Hawkeye (theregularguy) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-08-06 23:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, clint barton / hawkeye (616), kate bishop / hawkeye (616) |
Who: Hawkeyes (616)
When: 6 August 2014
Where: Potts Tower Gym
What: Every day is arm day for Hawkeyes
Rating: S for sad. :(
"I mean, I don't get it, Hawkeye." Clint Barton spoke perhaps louder than he ought to in the basement gym of Potts Tower where he'd been since waking up to a headful of memories and white noise. Some people worked out to cut through their mental storms or work through what they couldn't talk through, and maybe the extra weight on the cable was something akin to that need to feel physical instead of mental pain. But for Clint Barton, that need was what kept him alive surrounded by super soldiers and gods. It kept him useful. He was here every day like this. "Is that all heroing is these days? The flashy fights?" He couldn't hear what he was saying as he continued, so he watched his reflection as much as his own in the mirrors at the front of the gym. There was a pause in conversation as the weights returned back to their resting position, though only for a moment. He sucked in a breath before pushing down on the cable again, the purple lines of kinesiology tape flexing as much as the muscles they outlined. "Whatever happened to wanting to do good? Help people? Wanting to make a difference on the street level?" Kate was listening, of course. No matter what the big purple lug had to say about stuff, she was always listening. Sure, there were times she rolled her eyes and thought he was being, well, a dude about things, but she still listened. She was grateful that she agreed with him this time. She didn't really like arguing with him. Most of her disagreeing was teasing (or exasperation), not actual arguing. The elliptical didn't stop. Her legs and arms still kept up their rhythmic pace. Sweating made her feel as if she was doing something, as if she was being productive. "Didn't you hear? The little people don't matter so much anymore. If there's not an alien or a god involved, you're shit out of luck." Sarcasm was Kate's main mode of unease. She didn't have the answers for why it was suddenly out of vogue not to help just anyone, why it has to be millions of people or no one, so she deflected. Clint had been so focused on venting the frustrations that had only a little bit to do with the tension he was pushing through that he hadn't really thought through that this would ultimately become a conversation. And he should have. Clint had spent years like this before, too stubborn to admit his problem, or be seen wearing a device to fix it, that faking conversation had become all but second nature. But he'd died since then. A couple times actually, and even if he had the memories of weeks of falling back into unfamiliar signs and shapes of lips forming words. Clint stopped momentarily, looking back at Kate through the mirror with a slightly puzzled look. She had said something about an alien? "Yeah." Clint agreed because it was the most non-committal way to continue conversation, he bent down to adjust the weights on his cord as a way of covering for the pause that was just too long. "Maybe I'll ask him." What she really needed was some real-world bow practice. She could exercise and prepare as much as anyone, but she needed moving targets. Strange targets, surprise targets, things to help get her reflexes up to snuff. She was good, but Hawkeye was better. Kate knew something about working with a bunch of superhumans with god-like powers while you were just a normal, regular human being. His reply snapped her out of her own head. She was no stranger to Clint's jumping ahead in a conversation. Sometimes, she was pretty sure he had entire conversations in his head before he ever uttered a word to anyone around him. Her return frown was only mildly annoyed. "Ask who? An alien? Or a god?" CODE PURPLE. Warning lights went off when Kate's reflection looked annoyed. That probably meant he had given the wrong answer. Which might mean if he didn't recover or wrap, Katie'd know what was up. Clint gave a goofy smile, a defense mechanism after all this time, but charming in its hopelessness nonetheless. He let go of the equipment and picked up his towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he scratched the back of his neck. She said something about an alien again. And wanting cod? Clint Barton faced the fact that he did not remember how to lipread. "Oh. uhh.. I meant Thor?" The machine gave a few robotic beeps as she turned it off. She slowed down until she was ready to try and hop off the thing, which should be fun. She hadn't been on an elliptical in months. She usually ran. This should be just like that weird feeling you got after skating for hours and taking off the skates. Your legs still tried to move as if you were still on them. She hopped down and reached for her water. "I still don't get why you'd need to talk to him. He doesn't really do the whole street level justice thing." Clint caught pretty much none of that when she turned from the mirror to get her bottle. He mentally cursed. Why had he thought he could bluff his way through this? This hadn't worked with the West Coast Avengers either--though it had fooled Letterman, but that was only because he'd had time to study for the interview. If anyone kept crib notes on conversations, it would be Kate Bishop, but somehow, he didn't think he could get one. "Well. You know. He's my neighbor here. Moving up, right?" Clint tried to make the most generic comment he could think of regarding Thor. "Now if only I could get arms like that." This looked bad. Kate slung her towel over her shoulder and turned around slowly. Something really weird was going on. Clint usually had a bad habit of not actually paying attention to what she was saying, but today was unusually bad. He wasn't even in the same ballpark. Either he had something else entirely on his mind, or he was just being an asshole. Neither of which she appreciated very much. "Are you fishing for compliments on your arms?" Her brow furrowed as she studied him. "'Cause I had a whole list for another day after the abs incident." She was looking at his face. He was looking at her face. He didn't want her to see him watching her while she was watching. Clint Barton wondered how he got into these situations. He looked aside suddenly very interested in the tape on his biceps. "No?" It kind of undercut that he wasn't fishing for compliments that he was now pretty much focussed on his arms, but even when Clint could hear, he was refreshingly unaware of any sense of irony. "I mean, it's been a weird day. I--" He murmurred. Clint suddenly stopped and looked up, It was a trick he had learned from Natasha--or learned that it didn't typically work from Natasha, because she had a high bar for bullshit. Clint furrowed his brow for a moment. "Did you hear that?" Kate followed his line of sight, upwards into the rafters of this amazingly high-ceilinged basement. She didn't hear anything, but maybe he had because her mouth was open. She'd been too focused on figuring out what was going on with him to take in her surroundings. She really needed to be able to pay attention better. See? Another reason she needed moving targets, and another reason why Hawkeye was the best choice for this. If anyone could provide distractions, well, Hawkeye could. "No, and I think you're trying to change the subject. What the hell is going on with you? It's like you're not even listening to me, which isn't really that much of a change, but I left. For California. For less." He recognized no. "I don't know what it was, but II did. It could be something." This was a fool-proof plan, an endorsement currently being given by the world's biggest fool. He held up a finger indicating to wait. "I'm gonna go check that out and then probably hit the showers. Good job though, Hawkeye." He gave a smile that didn't quite reach his racing mind. He turned towards the door figuring she'd probably yell at him as he left, cause that was what Kate did, so he waited about three seconds before giving a little wave over his shoulder before peeking down the hall. Right on cue, Kate frowned after him. "Clint!" When he didn't respond except for that obnoxious wave like he was dismissing her, she got really mad. The water bottle was dropped unceremoniously as she stomped after him. She could feel her fingers tightening up. He could not do this to her again, he could not shut her out so much that she felt she had no choice but to leave. To find herself. She'd spent so much of her time partnering up with him recently, that she hated to admit that the bastard had gotten under her skin. She cared about what happened to him. She jogged in front of him, hands up to stop him at the shoulders. "What the hell is going on?" Clint immediately regretted not stripping for the shower as he went there. This conversation would not be happening if he didn't have pants on. But then it would probably still be happening later. Damn, a sense of consequences was a terrible thing to learn. Clint stopped and looked at Kate. He didn't need to read lips to know what she was asking. But he didn't know how to answer. Clint considered for a moment what to say. He could obviously stick to his bluff. I heard a noise but it was the farthest thing from the truth that Clint had thought of. But the truth was something he didn't want to admit for himself. If he hadn't woken up with a headful of memories of hospitals, he wouldn't have believed it was anything more than temporary yet. He still wasn't sure--or didn't want to be. Clint pressed his lips into a grim line mirrored by his eyebrows. "There's a thing, I've seen people talk about it, where, they wake up with memories." Clint moved a step back, debating whether to stay trapped in the hall like this or barrel around her. He should probably do the latter, because it would fuck things up early and cut to the end. But maybe for once Barney had given him good advice that stuck. Clint exhaled and glanced to the side for a moment. His instinct was to look away, but then he'd never hear. He looked back at Kate. "It's kinda like that." Kate remembered where in the timeline he was from. It took a few moment to realize that if he gained extra memories, and some people gained age or new powers or new disabilities. It suddenly made sense -- the weird change in topics, as if he wasn't listening to her. It all made sense. Her shoulders dropped from aggressive. Her features turned from angry to the sudden realization that Clint was now deaf. She hadn't wanted to say anything before, considering he seemed the way he had before the incident. "You're a moron, you know that, Hawkeye?" She pinched two of her fingers together at her forehead, then twisted them down toward her eyebrow. Sign language for the word pea brain. After his injury, Kate had spent a lot of time in sign language classes and learning colloquialisms in sign language so that Clint didn't have to do all of the work to communicate. She continued. "I'm from after that happened, remember?" "Awww, Hawkeye." He corrected the sign for Hawkeye. curling his finger like a beak in front of his nose before pointing up at his eye. It was she really needed to know, except that was probably not true. Clint was touched, and mortified, but largely relieved when Kate seemed to get it. In fact, Kate might have known more signs than Clint remembered. He had a feeling he was in for a long week if this didn't get fixed. Where was Franklin Richards when you needed him anyway? The alphabet came back to him more quickly than the words themselves, so long as he avoided words with J in them. Or w. "You know, I think you forgot to mention it." "Don't push me away this time," Kate answered, hands signing away. Her eyebrows betrayed how hurt she'd been before. He had such a bad habit of doing that, pushing people away; she'd seen him do it countless times before he'd done it to her. For a moment, she thought about hugging him, but she'd never really done that before and it seemed weird to do it now. She settled for balling up her fist and punching him in the shoulder. Hard. "I've got your back." |