BOBBI / MOCKINGBIRD.

“yeah no, everything’s great. sure,” he says, through gritted teeth, spidey senses going utterly haywire.

“I tried to reverse the effects— that’s not something I wanted to hide. I failed. Now we have these abilities and I’m doing my best to find meaning in that failure. It’s been.. it’s been harder for me than it has been for the others.”

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.

“Those mutants sure know what they’re doing— I haven’t felt this good in years. Apparently all a guy’s gotta do to feel better is die. Who knew?”

Matt’s head perked up a bit at the mention of the organization, his recent night time stints as Daredevil having him all too familiar with the rumors swirling around about what S.H.I.E.L.D. was up to in Connecticut. “I see.” He chuckled a bit at her comment, and maybe there was a bitterness behind it as he nodded firmly. “You know, I’m always around if you need any sort of legal advice when it comes to what you might be going through.”

“Say that again, but slower. And in my ear.” Clint tried to tease, but his smile quickly fell despite himself. He just wasn’t feeling as good about the new team as he would have liked, and he hated that. He should have been excited to lead a new iteration of the Thunderbolts, but the Impostor Syndrome was hitting hard. “Thanks, Bobs. I.. I really appreciate you. You know that, right?”

That, Bucky couldn’t disagree with. As much as they got underneath each other’s skin, he loved Sam like a brother at this point. They both had each other to lean on while they grieved Steve, and after sticking by his side throughout the mess with the shield, Bucky wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon when it came to their friendship. “I’m messing around. But please, tell him I said that and let me know what he says.” There was a hint of a smirk on Bucky’s lips as he nodded at her next words. “Technically he’s Captain America now. No more bird solidarity, I guess.”

Marc lifted a hand up to pull down his face as he gave Bobbi a defeated shrug. “More than tailing me. She won’t leave me alone. I get that you all are freaked out, but it’s fine. I’m fine. Maybe she should be focusing on the Marc who calls himself a Priest or whatever.”

walker let out a bitter chuckle, rolling his eyes a bit before glancing back up at the blonde, “alright, it’s not a competition.”

hunter clutches his chest like he’s just been shot, “oof— tolerate. that’s cruel, bob - cruel.”

hunter’s hands instinctively encircle bobbi’s, gently entwining his fingers with her own the next time she releases. his grip is gentle, but firm. she can let go whenever she chooses to, but he hopes the gesture offers some level of comfort at this time. he’s not sure what else there is to do besides just be there. “no, it’s alright, love. just tell me what you want from me and i’m there. anything. whatever you think’ll help.”

Clint was stuck in the door frame for a long few seconds as he took the sight in front of him in. His room was a disaster, flower clippings and petals strewn across the floor and his sheets. The room at least smelled nice, but he couldn’t let himself focus on that when Bobbi had that scary, far off look in her eyes. 

Finally, his feet seemed to move out from underneath him as he stepped forward, his feet avoiding some of the debris as he made his way to the bed and slowly took a sat next to her. The spell back in that town had been a hack job, he knew that, but a part of him had hoped that it just wouldn’t effect Bobbi. A stupid part of him, apparently. He gently unhooked his bow from where it was slung over his shoulders and set it down on the mattress next to them as he looked down at her and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I wasn’t gone for that long, right?” From the looks of it, this was several hours worth of mess. He didn’t even have it in him to try to tease her about any of it. “Is this… Is this the first time something like this has happened?”

This is downright embarrassing. Bobbi’s an accomplished scientist and superhero. She’s been on a number of teams and served as a highly efficient Agent of SH.I.E.L.D. Her powers — though it feels wrong to acknowledge them —are a recent update. Up until her death and resurrection, she had been human. Everything she had accomplished was on her own. Bobbi’s not the victim, not the damsel. The look on Clint’s face makes her want to drop dead.

“A few hours?” She’s moving to frantically gather the stalks up now and deposit them in a pile on the bed. “—I’ll wash your comforter,” she reassures him. “And vacuum the floor. Don’t worry. It’ll be like it never happened.”

@mckingbrds​​

It was disappointing, not to be able to go into the town himself and rescue her, but as soon as Cage caught onto everything there was no chance in hell that he’d be allowed to run into that clusterfuck. Not if he wanted to keep his contract with the Thunderbolts. It was a difficult choice, but Clint trusted the small team he’d grouped up with to go in there and get the job done. 

Maybe that trust was slightly misplaced, because Bobbi was not herself. He’d been admittedly a little clingy since she came back, but for good reason. Bobbi had been taken, and was gone for months on end. Forced to be some kind of lab rat to test the town infrastructure by an organization she was supposed to trust.

She’d agreed to stay at his apartment for a bit that day while the Thunderbolts went to handle something in Midtown, and when he returned he was not expecting to find an array of flowers spread throughout his entire place. The decorations might have been a little lacking, but this was too much. “Hey uh, Bobs…?” He called out hesitantly, his heart thumping a little faster in his chest as he walked towards his bedroom and saw shit ton of rose petals and flower clippings strewn all over his bed. “What the hell is this?” The laugh that came out of him was nervous as he just stared at her.

Gardenias. Lillies. Roses. Baby’s-breath.

There’s an art to making a good bouquet. It’s not about throwing some flowers and calling it a day. One has to take into consideration how the color palette will look in addition to the blend of scents. Believe it or not, some flowers don’t smell good when put next to others. And then the baby’s-breath. God, the baby’s-breath. Was it too 1990′s to use or was it back in style? Rebecca is a firm believer that it was fine in measured doses.

Rebecca Harrison is not real.

She’s a woman that never existed except for a finite second in time when reality was warped. She is Bobbi Morse and Bobbi is her — albeit unwillingly. It’s Rebecca who likes flowers and not Bobbi. Bobbi’s the biologist with the slight pollen allergy that had been a bitch when she was working with Ka-zar. in the jungles. Flowers are fine but she never buys them. It’s almost as if they seem to die the second they enter her care. She definitely doesn’t buy in bulk.

The plan was to spend the day laying low at Clint’s place. It made him feel better to have her close and she didn’t really feel like being alone. Instead of sit around her apartment staring at the wall, she sat in Clint’s and stared at his wall. Nobel Prize winner Paul Nurse had recently written a biology book she wanted to read, but she couldn’t get more than five pages in. Bobbi had been drawing a bath when the idea had hit her: flowers. She had to work. The tub was left full as she made her way to the bodega to buy as many flowers as her arms could hold.

Clint’s scissors aren’t meant to cut flowers. They keep getting stuck on the stems, but Bobbi’s persistent. She’s hacking and chopping so she can loop them together with the twine she picked up when the door opens. Something in her mind whispers to stop, but her hands keep moving on their accord. And then, there’s Clint. He’s staring at her like she’s crazy and Bobbi falters.

“Officially? I’m retired, yeah. Doesn’t mean I can’t be interested in what’s been going on, though.”

“Hill’s been taken care of.” When Daisy realized how final that sounded, she raised her eyebrows and quickly backtracked. “She’s not dead, though. Just on a mandatory medical leave.”

hunter’s expression immediately drops, brow softening with concern, “—you can talk to me about anything. what’s goin’ on?”

“Ay, but you are an agent.” Jake tsked as he glanced back at the blonde woman in his backseat and just shook his head slightly, his jaw set. He wasn’t as impulsive as Marc was when it came to Layla, but he still wanted some answers of his own. And it didn’t take much effort to track where Agent Morse would be that day, and took even less effort to position his cab just about where she’d need a ride. Khonshu made it known that he thought it was a complete waste of time, but Jake pushed on. “I’m not kidnapping you. You are not the one behind all of this,” Pausing at that, Jake shrugs. “But you are tied to it. So here we are, having a conversation. The museum. Does S.H.I.E.L.D. have any security footage?”