Jennie & Clint | Saturday Morning

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Jennie and Clint wrap up at his old place in the city with a toast.


"Well, I wouldn't say this was the weirdest present I got for helping someone move, but," Jennie raised an eyebrow at the frosty shot of vodka in her hand. "Nostrovia!" she said, and then downed it.

"Nostrovia," Clint said, knocking back his own shot. "Here, the doughnuts are the best part, though. I mean, the vodka's great, but. Doughnuts." He opened one of the last two boxes, both formerly tucked away in his freezer, and presented its contents to Jennie: chocolate doughnut holes on a stick made up to look like an arrow.

"Are we voting?" said Jennie, noting the donuts and the fact that the vodka was from Belarus. "Well, then I cast my vote as 'Clint Barton can't pack for shit.'"

"Hey now," Clint said, refilling both of their shotglasses. "I pack just fine. You just don't understand the method to my madness." He opened the second box of doughnuts and picked up a stick arrow so he could pull the paper arrowhead off. "Important shit's already been moved. This stuff's just what I'm not sure I might need again at some point. Maybe."

"Labels are your friends," Jennie said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Sorry for the re-labeling madness, but you will thank me for it later." She helped herself to a donut. "So you're a full timer at Xavier's now?"

Clint looked around the mostly empty apartment consideringly. "I dunno," he said. "I mean, obviously I'm there most of the time. But mostly, this place was eating into my 'oh shit' fund a little too much. No point keeping it up when I'm out in Westchester. So I moved some stuff around." Bolt holes and safe houses. That went unsaid.

"We as are but tumbleweeds," Jennie conceded. "Also, I'm driving. I was our driver, I'm very good at driving, and no one gets to tell you otherwise."

Eyes sliding to the side, Clint raised a brow skeptically. "The fact that you prefaced your actual driving with 'and no one gets to tell you otherwise' does not fill me with confidence."

"Fine, if you want to drive in city traffic and hit every red light, you can be my guest," Jennie downed her second shot and raised a teasing eyebrow. "I can get good and tipsy then."

"Can't we work together?" Clint asked, laughing. "I drive, you make sure I only hit green lights?"

"Ugh fine," Jennie snatched another doughnut. "But I get to pick the tunes."

"Deal," Clint said, grinning as he shoved an entire doughnut into his mouth. PD chose that moment to come over and put his head in Clint's lap. "No, you do not get to have any doughnuts. But I'll buy you a personal pan pizza or something later."

"And Pizza Dog stays away from me after, because those farts are gonna be nasty," Jennie laughed.

"Aw," Clint said, scratching behind PD's ears. "Only if there's green peppers on them. We have two years' worth of experience in these matters."

"Right, let's get this goat rodeo on the road," said Jennie, shouldering into her jacket.

"Yes, ma'am," Clint said, giving her a small salute before knocking back his second shot and standing up. The liquor and the shotglasses went into the box that was going in the trunk while the doughnuts went on top so he could snag them and put them in the front of the car for on-the-road eating when they inevitably got stuck in traffic that Jennie couldn't luck them out of.

"Come on farty pants," Jennie stuck on her sunglasses. "You too, Pizza Pup."