coffeepots | ryslig inbox

Entry tags:

ryslig

ryslig inbox

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CLINT BARTON. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 008.01.023.11 * HAWKEYE has joined 008.01.023.11 <hawkeye> this is clint barton, please leave a message. <hawkeye>** if you need something fixed in your apartment please just knock on my door or something, it's faster.

"Anonymous" username: < ronin >

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's a little hard to think what with the Kill Bill sirens blaring inside his head warning him that he has fucked up royally, so instead of responding straight away Joey takes a few moments to reflect on every single terrible decision in his life that has lead up to this mortifying moment.]
Yeah that's probably a good idea.
[Or maybe it's a terrible idea, Joey doesn't know. He has completely lost the reins on this conversation.]

Should I head to your place or do you wanna meet up somewhere?

[Really, both of them have completely lost control of this conversation. It's in the gods' hands now. Clint's first instinct is to offer for Joey to come over, but then he'd see how much of a mess the place has been--not to mention the fact that Clint still hasn't put on pants since he got revived. It'll be better if he's given a little bit of a push to get dressed and go outside.]

there's a park with a pond a few blocks from where i live. i'll send you the address.

[And of course as soon as he sends it, his brain is screaming that he's royally fucked this up even more than he has already. Clint just squeezes his eyes shut, closes his laptop, and gets up. He hardly thinks about what he's throwing on--a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a puffy purple jacket--before he stumbles out the door.

With Clint lost in thought, his legs carry him forward without much of his own input. By the time his brain nudges him back to reality, he's already at the park. There aren't that many people out and about--most likely at work or something. The few humans that linger sit on a bench near the pond, throwing cracked corn to the ducks that paddle eagerly across the placid surface.

He stands at the entrance of the park and realizes that he didn't tell Joey where he'd show up. Stupid. Idiot. Moron. He looks wildly around for any familiar-looking nymphs wandering the park and trying to push down the thoughts that threaten to compromise his laid-back facade. But it's clear from the way his ears are pinned back that he's anxious.

He won't be able to hear him coming, since that stupid flesh creature broke his hearing aids when it had assimilated him. But if he sees Joey from a distance, he'll wave him down.]

Right, be there in ten.

[He does not, in fact, see Clint in ten minutes - though not for lack of trying. He wishes he could say he was delayed by traffic, or getting turned around, or even just because he was taking his sweet time walking to what (irrationally) feels like his impending doom. All those things would be reasonable excuses for why he takes an extra six minutes to show up at the park, looking sheepish and slightly out of breath, like he ran the whole way there from wherever the hell he started from.]

[He spots Clint easily enough - not many blonde werewolves with a penchant for purple around to confuse him with - and raises his hand a little to wave back at him as he makes his way over.]

Hey, Sorry I'm late.

[He circles his closed fist against his chest, ruffling his formerly-crisp button down with one hand while the other raises a small shopping bag, for the sake of illustration. Said bag gets shuffled down to the crook of his arm, freeing his hand so that he can explain himself.]

I had to stop at the corner store. I usually feed the ducks when I come out here to paint, and I didn't wanna disappoint them by showing up without any treats.

[If the sheepish look on his face is any indication, he's acutely aware of how lame that sounds - he's being held hostage emotionally by a bunch of waterfowl because he doesn't want to hurt their feelings. It's embarrassing, but Joey's already made an ass of himself once today so he may as well keep the ball rolling.]

[This was a terrible idea, Barton. Just like all of your other awful, terrible ideas. Why did you think this would be any easier or better having this conversation in person? Panicked and sent the message and didn't think about the consequences.

His tail instinctively begins wagging as soon as he spots Joey--but it quickly stops as soon as he remembers why they've decided to head out to the park. Is it possible to feel as though you've already fucked up even though you haven't spoken a single word out loud? Despite the fact that, reasonably, he has nothing to worry about, his brain keeps jumping weeks and months ahead of his thoughts, screaming about the future and all it entails.

Keep cool. Just breathe and say something, dammit.]

Huh. I didn't know that you painted.

[He feels like Joey probably mentioned that at some point, which only makes him feel worse. And as soon as he starts signing, he doesn't know how to stop. His ears are pinned firmly back against his head as his hands grow all the more frantic.]

Also, it's fine. Sorry about the message, I was just--just surprised? I mean, it's not like--I mean, I don't have the best track record when it comes to--to these things. You should probably know that, at least--

[He cuts himself off, feeling only more mortified than before. The one saving grace is that nobody else can overhear their conversation right now. There's a pause as he glances towards the bag Joey is carrying.]

...You said you wanted to feed the ducks?

[As much as it pains him to see Clint in such obvious distress, it's a little reassuring to know that he's not the only one who's treading in deep water right now. Somehow, the prospect of drowning feels a little less scary when you're not the only one flailing around trying to keep your head above the surface.]

[It also helps that Clint's nervous rambling is actually kind of reassuring? Sure, his thoughts are disjointed and he doesn't really finish a single sentence before course-correcting, but from the gist of things...it sounds like they're okay? Or at the very least not as bad off as Joey thought they were.]

[He glances down at the bag, still a little mortified that he's like this, before looking back to Clint with a small, self-depreciating smile.]

Do you mind? It'll only take a minute.

[He takes a quick look around, searching for the nearest hoard of waddling gremlins to offer his tidings to.]

I just feel so bad for them, you know? It's not like they can fly south for the winter.

[Even if they could, Joey's not sure there is a south out there for them to fly to.]

[Clint lets out a quiet, relieved sigh as he glances down at the bag Joey is carrying. This is fine. He's not dead from embarrassment yet. It's starting to look more and more likely that he'll be able to make it through this encounter--date? Is this a date?--just fine. He offers Joey a sort of self-conscious grin, nodding slowly.]

Yeah. Yeah, okay.

[Clint lets his hands drop to his sides, waiting for Joey to lead the way. There's a group of ducks that seem to be huddled near the edge of the pond for warmth. A few feet away, an empty bench. Most of them seem to be asleep, but if approached, they seem to hear the rustle of the bag and start craning their necks, softly quacking amongst themselves.

He watches one of the ducks start preening itself. What is he doing? What does he want out of this?]

I, um, probably should tell you that I'm divorced.

[Probably not the strongest thing he should've started with, but he wants to lay all his cards out on the table. Have Joey make the assessment. He stares intently at the ducks waddling around, trying to focus on them instead of the words he's signing.]

It wasn't anything bad, it was just...you know. It was nice, at first. But things didn't really work out between us. Not to mention the fact that we were both superheroes and, uh, things like that rarely end well.

[He's hoping Joey can draw the dots between this fact and the implications behind his earlier panic. He really doesn't want to spell it out.]

[Joey would never say he's glad to be mute, but he won't deny how handy it is to be physically incapable of making involuntary exclamations or noises of surprise. His shredded vocal cords spare him the indignity of reflexively saying 'wait, what?' or 'woah, hold up' or any number of other stupid things that people say without thinking when they get unexpected news dropped on them.]

[Instead, Joey just kind of...stands there and blinks like an idiot, because he knows Clint has no reason whatsoever to lie to him about something like this, but at the same time he can't help but feel like he's being punk'd - like the universe itself has conspired to put him in a situation he can't possibly escape with his dignity and good-image intact.]

[Haltingly, Joey's hands begin to sign a response, and after a moment his brain catches up with what they're saying.]

...If it makes you feel any better, I'd probably be divorced myself by now, if the marriage had actually gone through.

[He winces slightly, stifling a sigh as he drags a hand through the curly petals that make up his hair. He knows he should've brought this up sooner and he feels bad that he didn't, but...it's hard, talking about Étienne.]

Hell, I'd probably be divorced twice-over if I hadn't been too scared to even accept the second proposal.

[Clint pauses, raising an eyebrow as Joey continues to sign. He rests his chin against his hand, leaning forward in his seat.]

Huh.

[He wouldn't have expected it, especially not from such a kind, considerate person like Joey. But Clint doesn't push for more information--that's for Joey to tell, if he wants to. He turns to look back towards the nymph.]

Sorry for dumping that on you, I just--I just wanted to, um...lay out all my cards on the table, let you know what you're getting into.

[In this place, it'd be too easy to just pretend like none of that ever happened. There's no one around to warn Joey about how much of a trash fire Clint Barton's romantic life actually is, and there's nothing stopping Clint from selfishly pursuing this in an attempt to ignore all his previous romantic endeavors. But Joey's a decent guy. He doesn't deserve to have that sprung on him without at least knowing what's up.]

So. Uh. [He stops signing for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.] I'm willing to give a relationship a try, if you are. It's just--you're a great guy, for Christ's sake, and I'm--

[A walking joke? Afraid to mess it up? Reading too much into a good thing?]

--nervous?

[Joey doesn't realize he had been holding his breath until it melts out of him, his shoulders sinking as he deflates against the bench with a relieved sigh. There are plenty of ways Clint could have responded to finding out he's almost been married twice and screwed everything up both times - and God bless him, Clint chose one of the best possible options.]

[There's gotta be some weirdly specific word for the feeling when everything goes way better than it should. "Pleasantly surprised" is too tame, it doesn't hit right. Jazzed, maybe? Dazzled?]

[Yeah, until he can think of a better word, Joey's just gonna go ahead and consider himself thoroughly dazzled.]

But if I'm nervous, and you're nervous, then who's driving?

[He flashes a weak smile, knowing the joke isn't funny enough to get a genuine laugh, or bad enough to get an ironic one.]

Sorry - that's a Wilson thing. We can't ever have a Moment without someone cracking wise.

[He pauses, buys himself some time to think by pulling out a box of oats from his shopping bag. A few yards away, the small army of approaching ducks begin to quack with interest and excitement.]

I'll try to be better about it, going forward. If you want. If that's where we're going, I mean -

[His nervous babble is interrupted by the demanding quack of a mallard, and Joey thanks his lucky stars that it arrived before he got the chance to make even more of an ass out of himself.]

[He dutifully tears open the mouth of the box of oats and sprinkles a bit on the ground. The duck and his companions quickly set to work devouring their instant oatmeal, which brings a small smile to Joey's face despite how tumultuous this entire day has been.]

[Wordlessly, he reaches over to tap the back of Clint's hand, before turning his own hand over, palm out. He nods towards the box of oats, which he gives a little shake for the sake of illustration, just in case his meaning isn't clear enough.]

[Come on Clint. Feed the ducks by hand. You know you want to.]

[Clint pauses, offers Joey a reassuring, nervous grin. He digs his hand into the box, takes a handful of oats, and scatters it across the ground before him. A few ducks start pecking at the ground, quacking softly and wagging their little tails. Clint grins, leaning back in his seat.]

I think...I think it's what I want.

[God, why is it so much harder to say that out loud? He glances between the ducks and Joey, an unsure expression on his face.]

Your...uh. Your dad won't be mad, will he? I mean, since he kicked you out of Defiance and all.

[Asking that makes feels like a high schooler, nervously navigating parent-child relationships. But this seems like new territory to him. He pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he realizes--]

Wait, do you have a place to stay?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

ryslig inbox

<Joshua626>

<hawkeye>

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject