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Author: Took me a while to get this one done. My little doggie decided to
help me along one day by grabbing a pen off my floor & dumping it in my lap
when I was reading through one of the earlier chapters. Now we are done.
I own nobody except Miranda & Kitten. Ty for all reviews, follows & favs.
They only saw each other once a month.
One day out of the month when they all got together and didn't their best not to kill each other.
The first meeting, the only one Fury himself attended, Clint showed up late to. According to Fury, both agents were on leave with SHIELD. As Tony put it, Clint was being required to attend "shrink sessions" for PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress was something Steve understood all too well.
As Banner had said on the Helicarrier, they were a time bomb. A recipe for chaos. And Fury wanted them to "play nice" (Clint's words not Fury's).
The second meeting, held again at the Tower, was much more akward than the first. Clint and Tasha were both extremely uneasy. They kept to themselves and mostly spoke in foreign languages. He personally only reconized German and French.
The third meeting held a couple of pleasant surprises. They met in a private boothe in some nice italian restaurant Tony liked. Apparently Tony's girlfriend decided that they'd all be more comfortable somewhere other than the Tower. But the real surprise came when the roar of a motorcyle echoed through the restaurant. Clint and Tasha walked into the restaurant and the waitress hugged them as if they were family. And so did what appeared to be almost the entire staff of the restaurant.
Tony seemed to realize that money didn't always get you the warmest welcome in some places at that very moment.
Both agents were in street clothes. Clint wore a pair of worn out jeans, a short sleeve shirt, boots and a leather jacket. Tasha wore a similiar jacket over a tank top with leather pants and boots. It was very different when Steve considered that he was used to seeing them in their SHIELD uniforms. They were both more talkative, more trusting and both even laughed a bit that afternoon. It's a side of them Steve decided he likes.
Which is why he's standing outside of Clint's apartment, ringing the doorbell after a couple of minute's hesitation. However the person who answered the door was not the person he had expected to answer. "Miss Romanoff?" he asked uncertainly. Had he gotten the address wrong?
"Evening Cap." Tasha said, leaning against the doorframe. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was dressed in a pair of torn up jeans and a short sleeve shirt that showed her stomach.
"I'm looking for Agent... Clint. I thought for a minute I had the wrong address." Steve told her.
"Clint? Were you expecting Steve?" she called over her shoulder.
"Not at the the moment. But I did tell he could come by if he wanted to. Let him in!" Clint called from within the apartment.
"Come on in." Tasha said, stepping to the side to let him inside.
As he stepped inside he noticed that the apartment was a bit more personal than he had been expecting. But what really warned his heart were what hung over the living room windows in place of curtains: an American flag and a POW/MIA flag. A Purple Heart was painted on the American flag and there were several names written on silver ink on the POW flag. "Clint is... was...?" Steve asked, looking at Tasha.
"Sgt Specialist with the Army. Three tours in Iraq. Lost a lot of good soldiers before I got sent back home." Clint said, stepping into the living room. He reconized the look in Steve's eyes when he looked at the flags hanging over his windows.
"I'm sorry. I know how that feels." Steve admitted.
"It get any easier?" Clint asked.
"Sadly no." Steve whispered.
"Clint? You want to invite him along?" Tasha asked.
"You want me to?" he asked her. She looked over at Steve and shrugged lightly, making it Clint's choice.
"Am I interrupting something? I can leave." Steve offered, taking a few steps towards the door.
"Actually Cap... we were about to go grab dinner and a few beers. Care to join us." Clint said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch.
"I don't want to intrude..." Steve began. Far from it... he wanted to join them. But not only was the current era still frightening but the two agents still struck him as cautious and secretive.
"We'd be honored if you would join us." Tasha told him gently. She could tell the soldier was uneasy with them. Not uneasy, she realized, but shy and scared. She looked over Steve's shoulder at Clint. The archer nodded, understanding the soldier's fear.
"Where are we headed?" Steve asked as a set of keys flew over his shoulder and into Tasha's hand with a flick of Clint's wrist.
"One of the my favorite places to eat in New York. We come everytime we're in the city." Clint smirked as he led the way out the door. Tasha locked the front door behind them and stuck Clint's keys in her jacket. Steve couldn't help but wonder if they lived together but he didn't dare ask.
"Best fried chicken in New York City." Tasha said after the four block walk to a little hole in the wall called Miranda's. Steve pulled his jacket off and tucked it over his shoulder.
"Miranda? We're gonna need three huge plates." Clint called, looking into the kitchen through one of the swinging doors that seperated the bar from the kitchen.
"I thought that was you Clint. And you brought your girl with you. How are you two?" a voice asked and a woman in her fourties with dark hair tied up in a bun stepped out to greet them.
"We're hanging in there. Brought a friend with us." Tasha told her, motioning to Steve.
"Nice to meet you ma'am." Steve said, nodding to her.
"Ma'am? I like this one. Where you been hiding him?" Miranda chuckled.
"He's been... away. For a long time. Our boss just found him recently and brought him back to the world." Clint told her.
"Yeah? Hey how's Phil? Haven't seen him around. I thought if you guys were here, he might be too." Miranda asked. All three of them fell silent and glanced at each other. "What happened?" Miranda whispered, pressing close to Clint and Tasha.
"He was murdered." Tasha whispered, leaning against Clint.
"I'm sorry." Miranda said, hugging them both. She nodded to Steve once. "Kitten, sweetheart. Show them to their usual boothe and get them whatever they want to drink. First round is on the house." she called over her shoulder.
"Yes Aunt Miranda." Kitten, a pretty leggy brunette who didn't look much older than twenty, showed them to a boothe near the back of the bar. "Dos Equis? Smirnoff? What else?" she asked, glancing at them.
"Miller Lite." Steve told her.
"Put it on our tab Kitten. You know we're good for it." Clint told her.
"Sure thing Mr. Barton. I'll get those drinks out for you three in just a sec." Kitten said, turning on her heel to return to the bar.
"She seems like a good kid." Steve said softly.
"Miranda adopted her after her parents died when she was little. She's Miranda's pride and joy. But yeah... she's a good kid. They're both good people." Tasha agreed.
A couple of hours, several drinks and a few plates of fried chicken later, they were all leaning on each other as they walked the four blocks back to Clint's apartment. Steve was nowhere near drunk but Clint and Tasha were both buzzed... slightly. "I will give you two this: best fried chicken I've had in a long time." Steve laughed.
"Best chicken in New York." Tasha reminded him.
"I'll agree to that." Clint and Steve both said and then Clint burst in giggles. Steve squeezed Clint's shoulder and messed up the archer's hair.
"Down Cap. He's mine." Tasha laughed. Steve blushed and stammered, which made Clint howl in laughter.
"You know Steve... you're not so bad." Clint said, once he settled down.
"Next time drinks are on me. My place." Steve smirked, still blushing slightly.
"We're good with that." Tasha said, looking over at Clint.
"Next week?" Clint asked.
"Saturday night." Steve agreed as the pair of assassins headed up to Clint's apartment. Steve watched them until they disappeared first into the darkness of the stairwell, then the bright light of Clint's doorway. He felt a little jealous. They had each other at the end of the night. All he had was an empty apartment and his memories.
"Hey Steve?" The soldier took a step back and looked up at the open window a few floors up. Clint was looking down at him from above, sharp eyes peering through the darkness despite their alcohol glaze.
"Yeah?" Steve asked, cocking his head.
"Why don't you come back up? Doubt we'll be getting much sleep tonight and we'd appreciate the company." Clint called down quietly so not to wake his neighbors.
"You sure?" the soldier asked, still uncertain and shy. But considerable less so than he had been earlier in the night.
"Wouldn't offer if we weren't. Door's unlocked." Clint said, disappearing back into the apartment.
Steve smiled and made his way upstairs. As Clint had said, the door was unlocked. The apartment was brightly lit and felt warm. "Make yourself at home Cap. Tasha's making coffee." Clint said, from where he stood by a bookshelf. Home... that was a word Steve missed.