AFTER – Epic Dogs Require Epic Names
"Pizza Dog? Seriously?"
"What? It's a great name," Hawkeye protested, more mischievous than offended. "He loves pizza."
Skye huffed and knelt to scratch the scruffy mutt behind the ears. "Everyone loves pizza. How long have you had him?"
"A few months. He rescued me from the Tracksuit Mafia when I kicked them out of my apartment building..." Clint grinned at her incredulous expression and told the story of how he acquired both his apartment building and his dog without further prompting. Skye settled into the seat across from him, listening with rapt attention.
She had not expected to run into Hawkeye of all people at the café. She'd been hoping for a quiet lunch alone actually, but this was better. Clint told his story with enthusiasm and an almost ever-present amusement while his dog pressed warm and fuzzy against her legs as she pet him. There was none of the wary tension that had been there when they'd talked in the hospital and it was actually pretty awesome to get to see Hawkeye away from the job.
"You could ask for help, you know," Skye pointed out as he described yet another run in with the gang.
"It's my problem. I don't want to drag the others into this." It was amazing how quickly he could go from happy-go-lucky to serious and somewhat grim.
She shoved his leg with her foot. "I don't think you'd have to do any dragging. I'm perfectly willing to lend a hand. I'm sure the others-"
"Skye, no," he cut her off sternly, no room for argument in his tone though there was a startled sort of fondness in his eyes. "Leave it alone. I can handle it. I need to handle it."
She frowned at him a long moment then sighed. "Fine. But if you do need help, you'll ask, right? There is a time and a place for macho stubbornness, but if you get yourself hurt... I'm sicking Coulson and Natasha on you."