barton (awcoffee) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-05-01 20:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, clint barton (hawkeye), peter quill (star-lord) |
WHO: Clint Barton & Peter Quill
WHERE: Around town in Peter's truck
WHEN: Recently
WHAT: Clint's not driving, so Peter's nice enough to ferry him from one illegal meet up to another.
WARNINGS: Mild language, referenced injury.
STATUS: Complete.
There was so much about the last few days that had finally caught up with Clint, he'd been fine with doing a little bit of the leg work for this job, and on the whole he was fine with the job in general -at least after he'd figured out that the hitman, and Clint had only gotten 'Coolbox' for a name (and he had so many thoughts on that for a name as a hitman)- once Clint knew that he hadn't been seen on the way out of Coolbox's house with his intel (and a bullet for his troubles), Clint was a little more interested in getting this thing done with.
That was easier said than done while sporting a healing bullet wound and cracked ribs though, and while he was exceptionally appreciative of Liv's discretion in patching him up, it did mean he wasn't exactly on proper medications for shit. So, after a day of tailing Coolbox, learning his schedule, Clint was feeling the ache, and he still had to go meet a contact that could potentially give him some concrete information on the guy.
He'd caved in the end, figuring out that he was not going to be able to drive, or even see straight if he kept this up, and texted Peter to see if the guy was free to do some ferrying around town, since he was sure that Peter would be the least opposed if Clint had to do something minorly illegal.
Peter really had no idea what Clint was up to, and if he knew beforehand....actually no, he still would have gone.
The perks of being self-employed meant that he could pick up and go at any time. The text from Clint actually was during a good time, when Peter had just finished mudding a wall. It needed ample time to dry, so that meant he had well..ample time. Going to the address, he waited for Clint to get into the truck before bombarding him with questions.
"Buddy. How come you always look so beat the fuck up? I'm telling you," Peter continued with a shake of his head. "You gotta learn how to fight. You obviously suck at this, whatever it is you're doing but whatever. Not my problem. Not my MONKEY, as those new age kids like to say. Anyways. Where to?"
There was just so much to unpack when it came to Peter than Clint wondered if the guy had been hit too many times around the head, "Dude, I need you to just pull it back a tiny bit right now," not the volume so much as the energy, jeez, Clint would've thought Peter lived on pure sugar at this rate.
Giving over the address, Clint tried to shift a little so that he wasn't putting pressure on his injured side, "And it's it a little hard to fight bullets, man. I need like a wall or something to just sort of generate with me. Maybe I should be talking to Nat about full body armour." He could do with some of that, he was sure she was just shady enough even in this reality to get him some.
There was just so much to unpack when it came to Peter than Clint wondered if the guy had been hit too many times around the head, "Dude, I need you to just pull it back a tiny bit right now," not the volume so much as the energy, jeez, Clint would've thought Peter lived on pure sugar at this rate.
Giving over the address, Clint tried to shift a little so that he wasn't putting pressure on his injured side, "And it's it a little hard to fight bullets, man. I need like a wall or something to just sort of generate with me. Maybe I should be talking to Nat about full body armour." He could do with some of that, he was sure she was just shady enough even in this reality to get him some.
Clint assumed that it had to be something armoured that he was wearing -or at least something that was a little more durable, but then he wasn't about to leap around in real life in the purple leotard. "Guess you gotta be super cool somewhere." Although it was a little needlessly rude, since all in all Peter wasn't that bad. He was loud and a little dorky, but he wasn't a bad guy.
The quiet at least let Clint settle a little, even Peter's singing wasn't too distracting. "I saw a doctor." Technically, a medical examiner, but she counted, "Got patched up, it's fine. Just a little sore." And he'd probably be sore until the ribs healed too. "I am aware, yes, thankfully the morgue doesn't charge."
Peter let the comment about 'being cool somewhere' slide. He knew it wasn't said to be mean. Besides, Peter didn't bother with little comments like that. But the second one? No, that got his attention. "The morgue?" Peter gave him a startled look and probably would have spit out a drink if he had been drinking something. "I don't even know if I wanna ask, man. That seems ... weird. And strange. And ...totally up your alley. So. Still weird......I hope there was loads of disinfectant. Dead people are nasty."
There were times when Clint meant to be mean, or rude, or cruel. But they tended to be timed for when they would epically blow up his own life rather than someone else's. Throwaway comments to Peter might sound mean, but they weren't exactly aimed to be that way.
"Hmm," he hummed slightly at the tone from Peter, almost forgetting in a sense that Peter didn't know how Clint's mind actually worked. "Oh well, I mean, I'm still paying off my knee, the insurance for gunshot injuries are insane, so it seemed easier, really." If anything Clint was glad he didn't need to break into a vet clinic. "Apparently they really bleach those slabs down hardcore. Pretty sure it's cleaner than the hospital actually."
And Liv hadn't been all victim blaming for him getting his stupid ass shot.
Peter wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, but death..." Bleh. He wouldn't have picked that. "And I still can't believe you went to a fricking hospital for your gunshot. Don't you know that docs have to report that shit?? Next time, find yourself a good back-alley butcher."
Pulling down the road Clint directed him to, Peter looked around. "Do I even want to know what's here? Because I like you, but not enough to go back to prison for."
"Morgue and hospital aren't the same, I don't think Liv can report anything without the details anyway." And if she did it wasn't like it would go anywhere. Fuck knew this guy had been up to that got the actual cops to hire someone like him to check into things.
"Don't worry, bro. You just wait here and I'll be right back. It's only a tiny bit illegal, but I can get outta it." Considering it was for a cop he didn't think there'd be charges levied. But he'd need to figure out a way to at least thank Peter, since the guy didn't ask questions when he clearly should.
It only took him about twenty minutes to meet up with his contact, get the USB with information -because this wasn't the 90s and no one handed over manila folders with rap sheets anymore. And Clint was carefully limping back to Peter's truck and climbing back in with an audible sigh. "See, easy, right?"
Peter groaned loudly when Clint said it was only a little bit illegal. Of course it was. Before he could curse Clint out though, the other man was out of the car, leaving Peter to sit around and play on his phone.
Countless dirty texts to Evie later, Peter was ready to leave and get laid when just as suddenly, Clint popped back in.
"Yeah, yeah," Peter said, turning the car back on. "Where to now, your highness? You owe me a slushie for all this, by the way."
"A slushie?" Clint could understand an affinity for a lot of things, really, he could. He had a habit of drinking coffee regardless of its state -cold, warm, milky, black, day old. He'd do it. But slushies? "I thought only 12 year old girls drank those." And there was the teasing, at least this time he was a little less sore, more at ease in the seat, so he managed to throw Peter a slight smirk.
"That's all I needed though," thankfully it was all that he could do just now, if there wasn't something on the USB drive that his criminal mind could piece together that the cops missed, or didn't know about, he'd need to find some other way -preferably without getting shot again- to deal with things. "So, if your slushie is drive-thru purchase, I'll repay you now, otherwise you'll need to wait until I've dosed myself with coffee and painkillers again."
"They're frozen and full of sugar. Plus, you can add your own alcohol, and then life is good." Peter beamed at Clint as he drove towards the nearest 7-11. "And I take cash. I can walk in by myself."
There was no comment about the coffee and painkillers though -- after all, caffeine simply sped up the process, so that's a good thing! He was worried about Clint's constant self-destructive behaviour, but hey, who was he to talk? It wasn't like Peter was the kind of self-kindness either.
"When this is all over, I'll make you a convert. You look like a frozen lemonade kind of guy anyways."