Please enjoy, dear readers!
Camilla stood beside Darcy chopping onions, both trying hard to conceal their sniffling noses. Upon her return from the market, Miranda had taken the sage and orb to the back and arranged for it to be placed in a protected capsule while Kenny had been called to the side by Agent Coulson. Coulson looked very nearly fierce when he addressed Camilla's fellow Guardian, but she dismissed the feeling of pity, knowing the Kenny had been playing both sides and was now reaping the benefits. Will, Lucy, and Darcy had gathered and followed her into the kitchen with Clint, knowing a meal wasn't far behind.
She put them to work chopping, dicing, and frying up as much food as possible to feed the fourteen potential diners for the late lunch. Darcy was happy to be useful, enthusiastically moving through the stack of vegetables Camilla laid before her, throwing the tiny mounds into the rarely used porcelain bowls from the cupboards. While they worked, she characteristically asked the questions Camilla was sure had been brewing in her mind for hours.
"Do you guys, like, live in a compound or something?"
Lucy chuckled, "I think we'd kill each other, right Will?"
Will smiled and shook his head, "Probably. We tend to congregate at the headquarters—we've got rooms there set up for us."
Darcy reached for a potato, "Kind of like here."
He shrugged, "A little bit."
Camilla darted around Darcy to check the boiling pots on the stove being guarded by Clint, who stirred them occasionally. She sprinkled seasoning into the mixture and turned down the heat to a simmer, grabbing a wooden spoon from the pile and dipping it into a tomato sauce. Bringing it to her mouth, she tasted the sauce, pursing her lips. It was missing something, possibly garlic. Clint watched her as was his way, lifting a brow at her focused expression. Tapping the utensil against the spoon rest, she turned and grasped the bowl of minced garlic Darcy had arranged, tossing a bit into the pot and stirring gently.
Behind her, Miranda came strolling in, waving to the group and craning her neck to see what was happening at each station. Camilla smiled at the woman, gesturing to a pile of limes and lemons that needed to be juiced.
Setting to work, Miranda said, "I gained ten pounds when I finished training because of Camilla's cooking."
Will snorted, "I gained twenty, had to step up the exercise to three hours a day just to keep up."
"Hey," Camilla called out in mock offense, "No one made you eat the food."
"Says the woman who makes it irresistible," Lucy replied with a roll of her eyes.
Darcy piped in, "You guys eat together a lot?"
Camilla shrugged, "When we're in one place—what do you guys think? Three times a year or so?"
"Sounds about right," Will replied, handing Miranda a bowl for the juiced fruit. "Try not to shoot the seeds at me."
"That was one time!" Miranda whined with a stomp of her foot. She shook the juicer at Will threateningly, her eyes narrowed but her mouth smiling.
Camilla watched this with a kind of detached glee, wondering at how anything got done when one or more of them were either goofing off or fighting viciously. She tasted the tomato sauce again, nodding in approval. They would need pounds and pounds of pasta to feed them all, but Clint was already filling a large cauldron with water at the sink and she figured they would be covered.
Darcy was looking at each in turn, and Camilla could see her chin dipping as she mentally counted their numbers. "I thought you said there were six bloodlines."
The good mood of the room dropped to an arctic chill and Camilla closed her eyes against the history filling her mind. She hadn't known the sixth Guardian personally, but she knew the story just as everyone who went through the council's training knew it. The tale was one of caution from the council, whispered in the halls and investigated by only the very brave.
Will set down his knife after a moment, "We don't really talk about it."
Lucy dropped her eyes to the apples she was peeling and Miranda looked close to bolting from the room. Camilla sighed and approached the island, setting her hands upon the counter as she considered her answer.
"Her name is August," she said lowly. "I was out of the country when it happened, but there was a crisis of some kind, Claire wouldn't say what, and August solved it. She saved the world before she'd even completed her training, but when she came out on the other side of the apocalypse…she didn't want the marks."
Miranda pressed a lemon to the juice, twisting it as she added, "Supposedly August was powerful, far too powerful to be simply let go. The council thought she might be a liability."
"Which doesn't make sense," Will asserted in a harsh voice, his hands working fiercely at the ground meat. "Taking the marks is a choice, not a demand."
Lucy dropped the peeled apple into a bowl, grasping the next one without skipping a beat, "The council didn't see it that way."
Camilla glanced at Darcy, shrugging in helplessness, "She was imprisoned, no one knows where. Claire won't talk about it—I read on one of the memorandums that she'd been working in defense of August and lost."
Darcy shifted on her feet, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
Shrugging, Camilla replied, "It's a truth we all live with, knowing that our team is incomplete and suffering for it."
Checking the oven, Camilla pulled out a tray of pork chops and added the cherries and the apples Lucy had sliced to the mixture, topping the chops and returning the pan to the oven. She turned and spotted Natasha sitting on one of the stools near the island, having silently joined the group, her nimble hands already picking out ingredients that needed to be added for a stir fry. Camilla wondered at how she would know what they were cooking, but shoved that question to the side, leaving it as one of the great mysteries of the universe.
Soon enough, the food was being plated and Camilla had Jarvis ring the metaphorical dinner bell throughout the house. The dining room would be too small for the large company, so she arranged to have all of the options set out on Tony's liquor bar, buffet style. As the smells wafted and mixed into something Camilla may have identified as homey, more and more people shuffled in to fill their stomachs. She found herself sitting between Clint and Jane, Darcy hanging off the edge of the couch chatting with Dr. Banner from her usual spot on the lap of Loki. Lucy sat on the floor nearby and Will shared an armchair with Miranda. Tony sprawled in view of the TV, which had been turned on to a local football game. He hooted occasionally, explaining his excitement to Thor, who watched avidly while working his way through five plates of pasta.
Natasha perched next to Tony, pointing out flaws in the defenses of his team and calling plays well in advance. Somewhere in the laughter, Cap had arrived and was sitting politely off to the side, his attention alternating between his plate and the game. Kenny showed up late, looking thoroughly chastised. Camilla refused to allow herself to feel guilt for driving home the fact that he was working with both Shield and the Guardians. Instead, she focused on speaking with Jane about her work, which was way above Camilla's head. She could tell that the hyper intelligent Dr. Foster appreciated her interest nonetheless, even if Camilla failed to comprehend. Between five syllable words and star systems that she vaguely recognized, Camilla found herself nodding and squinting as Jane talked. Ten minutes in, nothing made sense but she felt like she was learning something for the first time since training.
Eventually, the main courses were devoured and Camilla felt the need to check on the dessert. There was always dessert, that was half the point of eating such a large feast. It gave the meal a sense of anticipation that Camilla thought made the whole affair much more pleasurable. The kitchen was near to bursting with the smell of cinnamon and sweet caramel. Camilla dipped down and pulled out the little ramekins of apple pies, inhaling their delectable scent as she stood. Setting them aside, she moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out the coup de gras, a large container of heavy whipping cream. While the pies cooled, she mixed air into the cream until the peaks stiffened into tiny mountains of fluff. Unable to resist, she dipped a spoon into the mallow and tasted it, smiling at the sweetness.
Issuing each tiny pie a dollop, Camilla piled them onto a tray and carried them out to the living room where several sets of eager eyes landed on her offering. The Cap stood first, slipping his hands beneath the tray and carrying it over to the buffet. There was no line, just a rush of people moving forward to take their own little serving and fork, most not waiting until they sat down again to take their first bite. She watched as a dozen faces lit with culinary joy, her smile unmovable even when she'd gotten her own pie and sat down in her place on the couch.
Next to her, Clint chewed enthusiastically, nudging her and making yummy sounds when he made it through the first layer to the second crispy layer of apples. Camilla glanced over to Miranda, who had practically buried her face in the ramekin to scrape the crust from the bottom. Next to her, Will was watching the woman with this incredulous look, his fork poised near his mouth.
From the floor, Lucy laughed, "I have really missed these."
"You're welcome," Camilla replied, forking another bite into her mouth.
Dr. Banner looked up from his pie, "Is there molasses in this?"
Camilla hummed in the positive, unwilling to speak around the large chunk of apple melting in her mouth. She found herself unable to finish her serving, staring at it in disappointment. Part of her wanted to stuff the rest down and damn the consequences, but a more logical part of her knew that being stuffed full would not be very conducive to her sleep patterns that night. The longer she stared, the more disappointed she became until she had to set the container on the coffee table in order to separate herself from the feeling.
Beside her, Clint (having finished his pie) stiffened and shot her a cursory glance. Camilla raised a brow in question, following his darting eyes to her abandoned pie. With a smirk, she gave a dismissive gesture and he dove down to rescue the dessert from its place, abandoned as it was on the coffee table. Camilla rolled her eyes and watched as the others finished their own servings, each sitting back into their seat with satisfaction in their expressions. A kind of companionable silence descended upon the group, the only sounds in the room being the football game still playing in the background. Camilla, too, settled deeper into the couch cushions, a tiny bit sleepy from the large meal and a large bit happy for the food and company.
Jarvis' voice broke through the serenity of the room, "Sir, you asked me to remind you of the experiment in the lab."
Tony rolled to his stomach and pushed lazily to standing, "Thanks, Jarvis. C'mon, guys, back to work."
Next to her, Dr. Foster rose unsteadily and across the way Dr. Banner leveraged his body upwards. The science team took their leave, followed by Thor, who seemed to escort Jane everywhere in such a sweet way that Camilla couldn't help but melt a little at the scene. The Cap moved silently behind them, a small wave to the group his only goodbye. Camilla couldn't quite get a bead on him as he seemed to only show up when there was food, preferring to keep to himself when the rest of the team was so social. Knowing that she may never have the time to satisfy her curiosity, Camilla leaned forward and grabbed the empty pie bowls and stood, unprepared for the oncoming vision.
Camilla was standing in the living room near the large windows separating the main floor from the balconied pool area. A storm was rolling in across the city and she was looking back at the anxious faces of the Avengers and Guardians. From her periphery, she caught movement, and then the glass behind her cracked and shattered inwards. Flying forward onto her stomach, Camilla crawled away, turning her shoulders to catch sight of Astar's face moving up and over the balcony, his body inching up over the railing. Cold fear sprang up all over her body, and she felt her tattoos sear in preparation for the oncoming battle.
Her vision cleared and Camilla came back to consciousness staring up at the ceiling of the living room, her body having landed between the coffee table and the couch. Reaching up, Camilla grabbed the edge of the table and yanked hard so that she could sit up. All around, eyes were following her movements, none closer than Clint's whose expression was cautious.
Miranda inched down off the armchair and pressed over the edge of the coffee table, "What did you see?"
Camilla rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Turn on the weather, will ya?"
Miranda tried, she really did, to do Camilla's bidding, but the remote was so strangely formed with all these extraneous buttons that she ended out screwing with the cable and sending the TV into fits. As it turned out, Natasha was the one who took the remote gently from Miranda, flicking a few buttons until the TV showed the weather report. Camilla watched it carefully, noting the oncoming storm front and when it would arrive, sometime in the night.
Lucy prompted her, "What did you see?"
Before Camilla could answer, Darcy was shooting to standing, "Oh my god, you're the oracle."
"That would be me," Camilla replied drolly, feeling a headache coming on. She shoved back onto the couch cushions, aware of Clint remaining nearby, his eyes scanning her body for signs of her internal thoughts. She dropped her head in her hands and sighed, considering how much of her vision would be coming to pass that night and whether or not it would be stoppable. If Astar decided to materialize, it would be a rough fight, for sure, but with several hours notice, they might be able to stave off most of the demonic tide.
"Astar's on his way, he'll show up tonight."
Will groaned, "We're not nearly ready for this."
"He's right," Miranda joined in, "We don't have the stones to complete the ritual."
Camilla sat back into the cushions, "He knows where we are, or will here shortly. We'll have to coat the exterior and interior entrances with a witch's brew and hope the latent power is enough to keep him fended off for five days."
Lucy's eyes lit up with this kind of delight that Camilla understood—she would be doing what she did best, working with natural magic. Camilla was sure that Lucy already had most of the needed ingredients to get the brew going and they would just have to take charge of the kitchen once more in order to make the gallons upon gallons of the stuff they would need.
Natasha, who had always been amazingly accepting and adaptable with the massively strange things going on around Camilla, stood carefully. "What do we do if he gets inside?"
Head rising, Camilla shrugged, "I suppose we Guardians will have to combine power and perform an emergency exorcism. But, really, the brew should at least keep him outside."
Darcy raised a tentative hand, "Is it really witch's brew?" From beside her, Loki smiled, but his eyes were just as curious.
"No," Lucy replied, "That's just what we call it. The stuff is kind of like a stew—lots of herbs and spices, a few unseemly bits, and lots of holy water. The combination of the different magical components, when mixed together correctly, will keep the bad juju away."
"Sweet," Darcy replied, "Can I help?"
Lucy smiled, "Sure."
Camilla glanced at Natasha, who was still standing with her arms crossed, her mouth pressed into a firm line. With five days until they could really nail down the exorcism and destruction, a good defense would be all they could manage in order to keep everyone safe. Camilla could tell that Natasha was a little rankled by the unclear defensive strategy. As a woman of action, the mere bolstering down of the fort would probably seem ineffective and weak. Camilla had to admit that she felt the same way, filled with this impotent frustration at how lame her reactions were to this demonic force returning to her life.
Lucy rolled up from her knees and stood, "I guess I should get on it. Darcy, you want to help me gather ingredients?"
Darcy nodded and followed Lucy out of the room towards the kitchen, Loki sauntering out after them. Camilla knew he would be somehow curious about how their magic worked in comparison with his own, he would need to know what the difference was so that he could better protect Darcy. She was grateful for his consideration and his seemingly endless quest for knowledge, knowing that he would figure it out eventually and that maybe they would be able to join forces later.
Miranda rocked a little in her crouched position, her eyes boring holes into the side of Camilla's head. "How is it going down?"
Camilla glanced at her briefly, easing her tired body to standing, noting how Clint moved with her, keeping her within arm's reach in case she should fall again. "He's going to show up on the balcony, probably will scale the side of the building somehow. Honestly, he's a demon and can pretty much get here however he likes."
Will snorted, "And that includes teleportation." He rose, "Miranda and I set up part of the calling circle this morning. I'm gonna head down there and make sure we at least have the basics ready in case we hit a crisis."
"I'll help," Miranda said and she followed him out of the room and down the hall towards the elevator.
That left Camilla standing with Clint, Natasha, and Kenny, so silent that she had to fight the need to say something just to end the noiseless tension. Lucky for her, Coulson strolled in once more, "Agents, you're needed for debriefing in conference room two."
Kenny rose from his position, looking like some beaten dog and Natasha was already moving across the room before Coulson could finish his sentence. Clint gave her a once over and seemed to decide that she was okay before turning and moving with the group out of the room. Alone for the first time since that morning, Camilla took a moment to collect herself. She knew that tonight she would see Astar in the flesh for the first time in many years and that it would be no different between them. He would taunt and torment her if he was able, and rage against whatever defense she put up if he could not reach her physically. She only hoped that Lucy's personal form of magic would be strong enough to repel him until the sun rose the next morning.
With a reluctant nod, Camilla rounded the couch and headed to the kitchens to help Lucy in whatever way was possible. This kind of magical working was not her preference, nor did she succeed very often when she had to do it. But, she could offer moral support, if nothing else. Stepping into the kitchen, she found Darcy and Lucy leaning over an over-large pot of boiling something that smelled rank. Covering her nose, Camilla shuffled further into the room and leaned on the island next to Loki, who seemed to find the smell distasteful as well.
Lucy stirred the pot, noticing Camilla's entrance, "We can let this simmer for about an hour and it should be ready." She placed the lid on top, leaning a hip against the counter by the stove, "It would be a lot more powerful if I had an animal to add to it."
"Ew," Darcy said, her lip curling a little.
Lucy scoffed, "Why is everyone so skittish about animal sacrifice? Its potent magic."
"Because," Camilla replied lightly, "Most people don't kill things on a regular basis."
"That's not a very good answer," Lucy retorted, tossing her dark hair.
Camilla shrugged one shoulder, "It's the only answer you'll get out of me." She glanced at Loki, who was watching with sharp eyes, his pale skin almost translucent in the light. Part of her wondered at what he thought of their magic and their spells and how they compared to his own. Did he think they were primitive? The nature of their world couldn't really be helped—physics was physics and magic often lay in the groundwork of the science. There was no changing the natural laws of the universe, even for demons such as Astar and for that she was glad. At least they knew what rules he played by and they could use them to capture and defeat him if necessary. It was the only thing that would give them a fighting chance in this tiny war between good and evil.
"So," Darcy urged meekly, "Where are we going to get an animal?"
"We can't use a gun," Lucy interjected firmly. "It will spoil the balance."
Camilla leveled an annoyed look at her fellow Guardian, "Let me just get my handy dandy bear trap from the back of my car."
From beside her, Loki chuckled, the movement seeming to brighten his whole face. "I could simply materialize an animal of your choosing—a tiger, perhaps."
"Hey," Darcy called out, "No endangered species. I'll have enough on my conscience by killing the poor thing without taking out a protected animal."
Lucy hummed in disapproval, "No offense, but your magic might interfere with our magic and throw the whole thing off. We need this stuff perfectly made, otherwise we're going to be dealing with one nasty demon problem come nightfall."
"Why do they always come out in the night?" Darcy wondered aloud.
It was an easy question, one taught at the very beginning of their training. "Because," Camilla answered with a tilt of her head, "The light forces the dark away, and all demons are made of darkness."
Lucy nodded knowingly, "We still need an animal. Preferably one killed without gun powder or other pollutants."
Camilla thought for a moment, mulling the problem over, "How big?"
"Not very," Lucy answered thoughtfully. "I'd settle for a squirrel."
The line was delivered dryly, but Camilla knew that Lucy would actually hope for a deer or something. A squirrel would absolutely be settling for the woman, who definitely wanted bigger and better when working animal magic. The only question was where the squirrel would come from and how they would trap and kill the creature in a humane, but spell-appropriate, way. Camilla thought of them out in the backyard with nets and sticks, trying to hunt down a tiny rodent by climbing trees and swatting at empty air. It was enough to bring a bright smile to her face.
"You know," Darcy said with a sly grin, "We could probably get the Hawk to shish kebab us a squirrel if Camilla asked him nicely."
"Hawk?" Camilla inquired, confused.
Loki leaned down a little from his considerable height, "Hawkeye. It is Agent Barton's codename."
"Oh," Camilla replied, her mouth and mind wrapping around the name. She thought about it for a moment, "Would an arrow work?"
The question was directed at Lucy, who shot her a contemplative glance, "Should be fine."
"Right," Camilla sighed, "I guess I'm off to convince Clint to skewer road kill for our stew—don't laugh, Lucy, it's a stew if it's got squirrel in it."
Lucy bent over a little, her hands pressing to her thighs. "Sorry, I just… this is so stupid. We came here to help you get rid of the big bad demon and all we seem to be doing is putting off the inevitable." She wiped the back of her hand across her wide mouth, "Can you imagine if Claire were here?"
Camilla could imagine if Claire were in the room, giving them each a stern look and urging them to take their roles a little more seriously. She would be directing things, taking charge in a way that Camilla (despite being the oldest) could never quite manage. They would all have a game plan, an assigned part, and there would be none of this questioning of what they should do. If Claire were there, Camilla might feel just a little bit more safe knowing Astar was coming by for a chat and possibly to take a chunk out of her hide.
Shaking her head, Camilla headed off in the direction Clint had gone with agent Coulson not ten minutes previously. She padded along the hall, peeking into empty rooms in a search for the conference room/debriefing area. After searching the whole floor and coming up with zilch, Camilla made her way to the elevator and pressed the button for one floor below. This process repeated until she reached the training level where she stepped out to check on Will and Miranda, who were hunched over the north point of the calling circle.
"What's up?" She said as she approached, curious at the confused looks on their faces.
Will stood, placing his hands on his slim hips, the position only emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders in comparison to the rest of his body. Will was a fighter, their best fighter at the moment, and his physicality was more pronounced the closer they came to the appearance of Astar. He prowled now on the balls of his feet, his hands and arms tense with the building anticipation.
"Someone screwed with the north glyph," he said. "We'll have to rewrite it."
Camilla bit at her lip a little, "We are using a rather well-traveled spot in the building. Could have been an accident."
Miranda, too, took to standing, "No, this had to be intentional. See the outlying marks, there, they've been completely rearranged into…something not good."
With a long suffering sigh, Camilla pulled at the hem of her sweater, "Who else in the building has this kind of training?"
"No one," Will replied, "At least no one should. The council isn't exactly free about giving information like this to the public."
"True story," Miranda murmured. "Could be a minion. There's no telling really."
Camilla stared at the glyph for a beat longer, "Rewrite it, and we'll just have to make sure we check it over before performing the ritual."
Turning, Camilla scanned the area, looking for other signs that the room had been infiltrated by something decidedly not human. Unsurprisingly, she found nothing amiss, even the weapons rack was fully stocked, though the bow was conspicuously missing. Completing the slow turn, she spotted a staircase moving upwards towards a railed landing, a tiny inlet carved into the wall displaying what looked like a breaker box. Unconsciously, she filed that information away for later use, returning her attention to Will and Miranda, who were dipping a small brush into acrylic paint to notate a new glyph. It was a task that they would probably have to repeat as there was no shortage of fuckery going on in the house nowadays.
Camilla stepped back inside the elevator and pressed the button for the main floor (every other button required a password). It was happenstance that when she turned her head as she left the elevator, Camilla saw Natasha and Clint keeping watch outside a closed door. Kenny was noticeably absent. Curious, she sidled over to them with a small smile.
"Tell me Kenny hasn't been shipped off to Siberia," Camilla announced teasingly.
Clint smirked, but it was Natasha who answered in a matter of fact tone, "Coulson is administering discipline."
She didn't know what prompted her to respond in that way, but the word 'kinky' was out of her mouth before she could check it. Camilla's eyes widened along with Clint's, though Natasha looked more amused than anything else.
"I don't think Kenny will think of it quite that way," Natasha replied, tossing her curls away from her face. "Coulson's more psychologically inclined."
"Doesn't mean he can't kick some serious ass when he wants," Clint retorted, adjusting his stance a little. Camilla wondered if Clint had been on the receiving end of that ass kicking once or twice, though it was probably more like he'd been watching when the fight broke out.
Curiosity growing, Camilla asked, "Why does Kenny need to be reprimanded?"
There was an uneasy look that flashed between the two agents and Camilla felt her stomach drop a little. Natasha pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her face hardening a little in a look Camilla had dubbed her 'game face' and Camilla knew that it was bad. She shuffled her feet a little, dropping her shoulders to convey submission.
"Okay, so you can't tell me. Can you at least make sure he doesn't die—we need him to take Astar down."
Natasha's curt nod was the only answer she received; Clint merely set his jaw and averted his eyes, refusing to acknowledge any potential promises. Camilla nodded absently, staring hard at the door as if she would suddenly be able to see what was happening inside.
"How long do you think this will take?"
Clint's eyes slipped over to her and she was surprised by the clear lack of emotions in their depths. "Why?"
Camilla shrugged, "I need you for something."
She could see the spark of interest in his eyes, the little fire piercing through whatever mask he was wearing.
"Really?" He asked, his voice dropping. Again, his stance change, his shoulders canting down a little, hips squaring off with her.
Camilla allowed him to run a myriad of ideas through his head before she burst his bubble, "I need a squirrel."
"A squirrel," he echoed, brows furrowed. Beside him, Natasha hid her laugh behind a light cough.
"Yes," Camilla continued, "Lucy says she needs one for the protection brew and we can't use a gun. I need your bow skills."
His smile was wry, eyes alight with amusement, "It'll be a pleasure."
"Thank you," Camilla answered. "I'll hang out in the living room when you're ready."
As it turned out, she wouldn't actually have to wait as Coulson exited the conference room with a brisk stride. He nearly knocked her over in his haste, but Camilla pivoted a little and spun out of the way just short of impact. Kenny followed, looking, well, bad. His head was dipped down near his chest and his hands clenched at his sides. Camilla swallowed back her initial reaction to make sure he was alright as he had made his bed and was now lying in it. Still, she wondered if his chastisement would affect his performance later that night. With the incoming demonic force, she needed him at the top of his game—for everyone's protection.
"Come on, I'll need to get my bow," Clint urged, one hand grasping her upper arm and moving slowly downwards as he stepped away. He pulled her by the hand back to the elevator and tapped out a code for one of the base floors. Though nothing was said, the warmth of his hand curling over her fingers, the press of his thumb in the center of her palm, was enough to have Camilla biting at the inside of her cheek just to keep her expression neutral.
The doors opened to an open floor plan apartment and Camilla's brows rose as she realized this was his home, where he lived when he wasn't on missions for the government. Clint pulled her along, fingers slipping from hers as he made his way across the comfortably furnished living room to where he had stored his bow. Camilla remained in place, hands folded neatly in front of her while she tried not to stare. A person's home was a deeply personal space and she felt a little like she was intruding even though he'd brought her along willingly.
Clint caught her stiffened expression, "You okay?"
Camilla hummed in the positive, rolling her tongue along the rim of her lower lip while she tried to force herself to relax. Clint approached her, setting his bow down on a nearby side table, his gaze intensifying with every subsequent step. He moved so that he was toe to toe with her, using his height to his advantage.
"Touch me."
Camilla blinked, "What?"
When he didn't repeat his instruction, choosing to merely wait for her compliance, Camilla hesitantly placed her hands on his chest. Her touch was light, palms barely pressing into the material of his shirt, uncertain despite his very clear instructions. Clint reached up and grasped her wrists with a shake of his head. He guided her hands down over the hard plane of his stomach, separating them to shift over his sides and around to his back. Stepping closer, Clint pressed her hands to the small of his back for a moment, then lifted them to return the limbs back to their original position.
"Your turn," he breathed, pupils so wide they nearly eclipsed the iris of his eyes.
Camilla pulled her lips between her teeth for a moment, releasing them as she gingerly retraced the path he'd shown her, feeling every ridge and valley as they passed beneath her hands. The muscles of his body trembled a little in silent reaction to her touch, his own hands remaining firmly at his sides. When she'd completed the circuit, he ordered for her to begin again—and one more time, seemingly for good measure.
Leaning down, he spoke so that with every movement of his mouth, his lips brushed against hers, "You can touch me any time you like."
Camilla made every effort to keep her voice even, but her replying 'okay' came out breathy nonetheless. She felt more than saw his smirk, her eyes falling closed as he once more took the initiative to kiss her deeply. He wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her close and lifting her lightly to ease the difference between their heights. Camilla ran her hands up the length of his torso, brushing her fingertips at the base of his neck. She surprised herself with the groan that rolled up out of her throat when he flicked his tongue along the inner rim of her lip, touching the tips of her front teeth before dipping further to taste fully.
Reluctantly, as if the very action were painful, Clint pulled away, "We were going to hunt squirrel."
"Mmhmm," Camilla replied lazily, "For the road kill stew."
He shook his head lightly, "Well, I suppose we should head out the back, then."
The backyard was not exactly a yard so much as an outdoor break area for staff. It was, out of necessity for privacy, fenced in and came equipped with a sturdy picnic table. Camilla took in the well-manicured grass and the large oak tree casting shade across it. She also noted the apparent lack of squirrels in the area. Deep in the heart of the city, the tall industrial structures and sparse vegetation did not seem to be conducive to rodent wild life.
Sitting on the table, her feet resting in front of her on the bench, Camilla settled in for a long wait on their prey. Absently, she pulled her hair from her face and secured it in a tight bun high on her head, tucking the inevitable errant strands behind her ears. Despite the fact that it was still early in the evening, the temperature was steadily dropping, the wind taking on an icy constitution. Camilla shivered and wished she had worn something more substantial than her sweater. The thin material served its purpose by covering her tattoos, but yielded little in the way of warmth.
Clint ambled up beside her and set his bow at his side, arms draped over his knees as he scanned the horizon. They spent a few moments in silence before Camilla picked up the conversation.
"Not seeing any squirrels," She murmured, eyes flicking up to the branches of the tree. The leaves were turning with the change in season, some drifting lazily to the ground.
Clint shrugged sharply, "Patience. We'll get one."
Patience Camilla could do—she was the epitome of patience. And, while she waited, she could spend some time working on the whole relaxing thing Clint seemed to want to impress upon her. She could enjoy the burning smell of fall as it descended, watch the air move with incoming cooler winds, and try to figure out her feelings for the man sitting silently next to her. Camilla caught the sigh before it could escape her lips and give away her contemplative countenance. She really had no idea what to think about Clint and his interest in her. The suspicious part of her wondered if this was Shield's way of keeping track of her, of making sure that she didn't stray too close to classified information.
Glancing at Clint, Camilla rolled the idea around in her head for a moment, dismissing it with some hesitancy. Natasha would have been a better choice to keep her distracted and to infiltrate her defenses. The woman was sharp, clever, and adaptable. Clint, on the other hand, seemed a little too matter of fact, a little too straightforward to run a covert operation like this. He was all power with complete command of his body, more suited to withstanding interrogation than throwing out a red herring. But, Camilla had to admit to herself that she really didn't know a lot about Clint, other than his general appreciation for her cooking and part of his job description. He could truly be playing her and she would be going along with the whole thing blindly. She was surprised at how much she didn't care if that were true.
From her periphery, Camilla saw the smallest little movement and she smiled, leaning over a little. "Squirrel."
As soon as the word left her mouth, Clint had the bow in his hands and an arrow notched, arm tightening as he pulled back the bowstring. The squirrel didn't even have a chance to issue a half hearted dying squeak as he was pinned through the head to the trunk of the tree. Camilla pursed her lips a little, feeling pity for the poor thing, glad it had died a quick death.
Clint sidled up to the animal, Camilla not far behind, and carefully pulled it free, letting the carcass dangle from the arrowhead. He held it up for her inspection, looking far too pleased for so simple a kill.
Camilla smiled, "I think that will do just fine. Thank you."
"No problem," Clint replied, "I suppose we should take this to the kitchen."
She nodded, "Lucy will be so proud."
I can't believe how many different paths have taken over in my mind for the storyline of this story. I'm not even sure how it will end because the characters keep shaping and reshaping themselves.
Let me know what you think.
