brandingproblem | open post

"Vision who was something of her jailer way back when?" Huh! Huh. The way things change. "Whatever makes her happy." And then it's heavy on his tongue, the knowledge, the acknowledgement. "Made her happy."

His grief is not only for his family of marriage and blood. It's the friends and family made of the bonds forged in fire he has grief for as well.

"Yeah." That is all he really thinks he's going to say, but he thunks his head (lightly) against the wall behind him. "Take what you can find where you can. Then and now, I guess."

He isn't sure if he wants to cry or not. Sort of, but it feels almost too... tiring to do.

He eyes Steve, examining, seeing how emotionally exhausted he seems. How draining it all is. He could press. But he makes to stand instead.

"I'm going to start changing. Not all the way; I'll do the rest when I'm in a more clandestine spot." Just makes things easier if he doesn't have to risk getting caught putting on boots and pants and such. "And you can get into your position and watch some fireworks."

Thank you, Clint.

Steve gets himself up off the floor with one hand. "All right. I'll see you out there." Try not to see him.

It takes him about a minute, total, to throw the sketchbook on the bed out of the way and grab his hat and be out the door.

They'll have plenty of opportunity to talk later, maybe, possibly, whenever Steve feels the urge to track him down again. But that's for later.

Clint keeps himself out of sight as he dons his gear, stashes his bag, revels in the darkness of a since-set sun because it's the only good way to operate. From Steve's vantage, he can be sure to see people entering the warehouse, meandering in from the street or pulling up in their cars, so the intel that there would be a gathering was right. He may not be able to see specifically the cameras noted on Clint's map, but he'll know they're there.

So when there's a small flash of spark on two of them, he'll know it's showtime from Ronin's daggers gone flying.

Soon after, the black and gold figure rushes in, hurling himself through a window, and that's when chaos breaks loose. There's frantic and angry shouting mixed in with surprised yelps and dying choking gasps. Blood splatters in a line across another window, and at least one person manages to actually pull a gun, bang bang, before that noise is silenced. Steve can peer from his perch, see the movement, the uncoordinated and surprised gangsters versus the sure-footed shadow. Graceful and steady.

It doesn't take long. It never does. Taking too long means more chances of bullets, more people arriving, something going wrong. He gets in, does the job as efficiently as he can, and gets the fuck out.

Ronin leaps silently back out the same window he came in, doesn't spare Steve a glance, makes to vanish back into the darkness. And then vanish back into Clint, and then vanish to another country, ideally.

Steve does, indeed, watch the show and stay out of the way. The gunshots make him tense, but it's over and handled quickly. It's bloody, brutal, violent and somehow very pretty. Something about the efficiency.

After that he has a mandatory swing back by that apartment for his shit - he left his sketchbook and bag there - and to make sure Clint isn't there bleeding to death, or similar.

After that? Yeah. The scenic route home. A cliff jump or two, anyway, though not all the way to snowboarding (wrong part of the world and time of year). The check in with his people, including letting Tony be nasty in his general direction and settling down to be upstanding and upright Captain America leading support groups and late nights with Natasha.

Until he can't keep doing that and then it's back to playing where in the world is Clint Barton.

No grievous wounds. Nothing he can't handle. The ache deep in his muscles did the job of helping him focus through the precise motions, keep him on his toes. He's out before anyone has a chance to catch anything, and he's not on any cameras. Not as the Ronin, at any rate.

He vanishes as quickly as he'd come. Doesn't try to contact Steve, doesn't try to check in, because he knows Steve's fine, that he's going back and trying for some normalcy, and then eventually, when he needs to, with Nat's help or without, he'll come find Clint.

He hits a small but notorious cell in Portugal, in the meantime. Gets color work on his tattoo when he has the downtime and a need to sit still with the pain until it becomes a friend again. Takes out some trash in Malta where there's enough heat and close calls to make the Ronin lay low for a bit.

There might end up being some kind of tip involving South Africa, in Steve's search. It's not unpromising to search for him there, anyway. If nothing else, it's a nice enough vacation spot?

Clint's better at staying under the radar than Steve is good at tracking, though with Nat's cooperation and system's he's not terrible. Those couple of years he spent on the run helps some, too.

He still isn't sure about what happened in Malta - and the period he's got no movement and nothing is... stressful.

When he gets a tip about South Africa, he goes. Same as Mexico, he's not really sure he expects to find Clint, but by then he needs to move and it is a pretty decent place to get away, spend some time.

He doesn't track Clint down too hard, but he sure makes a point of being reasonably visible and findable in the area he expects Clint to be. And, since it's Steve, eating there.

Cape Town is beautiful and never gets what Clint would consider cold. If he were the type to take vacations anymore, it wouldn't be the worst place to go. The gang violence tends to make it a little less savory, though.

There are a lot of places to be. It's a big city. And yet, he becomes particularly aware of Steve's presence anyway.

He's kept an eye out ever since Mexico. Just in case. So Steve might not be looking too hard, and Clint might not be looking too hard, but they're both looking nonetheless. So one thing leads to another.

Keeps his distance at first. Wonders if Steve will just move on or if he'll start hunting. Wonders if Steve's caught on to him. Wonders if they're going to play a little game first or if they're just too old and tired for this shit.

Fuck it. Old and tired it is. Eventually, Steve is going to find Clint just plop himself down at whatever bench or cafe table he's at and help himself to some of that food. "You get bored?" through a mouthful.

Steve is arguably playing a game, it's just that the game is 'will Clint approach or not', and really it's more of a question. He is definitely too old and tired for anything more complicated; hide and seek with the globe enough.

He looks up from his coffee when Clint is just suddenly there across the table from him. His surprise isn't feigned, but neither is how quickly it's followed by subtle relief easing the tension around his eyes.

He doesn't even mind Clint taking food off his plate.

"Maybe I just missed getting to eat my own food." Not minding doesn't mean not making a joke of it. "Or maybe it was not being jet-lagged."

He missed Clint.

...and was kind of bored.

"I feel like this is the part where I could go through the motions of saying you shouldn't be here and stop following me for both of our own goods, but let's skip all that drama since we know how it's going to end." With Steve doggedly sticking by him. And Clint grudgingly allowing it. Feral cat, etc.

He could run, if he ends up feeling like it. He knows he has that freedom. And that's kind of comforting.

"Please don't. I feel like we got to a pretty decent compromise last time. I'm too old to get back on a merry-go-round." He means that, absolutely, completely, and with a lot of depth of feeling. "Let's just get to the point where we make some kinda plan for this time. How long are you in town?"

Clint bobs his eyebrows. "We? It's a 'we' plan this time? Funny, thought it was a me plan, and a you sit back with popcorn and resist the urge to jump into the middle unless I get my ass handed to me."

"Different plan," he says dryly. "The we part of the plan is how long you're here and how I corner you into spending time with me around the you part of the plan."

He's not going to start interfering with Ronin's... stuff.

"Awww, Rogers, you missed me. And I don't have anything set up to entertain guests." Yoink, going to eat a little more right off Steve's plate. "Guess I can't tell you to send flowers next time if you don't know where I'm at."

He just pushes the plate directly in front of Clint. "Yeah, and I'm sure you've had your fill of me in bed with you, too." He sounds almost embarrassed by that. "But I could finish tracking you all the way down and send flowers. I don't think delivery people showing up at your door would make you happy though."

"Captain America in bed with one of his teammates, I can see the tabloids now. Wait, no, I've definitely seen them before. A lot with Tony, a lot with Natasha, not as many with me, but I'm just impressed anyone bothered to remember me in the first place."

At least Clint seems in a good mood rather than a poorly, argumentative one. "Glad you went with the existing out in the open where you knew I'd find you route rather than knocking on my door. Good call."

He likes Clint in a good mood. Or at least not having to have that fight again. "Me doing it was a choice for your benefit. Not sending some poor flower delivery person in there is more about them... though it seems kind of threatening and insane as an early warning I'm around. I'm just glad you decided to find me."

Then circling back, as he realizes. "I think I've slept with all of you now, at some point. Except Wanda and Vision."

"Wow, who would've thought you were so easy!" Is he going to keep making fun of this and all the phrasing being chosen? Yes, most likely. "All that time in the ice, must be like playing a game of catch up."

"I dunno, I'm pretty sure I got at least 364 and a half days a year worth of sleep. Probably more impressive that I sleep at all now, never mind with anybody else."

He's just going to pretend not to get it. Blatantly pretend.

"I am pretty easy to talk into bed, though."

"With all that energy you've got..." Clint seems to muse on that idea for a moment before shrugging it off and simply letting the thought hang in the air unfinished.

"Well, we can't all be cursed with super soldier-ism."

"No, but anyone who gets close enough to me can be cursed with a super soldier." He lifts his eyebrows at that one, making it more of a joke about his energy level than any kind of serious statement. "Is there somewhere you feel safe enough to talk openly?"

He has a question or two, Clint.

"Oh, wanna jump into the clandestine stuff right away, huh." Given he have even answered the basic question of 'how long are you in town for', it isn't a surprise. "We can finish up your grub, and then I can take is somewhere. Maybe even the room I've got for now. Might be slightly swankier than the old shit apartment, even."

"Sounds good. If we're gonna end up on the floor for anything, a more comfortable one might be ideal." He'd suggest the room he got just in case, but this is better. More within Clint's control.

"Unless you got a nicer place while you're in town. That you know isn't bugged. Thick walls are a blessing that few have, so I won't ask about that." They are likely to end up on the floor at some point. Seems they always do, just to have a heart to heart.

God, he doesn't really want to do that right now or ever again. But somehow it's easier with Steve.

"You get up to anything interesting meantime? Or you here cuz you need something you're not getting elsewhere?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject