on_va_voir (on_va_voir) wrote in districtmarvel, @ 2015-08-24 15:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | clint barton, steve rogers |
Who: Steve and Clint
What: Steve, will you please learn how to keep your stupid mouth shut
Where: Clint's Place
When: Immediately following this horrible, no good, very bad dinner.
Steve had stormed out of Stark's floor, fully intending to head straight for the train station to secure himself a ride home. Halfway down the elevator, however, he'd changed his mind. As much as he'd spent the last two days wanting nothing more than to return to District 8, that wasn't what he needed right now. He needed a friend, someone who would understand just how terribly that dinner had gone, and that basically left him with one option in the whole of the Capitol.
Mind made up, Steve headed in the opposite direction of the station. There were drivers you could pay to take you somewhere, of course, but Steve figured the walk would do him good. As soon as he stepped out into the chill of the evening though, he realized he'd left his jacket at Stark's. That was unfortunate, because he'd liked that jacket, but there wasn't any chance of him going back up to Stark's floor to get it. Just the thought of the man made his heart start to beat faster, and he could feel an angry flush begin to creep up the back of his neck. If he saw Stark right now, he was likelier to throw a punch than ask for his jacket back.
Steve began to walk, the cold and his anger lengthening his strides until he was moving at a fast clip, head bowed and shoulders hunched against the wind. He avoided the groups of people clustered around the entrances to bars and night clubs; the last thing he wanted right now was to be recognized and dragged into someone's night out.
Soon enough, he arrived at Clint's. He'd been here enough times over the last seven years to be sure he had the right place. As he stepped up to the door of the building, he realized that he really should have called first. Clint might very well be out somewhere, keeping up appearances. Still, nothing for it now but to give him a call. Steve pulled out his phone and dialed, waiting impatiently for the call to go through.
As soon as Clint picked up, Steve said, "Clint, hey, it's Steve I, uh - I might be outside your door. I'm sorry, I should have called, but - I needed - is it all right if I come up?" His voice, he realized, was shaky, some combination of fury and frustration rendering him unsteady. It was probably fair to call the last two days disastrous, and disaster usually meant retribution. Which was probably a thought that should have occurred to Steve before he went and pissed off Stane's go-to weapons designer.