Gabriel & Clint | Sunday Afternoon

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Clint unexpectedly sees a familiar face at the mansion. Awkwardness ensues. Again. Dammit.


Clint was half-exploring, half-escaping as he wandered toward the staircase that led to the attic in this monstrosity of a mansion. It was never quiet here. There was always a conversation happening somewhere, someone or something falling, a machine turning on or a door slamming - and if he noticed it, he wondered how his brother could stand it. Probably his noise-canceling headphones. At this point, Clint was considering buying himself some.

He was tired still, not quite as worried as he'd been but a little stressed. He just needed some solitude, some time to himself to regroup.

The rain had stymied Gabriel's plans for a run, and everything being what it was, he still wasn't totally up for the gym. So he'd taken to running up and down the stairs of the mansion, a pair of over-sized Beats knockoffs on as a kind of shorthand to suggest he wanted silence. The voice of Karen O was the soundtrack to his steps, propelling him forward despite the monotony of steps.

So, at first, as he bounded down the hall moving from one staircase to the next, he registered only a tall figure in his path, a person causing him to shift from one wall to the other. "On your right," he called out, reaching for the volume knob on the headphone cord to avoid actual conversation.

And then, a head turned. Monotony no more.

Clint registered the person running past him after he hit a landing mid-way to the attic and it took him a second to place the face but he was really good with faces. He squinted a little, a line forming between his eyebrows as he began taking the stairs two at a time to keep pace with the other man. "I know you," he said, mind going back to that meeting on the street when Lisa had thrown him out of her house.

"What?" Gabriel clicked the remote on the headphone cord and stopped halfway up the steps, suddenly very conscious of his sweat-stained T-shirt and messy hair. Clint was here. What was Clint doing here? Why was Clint standing in front of him? "Sorry," he pulled the hardware off his ears, fumbling with the cable instead of meeting Clint's eyes.

"I've met you," Clint said. "In the city. A couple months ago." It took him another second before he could remember the name, but then he quirked a half-smile and said, "Gabriel, right?" A moment later, though, and he was frowning again as he recalled the faint flicker of something that he'd seen. If this guy was at a mansion that was really a haven for mutants... well, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. "So what's your mutation? Invisibility?" He could see through two-way mirrors, maybe the mutation worked in a similar fashion, bending light or something.

"Oh, yeah, no." Gabriel half-nodded. If only. Invisibility would have been fairly convenient at the moment, since he thought he could sense Clint's eyes studying him. "I'm—" He tilted his head for a second, studying the man in front of him briefly. He felt off, not-present. Whether that was from overexertion or having an older version of his boyfriend observe him like a stranger was debatable. "Why?"

Clint considered not answering, since Gabriel hadn't really answered his question. Instead, he said, "I've got enhanced vision and I'm pretty sure I saw something that first time we met. Just trying to figure out what it might've been."

"Oh," Gabriel nodded, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed though definitely far from surprised. That curiosity was... he didn't know what it was. Or what he expected it to be. Endorphins were making his brain stumble, and this whole thing was so confusing. "No, I've got super-speed, more or less."

"Gotcha," Clint said, nodding slowly. "More or less?"

"More or less," Gabriel said, the corners of his mouth nearly twitching into a smile. Then it hit how frustrating it was to have to explain this. "Mutations are complicated, as I'm sure you know."

"Yeah," Clint agreed. Then he took a couple steps back, down the stairs. Microexpressions. Gave people away every time. "Sorry to've interrupted. It was just nice to see a vaguely familiar face. I'll let you get back to your workout."

Gabriel wished he could have said the same, but this interaction with Clint seemed to be going even worse than the last one. "No, it's fine." He looked at Clint, their heads now at the same height because of the few steps between him. "Can I–" He offered a small smile, a conciliatory gesture for something he wasn't totally sure of. "My number," he said, bouncing on his heels a little to keep his legs limber. "Did you find it?"

Clint pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, opened it, and tugged a worn receipt out of the billfold. Flipping the receipt over so the other man could see it, he arched an eyebrow and asked, "You mean this one?"

Gabriel suddenly wished he hadn't actually asked. He did his best to keep his face neutral, which wasn't too difficult now that he felt a hundred kinds of ways. It wasn't like he'd thought that much about the paper, or whether Clint had called or not called or thought about calling. But he had thought about it. And now...

"Yeah," he responded. Now, what? Clint had seen the paper, and he'd kept it. (Why had he kept it?) But he hadn't called, which made sense, since Gabriel was a total fucking mess when they met. "That's the one." He realized he'd been biting his bottom lip.

"They sent me to Alaska to sort through a warehouse of mostly useless junk," Clint said. "I was tempted to call anyway, just to see what you'd say. But y'know. I'm pretty much a train wreck. All the time."

"Yeah." Train wreck? Clint? "Guess I kinda get that." Gabriel's heartbeat felt a little fast, even with the exercise. He shouldn't have asked. Curiosity wasn't – well, not that it mattered. "Oh," he said after a second. "That's where I'm supposed to say 'I bet that's not true,' right?"

"Nah," Clint said, shaking his head. "We'd both know that was a lie. You saw how my last attempt at a relationship ended. Definitely with a bang, not a whimper."

"Yeah," Gabriel replied. "I–yeah." He was trying his best not to be weird, but that was proving difficult. His last relationship had ended with a bang too. One that ended the world. And now he was here, chatting with the reincarnation of his boyfriend in his home, and everything was just... weird. "Well," he shrugged.

The silence lingered for a long moment, awkward and unwieldy, before Clint cleared his throat and asked, "Right, so - these stairs, they go all the way up to the roof, right?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." Gabriel glanced up the staircase. "I mean, there's a way to get up there in the attic. I dunno what it is, but..." He scratched the back of his left calf with his right foot. "People are up there sometimes."

"Cool," Clint said, nodding. "I was gonna head up, see what I could see. Panoramic view and all that." He rubbed the back of his neck and offered the other man a rueful smile, like he knew what he was about to say was pointless. "You're welcome to come, if you want."

"Oh, I, uh..." He looked toward the attic. "I can't." The invitation genuinely surprised Gabriel, and a part of him wanted to take it. But the look on Clint's face made it seem so obligatory, and even if the offer had been genuine, it didn't take an Xavier therapy session to know that Gabriel was not ready for that. Not now. Probably not ever. "Sorry. I just need to finish this workout. Have to commit to it." He glanced down at his sneakers then back at Clint. "Another time, maybe."

"Yeah, maybe," Clint said, still smiling as he stepped up and then moved past Gabriel on the stairs. "Maybe it'd be nice. Never know until you try."

Gabriel smiled a little, for the briefest of moments. He felt flattered. And normal. But then the weight of everything suddenly intruded and came crashing down on him. The smile got a little smaller. What did he say to that? What the hell could he say to that? "That's probably true," he agreed somewhat stupidly. He hated that he felt so broken. "But. Fitness."

Turning around so he was walking backward up the stairs, Clint took note of Gabriel's microexpressions again. He wondered about them. Most of the people here flashed sadness or anger or hurt, some kind of bone-deep pain they were all trying to hide. Of course, M-Day. Given the number of people who'd died... well. It wasn't his place to pry. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and said, "Fitness. It's a good look on you."

"Thanks." Gabriel blushed and smiled, because he couldn't help it, even if the whole thing was kind of fucked up. Had this been anybody else, he'd probably be flirting back. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly to show the hint of the arrow he'd had tattooed near the three stars on his hip. "Guess I'll be seeing you around."

"Guess you will," Clint said, hitting the landing and then turning so he could continue upstairs to the attic and then the roof. Despite himself, part of his mind stayed in the stairwell with the man he didn't really know. He looked at the number scrawled on the back of an old Chinese receipt, folded it again, and tucked it back in his wallet. He couldn't make himself throw it out - hadn't been able to, even before Alaska. He didn't get it, but he trusted his instincts. He just didn't know what they were telling him.