clint "idk the archer or something" barton (
brandingproblem) wrote2022-06-13 10:40 am
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fucky feelings for cuttingremark
(from here)
He keeps his word. He doesn't tell anyone where Loki's hiding out, powerless. Even though he should. At the very least, Thor deserves to know, and when he inevitably finds out, Clint is going to accept whatever anger the thunder god levels at him.
Steve's gone, Tony's dead, Nat's dead, Bruce is...happy and content with his life and doesn't deserve that dropped on him frankly. So. That's all the OG crew accounted for. The new crew would obviously have heard about Loki, but that's not the same as actually being present fighting him or his forces. That Scott guy doesn't count, either. Like, would they do something? Maybe not if he hasn't actually done anything and doesn't pose a threat.
NYPD might have a few choice words, but. Clint tries very hard not to get noticed by the local LEOs if he can help it. Loki isn't really their jurisdiction, and SHIELD is...more or less out of commission even though it still works in the shadows, where Fury and Hill are. Wherever they are.
Which doesn't mean Loki gets of scot free. If he is up to something, then it's up to Clint to suss it out. Clint's mess, as ever. If Loki really is as powerless as it seems, there are still plenty of other ways he could fuck around and cause trouble. So. His responsibility.
It's definitely not whatever lingering connection of magic that binds their minds, not telepathy, not even really empathy, but still. A connection. It might have been severed long ago, but it's as Loki implied: you don't come out of that, something that strong and strange and otherworldly, and not have there be something that remains behind. Therapy has been all well and good. He isn't angry about it, not really, and he doesn't get nightmares the way he used to, after. But also, he's not sure it prepared him for Loki being in his life again. Not just a passing glance, either.
It jumbles everything up. The same type of traitorous thought that had him pondering Loki's sleeping habits and the absurd thought of touching crops up whenever he's near. Something damn near affectionate, something starved. Something that's in Loki, too, and it makes him feel sick. Makes him feel wanting. Which makes him feel sicker.
His eyes might be clear, but his mind feels clouded. Not a great way to show up at the apartment, but he can't just let this pass by without checking in on Loki. That's most of the reason he takes these trips back to NYC in the first place. Occasionally check in on Avengers-y things, see how the cleanup of the compound is up north, catch up with a few people he actually knows. But. It's about Loki.
It's always been fucking about Loki, huh.
He raps on the door, drinks nestled in a holder. Hot tea for Loki, a spiced blend, cloves, cinnamon. Makes him think of wintertime. Makes him think of the spicy and complicated (former?) god. Coffee for himself. Peace offering.
He keeps his word. He doesn't tell anyone where Loki's hiding out, powerless. Even though he should. At the very least, Thor deserves to know, and when he inevitably finds out, Clint is going to accept whatever anger the thunder god levels at him.
Steve's gone, Tony's dead, Nat's dead, Bruce is...happy and content with his life and doesn't deserve that dropped on him frankly. So. That's all the OG crew accounted for. The new crew would obviously have heard about Loki, but that's not the same as actually being present fighting him or his forces. That Scott guy doesn't count, either. Like, would they do something? Maybe not if he hasn't actually done anything and doesn't pose a threat.
NYPD might have a few choice words, but. Clint tries very hard not to get noticed by the local LEOs if he can help it. Loki isn't really their jurisdiction, and SHIELD is...more or less out of commission even though it still works in the shadows, where Fury and Hill are. Wherever they are.
Which doesn't mean Loki gets of scot free. If he is up to something, then it's up to Clint to suss it out. Clint's mess, as ever. If Loki really is as powerless as it seems, there are still plenty of other ways he could fuck around and cause trouble. So. His responsibility.
It's definitely not whatever lingering connection of magic that binds their minds, not telepathy, not even really empathy, but still. A connection. It might have been severed long ago, but it's as Loki implied: you don't come out of that, something that strong and strange and otherworldly, and not have there be something that remains behind. Therapy has been all well and good. He isn't angry about it, not really, and he doesn't get nightmares the way he used to, after. But also, he's not sure it prepared him for Loki being in his life again. Not just a passing glance, either.
It jumbles everything up. The same type of traitorous thought that had him pondering Loki's sleeping habits and the absurd thought of touching crops up whenever he's near. Something damn near affectionate, something starved. Something that's in Loki, too, and it makes him feel sick. Makes him feel wanting. Which makes him feel sicker.
His eyes might be clear, but his mind feels clouded. Not a great way to show up at the apartment, but he can't just let this pass by without checking in on Loki. That's most of the reason he takes these trips back to NYC in the first place. Occasionally check in on Avengers-y things, see how the cleanup of the compound is up north, catch up with a few people he actually knows. But. It's about Loki.
It's always been fucking about Loki, huh.
He raps on the door, drinks nestled in a holder. Hot tea for Loki, a spiced blend, cloves, cinnamon. Makes him think of wintertime. Makes him think of the spicy and complicated (former?) god. Coffee for himself. Peace offering.
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"She'd be right on all counts. I shouldn't be here. But now you're my responsibility. So if you're gonna stab me, better do it now while my back's turned and I'm enjoying my coffee."
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Loki watches him like...well like a hawk. On the surface it's simply to make sure he doesn't mess with any of the delicate rune work around the living area, but even the master liesmith can't lie that effectively to himself. It's not just what Barton does as he walks around, it's how he moves. The fine control he holds himself with, the way his eyes move so carefully along the gathered items, how his muscles contract so carefully with every movement.
"She's clearly good at keeping a secret. So long as she doesn't call a strike team to spirit me away in my sleep, I suspect telling her would do no harm."
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The same heart that's beating a little too loudly in his chest, absurdly wonders if Loki can hear it.
"I didn't give her your address. But she knows you're back. She knows you're in the city. And she thinks it's a bad idea that I'm taking it on myself to make sure you don't do anything fucking stupid." A shrug, a sip, nonchalant. "We're not in a habit of keeping secrets from each other, so of course she already knows. It's everyone else she keeps secrets from. And just because she doesn't agree with my judgement doesn't mean she doesn't trust it."
It's a mistake, as so much that's going on here is a mistake, that he finally raises his eyes to Loki.
"You keeping any secrets from me?"
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"I'm an open book. Ask me anything you wish."
He takes a sip of his tea.
"But do sit down first. You're pacing like a tiger in a cage."
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Should he sit? That might imply staying longer than a quick pop in, check things out, leave. He...keeps a distance. It feels safer for both of them, to lean on the counter instead, cross his legs at the ankles, give him a look. That he's staying right here. For now. But it does mean he's not pacing anymore, at least.
"So what's the plan here? Stay holed up until, what, until you get your magic back? How are you getting food? I can't see you with a job, even though that'd be hilarious."
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"Until I find a way to get it back, yes. My seidr is replenishing itself, but slowly. At this rate it would take centuries to return to my former power. So I research what few Asgardian texts survived and the paltry Midgardian texts on sorcery to find a way to speed things along."
He smirks at the mention of his living. "As for how I obtain necessities such as food: There are many ways a man can get money, Barton. Especially when a great deal of the wealthiest among you store the majority of the capital on such archaic technology."
Loki motions to a sleek silver laptop resting closed on a desk by the window.
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His eyebrows scoot up and up at the idea of what some of those many ways Loki's gotten money. But. It's just good old fashioned taking from the rich and giving it to the self. He glances at the laptop. Back to Loki. Maybe a couple times. "You really are adopted, huh? Thor barely understands what a computer is half the time. I mean, he's coming along, he gets it now, but...here you are being a rightful little hacker."
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"Thor was always slow to pick up different technologies. I, on the other hand, am a being of change. It took a bit of getting use to, but the technology isn't that complex once you get down to it." If he were a bird, he'd be preening right now. It's the closest thing he's gotten to a compliment since well before his death.
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"You actually siphoning from the wealthy? Because, law breaking technically aside, I'm okay with that. Probably don't take too much from Stark Industries; Pepper's gonna notice and come down on you hard if she does."
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At the mention of disguises Loki gets a...look. "Well, I am not totally without talent there..." In the blink of an eye Loki shifts. Where once sat a clearly masculine god now sits a goddess. She bears many resemblances to the body and face Clint is use to seeing, but in a way one might see in siblings.
"Now before you start," she holds up a finger to shush any oncoming accusations. "I did not lie to you about my magic being gone. This is apparently something...different. More inherent to my being than I previously thought."
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She's gorgeous the same way that he is handsome, and boy that is a dangerous thought to have in that moment. He sets down his coffee harder than necessary on the counter, and when she's done with her little explanation, he points an accusing finger.
"Magic is inherent to your being, too. And you can't tell me that casting disguise self isn't magic. Is that really not magic? Cuz that seems like magic. If people could change their whole," vague hand motion to All Of That, "gender thing on a whim, pretty sure more people would just do it."
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"'Magic' isn't some overarching power in the universe. What you call 'magic' can be many things. On Asgard, my reserve of power is a force known as seidr. Something like an ever rejuvenating lifeforce. That is the power that was stripped from me. This," she gestures to herself, "is not an illusion. It is a transformation, one I have been capable of long before I was able to manipulate my seidr."
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"Okay, so, just. Ground rule this. You can't do magic magic right now. It's like how the runes are kind of magic but in a way that it uses the juju in the air and inherent in the aether or whatever. This is just some internal, inherent thing you can just do, like breathing and blinking. Anything else you can do that may or may not technically be what I might call magic?"
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Contemplative sip of coffee. Calm down. Cool off. This is all weird but it's a weird he can handle.
"Kinda figured you just got doordash for whatever you need, but I guess being cooped up in here would make you go stir crazy." Look at how he's not making any comment on ways women can make good money, too. Definitely not saying it.
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Almost without thinking, he stands and walks over to the counter to lean against it as well. Some of the tension in him eases as he settles closer to Barton.
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God, he fucking hates this part of his brain that goes all haywire around Loki.
"Nothing like a homecooked meal, I suppose," he says with a quick little fake smile, raising his cup in a mock toast, and moves to the freshly vacated couch. Considers taking said freshly vacated spot, as a show, as a--weird thought about feeling again, no, let's not go there. Go to the other end of the couch. There we go.
"So what happens when you do get your seidr magic back?"
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He doesn't even give it a second thought and is back on his side of the couch in a moment.
"If you trust me not to poison you, you are welcome to stay for dinner. I was planning on trying a carbonara recipe tonight."
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It's so amicable. It's wrong. Why doesn't it feel wrong?
"Can't." And then, an amendment: "Shouldn't. Just wanted to pop in, make sure you weren't about to try and attack the city again, leave you be if not." His brow furrows, cocks his head toward Loki but doesn't quite look at him. Peripheral vision.
"I think too much time around you is bad for my health. My brain doesn't know what to do with itself. Tuned into a channel I don't understand."
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"You wouldn't be the first to say I'm bad for your health."
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No. No it's just him, he's the only crazy one here, stupid sad human brain unable to properly deal with what happened and the consequences of it. Is that why Loki's so fucking disappointed he won't stay for dinner?
"The hell do you get out of this?" It's more aggressive than he necessarily means, turning himself fully toward Loki. "What are you after?"
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"You are the only one who knows who I am, who sees me with full context. Even if you look at me with utter disdain, at least you look at me."
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