Clint Barton (awwbro) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-09-12 17:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, clint barton (hawkeye), elaine mallory |
Who: Elaine Mallory & Clint Barton
What: Dinner
When: Sept. 3rd
Where: Her place
Rating: PG [ possible triggers of war/torture/violence but I’m not expecting those to come up tonight!]
Status: Complete when Posted
Elaine had finally gotten the house to look the way she wanted to. And true to form there was a plate of chocolate chip cookies from one of her elderly neighbors on her dining room table. Her kitchen was small, and she’d carefully stuck a nice table in it and hung up one of her larger photos on the wall behind it. A lovely landscape of some of the mountains of California. She’d rearranged since he was here last, and now there were cat trees tucked in corners of the rooms, and a couple box “forts” for her kittens. The place was done up in a simple style, and was efficient but comfortable.
She’d cooked the afternoon away and she hoped he had nothing against pasta because a homemade lasagna was being pulled from the oven and covered just before he arrived. She’d covered it with a solid lid to prevent two curious kittens from trying to get at it. Silly kittens.
Elaine smoothed her hair down before she went to answer the door. She was in jeans, a nice but not too nice shirt and bare feet, her long hair in loose curls. She was looking forward to something normal.
“It’s not a date,” Clint had muttered at Lucky while he’d dressed in his--already, admittedly nicer long-sleeved shirts and jeans. “It’s just dinner. Not a date.”
But as he stared at Elaine in the doorway when she answered the door, dressed nicer than he’d seen her before, he realized:
Shit. This is a date.
He smiled, awkwardly, and handed over the bottle of wine he’d brought. “I, uh...wasn’t sure what you were making, or if you even drank, but I thought...wine.”
Actually she’d pulled the cleanest thing out of her dresser to put on. Just so happened to be datey. Oops? Not really, she could have gone digging again but it was comfortable and she looked nice. So yeah no, datey shirt had stayed on.
But hey, he looked nicer too. Date. She hadn’t meant it that way, not originally. But it’d sort of morphed into that as she got dressed and cooked. She’d left off makeup, so feel lucky, because full makeup really screamed date.
Elaine smiled at him. “Wine’s always good.” She didn’t drink much; last thing she wanted was to be drunk and have a moment. But a glass of wine with dinner was always okay. “Thank you, come on in.” she’d get out of the way.
Clint and Lucky nudged their way inside once she took the wine from him, and Clint bent to unclip Lucky’s leash so the dog could roam freely. When he straightened, he looked around, because somehow the apartment looked...different, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. His brow furrowed as he turned, slowly, and pursed his lips.
She looked at him while putting the wine on the table. She smiled a bit and when he was looking, "I uh rearranged a bit." She said with a faint smile. "Finished hanging up the photos, too." The walls in the living room were covered now.
Lucky found his way to the dining room table and laid down, as was his habit, and Clint smiled as his boldness. He’d had his face turned away, so he didn’t catch her words, though he could tell by her expression that she’d said something. “Sorry,” he murmured, his tone apologetic. “Distracted.” He returned her smile. “Are you excited for your trip to Germany?”
She watched Lucky get comfortable with a smile then looked up at Clint. “It’s fine.” she smiled and shrugged. “Yes and no. I mean, radioactive boars. Not terribly exciting.” She grinned a bit, though. It was the weirdest assignment ever. That was okay, though. She’d manage it.
“Sounds like a band name,” Clint joked, returning her grin. “So. What smells good? I’m starving.”
Elaine smiled a bit. “A bit yes!” She laughed then smiled. “Lasagna. Homemade, not store bought. Cookies, provided by elderly neighbor.” She smiled again before heading into the kitchen. then checked the lasagna and pulled it out. She set it down on the store and threw a loaf of hard, crusty italian bread into the oven for a minute while she cut the lasagna into pieces.
Clint followed, leaning against the counter as he stayed close, perhaps invading her personal space more than a casual acquaintance might. “That takes some skill,” he observed. “Italian heritage, or just a fan?”
“I have no idea my heritage, but I grew up loving lasagna, so I learned how to make it from scratch one year.” Elaine smiled at him, brushing against him as she reached for the spatula she had set on the counter. “I also make a killer pizza .”
That earned a suspicious hum, and Clint eyed her, smiling a little as they touched, incidentally. “I had pizza in Italy. I’m not sure it could measure up.”
She grinned. “Well, that’s possibly true. Although I do Chicago style, it’s of its own world.” She brushed the hair from her eyes before carefully scooping out the lasagna onto plates, then she pulled the bread from the cooling oven and set it on a platter.
“That is is,” Clint agreed. “I grew up in Indiana, so I’ve been to Pizza Uno more than once.” He studied her, head tilted to one side. “Is that where you’re from? I don’t think we’ve talked about that before. I know more about where you’ve been stationed than where you grew up.”
Her face went through a couple of emotions that ended with wistful. “I am. Born and raised in Chicago. Was orphaned and bounced between foster homes until I got myself declared emancipated and headed out to LA at the first chance.” A quiet smile. “Which, for the record, is oddly similar to my Dreams, so it’s weird.”
“So LA’s been home for awhile?” Clint was curious, since he’d been here for ten years himself. “I thought you were a recent transplant.”
“Recent to the OC area, been in LA for quite a few years, but it’s not like I was ever really around. Work kept me often out of the country after I finished college.” She smiled at him and offered him a plate.
Clint took the plate with a little grunt of acknowledgement and then moved to the dining room table. He wasn’t sure where he was expected to sit, so he took the seat closer to Lucky and settled in, though he waited to eat until she was seated as well.
Elaine set the bread down, and smiled, she really had no assignments for seating, it was casual and wherever he felt like. Before she settled she brought out the wine and glasses before sitting herself and cutting the bread. “I worked too much to call anywhere home, I guess,” she said after a minute.
“So you’re nesting now,” Clint observed, slicing into his lasagna eagerly. “Nothing wrong with that. We all do it. It’s perfectly natural,” he added, teasing a little before he took his first bite.
Which was, to his very great surprise, not only edible but actually tasty. He moaned appropriately.
Elaine rolled her eyes at him. “Nesting, jeez, you make me sound like some old woman or a bird.” She smirked at him, teasing in return. She was settling, at least, but that was fine. She needed a home. Her lips curled upwards as he dug into the food. “Good?” She smirked.
Clint was distracted by the food, but managed to find the breath between bites to compliment her food. “S’very good,” he admitted. “I’m impressed, considering.”
She raised a brow in mock offense. "Considering?" She asked politely, smiling faintly. This was nice, quiet and without too many distractions.
“Not being much of a homebody,” Clint clarified. At least, it didn’t seem like she was, since she’d been so opposed to the idea of her nesting.
She laughed and nodded. "No I'm not but if I'm not working they don't pay me to eat out. And that gets expensive, fast. But I learned to cook as a kid, so I just honed those skills to keep me from starving." She smiled a bit, then shrugged.
The explanation fit well enough, and Clint shrugged in return, making a soft sound of agreement before he returned his attention to his plate.
A few bites later he sat back, studied Elaine. Somehow in the short time he’d known her, he’d developed certain feelings--protective, partly, likely due to the circumstances of their meeting, and his wanting to help her. But he was attracted to her, too, and found her awkward way to be endearing. Things hadn’t worked out the last time he’d been over, but perhaps tonight he would be able to find out if the attraction was mutual.
“Feel like some wine yet?” he asked, reaching to open the bottle. He poured himself a half glass and then hovered above hers.
“I think that would be a lovely idea.” The feelings were and she was totally awkward. It was her thing. She was awful around people and well, she’d been damaged, so she felt even worse. She didn’t think she deserved the attentions. Not because she was ugly or anything, but because she’d been broken in her time overseas, and well, not many people understood that. Sometimes patience was needed to remind her not everyone was bad.
Of course, Clint was doing a wonderful job of that. And there was some mutual attraction there. Elaine wasn’t entirely sure of her footing there but well, things would be seen. Wouldn’t they?