Gabe’s reaction to Jack’s stealthy little knee nudge didn’t exactly tell him much. He sort of paused in the middle of petting Lucky like he wasn’t sure how to take it, but he also didn’t pull away? So, inconclusive. Jack had tried similar moves before with guys he hadn’t been sure about and gotten everything from no homo-isms to punched in the face for it, so he was hardly discouraged by Gabe’s barely-there reaction.
Of course, there was always the possibility that the guy was just being polite. Or concussed and therefore confused, one way or the other. Once again Jack felt a wave of exasperation with himself for trying to establish the persuasion of an obviously impaired man who’d just barely escaped a conflict with the enemy unscathed.
Unfortunately, none of that changed the fact that Gabe was very hot. And petting his dog. And calling him cool.
Yep. Rational thought be damned. Jack was a goner.
Still, he couldn’t help but laugh at Gabe’s words, full-throated and throwing his head back. This had to be the first time anyone had described Clint “Useless Avenger” Barton as too cool for anything. “Oh, man,” he said through his laughter, “I appreciate the compliment, but you are so wrong. Me and Clint aren’t even the best Hawkeye, let alone good superheroes.” He shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “We’re just two dummies who fall out of buildings a lot and have truly god-awful luck in the romance department.”
He caught Gabe’s eye there and held it through a pause that was short but, yeah, a little heavy with implications. So sue him. Before he got too obvious, though, he raised an eyebrow and pointed over his shoulder, back toward the kitchen where Matt was still presumably on the phone. “You want to talk about too cool for Camelot? I still can’t believe I went on missions with Han Solo, of all people. I worshipped that guy growing up.”