routine way for Clint and Kate to both be active and spend time together. With her former mentor on the Thunderbolts, time has become inconsistent. Kate herself has only just finished acclimating from her cross country move. She misses the smell of the sea that lodges itself into your nostrils and follows you home, but she had missed her friends more. Being gone had been good for her in a number of ways. She had branched out, worked some things out. Now, she was home. Home was, apparently, the place where your friends were blown up without reason.

Reaching the door first, the archer pulled it open. The smell of pizza instantly smacked her in the face. If she had missed anything from the east coast, it had been some of the food. The California tacos were far superior, but she had always referred to herself as a “pizzie girlie” before cringing at the blatant gen-zness of the terminology.

“First slice, I buy.” Kate jutted her chin to the counter and glass display case. “A welcome back to life gift.” She orders for herself before sliding into the sticky booth. Chipped nails drum against the equally sticky table. It’s not a nice establishment, but it’s their speed. “So.” Kate hopes he can’t see her smile falter. “This is the part where I ask how you’re doing and you answer truthfully.” 

[notagent19]

@bcrtonhawk​

he hadn’t been back long. it had been long enough that linda felt solid he was actually home for the holiday but still recently enough that the same tired energy that hung around post assignment or mission hadn’t dissipated yet. did she miss it? yes, sometimes. did she want to go back? any consideration of it was dashed when she heard the footsteps of her children or a peal of laughter. her life was good. she liked where she was at no matter how low octane it had become. linda was happy with how things had turned out, even if they had lost people along the way.

unhooking her earrings, the brunette carefully set them into the jewelry holder she had been gifted a few years back. “kate seems nice.” she glanced over her shoulder at her husband before moving to the bed, pajama’s already on. “you know, i always thought you’d be a good mentor. i don’t care if you think otherwise.”

[mckingbrds-archive]

@bcrtonhawk​​

These last few months have been the worst. The absolute worst. Out of all the adjectives that Bobbi could use, that’s the nicest one. The rest would make her mother blush. For obvious reasons, she’s not exactly sure what to do when someone is resurrected. Bringing flowers is out of the question. Ever since her mind has been righted she’s developed a strong aversion to everything that blooms. Besides, she doesn’t want to trigger Clint with a bouquet. Instead, she makes dinner. It’s nothing fancy, but he had always liked her pasta back when they were married. Getting into his apartment had been easy considering the fact that she had a key at this point. 

They aren’t dating. That’s not why Bobbi has the key. It’s more in case something happened to him — and something had. She’d had to go to his place to get him clothes before the resurrection. For a good ten minutes she had just cried in the living room. Right now, there are no tears. There’s just the scent of garlic and sauce that simmers in the pot.

“Hey, you.” Bobbi glances over her shoulder when the door opens. Her fingers are still bandaged from where she’d rubbed them raw and bloody trying to dig Clint out from the rubble. Her hands remain hurt, but physically he’s fine. There’s no indication that he’d been crushed to death. Bobbi pastes on a smile and tries to block out that image. “You better be hungry, because I made too much. How’s the team?”

[thebetterhawk-archive]

@bcrtonhawk​

The air was crisp. New York in the fall was both beautiful and terrible; the winds cut through even the warmest of coats and cut at your cheeks and fingers. Kate was waiting to bust out her big winter coat for when the frost hit, but the oversized one she had shrugged on wasn’t cutting it. Only a few weeks back in New York and she still hadn’t acclimated to the climate she had not only been born in but spent her entire life in before her flight to California.

“Why can’t dogs learn to use the toilet?” She mused, fingerless glove clad hands clutching Lucky’s leash. Clint walked beside her, the two alternate chatting for companionable silence. “In California, it was so nice and balmy. No snow. No putting boots on Lucky to stop his feet from freezing. Perfection.”

It hadn’t been perfection, though. Kate had missed her friends when the West Coast Avengers had officially disbanded. She still had Johnny and Ramone, but her relationship had ended and Ramone and America had broken up. Everyone was still on good terms, but the magic they’d briefly had was gone. After her little adventure with Susan, Kate was ready to settle back into life -- even if it was freezing.

“Y’know,” she turned to look at Clint. “I was expecting a welcome home, Kate!! party or something. At least a small gathering of friends, beer or pizza. No one loves me anymore.”

[blckwidws-archive]

@bcrtonhawk​

​It was hard to find people who stuck with you through the good and the bad. When you were a superhero, there tended to be a lot of bad with some good sprinkled in. Natasha was far from a stranger to hardships. Her recent adventure and loss -- her beautiful son and the perfect husband -- was a great example. Still, she did what she was trained to do: she pushed on. Natasha found ways to cope and people who made it worth it.

Clint Barton was one of those people.

They were at her apartment with a bottle of vodka passed from one hand to the other. Natasha’s hair was finally starting to grow back on the side that had been shaved when she prisoned and subsequently brainwashed, and she ran a hand through the shorter strands before resting her head on it entirely.

“When was the last time we had a night off?” She asked. “Because at this rate, I was wondering if I’d die before catching a break.”

[mckingbrds-archive]

@bcrtonhawk​

Was it weird to have weekly coffee dates with your ex-husband? Maybe for some, but Clint and Bobbi had never been traditional exes. Besides, weekly was a stretch. That would imply that they could both get it together long enough to make a weekly thing happen. They really just met whenever they could for some light flirting and wellness check-ins. It wasn’t much, but it was the best that the two seemed to be able to do.

“So, the Thunderbolts again?” Bobbi leaned back in her chair as she sipped her coffee. “There’s another Thunderbolts out there. You know that, right? A team of maybe reformed criminals? That may not look great on you guys. Then again, you do have Rambeau. That’s nice.” 

Her latte burned her tongue but Bobbi kept drinking it anyway. She needed the caffeine hit and was just stubborn enough to sacrifice her tongue to get what she wanted. “You know I just want what’s best for you, Clint. If the Thunderbolt’s are it, then I’m in your corner one hundred and ten percent.”

[hawkitoutarchive]

@bcrtonhawk​

okay, so, a lot had happened. maybe that was the understatement of the year. or the century. kate wasn’t sure. all she knew was that her life had changed in a way that could never be undone. she was happy -- really, she was. the trouble with her mom hung heavily on her mind but there was nothing that could be done until Eleanor’s deposition. Her mom would come in with a good lawyer but between the testimonies of Jaques and Kate ( plus the hard evidence ) she was going to be gone for a long time.

now, it was about finding a new normal. right now that looked like christmas at the barton household.

“hey, clint,” kate was seated on the living room floor. linda was putting the kids to bed and that meant the arrows could come out. she fiddled with one, screwing the arrowhead on a little tighter. cuts still littered her face and her nose wasn’t quite healed yet, but kate almost wore them as mini badges of pride. setting the arrow down, the archer turned to her mentor.

“how’d you do it all this time? i mean, the house, the family, the wife. i couldn’t even get through my first outing without losing my mom. the battle of new york took my dad and that was years before i got involved in any of this. what you do is impressive. like, really impressive. but how?”