Chapter Text
“... how old are you again…?” Clint scoffed quietly, and she looked towards him, and she shot him a look. They were both scratched up pretty good, and her mind went back to her apartment. That had so many pictures and things that mattered to her, but it was probably all ash now. “Twelve, right?” He asked, and she scoffed quietly, and walked past him, and she let her quiver and her bow down on the couch, and she reached forward towards the coffee machine, and she took a mug from the cupboards.
“... I thought you’d be nicer.” Kate muttered under her breath, and she pressed a coffee pod into the machine, and it started to spurt out hot liquid into her mug. Kate held her back to him, and he glanced towards her for a moment with a careful roll of his eyes. She looked like she was fifteen. She looked a lot like Lila, and that was what scared him the most. He tried to imagine Lila in this position, with a bunch of Russian Tracksuits coming after her, and he imagined her freaking out. But Kate seemed so relaxed. “.. and taller.” Kate added, and he glanced towards her with a scoff, and she looked back towards him. She had a nasty gash above her eyebrows, and he frowned, and reached down towards the cabinets, and began to look through them. “Why are you going through my things, Hawkeye?”
“You need to clean that wound, and don’t call me Hawkeye, it sounds weird.” Clint shook his head, and Kate watched him as he took a bottle of alcohol from the cupboards, and some dish-towels. “You ever clean a cut before…?” He asked, and he set the things down on the table, and she shook her head in response. “... great.” The pizza-dog barked beside her, and she looked down towards him, and she reached down and petted under his chin, and his tail wagged vigorously at that. He only had one eye. The other one had a dark gash that was two or three inches long, and the edges were captured by fur.
“This is kinda my first time getting in a real fight, sorta.”
“Yeah, where’d you learn to fight like that?” He asked, and she looked up towards him. “And where’d you learn to shoot like that?” He added, as well. She was actually a good shot, even if that made him mad to admit. She was a really good shot for a kindergartener, actually.
“Uh, well… I learned to shoot in my backyard.” Kate offered with a small smile, and he looked towards her, his features slack, and she smiled. “... and I’m a triple state champion for self defense, so… there’s that, too.” She shrugged, and she turned her back to him, and she looked in the fridge, and took a box of pizza from one of the shelves. For pizza-dog. She thought, and she set it on the kitchen’s island, and he took one of the rags he’d collected. He wet it slightly with the alcohol, and he held it out towards her.
“Here, clean that up.” He nodded, and gestured towards her eyebrow, and she looked down towards it, clearly unsure of what to do with it. “... okay, sit down.” He ordered gently, and she sighed, but complied, and sat down a good few inches from him. “Hold still.” He nodded in a quieter voice, and he leaned forward, and he gently dabbed the cloth against her gash, and she winced.
“ Ow -”
“I know, just… just hold still.” He reiterated, and she huffed, but she complied, and he held the cloth against her cut again, a little gentler this time. She didn’t wince, the adrenaline blending the pain away from her. “... how the hell did you even get that suit…?” He asked as he cleaned her wound, and she looked up towards him, and then his hand holding the wetted cloth between his fingers. It smelled of really strong alcohol, and it burned her nose.
“Black market auction.”
“Oh, yeah, typical after-school activities.” Clint nodded, and she answered with a clearly fake laugh, and the corners of his lips curled up into a flicker of a smile. Eventually, he pulled away from her, and he tossed the rag back into the sink.
“Is Thor as grumpy as you?” She asked, and he looked back towards her, but she reached into a pizza box laying on the counter top, and she took one of the slices, and Lucky reached up and held it in his mouth.
“Is that okay for dogs to eat…?”
“Yeah, it’s just chocolate, I think.” Kate shrugged, and he looked towards her, but she walked past him towards her bow, and she took it by the string, and held chalk against it.
“What are you doing?”
“If you chalk the bow-string, it draws quicker.” Kate answered, and he raised an eyebrow, and she looked up to him, noticing he was looking at her. “Aren’t you going to put your stuff down or something…?” She shrugged, and he forgot he still had his quiver and his bow and everything. She looked back down to her bow, and he watched as she ran the chalk up and down the string gently. She really did seem like a good shot; she had good aim. And she had amazing form, too. He respected it: she evened her shoulders when she aimed, and she stalled her breath, and kept her feet square with her waist. It was his form: she’d perfected it, though. That took some skill. “Hey, what are we going to do about those Russian dudes…?” Kate asked him as she worked on her bow, and she pulled the string back, testing how tight it was. There was always some sort of pull to her string. Her first bow was only fifteen pounds, but now she was up to forty or fifty pounds, which was still light. Clint’s were at least sixty: she couldn’t pull his bow-string back, it was too heavy.
“There is no ‘we.’ I’m going to fix this for you, and then I’m getting back to my family.” Clint retorted in a gruff voice, and she shot him a look, and he looked back at her. “What?”
“Okay. I get that this whole Tracksuit thing may or may not be… somewhat my fault.” Kate nodded, and she put her bow back on the couch, and she stood, and looked back at him. “But from what it seems, you’re close with this vigilante guy, so it’s also your mess, too. So get off of the high horse.” Kate added, and he watched her. He hated teenagers… so much. “... So how are we taking these Russian guys down…?”
“They’re called the Tracksuit Mafia-”
“... really?” Kate shot him a look, and his features went slack. How am I here? How did my career go down so far? He thought, and he turned his back to her, and he looked to his knuckles, bruised slightly from hitting those Tracksuits. She was a kid. And she was annoying as hell, but she was caught up in his mess, so he had to fix it and then get back to his family. He promised Lila that he would be back for Christmas. “... that’s the stupidest name ever.” She muttered, and she released her quiver down onto the couch beside Clint’s.
“Well, they’re enemies of that suit, and now they’re after you because they saw you in it.” Clint replied in a gruff voice, and the dog walked up towards him, but Clint shooed him away. “So now, because of a twelve year old, I have to dismantle one of the most powerful gangs in the city’s underground in a week.” Clint said with a sarcastic smile, and Kate looked towards him with slack features, and she shook her head, and looked away from him. Never meet your heroes. She thought with a small shake of her head, and she sat down on the couch. Who knew Hawkeye would be such a dick? Kate thought, and she remembered the one or two posters of Hawkeye in her room back at her mother’s apartment. He was her hero, after the Chitauri. But, God, he was old and bitter.
“... okay.” Kate shook her head, and the dog jumped up on the couch beside her, and she looked down towards him. He glanced towards her for a moment: she looked a lot like Lila. It was uncanny. She looked a little like Laura, too. She had chestnut eyes with a curved underside, like Laura, and she had the same button nose, too. And the light wave of freckles: Cooper had that. She looked close to him, mostly. “... are all superheroes as grumpy as you are…?” Kate asked, and she looked back towards him, and he shot her a glare, and she nodded, and looked back down to her dog. “... okay, so that’s a ‘no,’ then.” She nodded, and Clint sighed, and he took his quiver from the couch beside her, and he laid it across the island of the table.
I should make some more trick arrows. He thought, and he took a few of the regular arrows from his quiver, and he searched the drawers around the kitchen. He found a screw-driver in one of them, and he took it, and placed it in the pocket of his jeans. “Are you making trick arrows?” She asked in an excited voice, and she hopped over the back of the couch, and stood beside him, her features showing interest once more.
“No.”
“Well, it looks like you’re making trick arrows.” She nodded, and he looked up towards her with an annoyed expression, and he looked back down to his arrows. He reached up, and he turned his hearing aid off, and he could feel her breath as she spoke, but she didn’t realize he couldn’t hear her. “Can you show me how to make trick arrows? I feel like if we’re going up against these Tracksuit dudes, maybe both of us should have super dangerous, explosive arrows.” Kate nodded with an excited voice, and she looked towards him, and she waited for him to respond, but his features hadn’t changed, and her eyes fell on the hearing aid in his ear. Her features fell slack, and she stopped talking, and she looked at him as he worked, and completely ignored her. Hawkeye sucks. Kate thought, and she rested her head on her hand, and frowned. “Okay… nice talk.” Kate nodded with a sad scoff, and she retreated back to the couch, and when she finally sat back down, he reached up and turned his hearing aid back on. Sometimes it was nice to just tune the world out. Especially when that world included a really annoying teenager that stole his Christmas. She heard Kate mutter the phrase ‘asshat’ underneath her breath, and he looked up towards her, but her back was turned, and she watched the television instead of him. The dog was still a little dirty. I’ll give him a bath tomorrow. Kate thought, and she sighed, and leaned her head against the back of the couch, and she shut her eyes. She thought the world of him. He was her hero. Her high expectations were crashing down in her face at a hilarious rate. She watched the TV, hearing him fiddle with his arrows on the kitchen’s island. She wanted him to teach her things. She wanted to be like him.
After a little, he seemed to be done, and he scooped his new arrows into his quiver, and shut the lid. He looked towards her, still watching the television. God… I hate teenagers. He sighed, but he walked and sat a good few inches away from her on the couch, and she glanced towards him for a moment, and she crossed her arms across her chest. “Can you hear me…? Or are you deaf again…?”
“I can hear you.” Clint replied and he looked at her with an impatient expression, and Kate looked at him, expecting him to say something snarky. She was anticipating it.
“What happened to your ears?”
“It comes with the job.” Clint nodded, and she looked towards him, and her eyes wandered over the hearing aid in his ear, and she dipped her head in a nod. “Your dog is covered in dirt.” He added, and she looked down towards the dog, and nodded.
“Yeah, the pizza-dog could use a shower.”
“That’s its name?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, and she looked back towards him with her eyebrows knitted together.
“No. He doesn’t have a name. He’s not mine. ” She argued.
“Sure.” Clint nodded, and she shot him a look, but then glanced back down towards the dog, and she scratched under his chin. That seemed to be his favorite spot. His tail always wagged furiously when she petted him there.
“You’re sort of an ass.” Kate added, and he scoffed, and looked down towards her as she petted the dog. He smiled up towards her. He only had one eye.
“Okay, look. There are bad people coming after you, and now me, too. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to be here. I want to be back home , with my family, so we’re going to get this done as soon as possible.”
“‘We?’” She asked with a sly smile, and she looked back towards him, and his features fell slack in a frown.
“I.” He corrected himself, but that smile stayed on her face.
“Sure.” She nodded, taking his own words, and he watched her with a nearly amused expression as she looked back at the dog.