August 17, 2014: Evelyn comes over to Hawkeye's apartment to enjoy some BBQ and watch bad movies.

Hawkeye's Apartment

It's a bachelor's pad, what are you expecting?



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Mood Music:

Sunday night means movie night at the Barton residence. With food packed from SHIELD HQ in styrofoam packs ranging from BBQ ribs to mashed potatoes and gravy, it's 'a good night'. The TV is turned on with commercials playing in the background as Clint grabs the six that he'd been chilling in the fridge, minus one from earlier in the day.

The apartment is an odd assortment of 'woman's touch' and 'bachelor pad' with 'pad' beginning to win out over the course of time. Slowly but surely, the creeping lack of good housekeeping is bearing out, as attested by the dust on the fireplace mantle, and on the pictures that hang on the wall. (And the clothes on the floor having totally missed the laundry baskets that aren't far off.)


In situ, Evelyn is lounging on the couch with a small glass plate. Barton still had those? If he hadn't one available, she'd clean one for herself just because of her preference not to eat right out of the styrofoam container. If anything, it at least makes sharing food easier and without the flimsyness of a plastic plate. Being the first time she's been able to come over to Barton's apartment without being shot in the chest, she's still preferring to wear at least not-pajamas. Her attire for the evening is a pair of jeans and a plain old black tanktop with a red-plaid button up shirt over it that's not actually buttoned up. Three-forth sleeve.

Leaning over the table, she tries with plastic cutlery to separate a rack of ribs to split it into a half portion. She's not entirely successful so far.


Only the best. Once he's got the 5-pack at the coffee table, Barton pops one cap, then another. With a beer in each hand, he takes a swallow out of one and passes the other one over before he flops back onto the couch, his head rolling back with the action for a moment.

"Oh, god." Good to be home. He's dressed in jeans, a dark coloured t-shirt and a pair of converse sneakers. His bows and arrows litter the apartment; some on spine testers, some tips in boxes in various forms..

"That shouldn't be too hard." Clint leans forward and gestures, offering to take the ribs in hand. "Just… it's finger food. Pull it apart. That's why I have…" Oh. "Okay, forgot the paper towels. But the sauce is good."


Evelyn laughs, leaning back a little bit as she lets Barton take the ribs to separate them. Raising the two forks she grins, "It's not easy when the only utensil I can find are forks. I always feel like I can't get the barbecue off my hands afterwards, either." After putting the forks in the rib container, she reaches for one of the popped drinks and sets it between her legs. "Haha, it's alright. I guess I'll have to do. There's always the sink." A wry smile. If the ribs are offered to her, she'll take them and put them on her plate with other assorted things she'll pick out from the various containers.

"It's been a while since we've gotten to hang out at your place. I think the last time was when Domino was a visitor, too. That was an interesting night." Evelyn says.


"When you got shot in the chest and I had her zip-tied to a chair? Not the best of nights, no. Didn't even get a chance to watch my programs." Clint hands over the BBQ and sets his half on a paper plate. He's got sauce on his hands now, and he considers briefly before he gets up to rinse his hands off.

The commercials finish, revealing a 'creature double feature' movie playing on a random bad movie channel. 'Sharktapus'. Wiping wet hands, he returns to the couch and settles in once again, pulling his plate onto his lap.

"Stark's not looking too good these days," seemingly comes out of nowhere, blue eyes flickering towards Ev, watching and waiting to see what sort of reaction he gets. "Saw him the other night. Falcon was like his nurse."


"No, it wasn't really.." She smiles a little bit, reminded on how silly it must have seemed when she escaped through the window. She didn't know. "I bet it's nice being home, though. I still live in the staff quarters in the Triskelion. Having a hard time finding a place, and I guess I'm nervous about living alone right now. It took me a while to get my apartment to just the right level of 'pants on the television'."

Looking up at the T.V following the great gathering of food, she grins, "Sharktapus? I've never heard of that one." Her eyes dart to Barton as he makes to rinse his hands off, and following the comments about Stark and Barton's return, she addresses them. "Yeah, he still doesn't know if he's going to survive what he's going through. I can't say I'm really enjoying being his house-sitter to make sure he doesn't explode the city or anything."


Barton grabs a plastic spoon to work on the potatoes, dipping the gravied starch into the BBQ sauce on the ribs and eats it from there. "It's taken me a long time to get the place looking the way I wanted it." He sounds a little offhand about it, and pauses before, "Okay, not quite how I wanted it. But it's mine now." Make the best of it, right?

"I'm sure you'll be fine to get a place of your own. You'll be wired for sound, as it were. SHIELD takes care of its own, so if anyone comes crawling in through the window, you can be pretty sure that they'll be crawling in soon after. Just give 'em five or ten minutes lead time, depending on traffic and if they've got a telescope pointed at your window."

The spoon is put down in preference for a rib, and a single bite is taken before, "You're his house-sitter? I thought you just said…" The meat is put down and he looks directly at her for a long moment, "You mean baby-sitter.. to be sure he's not exploding the city." Which means, "He give you time off?"


Evelyn nods, "Babysitter, house sitter. Stark Towers doesn't really need anyone watching it, I suppose. Maria has me watching him as part of their deal to work together." She covers the beer on her lap with the plate, lifting the ribs up for a couple bites. "Mmm." Delicious. After a couple more bites, she looks over. "Time off? Yeah. I also have SHIELD things I need to do usually. I get the feeling he doesn't always care if I'm there or not, but I still owe SHIELD reports."

Glancing at the TV, she takes a few more bites before setting the ribs down and sucking on her fingers. She looks over at you again with an amused look, before looking back at the T.V.


"Maria? First name basis?" Clint whistles softly, putting everything together as far as he can see it. If she can sabotage it, she will, regardless of what 'it' is. Usually, of course, all pertaining to his personal life. Apparently he's not allocated one of those, and for awhile, he was good with it. So good that this is his apartment now. Papers served on Valentine's Day.

To be fair, can't blame it on Hill.

"So she's got you working three jobs. Babysitting, SHIELD and field ops." Barton chuckles and rolls his head over to look at her again. "How'd you manage to slip away? Put a couple of pillows in the bed in your shape and maybe he wouldn't notice?"


Evelyn laughs, "Director Hill. I think she'd murder me if I said Maria! It's a nice name, though." Moving the plate aside, she takes the beer and takes a couple sips. She wants to make a face at the taste, but doesn't quite get there. Beer is an acquired taste, most of the time. "She's also been yelling at me about my repair bills. The usual."

Another couple of sips, and the beer is set back down and relocated to the coffee table. She looks briefly for a coaster, but failing to find one, just sets it down. "I don't know! Maybe I'm just that stealthy," She smiles, reaching up to brush some hair out of her face. "What was up with you that other day? At the gym?"


No coasters on the table. The chances are better than even that if there had been, they've been used as weapons long ago. Coasters as improvised weapons are deadly in his hands. Clint's not worried about condensation rings on his table. Not when there's much worse there, gained over the course of years.

"Yeah, well.. I have a feeling she likes you. Just stop getting hurt, okay?" Hurt as opposed to damaged?

The question that rises about the gym causes Clint to pause in his own beer drinking, but only a moment, as the bottle is raised to lips. There is a decided attempt at staying 'cool', and brows rise in question. "What? Just… sorta surprised me is all. No real reason it should have, if I thought about it long and hard enough. Stark knows everyone, and you? Probably couldn't keep away."


Stop getting hurt? Evelyn pauses for a moment.. "Yeah." It's almost a disheartening tone. The burn from that mutant woman is still all up her leg. It's a good thing Hawk can't see it. Not to say anything of all the fried electronics she's harboring right now. Taking the plate, she uses one of the plastic utensils to eat some potatoes, though Clint answering her question gets her to look over again.

"So.. Small story. I was still a CIA agent, and I was scoping an embassy in Switzerland that was hosting a tech conference. I was there with a colleague to swipe some technology and Stark happened to be there. He tailed me and wouldn't leave me alone, and while we were on the elevator to my target." She looks away momentarily, then back at Hawkeye. What. Did they make out or something?

No. "A terrorist extremeist group stormed the lobby and started taking hostages. We couldn't tell what happened, but some stray bullets hit the elevator and one of them hit my chest. He carried me away and gave me medical assistance, and then we sat and talked for a few hours and agreed to never talk about it again. He.. doesn't like being seen as a hero." Reaching up with her clean hand, she rubs the back of her head and sighs. "I don't.. Really like Tony beyond just as a friend."


Up comes the beer bottle again, and half is gone as the shark/octopus creature attacks yet another swimmer in the water. "Does that guy even have friends?" Is he capable of having friends even? Barton shakes his head and smiles tightly, looking back at the TV. "Told you, you don't have to explain anything. I get it." He chuckles softly, but the amusement simply doesn't quite make it in the inflection. "Likes you enough to come out to a Y rather than invite you in to his gym."


"Probably just mad that his charm doesn't work on me," Evelyn laughs a little nervously. It might be true. Tony's got lots of problems, but saving his own life should be the top priority. She takes a few more bites of the delicious food that's to be had and looks at the movie. "I felt like I owed you an explanation.. I mean.. We're partners. I've got your back."


"He hasn't tried any upgrades on you, has he? I mean, because you're pretty okay right now." Barton tries to keep his tones casual, and underscores the casual with emptying the rest of the beer in his bottle. "But you really don't owe me an explanation. If it has nothing to do with having my back, I can't complain. And we both know private lives don't mean a whole lot in our line."


Evelyn shakes her head, "No. He hasn't." She likes to think that Tony wouldn't do anything to actually risk their friendship. But damn, he's come close. "..Thanks. You're pretty okay how you are right now, too." Right back at you. "Ooh. That man just got eaten by a shark. I bet if you watched this movie backwards, it would be about a sharktapus throwing up people."


"I think if you reversed the movie, it'd be us walking away from it," Barton quips. "One thing I've found about this movie- the moment before a girl gets killed, there you go. Butt shot." Must be why he likes it so much?

Clint glances at Ev and then away again, a slight nod acknowledging the information. "Good. I mean, unless you wanted him too and all." Oh hey… he hasn't finished his potatoes yet!


Evelyn raises her eyebrows, and momentarily seems repulsed. "I'll pass." A bigger chest and machine guns all over her body sound awful. Reaching down, she rubs her leg. "Is there really a butt shot before every death? Why do horror movies always have so much nudity and sex in them?" She shakes her head and laughs a little bit at the movie's current scene. "You should come to the gym tomorrow and do yoga with me."


See now, that's actually -not- where Clint's mind would go, but if he thought about what Stark's priorities would be for a moment? Yeah.. the repulsion would make a whole lot of sense. "Before every single one of them. Just to remind you that they're the target." Huh. Not that many guys being eaten from the looks of it.

The potatoes are attacked, mopped through the now cold BBQ sauce that congeals on the plate. "Yoga? I… don't do yoga. Not even… what was that Stark had called it? Pilots?" Nope. "How 'bout a run through Brooklyn? First one who falls off a roof and ends upon the hospital loses. Unless one of us is called on an op." There. Much safer ground.


Evelyn's quick to finish her plate and set it aside, but she had smaller portions. Very controlled. The beer is taken off the table and she takes a swig, this time unable to keep a 'face' happening from the taste. It fades quickly enough and she turns her head so Hawks cannot see it, before she looks back at the screen. "A run? I could do that." She doesn't mention anything about keeping a pace, or that she can run until she falls apart. "What's wrong with Yoga?"


"I don't know what that is, beyond poses. I mean, I'm built just a little differently than you are." Clint leans forward to put his empty bottle on the coffee table as well as the half-empty plate. "I mean, I could sit it out and watch, but that's probably not nearly—" Okay, it probably -would- be fun.

The beer face does bring something of a smirk to his face but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he leans back and runs his arms across the back of the couch on both sides. "A run. No cheating, though. You, me, and a pair of sneakers."


"Oh. It's just like.. a meditation thing. And wellness for flexibility.. It's kind of lame." Evelyn laughs nervously while explaining it, kind of feeling dumb for having an interest. "Running sounds like a much better idea. Oh!" She looks from Clint to the TV and points with the beer still in her other hand. "Butt shot!"

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