1963-12-05 - Morning Joe
Summary: A crisis is averted as Clint rescues the SHIELD bullpen from a morning without coffee. (Also, he and Liv talk or something, whatever.)
Related: None
Theme Song: None
liv clint 

The tension in the air at SHIELD HQ has been thick. Stress is rampant, unease, and there's a palpable edge to things. Some people might know why, but for a good chunk of the population and the agents, it's just this pall that hangs over them. Any military man or woman knows that morale is a very real thing and right now, things under Wing Sing just don't seem to be as at ease as they once were.

Not that Clint notices. Well, perhaps a little. He might pick up on some of the people making comments. Then again this situation is fairly unique. A president has been killed. Aliens. Gods. Some of them even working here, kinda. So he probably ascribes it to the general levels of stress. Not like people have talked to him much about some suit of armor. Oh sure he had a vague idea of shooting various high caliber shells at it, but at this point he's moved on to other things.

Right now, one of those other things is the empty pot of coffee. "Who the fuck takes the last cup and doesn't start another pot?"

He points an accusatory finger at his partner William and growls, "Fucking savage." He says even as the glass pot clinks on the aluminum heating grame.

William, for his part, holds his hands up. "Wasn't me, man. Wasn't me."


Despite the fact that her desk is currently unoccupied, Liv has actually been at work for hours already. Just not up here, where she can be easily found.

No. The Director had her down in the gym, where Agent May could finally put her through her paces and give her a proper evaluation. She had been told to be there and ready to work at oh-six-hundred.

So Liv had been working since oh-five-thirty.

She's only now emerging back into the bullpen in her usual suit, freshly showered and looking for a bit of a pick me up. Which… looks like it may be problematic. She makes a face as she approaches the coffee pot, raising her eyebrows as she looks between Clint and his partner.

"Oh, god. No coffee?"


Another accusing gesture is made from Clint, his eyes wide as he motions towards William with the pot, but he turns around and starts to go through the movements needed to make the coffee. Filter. Grounds. Water. It's all put together in a staggeringly grudging manner. Now just the time is needed.

He leans there, scowling darkly after the man, and to be fair chances are he didn't really take the last cup. But Clint isn't in the mood to be troubled with 'realities' or 'facts'. So he folds his arms over there even as the coffee maker starts to make its slow trickle of life-preserving nectar.

He looks askance at Liv and then seems to look her up and down a second. If it was anyone else she might think it was a 'check out' but Clint's not exactly a guy who has ever looked at her as if she was a female. Was only recently he started to consider her an actual agent after her chops had gotten sufficiently busted on the job. So he's probably taking note of something else.

"Where you at on the stuff?" He asks, succinctly.


Once Clint takes it upon himself to rescue the bullpen from a life without coffee in it, at least one person seems appropriately grateful. It probably doesn't hurt that he hadn't asked Liv to do it just because she was there. "Thank you."

She finds a spot of wall to prop up while waiting for it to brew and loosely folds her arms. The looking-over Clint gives her doesn't seem to bother her, but Liv has honestly gotten used to getting looks within the office. She just arches a politely curious eyebrow.

"Which stuff?" Liv asks with a tired-sounding laugh. "Sorry. Things are… my armor is down in the lab, if that's what you mean," she says, grimacing. "Still not sure how to feel about it, but what's done is done."


"Yeah," Clint has this way about him how he talks, not exactly the fellow with the best command of the language. Yet he manages. "Sorry it became a thing. Sorta." He tells her idly as he still watches her. A few moments pass as he continues to consider her, but then perhaps dissolves some of the mystery by adding, "I might be taking another op. Gonna have to distribute some case work. What's yer load lookin' like?"

Yeah usually in a lot of places he's worked that'd be cause for some moaning and groaning, but then again it's fairly obvious he doesn't take that sort of thing lightly. So sure he's considering giving her some more work to do, but it's not out of any desire to ditch it himself, or to duck it. Alright maybe a little ducking.

"If yer loaded down, s'fine. Just I figured should get someone that isn't entirely half-assed like that Bill."

"I'm right _here_ Barton." Comes William's response.

"Yer a chucklehead, and you know yer a chucklehead."

Clint gets flipped off.


Ahhh, it's so nice to be amongst proper comrades in arms again.

"It's alright. Maybe Fitz will take it as a chance to upgrade SHIELD's defensive gear," Liv says, trying to sound hopeful. Maybe it won't just be used to figure out how better to hurt her own people. Whatever silver linings she can find. She needs them.

Liv casts a brief look towards Peggy's office and can't entirely help a small frown. "I'm not sure," she admits. "The director seems pissed with me, but if she signs off on letting me out on a mission, I'd be grateful for the work."


"Might lead to footwork," Clint says as he looks after Peggy's office as well, though now he crosses his arms over his chest. "Might just make it so you gotta be a face that pipes up whenever someone comes in and asks, 'What's up with that Red Skull, guy?'" He spreads his fingers slightly as if holding off the various possibilities of the future. "Worse comes to worst I'll try ta stick my head in now and again if you have questions."

He glances over at William as the guy gets up to stroll towards the door out of the bull pen, probably heading off to check on the records room or something. Despite their friction, Clint does give the guy a small wave, no real hard feelings natch. But then he looks back towards Liv, "Your thoughts on that ACT F stuff?"


"Red Skull, huh. That sounds fun." Liv offers a friendly wave after William before she straightens up to hunt down a clean coffee mug. She should really consider bringing in a larger one, one of these days. "Well, whatever you need. As long as May and the Director give me the all clear, I'm at your disposal.

Once she's got a mug, she just loosely holds onto it and waits for a) the coffee to finish brewing, and b) Clint to get first pour. He brewed it, he gets dibs. That is the law.

"The ACT-F stuff certainly seems necessary lately," Liv murmurs thoughtfully, frowning down into her mug. "And it at least has the United States and the Soviets pretending to talk. So that is an improvement, I hope."


Unfortunately, as the pot of coffee percolates, Clint seems to have some small aspect of chivalry connected to his thought process. For as she speaks and the first cup's about set, he holds up the pot and fills her recently procured mug before sliding the pot back into place under the spigot.

But he's busy listening to her speak about ACT-F, and that primarily has his attention. "Been hearing some noise on that front. Considering putting myself in for something like that. Director permitting and all that."


Oh, well. Liv supposes she won't complain if Clint's going to insist on getting her caffeinated first. "Thank you."

"I don't think you'd run into issues with the Director on that," Liv says with a slight wince, running her free hand back over her hair. "But I went over to volunteer the other day. They've apparently got orders not to cooperate with SHIELD." Which is true enough. "Which seems… I don't know. They must have reasons. You can ask anyway, worst they can do is say no."


Eyebrows lifting a bit, Clint eyes Liv anew all over again. "Is that so?" He does look a bit surprised as he adds some sugar to his mug and knits his brow in reflection. Another hnh comes from him when he says, "UN ain't the darling it sorta once never was. Could be that."

But then there's a moment when Hawkeye's expression darkens as he looks again towards the door that leads to Peggy's office. He chews on the inside of his cheek for an instant then pushes off and away from the coffee alcove. "Or somethin' else." He scritches a fingertip along the curve of his jaw, "Anyways. I'll keep ya in mind for the files."


"Trust just doesn't seem to be in very high supply lately." Liv doesn't sound upset by this so much as she sounds resigned. With a sigh, she shakes her head and brings her mug up for a sip. Apparently, she takes her coffee black. "I suppose I can't blame them for being a little paranoid."

Liv does not miss Clint's glance towards Peggy's door. She seems to consider something for a moment before she shrugs a shoulder. "Honestly? I'd still go over and volunteer. Maybe seeing people from the agency actively trying to help would be a start," she says, cracking a smile.


"Yeah," Clint lets that gaze linger, but then looks back over towards Liv and offers a small boneless shrug. "In any case. I ain't a guy that can wear too many hats. Despite my swollen noggin and all that." He makes the casual attempt at a joke, and almost even succeeds.

Now, with his coffee secure he steps towards his desk and pulls out his chair, the wheels squeaking a bit. "Stop by my desk before you ditch for the evening and I'll throw a few things your way to look over. If nothing else s'always good to have more than one person familiar with some of what's going on."

There's another pause as he opens one particular folder, frowning at it for a time, but then seems to realize she's still there. "Alright?"

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