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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND SIXTEEN WILL OPEN ON TUESDAY THE 25TH.
ROUND FIFTEEN
closing at 5000 comments
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DISCUSSION POST
PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!
LIST OF REQUIRED WARNINGS: ableism, abuse, bestiality, bullying, ( Read more... )
"It was already on the..." Clint started, but Peter wasn't finished.
"I thought you were like... Army or Airforce or..."
"We never said..." Clint tried again.
"You have a medal. Phil had it framed and you never look at it."
"It's a civilian..."
"I just don't know what to..."
"Peter," Clint broke in sharply, breaking his - admittedly chaotic - train of thought. "Your dad and I used to do this kind of thing." He gestured pointedly at the downed crane fly. "When I got hurt, we both retired, but Phil gets bored easily, and he's damn good at his job, so he started consulting part time. You know all of this, you just didn't know about the..." Clint gestured again, "Aliens," he finished vaguely.
"JUST!? The aliens are pretty major," Peter said.
"Hey, you fought your first alien today, I get it's a lot to take in."
"I don't think..." Peter was distracted by a woman running out of the gathering crowd, followed by a cameraman. "Umm..." he trailed off, pointing, but Clint was already following his distracted gaze.
"Well shit," he muttered.
"Dad," Peter said, "What do we say, what do we..."
"Shit," Clint repeated, and Peter felt he really should be pointing out how Clint was always telling him off for swearing, but Clint looked pretty worried right now, reaching out to grab hold of Peter's shoulder. "I'm Clint for now, Petey. I'm really sorry, I know we said we'd leave it up to you, but right now it's got to be Clint. I'm not letting these guys get hold of you, understand?"
Peter met his gaze and nodded seriously, wrapping his hands tighter around his rucksack straps to stop them shaking. This was happening. This was going to happen. A camera man was going to come and they were going to get asked questions and there was an *alien* on the ground.
The journalist and her cameraman were almost on top of them, carefully stepping around broken road surface and circling the alien. Clint's hands twitched as if he wanted to walk out and meet them, but was reluctant to step away from the car. His cane had disappeared out of sight while Peter hadn't been looking, and he had his bow in front of him, forearms crossed over the upper limb.
"Debbie, please," Clint called out, "The fighting's not over, it's not safe here."
"Hawkeye," she replied, her tone chastising. The greeting gave Peter a physical lurch, and he found himself staring at Clint, mouthing 'Debbie? Hawkeye?' to himself. The pseudonym at least made sense, he'd seen Hawkeye on TV alongside Captain America with her bow and arrows, but Clint *knew* this reporter. "The SHIELD boys have obviously left you and the trainee to monitor the site, they're already calling in the all-clears."
"Anyone hurt?" Clint asked casually.
The woman tutted, shaking her head. "You know I don't have that information, Hawkeye. I'm guessing you weren't expecting to be in the middle of it, given your lack of uniform..."
"These things happen," Clint mused.
"Anything to say about the highly visible apparently earth-based tech that we saw out over the bay today?" she asked, barely pausing for breath. The camera swung in closer, but Clint didn't flinch.
"I wouldn't know anything about current operations, Debbie. You know I'm not active any more."
She looked slightly disappointed at that, lips narrowing. "So!" she started again, tone bright. "This is one of your Young Avengers in training. We've not seen much of you in the last few years - how is your training role going?"
The camera was suddenly pointed at Peter, and he ducked his head instinctively, trying to hide himself behind his cap.
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