Matt, Clint, & Foggy | Home Repair, etc
Mar. 5th, 2022 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_hawkeye posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsClint and Matt work to help their dads with some home improvement projects...
"I had to go to motherfucking NoMad," Matt announced without preamble arriving back at his uncles' apartment with a reusable bag full of hardware from Home Depot. "Did you know that the hardware store on 9th is closed?"
"What?" Clint asked, blinking over at his brother for a long moment before shaking his head. "Wait, no. I didn't know. That's the True Value, right? Shit, how expensive was it at wherever you went?"
"Not bad, but they only had 2 socket plates in Midtown and no gold hinges," Matt required a very specific list when going to the hardware store, or better yet, to only pickup the order. Today though, he'd ended up traipsing all over Manhattan to get everything needed.
As he spoke, he unloaded his home renovation bounty. "Do you have my tools?" Matt wasn't very handy, but his uncles had ensured he learned the basics.
"Yeah, they're to your left, on the chair," Clint said. Then he muttered, "We should've stopped in Salem Center before we headed over here." Stretching to reach the hinges with their screws in all their little baggies, he grabbed his utility scissors and began opening them.
They really should have. Hindsight was always 20/20. Grabbing his tools, Matt got started replacing the socket plates around the room. It was repetitive, holding the plate on with one hand as he screwed in the tiny screw in the center that held it all together before moving to the next one. "Let me know when you're ready for help with the door."
"Will do," Clint promised. "I'll attach the hinge to the door itself. Looks like these new ones are too well put together to take the leafs/knuckles and then mallet the pin back into place..." He worked as he spoke, using a regular screwdriver to place the flat of the hinge against the door. "Too bad. Would've made things easier."
It didn't take long to get the hinges sorted, then he stepped back from the door and called, "Okay, Matt. I'm ready to get this thing hung."
"Yeah, k," Matt agreed, getting to his feet and heading to where his brother was. "So this flap goes against the door frame?" he double checked, a couple fingers on the center hinge of the door. "We need to bring it to the other side of the frame then."
"Yup," Clint agreed. "Let's flip all of them so we don't have to worry about them midway through. You wanna do the screws or hold the door?"
Matt considered as Clint flipped the flaps. "I'll hold, you screw," he decided, getting into a good door-holding position.
"You're volunteering to anchor? How unlike you," Clint said, the question flying from his mouth before he even thought about it. "Er..."
"I can anchor just fine!" Matt retorted, "Unlike you, I'm a gentleman that knows how to take turns so everyone can enjoy the best in life," he paused for a moment and shifted the door slightly.
"Gentleman?" Clint asked, snorting as he lined up the first screw at the top hinge and started twisting with the screwdriver. "Uh huh. When's the last time you even had to anchor?"
"Weekend after Valentine's," Matt answered without thinking, "We rented a suite at Lotte New York Towers. Why?"
"Wait," Clint said, pausing mid-twist. "You and Foggy and who?"
"Darcy and Marci," which, really, was terrible. Their names rhymed. And they were trouble when together. Matt acted all innocent, but he was The Devil for a reason.
Clint's reflexes were too good to drop the hammer and screws, but he stopped what he was doing entirely and blinked at Matt. "Bro."
"Bro," Matt returned evenly. "You've been gone. Stuff happened."
"I've been back for months, bro, what the hell?"
Was Matt going to tell his brother that this was actually something fairly recent since he'd returned? Absolutely not. That would destroy the veritable mountain of shock and surprise. And Matt was a shit like that. "It's not like you're sharing details of your sex life! When did you anchor last?"
"What sex life?" Clint asked, half-laughing. "If I had one, I'd give you whatever deets were appropriate. And I haven't anchored since Jordan and Ginny way back years ago. I was with Angel and then... y'know. Off being undercover."
Tsking, Matt shook his head. "I'm very disappointed. Bro," every time he said 'Bro,' it sounded so awkward. "You need to stop passing out by your computer and maybe get some vitamin D more than once a week."
"Don't think you can distract me from the fact you're with Darcy, Foggy, and some chick I've never heard of by shaming me about my lack of time in the sun."
Letting go of the door, Matt stepped closer heedless of his brother gesturing with the screw driver in his face, "You know Marci Stahl, from law school. Blonde, boobs, killer GPA,"... huh. He and Foggy clearly had A Type.
"Hey, you guys at a stopping point?" Foggy's voice called from the front door. A moment later, following greetings with André, he appeared in the doorway. "I brought lunch!"
"You," Clint said, wheeling away from Matt -- carefully, because he didn't want to accidentally stab his brother with a screwdriver but also their dads would kill him -- he narrowed his eyes at Foggy. "You better be good to Darcy or I swear I'll call Thor and we'll abduct you so the Jotuns can probe you."
"What?" Foggy yelped, "'Be good to Darcy?' Have you met her? When she and Marci get together, regimes fall and countries crumble. They're evil! And smart!"
Matt agreed, "They'd never find our bodies."
"I mean," Clint said, lowering the screwdriver. "I never said me and Thor would have first dibs at you guys. Darcy could definitely take care of you on her own and then probably the spies would get to you before I could, but me and Thor'd be coming for you third." He paused before waggling his hand back and forth. "Also, I wasn't telling Matt he had to be good to her. Just you, Fogs."
Foggy blinked. "But.... I'm the adorable one. Innocent and pure. Like snow."
Matt nodded, agreeing.
"Have you forgotten," Clint asked, smiling almost evilly, "The time you got so drunk at Matt's first apartment warming that you left your keys in the shower and I had to tackle you to the ground to keep you from knocking on every other door on the floor demanding they return them to you?"
Swallowing, Foggy held out the bag with their lunch. "A peace offering to you and your cow," he bowed, "A humble token from the Nelson Family butcher shop."
Clint took the proffered bag and opened it, humming to himself as he shoved the screwdriver into his pocket. "Cool, cool. You live to bribe another day," he said, taking Matt's sandwich out and handing it to him. "Thanks, Fogs."
"I had to go to motherfucking NoMad," Matt announced without preamble arriving back at his uncles' apartment with a reusable bag full of hardware from Home Depot. "Did you know that the hardware store on 9th is closed?"
"What?" Clint asked, blinking over at his brother for a long moment before shaking his head. "Wait, no. I didn't know. That's the True Value, right? Shit, how expensive was it at wherever you went?"
"Not bad, but they only had 2 socket plates in Midtown and no gold hinges," Matt required a very specific list when going to the hardware store, or better yet, to only pickup the order. Today though, he'd ended up traipsing all over Manhattan to get everything needed.
As he spoke, he unloaded his home renovation bounty. "Do you have my tools?" Matt wasn't very handy, but his uncles had ensured he learned the basics.
"Yeah, they're to your left, on the chair," Clint said. Then he muttered, "We should've stopped in Salem Center before we headed over here." Stretching to reach the hinges with their screws in all their little baggies, he grabbed his utility scissors and began opening them.
They really should have. Hindsight was always 20/20. Grabbing his tools, Matt got started replacing the socket plates around the room. It was repetitive, holding the plate on with one hand as he screwed in the tiny screw in the center that held it all together before moving to the next one. "Let me know when you're ready for help with the door."
"Will do," Clint promised. "I'll attach the hinge to the door itself. Looks like these new ones are too well put together to take the leafs/knuckles and then mallet the pin back into place..." He worked as he spoke, using a regular screwdriver to place the flat of the hinge against the door. "Too bad. Would've made things easier."
It didn't take long to get the hinges sorted, then he stepped back from the door and called, "Okay, Matt. I'm ready to get this thing hung."
"Yeah, k," Matt agreed, getting to his feet and heading to where his brother was. "So this flap goes against the door frame?" he double checked, a couple fingers on the center hinge of the door. "We need to bring it to the other side of the frame then."
"Yup," Clint agreed. "Let's flip all of them so we don't have to worry about them midway through. You wanna do the screws or hold the door?"
Matt considered as Clint flipped the flaps. "I'll hold, you screw," he decided, getting into a good door-holding position.
"You're volunteering to anchor? How unlike you," Clint said, the question flying from his mouth before he even thought about it. "Er..."
"I can anchor just fine!" Matt retorted, "Unlike you, I'm a gentleman that knows how to take turns so everyone can enjoy the best in life," he paused for a moment and shifted the door slightly.
"Gentleman?" Clint asked, snorting as he lined up the first screw at the top hinge and started twisting with the screwdriver. "Uh huh. When's the last time you even had to anchor?"
"Weekend after Valentine's," Matt answered without thinking, "We rented a suite at Lotte New York Towers. Why?"
"Wait," Clint said, pausing mid-twist. "You and Foggy and who?"
"Darcy and Marci," which, really, was terrible. Their names rhymed. And they were trouble when together. Matt acted all innocent, but he was The Devil for a reason.
Clint's reflexes were too good to drop the hammer and screws, but he stopped what he was doing entirely and blinked at Matt. "Bro."
"Bro," Matt returned evenly. "You've been gone. Stuff happened."
"I've been back for months, bro, what the hell?"
Was Matt going to tell his brother that this was actually something fairly recent since he'd returned? Absolutely not. That would destroy the veritable mountain of shock and surprise. And Matt was a shit like that. "It's not like you're sharing details of your sex life! When did you anchor last?"
"What sex life?" Clint asked, half-laughing. "If I had one, I'd give you whatever deets were appropriate. And I haven't anchored since Jordan and Ginny way back years ago. I was with Angel and then... y'know. Off being undercover."
Tsking, Matt shook his head. "I'm very disappointed. Bro," every time he said 'Bro,' it sounded so awkward. "You need to stop passing out by your computer and maybe get some vitamin D more than once a week."
"Don't think you can distract me from the fact you're with Darcy, Foggy, and some chick I've never heard of by shaming me about my lack of time in the sun."
Letting go of the door, Matt stepped closer heedless of his brother gesturing with the screw driver in his face, "You know Marci Stahl, from law school. Blonde, boobs, killer GPA,"... huh. He and Foggy clearly had A Type.
"Hey, you guys at a stopping point?" Foggy's voice called from the front door. A moment later, following greetings with André, he appeared in the doorway. "I brought lunch!"
"You," Clint said, wheeling away from Matt -- carefully, because he didn't want to accidentally stab his brother with a screwdriver but also their dads would kill him -- he narrowed his eyes at Foggy. "You better be good to Darcy or I swear I'll call Thor and we'll abduct you so the Jotuns can probe you."
"What?" Foggy yelped, "'Be good to Darcy?' Have you met her? When she and Marci get together, regimes fall and countries crumble. They're evil! And smart!"
Matt agreed, "They'd never find our bodies."
"I mean," Clint said, lowering the screwdriver. "I never said me and Thor would have first dibs at you guys. Darcy could definitely take care of you on her own and then probably the spies would get to you before I could, but me and Thor'd be coming for you third." He paused before waggling his hand back and forth. "Also, I wasn't telling Matt he had to be good to her. Just you, Fogs."
Foggy blinked. "But.... I'm the adorable one. Innocent and pure. Like snow."
Matt nodded, agreeing.
"Have you forgotten," Clint asked, smiling almost evilly, "The time you got so drunk at Matt's first apartment warming that you left your keys in the shower and I had to tackle you to the ground to keep you from knocking on every other door on the floor demanding they return them to you?"
Swallowing, Foggy held out the bag with their lunch. "A peace offering to you and your cow," he bowed, "A humble token from the Nelson Family butcher shop."
Clint took the proffered bag and opened it, humming to himself as he shoved the screwdriver into his pocket. "Cool, cool. You live to bribe another day," he said, taking Matt's sandwich out and handing it to him. "Thanks, Fogs."
