Into the Fold

Summary:
March 13, 2015: Clint checks in on Bobbi, and she agrees to join the JL:A

Bobbi's Apartment - NYC

Small but nice.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
None


It's been a rough few weeks for Bobbi. She was fatally wounded, miraculously cured, given powers as a side effect, and dumped by her former ex-husband due to all of thee above. Since then, she's been mostly in the Triskelion's science division, being tested in every way possible. All the tests point to the same thing, she's perfectly healthy and basically a female Captain America.

When she hasn't been there, she's been here, in her small but nice apartment, curled up on her sofa with a tub of Ben & Jerry's and a book, moping over Hunter. She's in sweat pants and a t-shirt, her hair in a pony tail, and looks like she hasn't really gotten dressed today.

*

It's not hard to catch the whispers. The question is, is Clint coming to see Bobbi over that or… well, who knows with the archer. Maybe he is a glutton for punishment?

New apartments not withstanding, there he stands at the door, holding a wristband in hand. For a few long moments Clint doesn't do anything before he lifts a right hand to rap on the door. He seconds it with, "Bobs, it's Clint." Just in case.

*

"It's open," comes the call. That's a sure indicator Bobbi is down. Normally she'd be up and checking through the peephole. Maybe she just knows Clint's voice that well, or maybe she has a pistol stashed in the couch cushions though. She doesn't bother getting up. Her bare feet are propped on the coffee table, her spoon dug into a pint of Phish Food.

*

Really, how many people call her 'Bobs'?

The doorknob turns and sure enough, on the other side is one Clint Barton, SHIELD agent and JLA lead. "Really? Unlocked? What-" Once he's through the door, it's closed behind him and locked. Regardless of area, it is still NYC.

"Hey, Happy St. Patrick's Day weekend." A couple of steps are taken into the apartment proper and he tosses a green rubber bracelet in Bobbi's direction. It matches one he's got on. "Pub crawls start tonight. Got you a ticket." Tonight begins the painting of the roads green, and lots of vomiting college students. It's grand fun!

"I like the new place."

*

"I don't think I'm up to a pub crawl," Bobbi admits, as she plucks up the band and turns it over a few times. "You know what I'm like if I get drunk when I'm in a bad mood." Usually it involves the breaking of many things, or wildly inexcusably shenanigans of the birds and bees variety. She sets the pint down on an end table. "It's pretty nice yeah." And lonely.

*

Clint takes a glance around; reminds him a lot of their place. No reason why it shouldn't, though. He's not a home decorator, as evidenced by his own apartment in Bed-Stuy. Hang a couple of bows on the wall and call it 'done'! He won't admit to a bit of a 'twang', but it's there all the same.

Crossing the small distance, Clint heads towards the couch to sit down, looking a little awkward in the motion. "C'mon. New batch of co-eds to laugh at. Twenty bucks for all you can drink." Still, he gets it.

"Figured I'd check in on you. Haven't seen you since you started all those tests. How're you feeling?" Clint offers something of a smirk and continues, "Official documents are above my level. So, unofficially?"

*

"Unfortunately, I think for twenty bucks I'd probably put them out of business. There's a really good chance I can't even get drunk anymore. Which should tell you how I'm feeling. Healthy as Captain America, with all the good and bad that goes along with that," Bobbi explains. She eyes him a moment, suspicious of his sudden desire to pubcrawl with his ex-wife. "I'm guessing you heard that Hunter left."

*

"Okay, then just a note? Not being able to get drunk anymore is definitely a 'con'." Now, Clint takes a seat and semi-perches on the edge, leaning forward, elbows on his legs. Brows rise to reflect some semblance of innocence, but he's lost that ability years ago and it's just not about to come back any time soon.

"Actually, came by because I knew I wasn't gonna be invited to the housewarming party. So, wanted to see the place without putting a camera-tipped arrow through your window while you were out."

Clint softly barks an unamused laugh as he bobs his head, however, "Yeah. And I wanted to say 'I'm sorry' about that. You didn't deserve that."

*

"I'm really pretty crappy at relationships, eh?" Bobbi asks with a weak smirk. "I mean, why on Earth did I think it could work the second time around when he and I never really fixed what broke the first time?" She curls her toes and looks down at them, idly wondering at whether she would be even better on a balance beam now than she was in school. "I guess it was to be expected. He and I always eventually find something to break up over. Me suddenly being a science experiment was just an excuse to get out early I guess." She feigns a smile. "Thanks for checking up on me though. I've been thinking a lot about the JL:A."

*

"You're no worse than I am," Clint leans and shoulder bumps. "I'm still bad at the whole 'communication' thing. So no. Things tend not to change, for the most part."

Reaching over to the end table, Clint grabs the beer that's sitting there and holds it out to Bobbi. "Could have been anything, Birdie. Could have been the fact that I was in there deciding your fate and I didn't ask him. Could have been shock at seeing you up and around. Could have been that all that was there was physical, which, don't get me wrong, is awesome. But it only leads to one night stands, no matter how many 'stands' you get." He's an expert on that one.

JL:A. Clint holds his breath for a moment before he lets it out slowly. He's guarded now, as guarded as he can be with the ex. Last discussion about the JL:A, he'd been figuratively kicked in the gut; where he thought there'd be support, there was anger and bitterness. "What about it?"

*

"A lot of people went to a lot of trouble to save my life. I think I need to pay it forward, now that I have these abilities," Bobbi explains. "I'm a great spy, one of the best, but I'm way more than that now. I have been given a second chance, and I need to use it for bigger things than being a secret agent. You know?" She takes the beer and sips it, knowing there won't even be a resulting buzz from the bottle.

"And you are better at it than you were. You have a good thing going, Clint. And I don't think Kate is the sort to give up on you if you trip and fall on your face a few times."

*

"You'd have made a damned good JL:A member when you weren't a superhero, Birdie," Clint begins softly. "I'm no one special, and I'm there. Now, though, 'only human' is outnumbered, but every single one of us has a place. Me, Kate, Sam. It's not just for the people who can do things I can't, but for people who -care-." He rocks his head forward and a soft chuff rises again, moving his shoulders in the gesture, "I was trying to tell you that that night." That night.

"Gotta say, Bobs, it took me by surprise and it took me a long time to recover. I guess if I didn't care, it'd have been easier." A shrug gives his shoulders a lift, and the thoughts are dismissed, dispelled. A touch of a smile rises at the mention of Kate, and he shrugs again. "She could have anyone she wants and I know it. I think she considers me something of a 'project'. I'm too old to learn too many new tricks."

*

"I thought you already knew all the tricks, Sport," Bobbi quips with a small smile. "And she's young. If it's meant to be, she won't need to change you, you'll change yourself. That's what love is, wanting to be the best person you can be for the benefit of someone else."

*

"Oh, I know tricks. Mostly stuff that gets me whacked with a newspaper over the nose."

Clint's got hands clasped in front of him now, and the green wristband on his own right wrist is evident. He'll probably head out later! "But, it's like with you. It's a matter of whether or not my trying really is enough."

Still, there's the matter of the JL:A, and slowly Clint rises from his spot. "I wasn't trying to leave you behind, Bobbi. I was trying to take you with me. But, the offer's there still. If you want to join the team, there's a spot."

*

"Then I accept the offer, Clint. I feel like it's something I need to do. I've spent so much time railing against the existence of supers, now I am one. I need to not be a hypocrite. I have to be the best person I can be and do as much good as I can, you know?" Bobbi doesn't comment on the relationship stuff further, she's just too raw at the moment. "Don't do anything stupid tonight on the pub crawl. My couch is free if you can't stumble back home. Not sure you should stumble back to your place drunk anyway. You might get eaten by rats."

*

Clint drops idle hands deep into his pockets and watches Bobbi closely. "Supers don't bug me. Magic. Demons. They bug me. I don't believe in magic at all. Figure that it's just high-tech we haven't seen yet." A slight smile creeps onto his face. "I'm still good with slight of hand, so…" Magic.

An actual laugh exits the archer as he gives another shrug, though that reminds him! "Oh. We have something of a frat-house in Metropolis. Big ol' lakehouse where the team does the 'down time' thing. I'm between there because it's closer to the Hall of Justice, and Bed-Stuy. When I'm in NY, you know where I am." Rats. "I couldn't move out and leave Simone and the kids." Apartment 1C. "I'll probably stumble onto a train and see if someone can't find their way to get me home." Earth's premiere super hero, right here! "Don't want to throw up on your new stuff."

*

"Yeah, well, don't tarnish the JL:A's rep by barfing on a cop's shoes or anything either. I'm part of it now," Bobbi quips with a smirk. "Do we have an on call schedule or something? It'd be easier to bunk at the lakehouse when I am."

*

Clint can't help himself. It's a smart-ass answer and he knows it, and he simply can't resist. "We're always on to answer the call of Justice." Uh. Huh. There's a pause and he's more than ready to find some cover if Bobbi decides to throw something at him. "But seriously, no. It's not like a firestation. When something goes down, we go. We're getting bigger, so who needs to go may be different than who wants to go. But no one is excluded from a run." Just… different skills lend themselves to different situations.

*

A throw pillow goes flying at Clint's head for the horrible smart-assery. "God, that was awful. Anyway, do I get a super secret handshake or something? I was already planning to attend that fancy party tomorrow." Bobbi gets up and she moves to put the mostly melted ice cream in the sink with the spoon. There is a difference to her gait, like she's more on her toes, like she could leap in the air at a moment's notice without any effort at all. Even her skin is clearer, glowier.

*

"You're coming? Geez. It might be the second time you see me in a suit and tie while I'm not on an op." Clint grins as the pillow goes flying. He's good, too, and it sails past, a laugh sounding soon after. "Nah, no secret handshake or anything. I just let Wonder Woman know," yes, he's -still- kinda jazzed about working with Wonder Woman. "And we're good to go."

Clint watches Bobbi rise with a grace that he's known she's always had, but there is something different. A soft whistle rises and he nods slowly. "Okay, just saying? I'm expecting the phone to start ringing off the hook with guys asking you out." Last time he'd seen her was when she was lying in bed, still with tubes.

*

"I think I'm off the market for the time being. I just really am not up to those conversations that end with, 'yes, I can bench press you, and the sofa you're sitting on as well.' That went poorly with Lance." Bobbi washes the spoon by hand and dries it, putting it away.

*

"Aw, that sort of conversation is half the fun," Clint teases. "Then again, it is me." Still, he really did come over to check up on her. And the offer, which he's got a feeling he's going to regret. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but he will. Probably the day Kate and Bobbi become actual friends. "I probably should head out. Thanks for the offer of the couch, but probably not needed. Me and the rats in Brooklyn have an understanding." Now, he pulls a hand from his pocket, his right hand, and holds it up, "I swear, if I can't hold my beer, I won't heave on a cop's shoes."

*

"Well that, and I imagine Kate might not be real happy with you if you crash at your ex-wife's pad when you're drunk. I mean, I might not be able to keep my hands off your manly, drunken, pukey, burpey, self." Bobbi snorts and she moves to open the door for him. "I'll see you tomorrow then, and the JL:A thing."

*

"Irresistable, I know," comes with that smirk. Still, Clint has accomplished what he'd set out to, and it's time to get some drinking on. Before he moves through the door, however, he leans over to kiss Bobbi on the cheek. "Glad you're okay, Birdie." Now, he's on his way out the door, and the moment he's out, he calls back, "And lock the door." Public service announcement complete, he's off to the 'first' pub.


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