Clint Barton (awwbro) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-08-26 16:53:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, clint barton (hawkeye), elaine mallory |
Who: Elaine Mallory & Clint Barton
When: August 15th, late night
Where: Elaine’s apartment
What: Ice cream delivery
Rating: R [Triggers including: War, Combat, Capture, Torture]
Status: Complete
Clint didn’t plan on heading out after 9pm on a Friday, but Elaine had seemed to need someone, and he could be that, so long as it just required being a body and bringing ice cream. He’d only seen her a few days earlier, and it was because she’d seemed so fragile that he volunteered. He wasn’t sure if she’d contacted Sam Wilson’s group yet, but he could bring it up tonight.
He parked on the street outside Elaine’s building and got out, waiting to let Lucky out until he was on the curbside. He picked up Lucky’s leash--not the harness, since he expected this visit to be mostly social rather than business--and the brown paper bag that held multiple pints of ice cream.
The pair made their way to the door, and he knocked lightly before calling out. “Elaine? It’s Clint.”
Elaine dodged over a box, dodged around a kitten chasing a sparkle ball and crashed into the door. She rubbed her knee as she opened it, she looked haggard, but luckily not as panicked as she had been earlier in the night.
She pulled the door open and watched as both kittens peeked their heads over boxes. Curious as to the newcomers. “Come on in.” she gestured as she stepped back to give both room to come in. The place had chairs now, and a table in the dining room, and really it looked better than expected. Although there were neat piles of boxes against the walls.
“Sorry it’s not perfect.” she mentioned as she ushered them in and closed the door behind him, mostly so that the kittens didn’t bomb out. Not that she had much to worry about. They were more curious about the dog. Not scared. Just curious.
Clint was watching the dog and the kittens and not Elaine, and so missed her words. Once she’d let him inside, he’d crouched and let him off the leash, making sure the old dog’s eyes were on him, he gave a quick command using ASL for him to “be good,” then stood up, holding up the brown paper bag in offering. Lucky, for his part, was more interested in the ice cream than in the kittens, and stayed by Clint’s side.
“Nice place,” he murmured. “Got a spoon?”
The apartment was on the larger side. Elaine had wanted space and she'd made sure she got it. The kittens would make their way over, hiding behind boxes and ninja-ing their way over. The apartment had some photos on the wall, all landscapes. No people.
She didn't bother answering, merely padded around to the kitchen and came back with spoons in hand, which she brandished like they were the gifts from the gods. "Bowls or no?" She asked once he was looking at her.
Clint snorted a laugh and pulled out the pints of ice cream, trading her the pint of chocolate chip cookie dough in exchange for one of the spoons, stacking it on top of his own pint of chocolate and peanut butter.
He nudged Lucky with his foot as he dropped the empty paper bag on the floor and nodded his head towards the chairs in silent question.
Elaine grinned and snagged the pint gladly, handing him a spoon in trade. She nodded at the chairs and head over to them, pausing to watch the kittens dive bomb the paper bag. Score!
It was hard not to smile. Truth be told just having another human around, ice cream too, helped. She was still jittery and twitchy and not likely to sleep tonight, but it helped. She plunked into a chair and peeled the top off with the kind of joy that comes with knowing you probably shouldn't eat the pint, but you so were. When he looked up at her again, she had a spoonful shoved happily in her mouth, fingers moving to sign, albeit after a moments thought, “thank you.”
Clint replied in kind, his fingers moving from his chin towards her, and he winked, then smiled as he sat down. One thing he’d learned to appreciate about ASL was the ability to both eat and communicate. But sometimes he didn’t even need ASL to communicate. Like now, when he gave her a thumbs up and a raised eyebrow, asking without asking if she was okay.
Elaine smiled. She'd almost knocked her spoon out of her mouth when she'd signed. She was pretty good at being a klutz from time to time. Eating and communicating at the same time without being rude was nice. Another spoonful before she replied with a hand gesture, the one everyone used for so-so. Then she grabbed the ice cream container and used her hands like scales, showing the ice cream helped.
The strange flailing made Clint snort and finish his mouthful before speaking. “Yeah, I didn’t get whatever you were trying to say there,” he replied, gesturing at her with his spoon. “The ice cream is heavy?”
She laughed and shook her head. "I was weighing my troubles against the ice cream, with ice cream being the winner. The good outweighs the bad." She took another spoonful before smiling. "It's helping, comfort food is a wonderful thing." She rubbed her fingers against her forehead, then tucked a hair back behind her ear. She could focus on this, company and the animals and get over that stupid panic attack. It wasn't going to win.
“Now that, I understand,” Clint replied, and smiled. Lucky finally settled down at his feet, looking put-upon as one of the kittens boldly decided to pounce his tail, batting it playfully. “You should keep some stocked, then, maybe. Better ice cream than booze, you know?”
She grinned at him. "Planned on it but really haven't gotten settled. I'm getting there." She looked down and smiled at kitten antics then back up at Clint with a slow shrug. "I want to be over these stupid panic attacks." She said, stabbing her spoon into the pint, frowning.
Lucky paid the kittens no mind, his expression baleful as he stared up at Clint, wanting ice cream. Clint chewed his mouthful and nodded, his expression sympathetic to Elaine, not the dog. “You may never get over them, but you can learn how to handle them. Takes a certain kind of person to voluntarily walk into a war zone. A strong person. One who doesn’t back down from a challenge. You can fight this too, you know. You just need the right resources.”
Elaine rubbed her temples, staring at her ice cream for a moment before looking up. "I know I'll get there, just hate the fact they come out of no where." She reached down to steal one of the kittens, a seal point siamese mix with a stub tail, scritching it's head until it bounced out of her lap. "I would say I was stupid to voluntarily walk in to a war zone. But I did it multiple times. I think that makes me crazy." She spoke carefully, considering her words before offering him a quiet smile.
“Depends on why you did it,” Clint countered. “Did you do it to hurt, or did you do it to help?”
She gave him a look then replied carefully. "To help although I'm sure I've hurt people. Truth hurts. But I wanted to help."
Clint considered her reply while he enjoyed another mouthful of ice cream. That wasn’t substantially different from his own motivation. Not really. As soldiers and journalists, they might have different ways of ‘helping’, but they also had different ways of ‘hurting’.
“So….what’s the crazy part?”
"Going back even though I saw how it could be?" She asked as she dug out her spoon, eyed it then took a bite.
That made Clint roll his eyes. “Never heard of adrenaline junkies, then? Because they’ve done studies, you know, about what makes us go back. It’s a high. But more than that, it’s a place. It’s a way of belonging. When you’ve done it long enough...civilian life starts to feel foreign. Chaotic. Too many variables. Too many options. Thirty-one fucking flavors.”
Elaine smiled. "I never thought of myself as an adrenaline junkie but it fits. War zones. Natural Disasters. I couldn't stay away." She set her ice cream down and ran a hand through her hair. "You're right, civilian life feels weird... did you just compare it to ice cream?"
Clint grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “Seemed appropriate. The first time I went to a grocery store after I came back? I must’ve spent an hour in the cereal aisle.”
Elaine’s shoulders shook in laughter. "Yes! I hit a McDonald's when I got home the second time. I held everyone up, too many choices! I still find myself getting overwhelmed by the sheer variety."
“And the crowds,” Clint added. “Crowds were hard for me, at first. That’s one reason I was glad to have Lucky with me. Especially because…” he gestured at his ear with one hand. “It was hellish. Lucky helped me focus, but also gave me an excuse not to stay long.”
She shuddered. "Crowds. After a week and a half of isolation unless they were hurting me, the hospital was too crowded. Coming back to LA was awful."
Clint nodded in understanding. “You think about moving north or east? Plenty of small rural communities. Might be easier to deal with.”
She smirked. "Thought about it, but my work is here. Running away from it all won't fix it."
Clint conceded the point with another nod of his head. “...alright. I wondered why you decided to move into a retirement community, but I guess. If you were looking for some place...quiet. Only place more quiet would be a cemetery. And that’s down the road.”
She grinned at that. Oh, she’d done her research. But quiet was good. “And it was inexpensive, thank you very much.” she grinned at him again. “Besides have you ever had a little old lady’s cookies? Plus no one’s going to bother me here.” She had planned it out. She wanted to be careful. Besides, little old ladies baked cookies for newcomers.
“Until they find out you’re single and try to match you up with their grandsons--or granddaughters,” Clint teased. He’d picked his community in Huntington Beach for much the same reason--quiet, and filled with retirees and empty nesters.
“Let me guess--you picked something similar and have had similar experiences?” she grinned. “I hope to avoid that, no grandparents matchmaking for me!” she smiled at him, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Not that any grandson wouldn’t be lucky to catch her.
“It starts with cookies, but then it’s dinner invitations where their single granddaughters have been coerced in some way to be there. Awkwardness all around.” Clint wrinkled his nose and scraped some of the soft, melted ice cream from the sides of the cardboard.
“You poor thing.” She laughed softly and finished off the ice cream, and leaning back in her chair. She had to wipe her eyes. “The mental image of you stuck in a dinner with some poor coerced granddaughter is too funny,” she teased.
Clint shook his head and glared, balefully, though there wasn’t any real heat behind it. “Not just one. Several. With several granddaughters--and grandsons. They’re surprisingly supportive.”
Elaine smiled. “We are in California, surprisingly accepting of things here,” she grinned. “You poor, poor, dear.” She set her spoon in the empty container and grinned a bit, picturing those conversations without bursting into laughter again.
Clint sighed, longsuffering, rueful, and nodded towards her pint as he continued to work on his own. “You feeling any better?”
“I feel like I gained ten pounds but yes.” She smiled a bit and stretch out in her chair. “Sometimes all you need is ice cream and someone who knows that it’s not just you being crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Clint repeated, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “You might be...damaged, but some damage can be repaired, if you’ve got the right tools.” He regarded her for a moment and then spoke again. “Have you ever heard of kintsugi?”
She waved her hand lightly, dismissively. “No, no I know i’m not crazy but it is the look you get a lot when you suddenly panic about a car or a truck or something.” She grinned a bit. “I am damaged, but, well, life isn’t easy. I’ll get there.” She tilted her head to look at him. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s a Japanese art. When a bowl or something gets broken….” Clint tapped the cardboard pint with his spoon, for emphasis, “...instead of trying to hide the cracks or mask them somehow, they repair it with gold. See, the Japanese, they think that the flaws show the history of the bowl, and by highlighting the breaks with gold, they’re saying that something broken can still be beautiful.”
“That sounds gorgeous, actually. I...can understand that I think. It’s a lovely concept.” She pondered, head tilting as she did so. “That sounds…that sounds like the perfect way to honor a piece and return it to whole without hiding its flaws.”
“It is,” Clint agreed. “I have a few pieces in my home. But it applies to people too, you know,” he added quietly. “Having the pieces around my house...they remind me that I might be broken, but I can still be useful. I can still help.” He smiled, wry. “Even if it’s just as an ice cream delivery service.”
She refused to be the typical woman and say she wasn’t beautiful, even if she felt more broken than beautiful. But she smiled a bit. “Well if anyone tries to patch me up with gold I think there’s gonna be some words,” she teased before tilting her head downward. “And helpful when I needed to ramble apparently, too.” she smiled, sweetly.
Clint shrugged a shoulder and set his empty pint on a box. “I think you’re safe. I doubt anyone will mistake you for a tea bowl,” he replied. “But you ought to think about doing the rambling at someone, you know. Qualified.”
“I’d make an awful tea bowl.” She smiled. “Yeah, I know. I know. I’m working up the nerve. I just don’t want to be handed another bottle of pills and told take these and feel better.” She rolled her eyes.
“That’s not really what they do, or how they work,” Clint replied, trying to be reassuring. “The people Sam works with--they’ve been there. If they didn’t serve themselves, they know people who have, and have worked with vets before. They’re good people. They can help. Honest.”
“Okay okay, I’ll give him a shout later this week, once I’m finished being settled in completely,” she said in defeat, knowing she was losing the battle to stay a hermit. Not that she really wanted to be one anyways.
“Good,” Clint replied, pleased, and then rubbed his belly, glanced over at Lucky, who was currently being chewed on by one of the kittens. “You want me to go?”
She glanced down then back up, smiling a bit. That was adorable. “I won’t keep you, I’m sure I’ve spoiled a night.”
Clint wasn’t much for psychoanalyzing people, but that was like the third comment in a row, and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He shifted forward in the chair, arms braced on his forearms, and laced his fingers together as he decided he couldn’t let that last comment pass without question. “Look, I’m not a therapist, I’m just a guy who’s dated a few women in his time and I can’t help but notice that you do that a lot. Talk yourself down, act like being around you is a burden, or pity, and it’s not okay? If it’s a habit, it’s something you ought to be aware of, because from where I’m sitting, the only person who thinks of you as a burden is you.”
Elaine winced. She was usually on top of that. She'd had one of her foster parents call right when she'd been transported home and tell her they always knew she was a troublesome thing. She'd overheard a few coworkers joking about her inability to be social. She ran a hand through her hair. "I'll be honest, both sets of foster parents think I was and am, but usually I don't let it bleed into everyday life. I'm sorry." It was a half truth wrapped in fervent belief, she thought she did so well.
“You’ve got no reason to apologize. That’s on them,” Clint said quietly, brow furrowed as he frowned, studying her. “I was raised by my parents, so I don’t know how that feels, but it was wrong of them to make you feel that way when it was their choice. You know that, right?”
Elaine just smiled faintly. "There's a reason I have two sets, although neither are family. I was legally emancipated when I was 17. But it's still hard to ignore it. Stuff sticks with you even though you have no desire to let it." Then a breath. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."
Clint raised an eyebrow, but he nodded slowly. “...alright. You know your situation best. I’m not a therapist. I just...it bothers me to see you feeling down about yourself. So. Sorry if I overstepped.”
She ran a hand through her hair. "It's not ideal. It's not great. I'm trying. You can't understand how it feels to know from early on that not only your birth mother but two sets of foster parents found you so burdensome you got left behind, given up, returned. It's not easy to get over that." She'd smile, a real one, brilliant and beautiful. "But it's made me who I am today, not perfect, but human."
“Nobody’s perfect,” Clint replied, hoping that the joke played. Not everyone knew old movies these days.
Elaine laughed and shook her head. "Careful younger folk won't get that. Did one of the grandmas make you watch?" Tease.
“That movie is a classic,” Clint protested. “And funny as hell. Everyone should know that movie.”
Elaine smiled a bit and picked a kitten off of Lucky, poor dear. "Go on, Clint. Honestly. I'll be okay, I don't want to keep you." She smiled. "Not just because I've been trained to think I'm a burden, because you've already done a lot for me."
Clint’s eyebrow went up again, skeptically, and he rolled his neck a little to study her. “Is this you kicking me out? Because I could think of worse ways to spend a night than in the company of a beautiful woman. So. Don’t think that there’s nothing in this for me. You’re not charity, Elaine.”
Elaine grinned a bit. "Oh you're fully welcome to stay but if you need to go, go without worry." She blushed, though, because it was so easy to do so. It wasn't that she didn't agree, it was she often forgot, that she could be beautiful. She was used to dust and grime. "I think we probably could make that be a great idea."
“Well...I consider myself off the hook,” Clint replied. “So. You can take my decision to stay however you want.”
“Fair warning, I haven’t entertained in forever.” She smiled though, collecting their empty pints and taking them to the counter to rinse out, setting the spoons in the sink before looking back at him. “Want anything to drink?”
Clint combed his fingers through his hair and returned the smile. “I’m not really expecting to be entertained. Your company’s enough. Some water wouldn’t be turned away, though, after all that sweet.”
Elaine smiled and nodded, moving to get him a glass of water and her a glass of sweet tea. Sweet was a thing she couldn’t get away from. Sorta like a crazy love of deep dish pizza. “Alright then. Well At least I have one way to entertain.” she’d give him his glass before padding into the living room, she came out with an automatic laser pointer and set it to go. Kittens attack!
When Elaine had disappeared with a promise to entertain, Clint had no idea what he was in for, but suffice to say, a laser cat toy was nowhere on his list.
He exchanged a look with Lucky, who got up and padded to lay down closer to Clint and away from flailing kittens.
“Well, that’s...something,” he said after a moment, then sipped his water.
She laughed. "I'm easily entertained by spaz kittens. Told you I was boring." She left the kittens to it, only looking up if they crashed into boxes.
“I’m not judging,” Clint said, quickly. “Guess I’m just more of a dog person.” The kittens were cute, but he couldn’t see being entertained by them for hours. He scrubbed his fingers over his chin, thoughtfully. Maybe he should go….
"I told you I was crap at entertaining." She plunked.down in a seat. "I take photos, I play with my cats, I’m terribly boring." She ran her hand through her hair. She actually looked frustrated, like she was mad she couldn't be better.
“And I told you I don’t expect to be entertained,” Clint reminded her. He glanced around the apartment, the bare walls. “Why don’t you have your photos up?”
"I haven't gotten to them. I'm awful with a hammer." But there were two stacks of frames on the floor. She slid out of her chair to pick up a couple and bring them back. There were photos of lions in Africa, Angkor Wat’s beautiful temples, the northern lights, and many other ones.
“I’m not so much with the art, but I know how to swing a hammer,” Clint offered. And it was infinitely better than simply sitting next to each other awkwardly. “If you’ve got one. And nails or picture hangers. Wire?”
"I do." She disappeared for a minute and came back with all three in hand. Well...in arm, anyways. She smiled softly; she'd ruined the moment. "Thank you."
“My pleasure,” Clint replied, sincere. She hadn’t ruined anything. Sometimes it took awhile for people to feel comfortable around each other, and the communication barrier probably didn’t help. But he liked her--genuinely liked her, and wanted to know her better, and it was worth a little awkwardness to get to do that.
“So. Let’s get started.”