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It had been a long night. Too long. Morning came too damn early so the shades were drawn and the alarm clock was unplugged. Luckily the owner of this particular apartment didn't need to be anywhere today, so he could trust to being able to sleep in after that crazy night with… what was her name? Ehn, who cares? Not him. No reason to get up off the couch right now, besides it was nice and comfortable even though various bits of his clothes were thrown around the room.
It was curled up with a cover thrown over him that Clint Barton found himself at the moment. He was snoring deeply, some well-deserved dreamless sleep for once letting him rest and recover. Oh sure the apartment was a mess with a few empty bottles of liquor on an end table. The place is ordinarily an image of chaos what with his lack of the most basic house-keeping skills, but now it's even worse.
Of course he is unaware of the approach of someone that might well take exception with the state of things.
*
Keys? Who needs keys?
Well, okay, it'd be a whole lot more polite to have a key to the place and more of an invitation if a key was had, but Kate Bishop doesn't always need keys. Besides, it's a way of getting her skills up. With gymbag in hand and her bow in her bow-sock, she's set the bag down in order to jimmy the lock, and with a *click* of tumblers, she's got it open, and once inside, closed again and locked. It's dark. Ish. For morning, anyway, and rather than take a scenic tour, she makes her way to the small kitchen in order to prep the coffee.
Within minutes, the percolator is on the stove and the water is beginning to boil. In hand, Kate has a small box of donuts, all tied up with a red and white string wrapped about it. Picking her way back to the living room proper, she sits down on the couch, tucks up her feet and watches Clint sleeping for a few long moments before,
"You said we'd do some training today."
*
One eye barely squinches open even as he lies there on his belly on the couch. He's bare of chest, though it looks like he's got a pair of boxers on, though the covers are mostly drawn over one shoulder down his back and over his hips. His feet are out though and he streeeetches slowly.
At first her answer is just a grumble. But then he closes his eye and turns his head to the side of the couch. "G'way." He says as if expecting her to accept that order. But then he probably realizes she won't accept that and he adds, "Training… right. Do a thousand push ups, then wake me up."
With that he turns away further, drawing the cover up over his head as he grumbles again. The shift of the couch causes the lamp on the end table to rock, the top of it thrown off balance slightly by a… bra?
*
Kate's staring at the semi-conscious form and looks at least a little pleased she didn't have to prod a bare foot before some semblance of response is returned. She chuffs a sharp breath and follows it up with a sigh, "No way in hell am I going to do a thousand push ups while you lay there like a lump. Remember? This whole 'doing it together' thing? Showing me the ropes? Hawkeye and… uh…" Pause. "I'll figure it out— what the hell is that?" That last bit is a single stream of consciousness, and untucking her legs, she sets one foot back on the ground, followed by the other.
"Uh…" Kate's back on her feet and she's taking the short way around the couch to the endtable's new lamp 'accoutrements'. At first, she reaches out, but stops halfway before she looks for a broken cedar shaft… and then she plucks it off the lamp, holding it by the broken not-arrow.
"It's… huge. Good lord, Clint. Um… ew? I didn't happen to see Bessie on the way out, so…" Ew? (Is that a touch of 'hurt' in her tones? Nah… couldn't be.)
*
A heavy sigh is hurled her way as Clint slowly forces himself up into a seated posture. He yawns again, wide-mouthed and rubbing at his eyes as he accepts the fact that he's not going to get anymore sleep. Wincing a bit he rolls one shoulder as he grimaces, sore probably. He shakes his head then eyes her sidelong. "Oh."
For a moment a haze of confusion overtakes his features as he pushes himself to his feet. Yeah, luckily he's wearing his boxers. He starts to shuffle off towards the bathroom, stepping over a stack of newspapers and an old pizza box. "Uhhh, don't remember her name." He waves a hand over his shoulder as he reaches the door and pushes it open. "V-somethin'. Gimme a sec here, gonna shower then we'll go fer a run."
*
Kate watches him for a long moment, tamping back the urge to wave the thing around on the stick like some flag at a parade. When he finally begins to move, she steels herself and sets an expression of 'Ew, who cares' onto her face. "Oh. Gurnsey or a Jersey?" Cow, that is.
As Clint starts up from the couch, Kate is praying that he's atleast got boxers on, and has the courtesy to look away on the chance that he doesn't. But, he does, and she gets to get a good ogle… er… look at those shoulders, arms… and abs. "Bessie. We'll just go with that." With a V. Okay, that works too.
"Must've been memorable then, 'cause no amount of alcohol…"
Kate puts the stick back down, with the bra attached, and she wanders back into the kitchen where the coffee is beginning to perc. "Go get clean. I gotta make arrows tonight. Brought my jigs, and figured between mine and yours, we could get out a few dozen arrows. It'll be fun."
As he disappears into the bathroom, Kate's voice drops and her gaze lingers down that hall. "Yeah… it'll be fun."
*
It doesn't take too terribly long. The water turns on and he gets in. A few minutes later the water turns off with a creak of metal and a squeal of pipes. He comes back out with a towel around his waist another that he's using to rub at his hair. He crinkles his nose as he tosses it into a hamper to join a few other old towels before he steps back into the room in search of the coffee he can smell.
"First we run." He says as he reaches over her shoulder to get at the mug of coffee. He claims it and takes a sip before he starts to walk back into the living room. "Then we'll spar." He pauses in the room as he looks around, frowning to himself. A few steps and he walks over to a pile of clothes. Picking up a pair of boxers he sniffs them curiously, then nods to himself as if realizing they're clean. Or clean enough. He grabs some socks, some sweat pants, a Yankees t-shirt… and then a sweat shirt.
With his pile of clothes under his arm he starts back towards the bedroom, calling to her over his shoulder as he moves. "Do some target callin', n'then mebbe we'll make some arrows. A'right?" He slips into the room and starts to get dressed, though the door is left open a crack so he can hear her.
*
When Clint emerges, Kate's got the coffee pot off the stove and on a towel to act as a trivet and as immediate spill clean-up. She's cleared a spot in the sink for the grounds, and has two mugs poured. She's leaning up against the counter, one arm crossed in front of her stomach and the other holding the mug. "Run.. great. I'm gonna go on a limb here and say we're probably not going to be keeping feet on the ground." Even in his current state, she's more than aware that he could not only out-run her, but also out climb and 'parkour' her (even if parkour isn't yet a thing and won't be for another 30 years!). She wrinkles her nose as she watches him enter, get his coffee, and depart once again. Yes, she's staring.
"Spar? Ew. After you get all sweaty again?" *sip* His checking of clothes gains an eyeroll from the younger woman and a sigh. "You missed your hat, sport. Need it to really show team spirit."
Target calling.. one of the more fun exercises, and she nods. "Maybe? I just got a load of cedar in and while you've been napping and…" Beat. "… napping, I've been blowing through my arrows." The price of getting good; lots of arrow on arrow strikes when shooting at a target.
*
"Thought it was in here," Comes the answer about his hat. Where is it? He does take a second to look around and scowls to himself, but then goes back to getting himself dressed. A few more moments pass, but then he pushes the door open and peers out halfway leaning through the door as he pulls the t-shirt on and down, tucking them into his pants and then adjusting the draw string. "Better to spar after yer warmed up, that way you won't cry about a pulled muscle and all that like last time and cop out."
Oh yeah, he went there, claiming she was totally faking just because she started to lose.
But then he steps back out into the living room, caring his sneakers and dropping them onto the floor in front of the couch with a double flumpf. He sits down and starts to untie them before sliding them on over his heels. "I might have an angle with the ACT-F people for some gear. Will see if I can get a training budget or something. Then you can mooch. Like normal."
*
"Hey, if I'm gonna cop out, I'll be upfront. Lord knows I really enjoyed limping for three days," is given, complete with eye roll! Kate takes another swallow of coffee before she sets the mug in the sink and walks back out to the 'living room' proper. She flops back down onto the couch, but she's not 'getting comfortable'. It's more a 'Okay, now I'm waiting' sort of posture. "I'll make sure I cry more."
Kate leans to the side with a balled up fist and reaches out to 'punch' his shoulder, "Bully. Making girls cry."
Once he's gotten his sneakers on and looks to be ready, Kate scowls at him and rises to her feet, first stretch-tilting her head one way, then the other, her pony-tail bobbing. "Yeah.. like normal. Just for that, I'm taking the donuts back tonight." She's ready to go.. going to be a cold run!