"I suppose one advantage of no longer having a pay check coming in, is that no one expects you to show up for work on Monday, either."
Despite -- or maybe because of -- his shitty childhood and the betrayals that wind through his life like a strand of black pearls (and wasn't that last one a doozy?), Clint has always been in the business of chasing silver linings.
"So we could try and see whether those baths are any good for relaxing, not just for dodging goons with Kalashnikovs."
Fury was too good at his job to show any surprise when Maria backed Cap's play. Still, Maria could tell some part of him was shocked by her disloyalty. They always forgot, even Fury, that her commitment to doing the right thing superseded other considerations.
She pushes open the door of the safe house, after double checking the scrawl coordinates written in smeared ink along her palm, after triple checking that no one has bothered to notice her slipping into the shadows of the dark alley.
She anticipates the arrow before she sees it, a solid silver line arching out of the darkness, ducking to avoid attack as it embeds itself in the skin of the door, just above her head.
I definitely don't blame him for being overly cautious, but he might be taking just a step too far. Clint, you would feel really about it if you shot her...
(Then again, I can totally see his response being, "You didn't say the password," or some such. Because super secret hideouts totally have those.)
Sam digs himself out from the snowdrift for the third time, cursing and spitting out flakes; how's the stuff even getting into his crotch through that uniform? If anyone had told him that before soaring like a falcon he'd be spending weeks flopping around like a penguin, he might have reconsidered enrolling in the program. But then he thinks about all the things he could do when he finally manages to get those wings under control, grits his teeth and takes off again.
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Despite -- or maybe because of -- his shitty childhood and the betrayals that wind through his life like a strand of black pearls (and wasn't that last one a doozy?), Clint has always been in the business of chasing silver linings.
"So we could try and see whether those baths are any good for relaxing, not just for dodging goons with Kalashnikovs."
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She anticipates the arrow before she sees it, a solid silver line arching out of the darkness, ducking to avoid attack as it embeds itself in the skin of the door, just above her head.
"For fuck's sake, Clint, it's me!"
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(Then again, I can totally see his response being, "You didn't say the password," or some such. Because super secret hideouts totally have those.)
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"This so I am there to protect you no matter where you are," He says bringing her face close to his, "come back with it okay?"
She doesn't need to tell him that she will; she instead bridges the gap and tastes him for the last time before she's home again.
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