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Clint Barton is going back to bed. ([info]today_sucks) wrote in [info]snapthread,
@ 2020-01-22 14:37:00

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Entry tags:clint barton (616), eddie kaspbrak

WHO: Clint Barton, Eddie Kaspbrak
WHAT: BZUH. Tethering.
WHERE: Loser’s House
WHEN: First day of plot.



Listen. Clint was a pretty attentive sort of guy when he wanted to be. He was called Hawkeye for a reason and it had nothing to, like, do with actual birds. But, admittedly, he’d gotten a little soft in the sleeping lightly department — partially because there wasn’t a lot of action in Starklandia to have to wake up for and a year of sleeping here would make anyone a bit less observant. Also because he slept with Bucky pretty much always and it was just a whole lot easier to sleep a whole lot better when you were doing it with the Winter Soldier.

Anyway. When he woke up, it was kind of slowly. The sort where he just let himself be mellow in the bed and didn’t worry about shit like not being to hear anything or what time it was or whatever else. Nope. He just snuggled a little closer to Bucky, intent on digging his nose into that spot at the back of his neck that always tickled a little because hair but was also nice and —

Clint paused. No hair?? Not the long good kind anyway. He reached over poke at Bucky’s shoulder and also found …. Zero in the way of metal arm. Which was enough to have Clint blinking his eyes open and sitting up in general dismay.

“What.” He said, and okay, fucking excuse him, he was both very confused and didn’t have his ears in so it probably came out a hell of a lot louder than he meant for it to.

But this wasn’t Bucky. And it wasn’t his bed. Nope. This was the angry little one of the band that called themselves Losers and he was —Clint frowned, genuinely confused — wearing some obscenely short shorts. “What the fuck?”



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[info]today_sucks
2020-01-28 03:37 am UTC (link)
"Same," Clint agreed -- because Eddie seemed a little ornery, sure, but so was Bucky and Clint was all about that particular grump. But Eddie was not Bucky and Clint was not Richie so it just clearly wasn't working out in either of their favor.

But then there was the shock of it all and Clint was blinking in surprise and missed half the words that Eddie was saying but it was still kind of easy enough to guess at what he was saying because -- well. What other topic was there now? "Hurt like a bitch," he said, agreeing or maybe just exclaiming it, he wasn't sure. "I -- aw, shit. I'm gonna try something and I'm really sorry in advance."

So okay, he was responsible for the second shock of pain when Clint tried leaving again, but this one was for the sake of fucked up science and Clint wasn't trying to be a glutton about it.

"What were you saying," he said dryly, not even really a question, "about us not being attached."

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[info]ekaspbrak
2020-01-28 09:54 pm UTC (link)
It hurt just as much the second time around. The only difference was that Eddie was as prepared as he could be for it. The stumble towards Clint wasn't as dramatic as it had been but the pain was still just as intense. "Fuck!" He hissed wishing her knew, exactly, where that pain was localized. Rubbing it wouldn't make it better but there was definitely a comforting reaction to the act that could help him pretend things were alright.

"I didn't know." He said, slightly apologetic because he should've been prepared for this. Or, well, not this. There was no way to prepare for this but something just as complicated that would prevent them from leaving. "It's not like I can see whatever is linking us together." He said looking between them again and seeing nothing to indicate this was anything beyond a normal morning spent waking up in bed with the wrong guy.

"Okay. So. You're place, right?" He sighed. Clint wanted to do a little sleuthing back at his place. Since Eddie had been so painfully wrong he was willing to do things the archer's way. "Just... let me put on an actual pair of pants." The rest of the neighborhood didn't need to see Richie's favorite shorts.

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[info]today_sucks
2020-01-28 10:34 pm UTC (link)
Clint couldn't see what was linking them either, and that was frustrating because he was supposed to be able to see stuff. He was good at it. And if he couldn't, that meant it was some kind of magic or something.

Which, frankly, was always something of a bummer. He sighed.

"My place," he agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed again so that Eddie could get dressed in an appropriate fashion that didn't involve shorts that really wanted to be exactly what they were called. "Either there's clues or not, but I can at least get my ears while we're there."

And if that didn't yield answers -- well. They'd find something that did. Or go get coffee. Because when all else failed, at least there was that.

(( I think this could be a solid end, here, unless you got more to add! ))

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