xp_logs | Matt & Clint (only slightly backdated!)

xp_hawkeye posting in

Clint gets back from another trip to parts unknown after doing the favor requested of him. Obviously, 0231 is the perfect time to wake his brother up for company.

Clint dropped his duffle bag on the floor at the foot of his bed, then flopped back onto the quilt-covered mattress spread eagle with a massive sigh. It was nice to be back. All these trips he'd been taking to keep up with his various contacts and friends all over the country -- and all the favors he'd been doing for those contacts and friends -- were great, but sometimes he just wanted to collapse onto a bed that smelled familiar.

Patting his pockets down, he dragged his cell out of his pocket and hit speed dial number two blind.

Jerking awake as his phone blasted Sam Cooke singing about Cupid, Matt reached for the night stand, groping for the device before tapping "accept." Thank goodness for customized ringtones. "Yeah?" He grunted, voice rough from sleep. What time was it?

"I want Chinese and Nana Kimura's soft quilt, not the one made out of wool pants during the Great Depression, and a marathon of old school Mythbusters until I pass out," Clint said. "Facilitate this for me." He paused, then reminded his brother, "Also, you have the soft quilt in your suite, so you have to do this, whether you want to or not. I'll pay for the food."

Wiping crust from his eyes, Matt was already getting out of bed. "What time is it?" He asked. "And I want sushi. If you're stealing the quilt, then rainbow rolls and nigiri are a must." He liked the quilt and called dibs almost immediately as a child. His uncles had forced him to share, but he still kept it as much as possible.

"Done," Clint said. Ordering from two places at this time of night wasn't really any more terrible than ordering from one. "It's two thirty in the morning. I'd say 'sorry,' but I've been up for like 48 hours straight, so. I've got Mythbusters DVR'd, though. I'll meet you on the couch in ten."

Oh, huh, normal sleep times. That was nifty, but apparently short lived. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, tugging a sweatshirt on and finding his sneakers. Hanging up without goodbye, Matt tugged the blanket from his bed and a second one from the closet before heading to Clint's apartment.

Clint left the suite door open a bit so Matt could get in easy, called the orders in, and had just finished propping the various cushions and pillows up in the right places when his brother arrived. "Bro," he said. "Usual setup's set. Did you bother watching that episode of the new Mythbusters where they were testing whether or not you could jump off the top of a building and go through a window a couple floors down? Cause I watched it accidentally and it was really, really irritating."

Heading to the couch, Matt shoved the blanket at his brother before sprawling on the other end. "Nope. Don't like their voice description, you're better. But we've both done it, so if they proved out wrong, then they're fools."

"Right?" Clint flung his hands out a little incoherently. "I mean, it's just -- it's physics. Anchor point, length of rope or wire or whatever, jump -- pendulum. Like, yes, the glass shattering could be dangerous if you're not wearing the appropriate gear, but like. Break it before going in or -- or! Go feet first! They said it was plausible, but only within certain parameters, which -- that's a cop out, if you ask me. Physics says it's possible and we've done it, so it's not even actually a myth!"

"I think the big question is training," Matt responded thoughtfully. "Can someone off the street randomly do that even if they have proper gear? Even if they're in good shape or exercise regularly, probably not. What we consider a normal workout routine is normal for us, not everybody," and while they both had powers that would assist understanding the physics side of things, neither of them had any sort of increased strength or flexibility or whatever. That was all training.

Clint waved his hand dismissively at his brother. "It's still physics. And it's still not a myth," his said, clicking through the DVR to find his recorded Mythbusters' library. "What's up with you? How were things here while I was in Florida?"

Of course it was still physics, but being able to actually do something wasn't the same as theoretically doing it. "No one set anything on fire. I gave a seminar on how to deal with cops as a mutant. Fun times. You get a tan in Florida?"

"Not much of one, to be honest," Clint said. "It was warm but kinda overcast and I was mostly inside. But hey, on the plus side, Benny Braswell owes me a favor now. I told him he'd have to let me use a boat of my choosing at a time of my choosing with no questions asked. Considering the equipment he had me tweaking and hacking and upgrading, though, he didn't even put up a fight."

"I wish this meant Florida vacation, but I'm sure it means some crazy team escape whatever," which was really not the way to do Florida if you were going there. "And no Disney," they'd gone for their first family vacation after Matt came to live with them. It had been his first plane ride and his first time out of both New York City and New York State. Good memories.

"Hey, I mean. It's not like I've been sightseeing on any of these trips or anything. I haven't even gotten off the continental US. It was helping out Phil in Milwaukee for the jetsuit thing and Corinne in Austin for her update on the MIT liquid armor stuff and Dan in Tacoma with whatever the hell that thing was. Collecting favors from people is exhausting." Bundling himself up in the soft quilt, he rubbed his cheek against the floral pattern and sighed. "But mostly I liked the robotics conference thing in San Diego. Lulu had a great idea for hovering, she just needed to get the coding right for maneuverability and a lighter alloy for the armor. And some other stuff."

"You are such geek!" Matt laughed, adjusting his other blanket. "When's the food getting here? And when are you going to patent something useful?"

Checking the clock, Clint said, "Food should be another 45, 50 minutes. And I dunno. I basically take something someone else has done and change it enough to be more convenient for me. Which I don't think is something I can patent. You wanna get on that, you should talk to Reed or Hank. Not Storm, though. Not either of them." Clint made a face, nose wrinkled. "Typical spoiled rich kids, both of them. I swear, I don't remember her being such a godawful pain when I was her TA..."

"You woke me up and food is slow. You're a terrible brother. Oh! Do you have the mythbusters where they destroy the car? The old Chevy's," that was a good episode. "I don't have an ideas for that, I just want to patent it and earn residuals. You're the creative, science one."

"I'm an awesome brother," Clint corrected. "Awe-some. Learn to pronounce it right." Then he snorted. "Patents. Tell you what I want to patent -- something to do with an adamantium/vibranium alloy. That's what I want to patent. It'd be great. The vibranium would lighten up the adamantium -- you have any idea the kinds of things you could do with that? Like. Strongest metal on Earth mixed together with one that absorbs kinetic energy, stops all kinds of things. Jesus. It'd be the best thing in the world. No idea what to apply it to... shit, probably the military'd want it or something, but bump that."

Flipping him the finger, Matt grinned, "It could be applied to nearly anything. I'd take it as cell phone and my cane. But the cost would likely be prohibitive. Make the food come faster."

"Hell yeah, it'd be prohibitive. Vibranium's so damn rare. And adamantium..." Shaking his head, Clint continued, "But it'd be so cool. And you know if I could control the universe, we'd never have to wait for food. Don't ask for impossible things, Matthew."

"You wake me up, make me give up the soft blanket and tease me with food and tech. Will your cruelty know no end?" Matt bemoaned, then sat up properly, "What would you have done if Foggy was here, too?"

"He could've come with, if he didn't mind Mythbusters... and Chinese... and not having the soft blanket, cause dibs. After trips, I always get dibs. Especially at two in the morning." Clint slow-blinked at the television screen for a moment before saying, "Oh. And I dunno about that ep specifically. Probably it's somewhere. But I don't feel like searching through all the DVR'd ones to find it. Sorry."

"He minds being woken up and me disappearing on him," they were fairly casual, but Foggy definitely didn't like either of those. "You should go on more trips. So I can have the blanket." Nevermind that technically it belonged to Uncle Steve. The boys had claimed custody years ago.

"You already have the soft quilt all the time, doofus," Clint said. "And anyway, Foggy is... I dunno. Whatever. He can deal. Bros before... hos?" The last came out hesitantly, because calling Foggy a ho just seemed excessively weird.

Clearly not all the time of he had to share right now. "Did you call Foggy a ho?" Matt turned, looking at Clint incredulously. "I'm going to tell him you did that."

"Tattle-tale," Clint muttered, snorting softly. "I'm just saying. Middle of the night bro time trumps boyfriend time. Unless you're actually having sex, in which case I expect you to ignore the ringing phone... though with my ringtone, that'd be pretty hilarious during sex."

"Mmhmm," he agreed, "I did answer the phone once mid - sexy times back in college. Or did you manage to purge that from your memories?" It had been with the yelling. And retribution. "How much longer until food? I'm wasting away to practically nothing!"

Pulling the quilt up over his face, Clint clapped his hands over his ears, fabric held to block out sound as best he could, and sang, "LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."

Mature. Real mature. Matt just grinned before finally nudging Clint with a foot, "What's happening on screen?"

Clint lowered his hands and tugged the quilt away from his face to glance at the screen. "They've got the fake blood packets in the ballistics gel human form and they're leaving it to set. Not sure the fake blood thingies'll actually do what they want it to -- if I remember right, one of them pops, but the other ones work out okay. This is the one where they're testing the myth about somebody getting sliced in half by a piece of glass falling off of like, a skyscraper or something. Also, it's literally been like eight minutes since the last time you asked me about the food. I swear, I won't pass out before it gets here. I need sustenance to pass out the right way."

Huffing a sigh, Matt tried to mentally will the food to arrive faster. This might even require meditation. His sensei would be disappointed, but it was practical. "I mean, if it's a big enough piece of glass hitting at just the right angle with no protective gear and enough acceleration anything is possible. But unlikely."

"See, that was a myth. Like, from the viewers. These new guys are just doing like, movie things. And I could've told them the 'shooting an arrow into the side of a car to make it catch fire' was tough. That's why I just use explosive arrowheads, man. I mean, I could make a car explode with the right gel coating on the arrowhead and an open gas cap. Plus, that dude totally set his crossbow on fire. What an idiot," Clint muttered.

Matt was actually impressed at how restrained that rant was, especially since it involved setting a crossbow on fire. "You ever consider going on as some sort of expert?" He asked, "Or consulting so people don't see your face?" That might be an issue if Clint was doing spy stuff.

"I mean, I could -- image inducers are great for that kinda stuff, I guess. But what'd be the point? They'd spin it however they wanted and if it came out I was a mutant, everybody'd call foul and say I was cheating. It'd be more trouble than it's worth. And besides, I'd have to deal with the new guys. Adam and Jamie? I'd totally hit that up and just like, I dunno, roll back some of my skills or whatever. But the new guys are just ridiculous. Like -- like! That stupid feather one. Duh you can't actually knock somebody over with a feather, that's so stupid. It's... what's the word, bro? The one for where you're like exaggerating a thing?"

There was that. Adam and Jamie were awesome. The new guys, less so, "I get why they left, but man, the show is not the same without them," Matt lamented, skipping over the mutant issues. Those could be dealt with if needed, but why bother since it wasn't going to happen?

Clint was still stuck on the word he couldn't remember. Softly, he started humming Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten" because he knew it was in that. He got to the right part and snapped his finger. "Ha! Hyper-bowl. Uh, hyperbole for those of us in the room who care about correct pronunciation. Which is you -- just you."

Slowly, Matt cranked one hand as his other middle finger rose slowly in time with it. "For all your supposed brains, you're a dumbass, you know that?"

Grinning, Clint shrugged. "'S what older brothers are for, dontcha know?" Just then, his phone dinged, so he pulled it out and found that the delivery service he'd used had texted to let him know they were en route. "Sweet. Food'll be like a half hour."

"You're killing me, Barton," Matt groaned.

"You're killing me, Barton," Clint mimicked his brother. "Whatever, like you didn't make me wait outside that one Indian place for almost two hours that one time. This isn't even appropriate payback. I was hungover and coming off a weekend of nonstop partying after graduation."

"Because otherwise you would smell like the Indian place and I like their food, but I do not need you reeking of it for days!" It was delicious, but sometimes, enhanced senses did not work. "Adding eu de hangover does not improve the smell either!"

Smacking Matt in the stomach with a pillow, Clint said, "Shut up."

"Tomorrow, after you sleep at least 6 hours, I'm dragging your ass home. Dads are getting cranky at the lack of your ugly face." Clearly, shutting up was not an option.

"Uuuuuuuugh," Clint groaned. "Fuck, fine," he acquiesced easily, already knowing resistance was futile. "But you better be serious about the six hours of sleep. I will murder you if I get less than that."