Clint Barton

“C’mon! Sometimes you’ve just gotta have something deep and good to bite into…” he made a face, “Out of context I gotta admit that sounds a little weird.”

“He’s too good sometimes.” Foggy sighed, “Gives more of himself than he should.” And damn he worried so much about him; every day since he’d found out he worried Matt’s face would flash up on the news… him caught in the act. “That might be good, he needs to have some legal fun with friends who.. understand you know?” he emphasised the ‘legal’ part.

“Hey man, I’m not judging if that’s your preference,” he teased. 

@theoriginalhawkeye

He didn’t make a point of staying in contact with Clint, exactly, but the guy seemed to be everywhere. There was a corner grocery store not terribly far from the apartment and as he stood trying to figure out the difference between what appeared to be two identical gallons of milk and two totally different prices, he spotted a familiar face.

Rather than approach him, Bucky pulled the drawstrings of his hoodie a little tighter and just watched him. Clint’s basket looked roughly the same as a 12 year old’s might have.

Clint thought he felt eyes on him as he grabbed another box of Fruit by the Foot and put it next to the Cocoa Pebbles in his basket. He tried to ignore it, willing it to not be a problem. He liked this grocery store, god damn it. He didn’t want to be banned for starting a fight. 

“So I have this friend, Ramone and she is pretty cool and helped me move here. I got a couch, full disclosure we found it in a thrift store. We also found a table. No chairs though. Got a blender and one dresser.” She smiled. After Kate had been paid she sat down and priotiized things she needed and began saving money. She wasn’t out of the water but at least she wasn’t drowning. “You are a grown man Clint, and this is your set up. Oh Lucky what are we gonna do with him?”

“That’s what I’m best at, or so I’ve been told,” he said wryly. 

“Well, you’ve got one of them at least. They’re pretty much adults now anyways, that’s when they like to get as far from parents as possible, right?” At least, he thought it was. He had run from his dad long before 18, but that was different circumstances. 

“Downton Abbey, huh? I haven’t seen it.” He wasn’t big on the whole period piece genre. “I’ve mostly been watching those competition shows. Great British Bakeoff, Chopped, Project Runway.” Not that he knew anything about the subject matter, but he liked to pretend.

“They’re 17, yes. But it’s not as if I was around for them to get want to get away from,” she shrugs, picking at old nail polish on her thumb, remnants from her and Luna messing around. “I am grateful for what I can get, I suppose.” She nods.

“It’s silly,” She waves a hand. “Oh great brutish bake off is a good one!” She laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Would not have pegged you as someone who would be into it though. Always full of surprises,” Wanda said with a congenial smile. “So, now that you’re here. How long before you break the ban.” It wasn’t really a question. Mostly she just wanted to know what he was up to.

He wanted to reassure her that wasn’t her fault but... she kinda had been insane most of their childhoods. Clint himself had technically been killed by her, then brought back to life. 

“What’s so surprising about wanting to watch old British ladies be passive aggressive and cook good food?” he asked. 

“Oh yea!” he flipped through is notes, “Jesse’s a few blocks over does great deep dish and Barelli’s have a thin crust that many would murder for.” Maybe him included.

“I like the sound of her already.” Foggy chuckled, “As successors go she sounds like a solid choice.”

“More than we should.” And mainly because of Matt, of the two of them Foggy definitely had more ambition, “He did huh?” Foggy sighed, “Most months we just make it, but at least we rarely go hungry.” Since they were often paid in food, “I’m sure you’ll see him again to make good on the deal.” Knowing Matt though he may have already forgotten.  

“Ugh, deep dish. That’s not pizza that’s dessert. I’ll check out this Barelli’s.” Maybe he had spent too long in New York, but thin crust all the way. 

“I certainly hope so. I’m not drilling them as hard as I learned, but they are company. It’s not supposed to be easy.” They still seemed young, and so vulnerable, though they were all extremely capable young adults. Nat met his eyes steadily and tilted her head, as if daring him to challenge the easy neutral expression on her face. “You know me. I like to keep to myself. I see Matt every now and then. I’ve seen most of our old friends that are in the city at least once. Nothing consistent.”

“Do you think Star City is a big city?” Greer asked and giggle a bit. She nodded. “Jess doesn’t have patience to explain and since I have a children I think I have more patience with her” she said and giggle a bit. She nodded. “Yeah. She still struggle with SHIELD as far as I know. But I can’t leave Will now. Maybe some years” she said and shrugged. “And you? Have you heard about the things that happened here this days?”.

“Well, it’s not rural Iowa, that’s for sure,” he said. “Yeah, and how is Will?” he asked. “How old is he? Like, two?” He was pretty sure the last time he saw Will he was a baby, but that was a while ago. Clint wasn’t very good at kids, and that went double for babies. “You mean the riots and shit?” he asked. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“Ooh me to!” Kate exclaimed with enthusiasm. Not much had changed despite the change of city. She placed a hand on her heart and staggered back. “Ugh, boring without me, such words are beautiful to hear.” The archer wiped away a fake tear but she was genuinely surprised he admitted something like that. “Oh, totally, I expect nothing less. But like chill trouble. I’m not ready for the Bromafia or mind controlled teens.”

Matt’s nose wrinkled. He pushed his chair back from his desk, hoping for the best, but also preparing to have a knife flung at him. “Please don’t juggle knives in my office,” he said. “Just—please. Don’t do that.”

“No, no, you bet I couldn’t, so now I gotta,” Clint said. “Still, I’ve only got two, I need at least one more. You sure you don’t have another some where?” He flipped one of the knives currently in his hands, catching it easily. 

“You can get a permit for that. I could even help you get a permit for that. But, please, as your legal counsel now, I can’t advise that you break the law. At least, any more than you usually do.” Matt wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t juggle knives. Or fire. That’s asking for trouble.”

“Huh. How much do these permit things cost?” he asked, considering. “What, you don’t think I can juggle some knives? Give me one, I’ll prove it right now,” he said, reaching into his boots to pull out his own throwing knives.