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He focuses his eyes on the ceiling, on a pinpoint, like he could bore a hole into it, and imagines the feeling of pulling a bow back. The focus. The relaxation. It's almost like meditation. This isn't so much relaxing, but it's easier to measure his breaths. in one two three out one two three

"I appreciate it." And he does. Because it's one of the things he'd quietly feared on getting found, not only dragged back to feel stifled and cramped and contained around people who don't know what to say to him in the wake of so much loss he doesn't know what to do with himself most of the time--hence the Ronin, the mission--but also judgement. Not from Natasha, she would never, not with her own track record, and Clint had long ago settled with his soul the idea of a red ledger for the sake of everyone else. The lot of spies and assassins. But anyone else. Everyone else. Who might not understand him doing what he feels he has to do.

So it's all a pleasant surprise. And Steve can lie, sure. Like any other human being. But he doesn't make a habit of it with his friends. So it's reconciling an expectation that came as easy as blinking an eye with this reality in front of him.

"Was this an escape for you?"

Out of curiosity. If Steve thought he'd had enough time and the worry took over. Or if wherever he's been trying to call home felt too empty and too meandering. If he also needed to give himself a mission to focus on and dedicate his time to where it was going to waste elsewhere.

Out on the street, the question (different approach, different words, but same heart) had felt like an accusation, a test, or a trap.

Like how from the compound Ronin had felt like a death spiral, but from close enough to count Clint's measured breathing it feels a lot more like a desperate attempt not to get pulled under. Close enough to touch, it feels like necessity. They all lost a lot. Clint lost his wife and his kids.

Steve's answer is a little slow coming. He turns his head just enough that he's looking out the window rather than directly at Clint, though he's not really seeing the view (such as it is) either.

"This is me trying to generate enough movement not to sink." Then back at Clint. "And probably an escape, as long as 'everything back there' counts as what I'm trying to escape from, for a little while."

Edited 2024-11-04 23:13 (UTC)

No reason it can't be both a death spiral and a way to keep his head above water. Duality of man or some trite shit like that. He's not aiming to die, but his targets, while organized, are not always the best of the best. There's not a lot of chance. He's good. He is, perhaps, too good at the job. But he knows that it only takes one slip. He's only human, and there are people out there who are also very good at their jobs.

He picks carefully. He doesn't aim to die. He's not sure he's gonna feel all that much if it gets to that point, though.

He shakes his head a little, more a rocking back and forth against the edge of the bed. "If this ends up being enough momentum, we can figure something out next time you catch up. Can do more good with two at the task."

It doesn't need explaining, he figures, since Steve never asked for one. The good captain's done more than enough vigilantism in the past many years to know better. But it bubbles up. Maybe having someone to talk to has loosened his tongue a bit.

"Half the world gone, and there's still all these assholes out to make a quick buck by fucking over good people just trying to live their lives. There's still drugs, still guns, there's still people taken off the street and shoved in shipping containers, and for fucking what? It's not like anyone has to fight for," he sneers, "resources. We're all trying to figure out how to live anymore. Why do these sons of bitches get to still be here, huh? In what universe is that just and fair?"

It says something about the state of... everyone, and everything, that Steve's pretty willing to take a death spiral as long as that's not the only one it is. Clint trying to keep his head above water at all is more than he necessarily expected when he showed up here.

At least Clint isn't worried about keeping Steve's hands 'clean' anymore.

He looks back to Clint and gives him one, single, nod in response to joining him. They'll have details to work out, but he's in. At least Clint's stopped worrying about Steve This time... he'll sit it out, but he's increasingly sure he's going to sit it out from an obscure vantage point so he can move fast if he needs to. He's got that map Clint drew solidly in his head, anyway.

"It isn't okay. It sure as hell isn't fair or just." He doesn't sound anywhere near as angry as Clint, and in truth he isn't. Not that he stopped caring, not that he's not mad. It's just that mad is a little flattened out under 'sad', for the moment. "All the shit, and good people gone and there are still assholes seeing 'opportunity' at the expense of the decent people who are still here." It's kind of lame as things to stop on go, but... He's sad and angry and worried and tired in a way he cannot put into words.

"It shouldn't still be happening. It should never have happened at all."

Edited 2024-11-05 04:45 (UTC)

There isn't anyone left who would think all of this is just and fair. There's no one who doesn't carry grief and anger about it. Everyone lost someone. And the worst part is that talking about it doesn't do anything but vent some of those feelings. Nothing can change about it, nothing can get fixed.

It makes him feel like he's trapped in a tiny cage, beating at the bars. He licks his lips, looks at Steve, looks away again. The company is unusual, unexpected, and nice in its own way, yeah. But having someone close when he hasn't had that in a good while makes him nervous. No, not nervous... Antsy? Anxious?

"Nothing feels real anymore, does it?"

"I can't-"

He starts and then stops. He knows he has to be able to talk to Clint, here. Clint deserves more than the push button Captain America bullshit everyone but Nat's been getting. Even she's got some force of habit... inspirational shit. Move forward, grow, rebuild the world and make it something. She just manages to cut him off and somehow forces him to engage more honestly, if only in a pretty subdued way.

Clint deserves more than fake positivity, or some attempt to play therapist and not actually engaging with him. He deserves more honesty than that. He deserves more of Steve than that. Hell, Steve needs more than that.

Steve just has to find a way to start.

"I put the plane down and was found in winter...." He starts sounding almost tentative - for him, not for anyone else. "but it wasn't a controlled environment like a cyro chamber. Temperatures fluctuate, you know? Never really warm enough long enough to thaw, but I'd have these periods of... not waking up but sort of becoming aware and merging reality and memories into some really messed up shit. Couldn't move. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. My brain would spin out, trying to make sense of it I guess. Came out of it and felt like I'd been dropped on an alien planet, nothing made sense and nothing felt real, but I was pissed about it." He pauses there, for a second. "This feels more like the ice than out of it. I have gotta find a way to wake up and get mad about it."

Edited 2024-11-05 16:21 (UTC)

With this, with what happened to spin the world slightly off axis and make everyone reevaluate their place in the universe, it's easy to think that the others might look at Clint and fail to grasp the enormity of the loss in comparison. But in the grand scheme of things, what can't be grasped is all of what Steve's lost. Not only family and friends, but all familiarity with the world around him. The city he grew up in alien and unrecognizable. Technology leaping so far ahead as to be like magic.

Clint grew up with stories about Captain America; everyone knew who the legendary hero to the point of myth was. And when their on a mission, it's easy to see how he became so legendary. Leadership that comes naturally, charisma coming out his ass, a sense of surety and stability. But he knows Steve above all of that now. And it's one thing to look at what happened from a distance, but to think about it happening to a real flesh and blood person who's sitting in the room with him, feet casually knocked against each other, to a friend, it's a whole other ballpark.

It isn't a competition. It's acknowledgement of loss, of being unmoored. Agreeing that reality has a fake quality that's all too familiar to Steve. Because he's been there. Trapped in ice, alive and not, awake and not.

He appreciates this about Steve. Telling it like it is. Not glossing it over with some platitudes, not skittering away from the topic. It feels like a breath of air, however brief before his head sinks below the storm waves again.

"You can get mad about this with me." With a little shallow nod. "Gonna have to come up with a new outfit. Gotta cover up that handsome mug of yours if you end up doing as the Ronin does. I can't promise the world'll feel any more real, but it beats a vast icy nothingness."

No, no competition - just an attempt to get past his own shit enough to build and keep a connection. He can't quite get to a point of prioritizing him handling his crap, but if Clint's going to offer him a way of maybe doing some of that, even if it's unconventional, Steve will take it.

And be relieved and grateful for it. Clint doesn't owe him that much cooperation -- and if helping Steve lets him do so much as be able to be around his guy and keep Clint from being totally in the wind? No hesitation.

"We're gonna have to find a way to cover my face, and some kinda strategy that keeps me out of your way." Or at least for Steve to get an understanding of how Ronin moves and works so he can predict Clint well enough to do that. " I'll probably defer to you on the mask thing, if you've got thoughts. The... strategy and movement'll be easier with a specific target and plan. Might go lurk on a roof and watch this one. Should give me a solid start."

"Shadow me 'til you feel like you can do it on your own two feet?" Clint doesn't have the intention of keeping Steve around as a partner in crime, a deft duo, by that point. If Steve can figure it out, then he can hit his own targets. Do twice the work with two of them. "Or until you decide it's not for you or something. Probably gonna have to figure out a new weapon of choice, too. Shield's a little obvious, and you're not gonna get a good replacement outside of cashing in some Wakandan checks. Could punch everyone to hell and back. I mean, as a normie, not exactly a viable plan, but with you?" Those fists can absolutely be deadly weapons.

Which is kind of one of the exciting things about the possibility of getting pummeled by them, but that is beside the point.

"Mask doesn't have to be much. Cover the nose, mouth, chin. You'd be shocked how hard it is to get any kind of facial recognition that way. Keep it breathable; you're not going into a hazmat situation. Headgear isn't necessary, just a preference and another layer of protection. If you think eyes might be a problem, some kinda tactical goggles won't do you much wrong, but you still lose some field of vision." Arguably Clint's hood does the same thing but not, he would say, in anywhere near the same capacity.

The noise that comes out of Steve at mention of just using his fists is somewhere between a laugh and a pained groan. Not mean or patronizing, at all, just - "I'm pretty sure I could get away with just bare handed killing people, but going in with that as a primary plan's a little more actively suicidal than I wanna get; it's just inviting a head or heart shot and that's probably the better option than someone hitting me in the spine and laying there twitching while I heal." He should... probably not sound half entertained and amused by most of those thoughts. "Can probably make small explosive, blades, and a gun work out all right." He's used all of those in various ways and he's got great aim. Throw in some kevlar, maybe. Pummel Clint he's still in for. Not kill him, but pummel solidly.

Face obscurity's easier, once Clint lays it out that way. His eyes aren't that recognizable. Hell, he might even manage unassuming if he does it right and nobody's looking too close. Anyway: "Shadow you isn't the right word. Observe from one, more like. I like you too much to risk your neck getting in the way, but you've got a good map. I'll find an observation point."

"It'll be dark. The lighting immediately around the warehouse will be fairly lit like Christmas, but the surrounding buildings are gonna be dark. Catty-corner alley or a good roof with some height, maybe. Don't know how much you're gonna see from the outside, though." He slumps a little, stretching out more. Loosen the muscles. Think about the plan. Make small alterations to the plan with the new information. It helps get him in the zone. Like archery. Something that a lot of people might find stressful actually helps to relax, block out the noise.

"I'm gonna take out a couple cameras first. You wanna get up close about it, that'll be the side of the building to cling to. If you're worried about witnesses--" Clint wants to bite out 'don't'. But that sounds particularly harsh. "Well, hey, you've done undercover and on the run before; you can figure it out."

And, sure, Steve could use guns. Guns are loud, though. They have ammo limits; you can't get bullets back like you can arrows or throwing knives. Steve with blades, though? Hm. It'd definitely take time to learn in a way that's proficient, but Steve's more than adaptable. It'll all be down to preference, though. He looks at Steve warily, then away again, mulling it over.

"I get a little ritualistic," and the word sounds so fucking stupid in his ears, "before a mission. Sharpen everything. Gets me centered. Puts me in the mindset. Might answer if you talk to me, might stay quiet instead. Dunno. Knew I couldn't just stick with a bow, so I expanded my repertoire."

"I'm not doubting the nature and how you go about it's changed," Clint's changed. That's not criticism, just recognition, "but you've always been more quiet and focused than any of the rest when we were going into something."

They all had their own... thing. Way of handling, mindset, mental space before and during. If Steve's got one thing he's good at that isn't straight fight, it's that he can usually move between those without too much friction. Not even with Tony in those settings.

"I'm not gonna be looking for responses from. I'll let you handle cameras and get in a blindspot then stay out of your way." Unless something goes really, really south and then he's going to Steve. "You said day after tomorrow for this?" He might be reconsidering his 'pummel Clint' timeline. Slightly.

Edited 2024-11-08 00:13 (UTC)

He always liked to have little rituals before, some more sentimental than others. But he also never needed them. He could jump into the fray at the drop of a hat. But now he's got time, plans out his missions, has space to breathe. One thing to make sure all the gear is good to go, another to help quiet the noise inside his head to focus on, not being Hawkeye, but being Ronin.

"I believe you when you say you'll be out of the way, y'know. I know you mean it. But I also know you're the first one to jump in to lend a hand if you feel it's needed. Our definitions might not match up." Just pointing it out. Steve will do what Steve does. And they're all different, now, in this fearful new world.

"Day after tomorrow," Clint affirms with a nod. "Tomorrow's some time to take in the sights if you want, do some last minute prep work. Make sure nothing's changed. Then the next day's the even more last minute prep before the show begins. So you'll be staying around more than 24 hours, that's for sure."

"If they don't, we can fight about it after the fact." Meaning, yeah. He's got every intention of being reasonable, but he's still mostly him. He's going to do what he's going to do, and will deal with the consequences.

"More than twenty four hours isn't a problem and obviously your time-line needs to be what it is. I'm trying to work out when I'm fitting in that sparring session, more than where I'm working in some beach time. Do you have a location for that in mind?" In here is a bad idea.

...He still cares more about timing right now than place.

It's almost a laugh. It's laugh-adjacent, the noise that comes out of him. "You really need it, too, huh?" Not enough people to punch in New York, maybe. Or nobody left who wants to spar but with no holds barred. How many punching bags has he torn through? "Just remember, I don't heal the way you do."

Does the idea of getting absolutely wrecked by Steve sound appealing? Yeah. But he also can't be out of commission for weeks or months while he heals. (Well, hiding in a hole for a couple weeks while he scouts out a new location isn't so bad.) Clint's always been someone who heals well and pushes the limits of what a healing body could and should do. Much to the chagrin of his handlers, back when he had handlers. Steve can pull his punches like a master, but if the gloves come off, that super strength is deadly. So. Balancing act. Bloody each other up without doing something foolish like shattering spines or crushing rib cages.

"Funny enough, I didn't scout out a good place for two ex-heroes to duke it out in mind. Must've forgot to look for one, silly me."

He's not really offended in any serious way, not even enough not to have some faint amusement in his expression. There's just also a bit of a look.

"I am not gonna forget you don't heal the way I do." He's not elaborating because it'll drag the mood down and he doesn't want that, but sparring sessions with him don't come without some holds barred. Brief interlude when Bucky was relatively stable and still here. No one spars with Hulk. Because yeah. Gloves off, it's deadly. He doesn't forget that. Ever.

"Bruised and sore, maybe bloody. Not broken." That's the start of terms, Clint can negotiate around it as he wants or need, or at least negotiate it with Steve. "And I'll find a place. You pick the time, and I'll show up."

Edited 2024-11-09 00:14 (UTC)

"You tired?" It's an abrupt change of topic, no matter how casually he affects it. He rolls back up to his feet, gives a little stretch, and makes to clear items from the bed. Sword. Notebook. There's a good, sharp blade for throwing under the pillow that he tucks in his hoodie. "Shower first? I don't have any clothes to lend you that you aren't gonna stretch into the next dimension. If you brought a go bag, better go fetch it."

"I'll go grab it. I'm going to take the long way there and back," just in case. "So give me half an hour before you fall asleep or get twitchy about it. I'll shower and get ready for bed, then."

Not a single hint he has even noticed how abrupt the topic change is, just him getting to his feet and preparing to head out. Unless Clint suddenly has some objections.

"Sounds good. I'll be here." He's not going to make a run for it while Steve's out. The thought is tempting. Now that it's all catching up to him now. But he won't. He'll be a good little host about it. Try to set up the couch in a way that should be comfy enough. Shove things away. Pack a few things. Hell, a quick shower while Steve's gone isn't a bad idea anyway.

Steve's aware this would be a great opportunity for Clint to shake him, but he's also pretty sure Clint won't. He's not sure why, except somehow ending up on the floor together and a lot of that talk felt more... solid and real than anything has in a while.

He doesn't rush back. He picks up his backpack with his stuff, and does what he said he was going to. He takes the long way back, getting some idea of a place that will work for privacy for an intense sparring session without getting authorities or spectators involved, and makes it back within that half hour.

He hesitates outside the door for about half second, then raps on it with the backs of his knuckles. It's pretty quiet, but if Clint's expecting him it should be audible enough.

He has to ease the tension out of himself (as much as he can, given the natural tension he carries on himself these days) when there's a rap on the door. Quiet. Soft. But he hears it well enough. And he knows it's Steve, but the paranoid part thinks someone's caught him out, connected dots, come for their pound of flesh.

It's just Steve. He knows this.

He has to wonder if Steve's surprised to see him. He's still a little surprised at himself. But then, maybe if someone else had found him, they wouldn't have been as understanding.

Clint's dressed down, hair still sporting a bit of dampness in it, simple sweatpants, simple shirt. It'll give Steve a glimpse at the working of lines along one arm, the start(?) of a bigger picture of a tattoo. He doesn't say anything as he moves aside to let Steve back in, nor when he closes the door again gently.

Clint looks... Exposed, maybe even vulnerable in a specific kind of way. Fragile, but in a way that's brittle. Maybe it's the damp hair, maybe it's being dressed down that far. Maybe it's none of those and he's just projecting.

He doesn't move out of Clint's way by much - just gets inside, and stays fairly close while Clint shuts the door and watches him. The degree of care there says something too, probably.

Steve doesn't break the silence, but when he does move to move past Clint he deliberately touches him. Not forced, not unnatural, just a hand on one of Clint's upper back as he moves behind.

It's not really casual. It's a normal sort of touch for him, but he's looking for the response to it. Staying silent this far? Just seems like the right thing.

Edited (Just fixing shit.) 2024-11-11 14:37 (UTC)

He's never been prone to being jumpy. A spy has to keep cool under pressure and when faced with the unexpected. A dad has to keep cool with a bunch of kids running underfoot. He's always had a physicality to his affections, to family and friends and teammates.

Clearly he's let people touch him willingly. Someone charted the course for a vicious snake along his arm, for instance. But it's been a long time since a casual, friendly touch has entered his life. A knock of boots is one thing. This is not dissimilar, though. It's casual and Steve all the same, but Clint's rapidly trying to figure out if it's calculated, if any of it warrants the way his shoulders tense up like he wants to whirl around and fight, see an attack where there very much isn't one.

Seeing potential threats everywhere keeps him alive.

Steve is not, though. Not a threat. Not an enemy. It's fucking Steve. So he forces his shoulders to relax again. "Bed's all yours," he finally makes himself say to break the silence before it gets awkward. "Can keep your bag under it; mine's in the closet."

It's fucking Steve.

It's casual, friendly, even affectionate touch - and it's also information. The reaction doesn't surprise him. The... sad part isn't so much just that there's tension, as the type of tense. It doesn't even read to Steve as a 'don't', so much as a checked pivot and strike.

He does not draw attention to it, directly, doesn't back off, and isn't awkward. In silence or return from it, for that matter.

"Sounds good," he says, easily. "Though I am gonna grab that shower and change first. My hair's about 8 hours from qualifying as an oil spill." Look, he can and often is filthy around any battle scenario, but given the option of not being, he's taking it.

Besides, there's a steady kind of normal in that, while he drops his bag on the bed, and grabs his own sweats and t-shirt out of it. "I think I managed to find a place that'll work for us."

"Also all yours," he says with a brief flash of tense, fake smile. "Water heats slow, but at least it heats."

So not talking about the reaction. Okay. Whatever Steve was looking for (if he was looking for something, if he wasn't just being Steve, though his every motion around Clint has had a particular weight to it so maybe he was looking, maybe he's doing his own scouting out of Clint's whole being--), he's filed it away internally. He can work with that.

He turns to the couch, running a hand through his hair. It's not the short spikes it used to be, slowly growing out, but still very recognizably Clint. "You're determined to try and work me over before I gotta get to my work, huh?"

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