Posh Digs

Summary:
February 5, 2015: Two Hawks and a Falcon start moving their stuff into the JL:A crash pad in Metropolis.

JL:A Lake House


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music: [*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]


Kate put in an offer. On the house, that is. House is kind of not the right word. The mansion is on the lakefront, with room for a large boat slip, it's own helipad on the roof, a pool, a hot tub, and a pool house or servants quarters in the back. Bedrooms? Yeah, there are plenty of those. There's also a basement with a large saferoom, a remnant of the cold war that's been upgraded and converted for the modern rich. Or the modern superhero team.

All it needs now is inhabitants. Well, and closing papers, but Kate managed to get the keys before everything was signed and complete. "It's gonna be really great," she assures the others as she gets out of her car in the semi-circle driveway, parked outside the massive garage. Despite her excitement, she actually seems nervous. Kate's never nervous. But this? For some reason, this is incredibly important to her.


Clint's coming out of the passengerside, and the moment he's clear of the car, he's turning to look at the mansion. On the lake. It's just… completely beyond his belief, Earth-side, anyway. "Okay, now this is how the beautiful people live, huh?" A quirked smile rises to his face and he looks at Kate, "And now they get us moving in next door." An archer in jeans, boots, hoodie, jean jacket and sunglasses.

Kate's nervousness is felt keenly. Clint can see it in every motion, hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. He waits for her to come up next to him, his arm up and waiting on the chance she'll slide under it for the walk up to the door. "Giving you the keys. Damn. I'm wondering how much you could actually learn from 'Tash now. You're good."


Not long later a rumbling precedes Steve Rogers and his motorcyle appearing down the driveway. After pulling up, he shuts the machine down and disembarks. He strolls up towards the building with hands in the pockets of his blue jeans and his expression hidden behind the aviator glasses he wears.


As he pulls his bags out of the back of his own ride — a borrowed pickup, because Sam is way too much of a New Yorker to have a car readily available — Sam Wilson scans the house with wide eyes. "Jee-ZUS!" he says, shaking his head. "Kate, you had the cash to buy this place just lying around?" The flier isn't exactly gaping, but he's amazed enough that it's clear he's probably never met anyone as rich as his current hostess. He balances one bag over his shoulder and lets the other dangle at his side as he follows Kate toward the entrance. "Forget a mews. I'll just let Redwing have the guest house."


"Sort of," Kate replies, lifting a hand to wiggle it from side to side. "I might've borrowed some of it from Dad, and promised his financial guys it'd be a huge PR and tax write-off thing in a couple months when it went public." Which, admittedly, it will. Kate may not have gone the college route or care for much study, but she always knows someone who can do what she needs. She steps in under Clint's arm, grinning back at Sam. "It's nice, right?" Please say it's nice. Please don't be weirded out by how nice it is. Digging the keys out of her pocket, she heads for the front door. "As much land as this place has?" she chuckles to Clint. "As long as we don't blow too many things up, they probably won't even know we're here."


Clint turns around and walks backwards as Sam shows up in the pick-up and laughs. "Now there's a hell of an entrance. C'mon, Sam."

With Kate tucked under an arm, the walkway is somewhat long, around a well-manicured front lawn up the sidewalk and up some steps. "As long as the bird can cook, do laundry and clean up, I don't have a problem of it taking the servant's house." Though, putting it up in the guest house isn't a bad idea.

Once they're through the door, Clint pauses at the threshold once again. "You… okay, Kate?" He turns to look at the smaller archer. "You didn't… did you? I'm not going to have to threaten to break his knees, am I?"


"Yeah, it's nice," Sam answers slowly, still eyeballing the front of the house. It's not that he's suspicious of Kate's generosity or opposed to living it up — he's just really having difficulty picturing this as his own address. He already spent the cultural reference of Hogwarts on the Watchtower: he'll have to come up with something else to help process this. He follows the archers up the walkway toward the entrance, chatting amiably to cover his prince-and-the-pauper feelings of displacement. "Wait, there's really another house attached to the bigger house? I was kidding. Is that a real thing? I tought it was just Downton Abbey." His sneakers scuff on the front porch and he tries to surreptitiously peer in through one of the windows — old habit.


"I didn't what?" Kate quirks a brow at Clint, perplexed as she opens the door. "Who's knees are you going to break? What do you think I did, go out on the world's most expensive escort date?" she asks, bemused, before shaking her head and opening the door, smile crooked. "The pool house is detached, actually," she answers Sam. "They usually do it so you can have guests over, or sometimes in-laws, or grown kids who never learned how to have their own, independent lives. Without having to deal with them. How rich people do family, 101," she adds, dry.


"Go to your dad…" but Clint's not going to get too much farther on that. It's not something he wants to get into right now, though he's going to revisit it. Nothing like being beholden to someone who is a control freak, plus. And that's a -nice- description, as far as Clint's concerned.

"Hey, Sam? We're in the same boat, buddy. My apartment is considered upscale for what I'm used to. This, I think they're going to have to install automatic toilet seat lid hydrolics because of me." Clint reaches out to grab his teammate's arm to pull him in through the front door. "Stay with us, brother. It only gets better on the inside."


Sam stares at Kate for a second, not sure how much of her description to believe. 'All of it' is the answer, but the lifestyles of the truly rich can sound invented to those not familiar with them, and he doesn't want to be sucked into a snipe hunt this early in his Avengers career. He lets Clint drag him inside and stares around the … atrium? He's not sure the right word for this kind of room when it's not in a civic edifice. "Wow," he says eloquently. After a second, he tries to refocus away from the building, onto something of a scale he is prepared for. "Issues with your dad?"


"All the paperwork's in my name," Kate assures Clint, something a little bit smug in her voice. Maybe she has been paying attention to Natasha's tricks lately. Not those ones. Get your minds out of the gutter.

Inside, the house is actually…cozy. Sort of. It's also giant, and there's no mistaking the fact that it's expensive. But it's a classic sort of expensive. Like old hunting lodges. Only this one has some nice modern and mid-century touches to lighten it up a bit. Materials have been chosen for quality, rather than flash, and it's the sort of place generations can grow up spending summers at the lake.

"Issues with my dad would involve him acknowledging my existence," she replies to Sam with a brief, rueful smile. "Since that's not the case, we usually get along just fine. In the sense that I don't embarrass him, and he doesn't keep track of me."


Clint gives Kate a long look before nodding slowly. The archer is good in her own right, and he whistles softly. "Good thing I'm pretty secure," is deadpanned.

The place really is remarkable, though. Fireplaces throughout, the kitchen is updated to modern; a professional layout. A deck beyond overlooking the lake, and that doesn't begin to take into account all the living areas downstairs before upstairs is considered. Four bedroom suites plus five more single bedrooms.

"And should she have to show up for some function, I like to try to make Kate take me as her 'plus one', just to annoy him." Not that he enjoys it. Usually means wearing a tux.


"Well, that'll teach him a lesson," Sam teases, smirking over at Clint. He keeps mostly quiet as they show him around the house, but he does spare a few troubled glances at Kate. He likes to try to help the people he cares about with these kinds of problems, but he knows that he's completely out of his depth when it comes to paternal relationships. Not that this would be a particularly good time to bring that situation up. A change of subject might be a better idea."

"So, we've got this place for a private place to crash, the Hall" — he can't quite bring himself to add 'of Justice' out loud — "for the public face, and the Tower for, uh, space stuff." He peers at each of his companions curiously. "Do we also have a submarine platform? Maybe a volcano lair? How about an ice fortress?"


"We've got a boat slip out on the lake?" Kate grins at the question about a submarine platform. "You could probably park a small shallow water submarine out there if you wanted. You've got one in storage in New York, don't you?" she teases right back, still with her arm around Clint's waist. "Just been dying for a place to bring it out." She laughs, looking around. "There's a built-in safer, too. Which should be great for security or computer systems. But the most important part?" Letting out a contented sigh, she looks between Clint and Sam. "The team."


"This is out place to crash when we're in town for the Hall, yeah. Commuting in from the City'll be a bear, but this makes it a little more pleasant. Plus, I actually like to live in a community where I work, though this…" and Clint sounds almost apologetic. He -likes- Bed-Stuy and the fact that he's in the middle of everything. And he likes his neighbors. In a way, isn't he letting them down?

"One place for the office, one for, yeah, space stuff, and one where we can hang out, shoot the shit, and be comfortable while doing it with a beer or take-out." Or a gourmet meal made by someone named Fritz, or Wolfgang.

Clint turns to press a light kiss in Kate's hair before he takes a step sideways. "I'm gonna go check the helipad. Sam's gonna have to know if he can land a Javelin on the roof or not."

He looks to Sam again and chuckles. "We're the good guys, remember Sam? We don't get the really cool lair stuff. Just the boat slip, the helipad and jacuzzis in the bedroom suites. Which, one of them Kate and I already called. So you only have your choice of eight rooms. Sorry, guy." Clint doesn't sound sorry in the least as he begins to make his way to the stairs and ever up. "See you guys later."


"Yeah, the SeaBird," Sam answers Kate with a mock-serious nod. "Probably should have brought that instead of a borrowed pickup, but I didn't want to be ostentatious." He glances over at Clint, grins widely, and crosses his arms. "Commuting won't be a problem for all of us. Although I can't exactly offer to carpool. Let me know what you think of the helipad, though. Can't wait to Death Star trench right through the Metropolis skyline so I can practice landing under pressure." That grin means he's kidding, right? It's a jokey grin, surely. One hopes.


Kate watches Clint go with a small smile before turning back to Sam's explanation, laughing. "Now that, I'd like to see," she grins, stepping over to take a seat on the stairs. "I'm really glad you're with us on this, Sam," she admits. "For a while there I thought it was just going to be me and Clint, and Superman and Wonder Woman. And that was kind of cool, but it was also…pretty scary."


Sam leans back against the wall next to Kate, nodding. "Tell me about it. When Clint invited me, it was like, 'you realize the wings are fake, right?'" He laughs, then shakes his head. "But I've had some time to think about it. With a bigger crew, it makes more sense to have people at all levels. Like in the military, I wasn't usually a front-line guy — I was sneaking past the front line while somebody else took care of the thickest fighting." He sketches this process out in gesture as he describes it, then drops his hands to the wall when he's finished. "I figure if Superman's beating up Godzilla, someone's gotta get people out of the buildings before they get smashed. I can be that guy." It's clear he's been reflecting on this matter himself for some time.


Kate looks up, smile quirking. "I'm not worried about mattering," she says, with her usual self-confidence. "I mean, I'm a kickass Hawkeye." And modest, too. "I just…I mean, they had their own thing, you know? It sort of felt like maybe- Or maybe it didn't feel like, but I was afraid it would be…You know. Like we were just barging into their club, or they were just humoring us, you know?"


"I see," Sam answers, flashing a smile. Confidence isn't necessarily a bad thing. Then he gives a slight shrug. "Well, I can't really promise that's not how they feel — I still haven't met either of them." And he's no less nervous about the reception than Kate. "But I'm pretty sure that between the Hawkeyes and Cap and me, we'll at least have our own clique. Ain't nobody fresher, as they say. But really, if they didn't think they needed the help, they wouldn't have agreed to it. It's not like anyone can really say no to those guys."


"I…might've gotten a little…Um." Kate smiles awkwardly back at Sam. "I might've maybe questioned some of Superman's methods and stuff. To his face." At least no one can fault her for honesty? "I haven't met Wonder Woman yet either, though. Clint seems to think she's the coolest thing since sliced bread." Her lips twitch, something between amusement and dread. "You don't think he's dated her, too, do you?"


Sam puts his hands up, helpless in the face of Clint's dating history. "Don't ask me, Kate. I wouldn't even try to keep track of that stuff. But he's never mentioned it, and I don't know if he has the kind of self-control to keep something like that to himself." It would probably be awkward to point out that Clint was pretty much shouting it from the rooftops when he ended up with Kate. "But speaking of self-control… how exactly did Supes take that one?"


"Guilt trip," Kate answers with a sheepish look. "And he wasn't wrong. I mean, he asked me if I picked everything apart. And I kind of do. But it was rude to come up to his space station and question whether or not a space station is a good thing. Probably. Technically." She rubs a hand at her brow, smile crooked. "Anyhow. Yeah. That happened. Good point about Clint, though. It's not like he hides his exes." He just works with them.


"Or his current girlfriend," Sam adds pointedly. Clint has many questionable qualities, but his enthusiasm can't be faulted, especially where Kate is concerned.

As for her conversation with Superman, Falcon can only give the archer a horrorstruck look and ask, "Wait, you questioned the space station?" He puts one hand to his forehead, lips parted. "Kate, you can't — you can't question a man's space station! That's like…" He trails off, searching for something suitably villainous, but can't find anything comparable. "That's against bro code, Kate. It's a station in space. What's to question?"


Kate Bishop squints at Sam for a long moment. "So it's a guy thing," she finally says, sounding - oddly enough - relieved. "Oh my god, that makes…so much more sense. Of everything! That makes sense about Superman, and sense about how Clint's such a goofball about it, and…I mean, maybe I missed the memo somewhere, I just didn't realize space stations were a guy thing the way…I don't know, cars or something."


"How — how did you not know that?" Sam stammers, starting to laugh. "It's a big thing made of metal that flies around being high tech and looking awesome! It looks like it came from a movie! It's like the most awesome treehouse on the planet, except it's not even on the planet, that's how awesome it is!" He grins, let's face it: boyishly. And he also seems happy to be able to clarify things for Kate.


"It may be literally the least practical thing ever," Kate points out, amused. "You need a high-tech transporter system to even get there. If anything happens to it, everyone on board is going to die. And it makes it super easy to look at the world all spread out under you and stop thinking about people as people. But sure, it's super sexy," she adds, giving Sam an amused thumbs up.


"Practical?" Sam's head tips forward so that he can peer at Kate past his brows. "Kate, I fly around on metal wings and a rocket stuck to my back. You and your boyfriend bring a bow and arrow to gunfights all the time. At some point, you gotta have style, not just what's practical." He grins.


"I started when I was fifteen and couldn't get a license for a gun," Kate points out with a faint smirk, though it sounds like it's more for the sake of arguing than anything else. "Besides, arrows are practical. You get a lot more options for not killing people with arrows than you do with guns." She straightens up, tipping her head up the stairs. "Come on, I'll show the room Clint and I've got dibs on and you can pick out yours."


"Alright," Sam answers gamely, pushing off from the wall and picking his bags back up. "I don't suppose any of these rooms have balconies? Or is it a choice between one balcony and five? I don't really have a frame of reference…"


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