Fic: Right On The Edge (Part 3)
Right on the cusp of getting this in on time! Whoosh! WHY DO I THINK THAT TODAY IS THE 29TH?????
I forgot the mention that I got a lot of ideas from this picture: OT3 - Kate/Clint/coffee
Title: Right On The Edge (Part 3)
Prompt: inside, leave, Quote: A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know. -Diane Arbus at writerverse
Word Count: 1542
Rating: PG
Fandom: Hawkeye comic!verse
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): some cursing
Summary: Clint's been worrying but Kate finally shows back up.
Kate's steps are slow as she walks up the last few stairs to Clint’s apartment. Normally, she loves visiting this place that was so unlike anything she’d ever known. It makes her feel nearly normal. While she knows that Clint probably didn’t realize it, this is a safe place for her to come. Here, she isn’t an upstart or in the way of whatever the master plan turns out to be. She isn’t just another flighty debutante or whatever she was before... well, before.
Every time she starts off toward this apartment, something inside makes her turn back around. She doesn’t like to put a name to it but it’s the ghost of Bobbi and who she was to Clint. It’s jealousy, pure and simple. She’s always been able to think of him as MINE, especially now that he’s become her project just as much as she’s been his.
This is the first time in several days she’s been able to beat back the green-eyed monster of jealousy enough but she’s feeling the weight of it still. Her hand comes up to try the door but it opens before she has a chance.
“Kate.” Clint sounds relieved and just the tiniest bit petulant. He’s not standing aside to let her inside but that’s pretty typical Clint. She tries to push past him but he won’t budge. “Where’ve you been?”
“Out there.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “Where I normally am when I’m not here. You’re not my dad, Clint. If you want to take up a parenting role, I suggest you start with that dog in there that you refuse to name.”
“It’s got a name,” he mumbles, in his own defense. He still stands his ground, his expression guarded as he continues to stare at her. She can’t tell what he’s looking for but she refuses to look away until he finally stands aside, ushering her in with a grunt that sounds something like, “Might as well get to the fireworks.”
There’s coffee, but there’s always coffee. As she does every time she walks in the room, she pours herself a cup. The intensity of the brew is a good indicator of what Clint’s been up to lately. At this time of day, if it’s fresh, he’s had to make a new pot. A dark-as-sin sludge means he’s been out and about and the coffee pot wasn’t turned off.
Unfortunately, this is as fresh and hot as anything on the set of a Folgers commercial. His jaw’s been scraped clean sometimes in the near future so he’s been out and about, just not today.
“Where have you been?” she asks after taking her first sip.
With a smirk, he exaggerates throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the couch. “Over there. Waiting for you to show up.”
Sure enough, the couch is piled with enough blankets and magazines that it looks like a fort. Kate has to move some just to be able to sit down so she can have a reasonable assurance that she won’t be sitting on a grilled cheese sandwich. Strangely, the rest of the room looks relatively tidy in comparison to the usual view from this seat.
“Have you been cleaning?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to show your face,” Clint growls, as if that’s an answer instead of just a reiteration of what he’s already said. “So, yes, I’ve been cleaning. You know I clean when I worry.”
“You were worried about me? Aw, isn’t that sweet.” She rolls her eyes. “I seem to have missed something. Why were you worried about me?”
Instead of answering, Clint paces the small space between fridge and coffee machine. Kate leans her head back against the cushions and counts his steps.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
After he’s been back and forth ten times, she holds up her mug. “Got any sugar? I could use some sugar.”
“You should have told me Bobbi contacted you.”
“No, I should have you both to go to hell and gotten as far away as I possible could. What can I say. I’m a glutton for punishment.” She waves the mug around, the coffee sloshing out onto her hand in a heated wave. It’s the best kind of burn because it gets Clint out of his worry circle and bending over her abused hand. “Did you bring the sugar?”
“Kate-”
“Sugar.”
He pulls the mug out of her hand. “I’ll get you some sugar and you go run that under the tap. Are you five? Can I not trust you with hot drinks?”
“Are you fifty? Can I not trust you to pry into every little thing in my life?”
They’re at a standstill, both of them glaring at the other. Kate’s hand is starting to throb so she breaks it off to head over to the sink but she glares over her shoulder just so he knows she’s not backing down so easy.
“It’s not prying,” he finally says with an exasperated sigh, “if it’s my ex that’s calling you. What did she want to know?”
Kate bites her lower lip as she tries to remember what the conversation had been about. All she remembers for sure is she and Bobbi had been in the same location at the same time. “I think she wanted to know about you. Maybe. I can’t remember now. I got angry so it’s all a blur now.”
“Angry? You got angry?” Clint hands her one of the many ice packs that are in the freezer, waits for her to get it situated on her hand before handing over the sugared coffee. “Why’d you get angry, Kate? What-”
“Cool it, Gramps. It was the place, okay? It felt like she was throwing my history at me, trying to intimidate me with my past. You know how much I hate that.”
She settled back on the couch. This time, Clint disappears into his bedroom instead of going back to his pacing. After a few minutes, she wonders if Clint’s forgotten about her altogether and fallen asleep. Just when she’s decided to give up getting anything but coffee and a burn today, he walked out carrying a shoebox.
“I’m going to punish you for not telling me about this and making me hear about it from Steve. Steve! Do you understand the ramifications of this, Kate? Mr. I-don’t-listen-to-gossip-and-I-certainly-don’t-repeat-it Rogers told me asked me if it this was a local chapter of Clint’s Flames and if there were any others he should know about. He made a joke. A joke. So I have to punish you by making you look at wedding photos.”
Instead of sitting down beside her on the couch, Clint sinks down at her feet. He throws the lid to the side where it would probably get forgotten about until it was stepped on and he’d have to repair it with duct tape in that awful purple color that he loved to use. Any other time, she might leave it there but Kate reaches down to pick up the lid and puts it beside her on the couch where it might live to sit on top of the box yet again.
He hands her the first photo with a casual, “No making fun of the hair styles. These were different times.”
She can’t take her eyes off the two people in the photo. Not that she’s an expert on relationships, but Kate knows happiness when she sees it. Photo after photo show two people that appeared to have found the secret to staying together forever. But it hadn’t been the right secret. Maybe the secret to staying friends forever. Deep down, Kate knew that Bobbi’s actions had been those of a friend making sure that her old friend’s new friend was the right sort of friend.
“You look so young,” she finally said when Clint stared up at her, expecting some sort of insult. Sadly, that was all she could give him because she wasn’t seeing what he wanted her to see. “You know,” she tried again, “they say that a photo is a secret of a secret. What was your secret here?”
“I thought it would last forever.”
Kate flicks his forehead with her finger. “That’s not a secret, Clint. That’s a truth.”
“The secret is that I thought it would last forever but I didn’t believe it. Not really. The secret is that I could see the end from the very beginning.” He leans forward, away from her. “I’m not a catch, Kate. I’m a liability. Bobbi thought she was okay with that and I ended up ruining whole years of her life.”
She reaches out to caress the tiny hairs at the back of his neck that are in sore need of being shaved off. Here and there among the blonde, gray hairs twinkle in the light coming in from the window. He always shows his age when he's coming down hard on himself like this.
“Do you think this is news to me?” Kate tweaks his ear until he comes back against the couch. “I’m not trying to catch you. I’m falling right beside you.”
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.
I forgot the mention that I got a lot of ideas from this picture: OT3 - Kate/Clint/coffee
Title: Right On The Edge (Part 3)
Prompt: inside, leave, Quote: A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know. -Diane Arbus at writerverse
Word Count: 1542
Rating: PG
Fandom: Hawkeye comic!verse
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): some cursing
Summary: Clint's been worrying but Kate finally shows back up.
Kate's steps are slow as she walks up the last few stairs to Clint’s apartment. Normally, she loves visiting this place that was so unlike anything she’d ever known. It makes her feel nearly normal. While she knows that Clint probably didn’t realize it, this is a safe place for her to come. Here, she isn’t an upstart or in the way of whatever the master plan turns out to be. She isn’t just another flighty debutante or whatever she was before... well, before.
Every time she starts off toward this apartment, something inside makes her turn back around. She doesn’t like to put a name to it but it’s the ghost of Bobbi and who she was to Clint. It’s jealousy, pure and simple. She’s always been able to think of him as MINE, especially now that he’s become her project just as much as she’s been his.
This is the first time in several days she’s been able to beat back the green-eyed monster of jealousy enough but she’s feeling the weight of it still. Her hand comes up to try the door but it opens before she has a chance.
“Kate.” Clint sounds relieved and just the tiniest bit petulant. He’s not standing aside to let her inside but that’s pretty typical Clint. She tries to push past him but he won’t budge. “Where’ve you been?”
“Out there.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “Where I normally am when I’m not here. You’re not my dad, Clint. If you want to take up a parenting role, I suggest you start with that dog in there that you refuse to name.”
“It’s got a name,” he mumbles, in his own defense. He still stands his ground, his expression guarded as he continues to stare at her. She can’t tell what he’s looking for but she refuses to look away until he finally stands aside, ushering her in with a grunt that sounds something like, “Might as well get to the fireworks.”
There’s coffee, but there’s always coffee. As she does every time she walks in the room, she pours herself a cup. The intensity of the brew is a good indicator of what Clint’s been up to lately. At this time of day, if it’s fresh, he’s had to make a new pot. A dark-as-sin sludge means he’s been out and about and the coffee pot wasn’t turned off.
Unfortunately, this is as fresh and hot as anything on the set of a Folgers commercial. His jaw’s been scraped clean sometimes in the near future so he’s been out and about, just not today.
“Where have you been?” she asks after taking her first sip.
With a smirk, he exaggerates throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the couch. “Over there. Waiting for you to show up.”
Sure enough, the couch is piled with enough blankets and magazines that it looks like a fort. Kate has to move some just to be able to sit down so she can have a reasonable assurance that she won’t be sitting on a grilled cheese sandwich. Strangely, the rest of the room looks relatively tidy in comparison to the usual view from this seat.
“Have you been cleaning?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to show your face,” Clint growls, as if that’s an answer instead of just a reiteration of what he’s already said. “So, yes, I’ve been cleaning. You know I clean when I worry.”
“You were worried about me? Aw, isn’t that sweet.” She rolls her eyes. “I seem to have missed something. Why were you worried about me?”
Instead of answering, Clint paces the small space between fridge and coffee machine. Kate leans her head back against the cushions and counts his steps.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
After he’s been back and forth ten times, she holds up her mug. “Got any sugar? I could use some sugar.”
“You should have told me Bobbi contacted you.”
“No, I should have you both to go to hell and gotten as far away as I possible could. What can I say. I’m a glutton for punishment.” She waves the mug around, the coffee sloshing out onto her hand in a heated wave. It’s the best kind of burn because it gets Clint out of his worry circle and bending over her abused hand. “Did you bring the sugar?”
“Kate-”
“Sugar.”
He pulls the mug out of her hand. “I’ll get you some sugar and you go run that under the tap. Are you five? Can I not trust you with hot drinks?”
“Are you fifty? Can I not trust you to pry into every little thing in my life?”
They’re at a standstill, both of them glaring at the other. Kate’s hand is starting to throb so she breaks it off to head over to the sink but she glares over her shoulder just so he knows she’s not backing down so easy.
“It’s not prying,” he finally says with an exasperated sigh, “if it’s my ex that’s calling you. What did she want to know?”
Kate bites her lower lip as she tries to remember what the conversation had been about. All she remembers for sure is she and Bobbi had been in the same location at the same time. “I think she wanted to know about you. Maybe. I can’t remember now. I got angry so it’s all a blur now.”
“Angry? You got angry?” Clint hands her one of the many ice packs that are in the freezer, waits for her to get it situated on her hand before handing over the sugared coffee. “Why’d you get angry, Kate? What-”
“Cool it, Gramps. It was the place, okay? It felt like she was throwing my history at me, trying to intimidate me with my past. You know how much I hate that.”
She settled back on the couch. This time, Clint disappears into his bedroom instead of going back to his pacing. After a few minutes, she wonders if Clint’s forgotten about her altogether and fallen asleep. Just when she’s decided to give up getting anything but coffee and a burn today, he walked out carrying a shoebox.
“I’m going to punish you for not telling me about this and making me hear about it from Steve. Steve! Do you understand the ramifications of this, Kate? Mr. I-don’t-listen-to-gossip-and-I-certainly-don’t-repeat-it Rogers told me asked me if it this was a local chapter of Clint’s Flames and if there were any others he should know about. He made a joke. A joke. So I have to punish you by making you look at wedding photos.”
Instead of sitting down beside her on the couch, Clint sinks down at her feet. He throws the lid to the side where it would probably get forgotten about until it was stepped on and he’d have to repair it with duct tape in that awful purple color that he loved to use. Any other time, she might leave it there but Kate reaches down to pick up the lid and puts it beside her on the couch where it might live to sit on top of the box yet again.
He hands her the first photo with a casual, “No making fun of the hair styles. These were different times.”
She can’t take her eyes off the two people in the photo. Not that she’s an expert on relationships, but Kate knows happiness when she sees it. Photo after photo show two people that appeared to have found the secret to staying together forever. But it hadn’t been the right secret. Maybe the secret to staying friends forever. Deep down, Kate knew that Bobbi’s actions had been those of a friend making sure that her old friend’s new friend was the right sort of friend.
“You look so young,” she finally said when Clint stared up at her, expecting some sort of insult. Sadly, that was all she could give him because she wasn’t seeing what he wanted her to see. “You know,” she tried again, “they say that a photo is a secret of a secret. What was your secret here?”
“I thought it would last forever.”
Kate flicks his forehead with her finger. “That’s not a secret, Clint. That’s a truth.”
“The secret is that I thought it would last forever but I didn’t believe it. Not really. The secret is that I could see the end from the very beginning.” He leans forward, away from her. “I’m not a catch, Kate. I’m a liability. Bobbi thought she was okay with that and I ended up ruining whole years of her life.”
She reaches out to caress the tiny hairs at the back of his neck that are in sore need of being shaved off. Here and there among the blonde, gray hairs twinkle in the light coming in from the window. He always shows his age when he's coming down hard on himself like this.
“Do you think this is news to me?” Kate tweaks his ear until he comes back against the couch. “I’m not trying to catch you. I’m falling right beside you.”
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.