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The lasagne was in the oven, the radio was on, her hair was mostly dry and the radio was quietly humming out some generic pop tune. Sure, it was not on the level of 'going out for burgers with friends' but it was pleasant. Definitively calm after a (typically hectic) day on the job. There was a slight sway in her hips as she moved through the small kitchen, took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and set it down on the island in the centre, an air of triumph in the movement. "Glasses are in the cupboard just behind you - feel free to help yourself."
Maybe it was a bit of a risk to invite a friend over but they were due some good luck on their side. A night off. Some time to attempt to let their guards down - if she continued to monitor the police radio via her phone, that was her business - and enjoy some non-microwaved food with only some of the stress of knowing that it was temporary.
Sharon knew from experience that she always managed to land on her feet. On the off-chance that something did go wrong, it was not herself that she would worry about.
It was at that point that she heard a knock at the door and, smile a little sheepish, she headed over to the door. "I ordered pizza as backup. Two minutes." Whilst she had faith in her own cooking, she was rarely one to invest wholly in one option - just in case. Plus, everyone loved pizza.
Giving the newcomer a once-over through the peephole, she smirked a little to herself before opening the door, positioning herself in the gap with a hand resting firmly on the wall. "Evening. I'm guessing you're not the working with the pizza delivery team?"
Clit spun on the little stool as he sat in Sharon's kitchen. Standing up he sighed and moved over to the cupboard to grab two glasses. "You sure you don't mind I brought Lucky? I couldn't exactly leave him at home, Barney isn't the best dog sitter. Plus we've been doing a little fixing up the place. Not really a good place for him right now." Clint leaned on the counter, smiling.
"Thanks for me having me over though. Figured I was about time I saw this place you kept talking about. Closer than the city and I still couldn't find an excuse to pop in. Shame on me." He laughed as reached down to pet Lucky. Hearing the knock on the door he sipped his wine and looked to Sharon. "Expecting company?"
She explained the pizza and he let out a laugh. "Your cooking isn't that bad. I've had your pancakes. Still, pizza. Can't go wrong with pizza. Just made the visit worthwhile." He was joking, but he couldn't pass up pizza. There wouldn't be a day that he and Lucky would ever say no to a slice of pizza. Who didn't like pizza?
As Sharon went to answer the door he reached over to top up his glass. He always felt bad eating and drinking people's food, but at least he brought some extra drinks. Well a six pack. But it was some local brewery. His tenant was raving about it, seemed like a good chance to try it out. Though right now wine was sitting just fine. Even if he wasn't really a wine drinker. It would do, plus free booze and food. You couldn't go wrong with that.
"You need me to carry something? Let me cover the tip at least. Least I can do." Moving off the stool he moved over to the door, reaching for his wallet as he went on his way. Coming to stand behind Sharon he stopped. "Oh hey, so no pizza?"
With the way they'd left things off in Amstelveen and the fact that he was now officially back in the United States, it seemed a little rude not to pay Sharon a visit. He seemed to recall that she'd given him an open invitation to see her, though now that he was climbing the stairs to her apartment, part of him wondered if it hadn't just been wishful thinking on his end. She was an agent, after all, and had a lot of undercover missions--having a wanted criminal with a bounty worth the Shangri-La knocking on the door of her personal residence was just one of the things that could compromise her. Just a bit.
Well, he was already here, and he'd already bought flowers, and those weren't returnable. No chickening out of this now, Rogers. Still, there was no denying that his palms hadn't been this sweaty since the serum. Maybe he should have called in advance.
Steve stared at her door for a solid thirty seconds before he finally knocked. Then he let his arm drop to his side and tried to look relaxed. When the door opened and a pretty, familiar-looking blonde greeted him, he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank God, he'd gotten the right door. He could recognise the faces of strangers from a glimpse of a photograph and memorise the locations of enemy bases with a single glance, but put him in front of a door of a woman's apartment and he could barely remember three simple digits.
"Hi," he said, smiling. His eyebrows raised in surprise when she mentioned the pizza. Had that been his responsibility--wait, did that mean she'd been expecting him? She was a really good spy. "Do you, do you want me to get some?" he asked, using both hands to point down the hallway which, quite accidentally, revealed the bouquet of bright, yellow flowers he'd been keeping behind his back.
And then Clint casually popped out from behind Sharon, and Steve wondered if he had, in fact, interrupted something. And misunderstood Amstelveen. "Hey, Barton," he said, with a sort of stilted confusion.
Scratch the maybe--he should have definitely called in advance.
So maybe Clint's Lucky could end up being one of the most spoiled in New York - that was just a fact that they were all going to have to live with. Sharon had seen him with Kate and Clint and was painfully aware that if anyone even tried to harm that dog, she would have something loud and bullet-like to say about it. It was human nature. She had barely any free time as it was so owning anything more active than a fish was off the table and that left a dog-shaped hole in her life. "It's not a problem, really, you're always welcome. Excuse or not." Taking the glass in hand, she did not have time to pour anything and carried it over with her. "Though I'm going to have to see some of those renovations when they're done."
Looking back over her shoulder, she laughed a little. "I know my cooking's great, I just like to be prepared." Often when there was more than one of them around, trouble tended to follow. Trouble that would probably mean that she could not retrieve the food on time - and then, there would be pizza.
Then she was at the door and there was Steve and maybe she was smiling more than smirking but that was fine. "Hi." She lingered in the doorway, able to hold back a grin and presuming that Clint had invited him along. Which was cute - as long as she did not think about the conversation that would have gone with it. And other, mildly worrying things that might have come up. "I've already ordered some, it's not a problem." Probably not enough now but-
Were those flowers? Those were definitely flowers. She stepped back to let Steve in and bumped into Clint, who was apparently no longer in the kitchen, as she did so. At least it had been Steve rather than someone less, well, accepting of the fact that she was currently hosting two international fugitives. She handed Steve her own empty glass before ducking round both of them. Whether she owned a vase or not was debatable - and she needed to check on the oven. "Make yourselves at home, I'll be back in a sec."
Renovations, if he could even call them that, weren't ones you really showed off. Fixing broke railings and walls. Removing burn marks and patching up bullet holes. When you apartment is attacked and nearly destroyed tends to be a little close for comfort. But they would slowly get it all back and fixed. At least no one was really hurt, and it could have been a lot worse. Really a lot worse. Could of had someone been shot instead of the wall. They got lucky.
Clint looked to where Steve was at the door, moving back to let Sharon pass. At least it was just Steve. Though a pizza guy would have been nice. Now he really wanted pizza. Well he always wanted pizza, but he wanted it a little bit more now. A lot more, hopefully it would arrive soon. Clint moved back and looked to Sharon and then to Steve again.
"Hey Steve, don't tell me those are for me now," He said with a smir, motioning to the flowers the man poorly hid. Crap, they were for Sharon weren't they, maybe he should leave. Would it be awkward? Was Steve here to confess something? Flower, showing up at their door. Short of wearing a tux or using a boombox to confess his love he was pretty cliche. Suited him. Maybe Clint could give him some pointers, what little helpmthat would do. Just keep them happy Rogers, best advice.
Sharon departed to check on the oven and Clint looked to Steve with a smile. "I'm guessing those were for her. You want me to leave you two alone. I have a book full of excuses I can use. Barney makes up at least half of it. If you two want to talk or whatever, just let me know and I'll be out of your hair." He looked back towards the kitchen area, "If not, I hear there's pizza and lasagna, and I'd love a piece of both."
Clint moved back into the kitchen, coming up to pet Lucky as he did. "You need a hand with something? Last minute preparations? I'm a terrible cook, but I work well under pressure." He took a seat at the counter, grabbing the wine glass that had been poured for him. Taking a sip he smiled again. Normal life was weird. "Smells great already."
Charlie had gotten off work and decided to head to Sharon’s place. The headaches had gotten somewhat better after seeing a certain doctor that he definitely didn’t know the location of (seemed to be a lot of him knowing but not knowing going on these days). Anyway, he wanted to thank Sharon again for saving his ass in the snow and just chill with his old buddy. Little did he realize what he was walking into, of course. He opened the door with ease and strolled into the building. Backpack firmly on his shoulders and hands in his pocket fidgeting with his phone. Charlie had considered texting her a heads up, but he decided just showing up would be fine. Right?
As he waited for the elevator, a pizza delivery guy joined him. Charlie struck up a casual conversation. Once he realized where the guy was going, Charlie paid him off and took the pizzas from him. Besides, the guy had places to go, right? No need to wait for a slow elevator and keep himself busy. Also, this would be a great way to surprise Sharon. With pizza! And wow, it smelled good. Not as good as that pizza he found that time in Brooklyn. That stuff was really something. It also was slightly tainted by the memory of one Clint Barton throwing him into a wall and lecturing him and … yeah. At least they had ended on a relatively positive note? And no pizza had been injured in the process.
Charlie shifted the boxes slightly as he knocked on the door. When it opened to reveal … well, two fugitives. Two former Avengers. (Sharon was presumably in the kitchen somewhere.) Anyway, he froze. While Clint never called him for tech help, Charlie assumed they were okay. But now he was facing the man again with pizza in his hands. Were they about to have a round two with the whole throwing Charlie against a wall thing? Or would he accuse Charlie of being a SHIELD spy? Would he remember what he said about being microchipped and freak out about Charlie being at a friend’s house? Because no one cared if he visited friends. Right?
“Mister Hawkeye. Mister Captain America.” A nervous smile spread across his face after a moment. This was not awkward. Not at all.
Back when he'd probably broken some world record as the guy with most allergies, Steve had had his fair share of disappointing dates--as in, dates who found him disappointing. After all, he'd weighed about as much as a golden retriever at the time, and he sure wasn't as cute as one.
Standing at the door, seeing Clint over Sharon's shoulder, Steve felt a little like he was twenty again. He had, actually, been in a similar situation at that age. Apparently, his date had forgotten they'd made plans and that Steve would be picking her up, giving young Steve quite the shock when, through her window, he saw her ripping the pants off some Dean Martin wannabe meathead. Except Steve had mistaken who was doing the ripping and he hadn't realised it was all consensual. So, when he kicked his way in (his most athletic feat at the time) determined to defend her honour, it went without saying that his efforts were very ill-received. And that was how Steve got beat up in that alley. (He had to pay for the broken lock too.)
At least this time, Clint wasn't going to beat him up. If anyone was going to throw a punch, it was probably Sharon, anyway.
Steve let out a laugh when at Clint's wry comment, which he recognised was a joke, though it didn't really set him at ease. When he caught sight of Clint's dog, Lucky, curiously poking his head in to see who was at the door, Steve knelt down and rubbed his neck, which made him feel better. Dogs were great like that, especially now that Steve wasn't allergic to them. "Should've brought treats instead, I guess," he said. "Isn't that right, Lucky? Isn't that right, boy?"
(Lucky, in so many words, agreed.)
Steve looked up in surprise when Clint suggested he'd leave. "No, of course not! You should stay--I want you to stay. These are--these were, you know," he said, shrugging, searching for words, "... housewarming flowers, because I've never been to her house--apartment. Come on, let's head inside--anyway, how is your brother doing these days?" As Lucky trotted happily back into the apartment, Steve stood up and clapped Clint on the shoulder. He was genuine in wanting Clint to stay--after all, it wasn't often that they were able to spend a relaxing evening together. Being a fugitive did that to a person.
Steve smelled the pizza before he heard the door knocking, but after opening the door, he noticed two things: one, the delivery guy didn't look like a delivery guy, and two, the delivery guy knew who he was. Steve almost sighed to himself. He didn't know the guy, and as much as he didn't want to do it, it seemed like the only option was to club him unconscious, make a break for it, and hope Sharon wouldn't have to uproot her whole life again when the poor guy came to. A real great date this was shaping up to be.
@SHARON CARTER @CLINT BARTON @CHARLES ESKIND
There was a brief moment, hovering in front of the oven, for Sharon to recompose herself. At least Lucky was here, that was always good. Bending, she grabbed a pair of oven mitts, and opened the door. The steam flooded straight up before she could withdraw the lasagne but, when she did, it was accompanied by a proud smile. Could have been a lot worse.
"No, Clint, don't worry about it. It's fine. It's great." Possibly might need more pizza but that was easy enough to order and did not rely upon leaving Clint alone in her kitchen with flammable devices. Not that she didn't trust him, just that she knew that she would need her deposit back. And the idea of setting off the fire alarm for the whole building whilst hosting not one but two known fugitives was enough to make her more pedantic than usual.
When she heard the door open, however, her face fell and she set the tray down on the kitchen island. Odd. Stepping back into the main open space, she took in the scene with only a few surprised blinks. Charlie had the pizza. Steve's (subtle) body language was not great. Time to diffuse the situation. "Charlie! Hey," she greeted genially, sliding in behind Steve and gently resting her hand on his forearm. "He's a friend. Brought in by someone on Coulson's team, I trust him." Sharon sent Charlie a pointed look, hoping he would take the hint and say something trustworthy.
"Clint, Steve, Charlie. Great! Feel free to sit, I'll get plates." Each name was accompanied by a (only mildly flustered) gesture before she made to head back into the kitchen again.
"Yeah I gave Laura plenty of housewarming gifts, I get it." Clint said with a smirk. It said all he needed to. He had been in the courting game at one point too. Though he knew Steve only had good intention on the mind. Clint didn't expect flowers if he ever came to saw his place though. "I get it."
Back in the kitchen he leaned on the counter, trying to stay out of the way of Sharon. "Barney is great. Old, bitter, and spends to much tim brooding. What else is new?" He Looked at the door and saw who it was. Clint tensed a bit, reaching for the nearest weapon hemcould find. The spatula. He held it, as Sharon introduced the SHIELD tech to him and Steve. Right, Sharon knew the pushy guy. Charlie was it? Clint had forgotten about that.
"Yeah we met. And he has pizza again." Clint gave a nod and set the spatula down. "I think he knows what will happen if he does talk." Clint smiled. Yeah he wouldn't slam him into any walls, not yet at least. Just a misunderstanding. Clint looked to Sharon. "Right he's SHIELd right? Not being tracked or watched. He won't say anything? Don't they give regular lie detector tests?"
Clint set down the spatula and leaned on their counter. He slid into a seat and looked to Clint and Charlie. "So how you doing? Following any more avengers to back alleys." He pulled out a chair inbetween Steve and him for the young SHIELD tech to sit. "Can you believe I scared this guy Steve? He tried to call me out in public." Clint just smirked to show that he was joking, he had no ill will towards Charlie.
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