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clint barton, professional disappointment. ([personal profile] recalibration) wrote2016-02-26 02:35 pm

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[personal profile] duplicities 2016-06-18 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
jfc you aren't kidding around
duplicities: (Default)

this is just going to be filth and emotions, ok.

[personal profile] duplicities 2016-06-18 12:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ They all pay a price after the accords, after the brawl. The Avengers don't survive it, not really. The group fractures and scatter to the winds. Even if they could all come back to the compound, Natasha isn't sure that any of them would. There's a lot of wreckage. She's a fugitive, not for the first time in her life, but it displaces so much of what she's allowed herself to get used to.

And Clint—

Arguably, he loses the most. Laura goes, kids in tow. There's thorny patches of issues there, things Natasha can't fix for him. She can track him down, find him squirreled away in a shabby apartment in Brooklyn. Natasha's hair is pinned up under a dark wig and a beanie, outfit hipster chic. No one's looked twice at her as she bought a six pack of beer before jimmying open the door to Clint's apartment. ]


Nice place, [ She says, sardonic, in lieu of greeting, bottles rattling as she sets them down on the table. ] You never were much for bachelorhood.

[ There's a pause, Natasha taking a deep breath as she examines his face. ]

It's just me.

[ But he knows. It's a filler statement, stalling the sympathy for a long moment while they pretend a dark wig and sunglasses could really obscure her identity from Clint. He's seen her hide in plain sight, seen her conceal herself in every possible way. He knows her tricks the way she knows his; the wig's not the point of contention in this room. ]
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PUTS ON SEATBELT

[personal profile] duplicities 2016-06-21 02:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ You look like a wreck, isn't quite fair to point out. Natasha lifts a hand to carefully remove the wig and set it on the countertop with her sunglasses, as if this conversation is any easier with her looking like herself. ]

You know how I like risks, [ she replies, flippant as if she's not being hunted just as viciously as Steve is. She's had a lot of practice hiding in plain sight, and she trusts Clint's ability to fly under the radar. ] Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't bring a housewarming gift?

[ Or more to the point, what would she be if she didn't come? It's Clint. Natasha would risk more for his sake. Leaving him alone to ride out the implosion of his life and reassembly of the resulting wreckage was cold in a way Natasha couldn't stomach. She abandons the beer on the counter, crosses to him. ]

Did I miss the tour?