arrow guy

Sam grinned brightly when Clint put two and two together, offering his hand out to shake. “Thanks, man. Means a lot coming from you.” He held his shield up a little and gave it a once-over with pride. Even with all the strife that went down between Steve giving him the shield and him finally deciding to accept it, sometimes it still didn’t feel real. Not entirely, anyway. “It’s still new. Feels like I’ve still got training wheels on sometimes but we’re getting there.”

He barely caught himself before he asked Clint how he’s been since the last time they saw each other. Where he was from, that would’ve been Tony’s funeral. Even though this Clint felt nearly as familiar as the one he’d fought alongside, guessing where anyone was from was a real shot in the dark. “How’s all this been treatin’ you?”

Clint didn’t bother to hide his smile as Sam admired his shield. He couldn’t think of anyone that deserved the legacy the way Sam did, and it was a historic day in America, to see a minority carry such a beacon of hope and light in the world. “No need to thank me,” Clint replied kindly. There was never, and would never, be a day that he judged Sam for taking some time before donning Captain America’s moniker. If anything, it just meant that Sam was the best person possible. “Yeah? What’s it like?” He asked curiously. “It seems like the responsibility would be pretty intense sometimes.” Even being Hawkeye had its moments, and half the time, no one even recognized him.

Clint never missed a shot—nor a good compliment, apparently.

“Ha!” Steve couldn’t help himself, although he did appreciate it. “Not much can beat the Mona Lisa.” He preferred Impression, Sunrise and The Kiss but he never quite mastered either style on his own. That was his favorite thing about art, albeit paradoxically. There was always room for one to improve, even if you were famous. 

Now it was Steve’s turn to consider a shot. Offer to help Clint with rent and get rejected or ease into the subject carefully. “You’re not, uh, staying at the compound?” He wasn’t either, but that was different. Clint was from here. Steve was the guy who hopped in a Hudson Super Six and wound up in California accidentally.

Steve set down the sketchbook, grabbed his cup, and then got to his feet. “Actually, I need a refill. Do you mind watching the table for me? I’ll get your latte on my way.”

Turned out, being a superhero and a super spy and a circus freak didn’t pay great. Who would’ve thought? Thankfully, Clint had never been interested in any of ‘em for the money. The circus had started out as a place to stay, became a family, and then got too corrupted for Clint to stay. SHIELD replaced them, made Clint feel like he was doing the right thing for once, and the rest was history.

Steve had always been doing the right thing though, a real beacon of light, and one of Clint’s heroes before and after meeting the guy. “For real, man, you’re good,” Clint assured Steve. And he really was! Plus, he seemed passionate about it, and that was kinda what mattered most with art as far as Clint was concerned.

At Steve’s question, Clint shrugged a shoulder. “Nah, it just doesn’t feel right anymore.” Not without Nat, anyway, and Clint enjoyed his space. “I have a little apartment near here. It’s kinda divey, but it’s mine.” Having a home that was his, even if he struggled to pay for it, also went a long way for Clint’s security. He’d been homeless too many times in the past. “When I was a kid, we were in a lot of foster homes, and most of ‘em didn’t work out,” he explained. “I like having my own place because of it.”

At Steve’s question, Clint immediately recognized the kind gesture and chose to accept it. They were friends, after all. “Thanks,” he muttered, a little sheepish and took a seat across from where Steve was. When Cap got back, he asked, “How’d you get into art?”

Carol rolled her eyes, of course Clint would be down for pizza. She wasn’t sure the man ate anything other than that. Not that she’d had much of a chance to really get to know him, but her memories - briefly - of him, always seemed to involve pizza. “You’re seriously too lazy to walk?” She teased as she stood up from the desk. “We’re walking. If we’re eating pizza we could use the walk.” She headed out of the lab before turning back to Clint. “Who’s Lucky?” Carol’s people skills really could use some work, but hey, at least she’d remembered to ask.

Darcy nodded, having no real idea how hearing loss actually sounded, but figured she’d save the poor man from explaining it to her further. “Sorry I wasn’t much help back there. No fighting skills what’s so ever.” She offered up a smile. Truthfully, she’d thrown a punch or two in her day, but Darcy was much better behind the screen. “I’ll take it.” She laughed, take a bite from her slice, not even caring for a second that the toppings were all over the place. Darcy was hungry, and she was sharing pizza with Hawkeye. It didn’t get much better than this. “LARPing?” She turned to look at him. “No clue. Never heard of it.” 

“Non, mon ami, but I know you.” He replied coolly, leaning forward to lift the lid of the pizza box. He examined it closely, eyes shifting between Clint and the box before he flipped the top open completely, edging closer to take out a slice. He looked up at Clint, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “But who doesn’t know the Avengers, eh? Well’s subjective, but I know what I need ta’ know.”

He took a bite of the pizza, looking back to where the Tracksuit once was, nodding to the empty space. “Remy, one of them X-Men. Who d’ya have on your tail now?”

“Hope you know me from somewhere good,” Clint said lightly. This dude didn’t really seem to be his biggest fan, but hey, at least he wasn’t currently attacking him. These days, Clint had to take what he could get, and sometimes, the best was just not being punched in the face or spending the day in bed. “Not everyone knows Hawkeye, trust me,” he said with a snort. “Cap, sure. But the dude with the bow? Yeah, fan club’s limited.” Clint genuinely wasn’t even bitter about it. At the end of day, he just cared about doing the right thing, and shooting arrows was all he really knew. 

Whether it be overconfidence or disbelief in superstition, Steve left the shield behind today.

In his tour—and later Howling Commando—days, the shield was like another arm. It was proof, solid proof, that Steve could drum his knuckles on. He could always reach for it and know his life had changed forever. During those days, he would fall asleep on his cot or the ground and wonder if upon waking he would go back to being sick, to being the little guy who was left at home. Going back to being the one carting a hope bigger than his body was a nightmare never far away from his mind, until Bucky fell from the train and a new nightmare found Steve and stuck.

He did better without it later. Trained himself to be, and after everything that had got him here, Steve wanted to see if he go without the shield. No adventures, not unless he heard a cry for help. Then, of course, he’d just need to find something aerodynamic and go from there, but that was a bridge he would cross later. Now, he was enjoying the view from an outdoor cafe with his sketchbook, drawing anything and anyone that caught his interest.

“Should I start charging for these?” Steve asked, tilting the book so the nearest customer could see. “I’m in the market for a part-time job.” @multiversalhq​

These days, Clint hadn’t been getting out much. It wasn’t really out of laziness… okay, well, maybe it was. Honestly, he didn’t really know. Somedays, Clint just couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, and others, he felt fine. Regret for what he’d done as Ronin plagued him, and Nat dying, and watching everything that had happened to everyone after the rest got dusted… yeah, things were heavy.

But today wasn’t one of the worst days. He’d gotten up, did target practice at the compound, and now he was walking around the streets with his bow slung over his shoulder. That was one of the perks of being Hawkeye, very few people recognized him.

Except for Cap, Clint thought, as Steve turned the sketchbook towards him. “Yeah, they’re definitely worth at least a couple hundred,” Clint said very seriously. “Like the Mona Lisa or something, but cooler, since it’s done by an Avenger. But I can barely afford rent, so I guess it depends on if you’re a famous Avenger.” Clint would probably pay a hundred for Steve’s art, he was a fan! “Speaking of which, you think I got enough for a latte?” Clint asked, pulling random change from his pockets.

Earth wasn’t exactly a place Carol enjoyed being. It seemed every time she’d been brought here recently it was to help fight some big bad, like Thanos, or try to find answers on where everyone had poofed to. It was really nice having everyone back, having Earth restored. But Carol was quickly learning that once one good thing happened something even more crazy came with it. All these people who didn’t belong here, Carol had spent weeks trying to figure out how it had been possible, but there was only so much research she could do without the help of Tony and his equipment.

So that’s where Carol spent most of her time, researching, calling for help from other planets, worried somehow her assistance was causing more trouble. Not that she was going to stop anytime soon. Though, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t need a break. Looking up at the person sitting in the room with her, she tilted her head to the side. “You’ve been here awhile. Want to take a break? Grab some pizza or something?” @multiversalhq​

As he worked in the lab across from Carol, creating trick arrows, Clint grinned the second she spoke. “Did you say pizza? I’m in,” he said immediately. “Too lab I didn’t bring Lucky, he would’ve loved to come.” Had Carol ever met his dog? “You think you can fly us there?” He asked, mostly joking, but he was always envious of Thor and Carol’s ability to fly.

“ tsk tsk, clint. ” matt says once the other puts his hearing aid back in, holding his cane firmly in his hand. “ i leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already hunting down the tracksuits? ” he asks, cocking his head to the side slightly. “ i’m good, i’m pretty sure i heard it fall on the floor before i even got here. ” he can’t help but tease the other.

The nice thing about this different universe was at least the city wasn’t too horribly different from the one he was used to patrolling and saving. A little different and most definitely filled with more, and more capable, heroes who could handle everything. It was nice to get to just sight see for once and not worry about having to run off and save the day. As much at least. Peter was still ever at the ready and the sound of a nearby fight caught his senses, making him head over. He didn’t get involved though as he watched the other handle the situation himself perfectly fine. The sudden offer threw him off more than the scene itself. “Guess that depends… Is that why he’s running? Because if it is that bad of a pizza, I’ll pass.”

Spider-Man? Man, this guy was everywhere, Clint thought, snickering. “Mind webbing the one running?” He asked, nodding to the Tracksuit who was still booking it. “Maybe like to a telephone pole… something as embarrassing as their outfits,” he suggested. Clint was really a visionary! All his trick arrows made that obvious. (Speaking of which, he could probably do it himself with a putty arrow, but Spidey was a cool dude. He wanted to see the sticky web stuff!) “Nah, he’s running because I’m terrifying,” Clint joked, gesturing to himself. He didn’t look overly intimidating, he wasn’t even wearing his suit, just pajamas and a hoody. It’d been a rough few months. “The pizza’s awesome. It was like five dollars from a local place over there. Pepperoni!” Was that a good selling feature? “Try some,” he said, opening the box. “My dog eats it every day.”

Darcy had just arrived in town, always one to get called out when unusual things were happening. Tase a guy once and suddenly you’re an expert on all weird portals and multiverse things. Whatever. She’d stumbled upon a fight, deciding best to hang back before continuing on to the compound, she waited until the last of the guys in suits were gone and entered back onto the street. Halting when the guy told her to hold up, she put her hands in the air “I come in peace?”  Before moving closer to him. Looking between him and the pizza, she realized who it was. “Holy shit. You’re Hawkeye!” She grabbed a slice of pizza. “Darcy. Big fan.” 

“Oh, no,” Clint said quickly when she put her hands up in the air, surrendering. “Just got my hearing aid knocked out,” he explained, gesturing to his ear. “Always sounds... weird, like uh, distorted.” Explaining what hearing loss to someone who could hear was always complicated, like a math teacher trying explaining fractions to Clint when he was a kid. There was a reason he’d dropped outta school. “Yeah, that’s me,” he replied with a grin. It wasn’t often that Clint actually got recognized in the streets, unlike Tony or Thor. He was always in the background, just that arrow guy. “I’m a big fan of you, too, ‘cause we’re sharing pizza.” He replied smoothly. Clint was never really comfortable with that kind of attention, especially after Ronin, so he tried to move on quickly. “If you’re into superheroes, do you know what LARPing is?” He asked curiously. Was that like a popular pastime? 

Harley had been itching to fight someone, anyone, but so far no luck. Everyone she had met so far seemed nice. It was probably best for her to be around people like that but it had been such a long time since she’d had a good tussle with someone. She was walking down the street when she heard a lot of nice. Ever the curious one, she made her way to see a fight in action. “Oooh yay!” She clapped her hands together excitedly. Clint seemed to have everything under control apart from the guy that was running away. This was her time to shine. Without a second though she ran up to the guy running away giving him a swift kick to the gut and elbow to the back of the head. “You’re welcome,” she grinned, bowing dramatically as she approached Clint, way to happy for the little bit of action she’d just had. “Who were those guys anyway? Awful sense of fashion.” She narrowed her eyes at the pizza. “What kind is it? Please, please don’t tell me its pineapple because that would be the biggest crime to happen here right now.”

Clint couldn’t help but chuckle at how excited Harley seemed just to have the one minute of fighting she got. Maybe he should’ve left all of the Tracksuits to her, she seemed capable, but it’d also sic a whole embarrassing, annoying, lame gang after her... Yeah, probably good Clint just handled ‘em on his own, actually, come to think about it. “Thanks,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck for a second. “Those guys are the worst,” he complained. “I call ‘em the Tracksuits. They’re some dumb seedy Russian gang. There’s probably gonna be more soon. Seriously, terrible outfits.” Not that Clint was one to talk, dressed in sweats and an arrow t-shirt. He hadn’t even brushed his hair today. “Your outfit’s cool though,” he said with a smile. “Nah, it’s pepperoni, the only kind my dog likes. Want some?”

So maybe he’d found himself in a little bit of trouble along the way. It was entirely different universe, what’s the worst that could happen? You chase a skirt here, you meet the father’s end of a shotgun there, it’s another day in the neighborhood.  He had hightailed it the best he could and he knew he’d lost the guy several blocks back, but on the other side of things, this was an entirely new universe. Who knew for certain whether Ray down the road had the trigger for Sentinels?  A scream coming at him stopped him in his tracks in an almost cartoonish way– if smoke could come from his heels after he dug them into the ground, it would’ve and he stumbled to a stop. He paused, hearing the other man’s words before he shrugged, casually sticking his leg out to trip the fleeing – was he wearing… a Tracksuit? What year was it?

Inspecting the other man’s fashion as he crawled up from eating royal shit, Remy continued to walk forward, his nose wrinkled in disgust. He looked forward, acknowledging the other man before he paused for a second.

“Now, hol’ on just’a second.” Remy inspected the other man closely, convinced that he knew him. Or maybe the other him, so people had explained to him? Admittedly, he wasn’t paying attention during that briefing. Suddenly, it clicked.

Clint Barton.

Well goddamn.

Clint’s Avengers Identicard still burned a hole in his pocket. A shame he’d left it in his other pair of pants back in the Other World. He finally acknowledged Clint’s words, looking at the box skeptically. “S’nothin’ weird, right? ‘know you Avenger folks like to mess around in outer space and all’a that.”

“Hell yeah!” Clint cried out when the man tripped the Tracksuit. Maybe he shouldn’t have been whooping, but it was kinda awesome. He hated civilians being in danger, but the Tracksuits were taken care of, so no harm could really be done. At least that’s what Clint needed to believe. Ronin and the Circus had done enough damage he needed to atone for. When Clint noticed the man’s disgusted look at the tracksuit, he couldn’t help but snort. His fashion probably wasn’t much better, but he actually got the motivation to put on jeans today. Yeah, Clint was doing good.

“Uh? Do I know you?” Clint replied, raising an eyebrow. Or had the pizza offer been offensive? Man, people were sensitive these days. He couldn’t really blame them, the world kinda sucked, but it was just pizza! “I didn’t poison it,” Clint promised. “Look, man, no dirt even!” When the man continued, Clint couldn’t help but laugh. Yeah, okay, that was fair. “Nah, I only went to space that one time.” And it was highly traumatic, he never, ever wanted to go back. “You know the Avengers well?”

“This place is deader than I almost was,” Tony mumbled to himself as he walked into the common room on one of the floors. He suspected people were probably training or out and about. He wished he could but on doctor’s orders he was to rest while he still healed up. Resting wasn’t something Tony Stark knew how to do. He was itching to get out there but every time he tried to put on a suit or head to the gym, Happy was on his tail dragging him right back to his room. It was driving him insane. So, maybe he was in a slightly bad mood. As he was rooting through the cupboards in the kitchen looking for something to snack on — he really needed to fill this place up with more groceries — he finally heard someone enter the room. “Well, it’s about time there was some civilisation going on here. For a second I thought Thanos had come back and dusted you all again.” Poor joke. Probably still too soon but humour was his way of dealing with trauma. @multiversalhq​

Avengers Tower was kinda weird these days, after Thanos, and after all of the tragedy. There was something bittersweet about it, like going home, but you’re thirty and everyone else moved on. Clint couldn’t relate, of course, ‘cause he never went home, but whenever he thought about seeing Barney, he felt nostalgic like that. Man, he missed his brother sometimes, minus the criminal part. As he roamed through the halls, looking for someone, Clint began whistling. Hopefully someone was still here, he felt lonely, and the second he heard a cupboard, Clint beelined to the noise. “Wasn’t even dusted,” Clint muttered. “How you feeling?” He asked, genuinely concerned. “I missed your bad jokes, Stark.”

So much of it felt the same... except in the ways it wasn't.

Sure, it was a redundant observation. Overtly obvious, even, but dressing it up didn't make it an easier burden to shoulder. Finding himself in a world where Steve never stayed with Peggy was something Sam would have been elated by just a few short months ago, when his decision to take on the title of Captain America was still in limbo. Now, all he felt was a sense of urgency to return to his timeline before the next inevitable crisis occurred. It took him long enough to fulfill his own Steve's wishes. In some ways, he was already making up for lost time.

Much of this timeline felt comfortable and familiar. Predictable, if one could say such a thing about the unprecedented convergence of timelines and variants. Of those who were displaced, he knew he was on the luckier end of the spectrum; his firsthand experience in his own timeline seemed to translate by and large into his current environment. Some people seemed like fish out of water with no knowledge of the Avengers to speak of. But he wasn't quite the same Sam Wilson that this timeline may have expected. It was important to him that he maintain that distinction.

Incorporating the vibranium shield into his combat repertoire was something that Sam knew he still needed growth in. With that in mind, he stood in the lobby of the Danger Room, waiting his turn with the intention of pulling his technique together. Sam watched the current user fight through their simulation and, as they passed through the sliding doors upon their exit, he said, "Sure isn't your first rodeo. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that."

The Danger Room was comfortable for Clint, like a second home or something like that. The rhythms and beats of combat were pretty much in his blood by now, started with Barney, ended with the Avengers, he guessed. SHIELD had obviously helped with that, too, and the Tracksuits, and Ronin... Okay, yeah, most of his life had violence somewhere in it. Maybe that was what he was best at, taking aim, taking a deep breath and letting loose arrows. Usually, that wasn’t such a bad thing, but after everything he’d done as Ronin, Clint knew he had a lot of atoning too. He had shed way too much blood, caused way too much chaos, and while the world was probably better for it, Clint had trouble forgiving himself for it.

Yeah, so it’d been a hard night. He’d been down on himself a lot, and that was exactly how he’d ended up here again. Better than at the bottom of a bottle like his pa.

Below the cut is Clint's intro!