Thank you, everyone, for being patient with me! I never realized how hard working on two stories at one time would be. I vow to do better! Now, let's look at an apartment!
Bucky shared with Clint about chasing after the Flag Smashers and Zemo, then asked Clint questions about the group he and Kate were fighting. Clint shared how he got involved with Kingpin and the Tracksuit Mafia. "You realize that has to be about the stupidest name for a gang, right?"
"Tell me about it. That's the only name I could come up with since that's all they wore. Their numbers seem to have grown, but I think we took most of them down, plus the head is in the wind, not sure what happened to their second-in-command." Clint filled him in on the hierarchy.
Bucky nodded. "Sounds like the Flag Smashers, though they remind me somewhat of HYDRA. You think they're down and out, and then they reappear with more followers. Guess there's always going to be evil around."
"True, but it means more work for guys like us."
"Good point." Bucky stood. "Gonna go take a shower, then we can take a look at that apartment."
Clint nodded, leaning forward, propping his arms on his legs. "I'm trying to think of the last time I had to buy furniture, if ever. I went from SHIELD to the tower, then on the run, then back to the farm. I didn't have much say in getting the farm up set up. That was mainly the family. Once I see how big the place is, that'll give me an idea of what I'll need." Clint knew he'd need the basics; it was just going to be a matter of how many bedrooms and how big the place was. He picked up his phone and searched furniture stores, found a couple of consignment shops, and noted their addresses.
Bucky re-entered the living room, rubbing his head with a towel, drying his hair. Tossing the towel into a laundry hamper, he looked over at Clint. "Ready?"
"Yep, let's head out." Clint drove them over to his possible new residence, where he was met at the door. "Hey, Grills." Clint nodded to him. "Grills? This is – "
Grills stuck out his hand. "Oh, my God! Another Avenger! James Buchanan Barnes! Bucky, right?"
Bucky side-rolled his eyes, looking over at Clint, who shrugged his shoulders. "Bucky Barnes," he responded, grasping Grills' hand, firmly shaking it.
"Wow, just wow. Merry Christmas to me! Clint, you're the best!" Grills couldn't stop excitedly babbling.
"Grills? The apartment?" Clint hoped to get him to refocus on the reason for their visit.
"Oh, yeah. The manager gave me the key, told me to go ahead and let you look around." The LARPer went over to a sofa table, picked up a keyring holding a couple of keys, then handed it to Clint. "Like I said, it's the top floor, plenty of room."
Clint nodded, taking the keys from the LARPer. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."
"No problem, man. Good to meet you, Bucky."
Bucky nodded followed Clint out of the apartment and into the elevator. "Grills?"
"Yeah. Guessing that's not his real name, but that's how he introduced himself. He's a first responder, found the Ronin outfit when Kate's apartment caught fire.
"Has trouble always followed you, or is this a new thing?"
"Welcome to my life, Barnes. Trouble magnet at your service."
"Sounds like someone else I've known."
"Who? The paragon of virtue?"
Bucky shook his head and rolled his eyes. "What kind of bullshit did he feed you people all those years? You do realize he fought in the war, right? Believe me. He didn't start as an innocent rube. Kid had a mouth on him like nobody's business. Do I have stories, man, do I have stories."
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Clint and Bucky stepped into the hallway then walked to the end of the hall. "I can't wait." When they got to the apartment door, Clint dug the keyring out of his pocket, unlocked the door, then the two men walked inside. "Grills wasn't kidding when he said lots of room."
"You've got enough room to set up an archery range in here," Bucky commented, looking around at the spacious living area.
Clint nodded as he took in the apartment. He looked around for sightlines, exits, and weaknesses, wondering if he would ever stop doing that whenever he entered a new place. It had been a part of him for so long, though, that he couldn't see himself stopping. Once a spy, always a spy, he guessed. Clint and Bucky continued through the apartment. It was a four-bedroom, two-bath apartment with three bedrooms and one bathroom on the ground floor. The other bedroom and bath were up a short flight of stairs, almost like a loft area. The kitchen reminded him of Stark's in the tower but smaller. Thankfully, the kitchen was fully furnished. "Four bedrooms would work out. When the kids' visit, each of them could have their own room."
"Sounds like you've talked yourself into it," Bucky said.
Clint's gut was telling him the same thing; that's one of the few good lessons he learned from his mom – always trust your gut. "Yeah, I think so. Let's hope I can afford it."
"Never know until you ask. That's what I thought about my place, but I got it at a good deal."
Clint pulled out his phone and called the landlord, who agreed to meet him at the apartment. While they waited, Clint and Bucky examined the rest of the apartment. "Great sightlines," Clint said as he stood on the balcony and leaned on the railing.
"Yep," Bucky agreed. "There'll be a warning if someone's coming."
"That used to bug me when I first moved into the tower. Though, to be fair, a lot of things bugged me at that point. I didn't think I'd ever get comfortable with so many floor-to-ceiling windows."
Bucky nodded. "Steve told me about that place. Did you ever settle in?"
"Not really, mainly just got used to it. I was able to find a few nooks and crannies up high to go when it got to be too much. Though, it did help to know there were friends around."
"Yeah, that always makes it easier."
Someone knocked at the front door then opened it. "Mr. Barton?" An older, grey-haired man, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, entered. The man was dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, with a patterned bow tie, a tweed blazer with patches on the elbows, and a dark pair of slacks.
Clint turned around. "Yes?"
"I'm Ian Fitzgerald. Nice to meet you." The man reached out his hand, and Clint shook it.
"And this is your, uh, special friend?" Mr. Fitzgerald asked, motioning toward Bucky.
"No, sir. Co-worker. James Barnes." Bucky nodded at the gentleman.
"So, am I to understand you would like to purchase the apartment?"
Clint looked puzzled. "Purchase? I thought it was just for rent."
"No, I'm afraid not. All the apartments in the building are individually owned. Landlord is not necessarily the right term. I'm more like the property manager. I keep an eye on it, have contacts if things go wrong, blah, blah, blah. It's a weird situation, I know, but the original owner of the building left that stipulation in the will when he died several years ago. Wait a minute. You said your name was Barton, correct?" Clint nodded. "Clint Barton?"
"Uh, that's correct."
"That makes things easier. I'm glad I brought this along." Mr. Fitzgerald pulled an envelope from an inside jacket pocket and handed it to Clint. "I was hoping I'd finally get to meet you. You'll understand when you read what's inside."
Clint scrunched his face but slowly unsealed the envelope and took out a piece of paper. As he read it, the tension eased from his face. "That son of a bitch." Clint looked over at the man. "How did you know him?"
"He was my brother-in-law. My wife and I heard a lot about you, felt like we knew you. Phil thought the world of you."
"I haven't heard his name in a while." Clint left unsaid 'because most of the people who knew him were dead.' "Why does this not surprise me about Coulson?"
Arnold smiled. "He always told us you were the closest he had to a son. He was never sure you would. I hated to let someone else live here, but there's always at least one apartment for sale, so I knew you'd find something here that would suit you, providing you ever moved here. Think the wife and kids will like it?"
Clint snorted. "The kids will. It doesn't matter much what the wife thinks. We're getting divorced, hence the need for a place to live."
"Oh, sorry to hear that, especially this time of year."
"Yeah," Clint sighed. "Thanks."
The man nodded. "It happens much too often, but with everything that's gone on in the past few years, I can't say I'm surprised. Anyway, as you can tell in the letter, the place is yours, bought and paid for. Luckily the person living here before you was our oldest daughter. Her husband passed away from cancer a few months ago, so she needed a place to stay until she got back on her feet. She's taken a job across the country, so the place is yours, whenever you want to move in."
"I'm headed out of town in a couple of days. Okay if I call you when I get back?"
"Sure thing. We can get the paperwork signed then." Ian reached out his hand again. "Welcome to the building, Mr. Barton. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnes." Ian turned around and left the apartment.
