1965-02-28 - Learning from the Master
Summary: Jebediah takes his brother's tips on how to get a date out on the town and finds he still has a lot to learn but might /not/ be as hopeless as he thought.
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clint jebediah 


Jebediah hasn't any idea if any of the advice his brother has given him is sound at all but he was going to try it out, without the added audience of his brother to make him nervous, as if trying to pick up /men/ in general didn't make him nervous in the first place. Sam was so concerned about the lack of men in Jeb's bedroom and that was mildly concerning as well. He spies a guy who fits most of his criteria for 'men he might like to sleep with', he's very gorgeous, easy to look at, definitely stronger than Jebediah is and looks vaguely familiar to him for some reason. Not important. Now was the hour of flirting.

How did one flirt again?

Jebediah saunters up to the bar beside said man, orders something way harder than he usually drinks to be impressive and he does exactly what Sam taught him. Lean on the bar and poke your butt out. Nailed that.

Clint has conned his way into the eight ball once more. It's not hard to convince them he's a mutant with his skills, rather than some boring old obsessive pink skin. Truth be told, Clint is sitting up at the bar, but is subtly hawking the door and the patrons. Maybe he's looking for a smart mouthed cajun in a stolen orange tee shirt, maybe not. He doesn't have a cooler with him or any other pilfered fish, crustaceans, molluscs, invertebrates or even farm fowl on him, so who knows. Maybe he's just out for a con tonight. Or just drinking. It's always a possibility that he's just drinking.

There is a large shot glass, empty and upside down beside him, and a poured beer in front of him in one hand while he owns the small corner of the bar. The fact of the matter is that he's putting up some flags of his own, possibly /just in case/ any orange-shirted felons showed up. His pants actually fit tonight, his shirt is a tight-fitting blue tee shirt ordeal stretched over the bredth of his shoulders and chest, left hanging loose down the rest of his tapered torso. Jacket's a well-worn leather thing that is not a biker's jacket and looks like it's seen a bunch of road rash anyway.

The skinny kid swaggering up to him clocked at going exactly 'what the hell are you trying, kid'-o-clock, Clint gives Jeb an upnod in greeting when he hangs on the bar next to him. An eyebrow twitched slightly upward, eyeballing Jeb, but it's not exactly the 'come hither and meet me in the bathroom in five' look.

Sam never taught him what the hell he was supposed to say to another man! Just to put his butt out! This wasn't working as perfectly as it did when Sam did it. He also didn't have the fantastic ass that Sam did. No one repeat that to Sam. He searches his head for somethin' flirtatious, anything. What do they say to people in movies? "Hey, Gorgeous… you come here.. of.. ten?" Terrible. Terrible delivery. Terrible line. Oh God. Why did he call him Gorgeous? What if he isn't even a little queer? He picked a guy that looked /stronger than him/ on purpose and now he was going to get his ass kicked.

Okay, when Clint looks over at Jeb, he winks… or, he tries to, badly. He winks with both his eyes. He blinks. Hard.

Come. Here. Often.

Blond eyebrows arch together upwards while Jeb lays that winner on him. Oh. You're joking. What an adorable little baby gay. You poor, poor, poor fucking kid. Barton begins to smile, pushing into an eventual grin from ear to ear. Perfectly straight teeth shine back at Jeb and Clint straightens his posture slightly, leaning over to his far elbow and dropping the arm nearest to the unfortunate kid. Resting his hand to the top of his leg. "Wow. So that's the first time you've tried that one out, huh? And did you just /blink/ at me? What's that all about?"

Jebediah seems to just become more insecure the more that Clint smiles. He doesn't feel like this is the kind of smile that tells Jeb to take him home and more like he's really amused at Jeb's bad attempts at picking him up. He flinches when Clint drops an arm on his shoulder and his nervousness deflates to an embarassed smile. "Ah tried to /wink/ at you but Ah ain't never did it before. Well Ah've winked before but not when Ah was tryin' to flirt." He admits helplessly. "Ah could have gone with the whole 'did it hurt' bit but Ah thought that was probably just for gals." He sighs and looks at Clint with flushed cheeks. "Don't hit me too hard, alrigh'? Ah promised my brother Ah wouldn't get in no more fights."

Clint chortles as he releases Jeb, instead turning toward him in his barstool, one hand planted on the top of his own thigh. "Kid, I don't think that hitting you is going to knock any sense into you at this point, but I gotta give you a nod for the balls to pull that one out." The hand braced on his thigh lifts and flickers up and down Jeb, mostly near his face. "Especially with all that anxious…twitchiness stuff going on, there. Takes guts. Especially since you don't know if I'm a cop or not." Clint points out with a warning tone, brows lifting upward as he suspiciously tuuuuurns back to his beer and takes a looooong sip.

"There ain't no more sense in the world to knock into me, my mama and my brothers and my sisters have been tryin' since the day Ah was born, so now their ain't no sense left and that's why Ah'm here, tryin' to flirt with you." Jeb bites his lower lip when Clint starts mentioning that he could be a cop. "You ain't.. right? You cain't be. Ah ain't ever seen a cop as beautiful as you, it's like they only hire ones that already have a doughnut addiction." Jeb's digging himself an even deeper hole if this man /is/ a cop.

"Maybe I'm a special faggot unit," Clint remarks callously with a sly smile. The word falls easily, as if it were no different than any other, but his tone stays in a low hum, trying to stay around them. Clint holds eyecontact with Jebediah. A glimmer in his eyes making the dark clouds hanging gray over blue shift and churn in amusement, like the sky over the sea during a storm. "Sent out to look good as hell and lure them out. Undercover."

They don't really have that, right!?

The guy with the crazy arms gestures for the bartender's attention, points at his shot glass, then gestures for two. "Here's a tip for free, kid. Masculine guys who ain't flouncy and ethereal fairies don't generally like 'beautiful' or 'pretty'. Too girly. Gorgeous could cut it. Make sense?"

Jebediah is already starting to move as soon as Clint drops the word 'faggot' casually like that. Getting up and out of the chair to leave but then Clint starts giving him tips and he can't really be some queer lure if he's /helping/ Jeb. "Ah was gonna use /hot/ but Ah don't know anythin'… like if Ah tell you that yer hot, which you /are/ does that make me too queer? God, Ah don't know the rules. My mother is growing more and more disappointed in Kentucky for each word Ah speak to you right now." He says, sitting back down slowly because Clint has /tips/. "But the flouncy ones do. What do guys who look like you like? If yer apart of the special queer catchin' unit, you must be the resident expert, right? What's someone say to someone as…" He considers the compliment carefully this time. "/sexy/" that seems safe, even though it makes Jeb blush something fierce. "to take you home so you can no doubt arrest them and throw them in queer jail?"

"/Kentucky/," Clint snaps his fingers when Jeb puts the placement on it and two new shots are lined up for them. Clint up-nods his gratitude to the bartender and tips him a dollar. "I was thinking Alabama, damn. Too far south." Running his tongue along his bottom molars, drawing attention to his mouth casually. Not that the shot isn't doing that enough as Clint presses the spare shot over toward Jeb. "Listen, kid. If I'm going to let you in on some of my queer hunting procedures, you need to convince me you're man enough to take it. C'mon. Drink up." He holds the shotglass out to cling lightly against Jeb's. "What do we drink to?"

Clint's playing dirty with his tongue and Jebediah feels like he knows that. He has to suck in a hard breath as he looks away, cheeks still burning slightly. Jerk. He takes the spare shot, giving Clint a challenging look. Prove he's a man, huh? Jebediah can do that just fine. This drinkin' thing? He's gotten far better at it than when he first came to New York. Especially since he works in a /bar/ and has started learning how to tend. He takes the shot in hand almost aggressively. "Ah'm more'n enough man to take it." He says very seriously as their cups 'ting' against one another. "To new knowledge of course." He says before he dumps the shot back and swallows it hard. He doesn't even cough or tear up! So manly. The picture of manliness.

"Are you?" Clint perks an eyebrow, leaning on a double entendre there. Which is going to likely blow right over Jeb's head, but it amuses him. "Sure, why not?" He shrugs and drops the shot back, opening wide and smile while he watches Jeb force himself to not cough or anything. "Not bad, not bad. Okay, you took that pretty well, so here's the deal." Clint lays down the law and gets down to brass tacks with Jeb. Which is sometimes honestly more entertaining than just fucking with them for the fun of it.

"I'll answer your questions as a form of community service. The last thing we need is you splashing around in the pool, drawing attention. And trust me, you don't want that either." Clint disguises his help as best he can before straightening up again, a hand on his beer, the other on his thigh, considering Jeb. "So what was your question? Something about what to call folks? Yeah, a guy like me? A guy's guy, you wanna stick to the classics." Clint starts to count off on his fingers, then gestures away with a wave of them. "Sexy, good looking, stud, shit like that. Shit that you'd hear a girl tell their man, I guess. That's a pretty safe bet. The flouncier ones, you can get away with the rest. It's about reading the other person. You any good at reading people, kid?"

"Oh yeah and you must be head of the research unit of it all too, right? Wouldn't want me actin' erratically, upsetting the balance as an outlier, hm? Well Ah really don't wanna make your job any /harder/ than it need be." Jebediah teases, spark of mischief in his eye and this time when he winks it comes by naturally, not trying too hard now. "'Good looking' is far too mild for someone who looks like you, now yer sellin' me false information. Sexy absolutely fits you best. Or rather just 'sin' that's what you are, just a damn walking sin." and here he does drop his eyes to Clint's lips before back up. "Well, Ah try to be."

Oh, hell. Clint looks surprised, brief as it is, shocking a quick spark of a grin that quickly fades. "Well, damn, boy. You don't have to hit the gas like that," Barton laughs, leaning back in his stool, balancing on it while he gives Jeb a quick once over, up and down. "Nice wink. You got it that time. You gotta make is a little quicker, though. In a mutant bar like this you're given a little more lax, and if you go to a place like Lace, you'd be fine, but scouting out trim in the real world? You gotta be half as bold and twice as slick." Clint warns, trying to pull the lesson back toward lesson and away from practical application. But this kid was showing promise. Nice. Maybe he would throw him a bone after all.

"You got some of it, though. It's a look. It's a tone. It's putting yourself out there in ways that /you/ look for, get it?" A sassy blond eyebrow arches. "Eyecontact will be your best friend. Men only make eye contact when they see something they wanna pound—either with their dick or with their fist."

That feels like a compliment and Jeb will take it. He's got a little spark in him, it's not like he's never flirted with anyone before and what doesn't seem to work with Kaleb seems to be exactly what Clint's looking for. He smiles a little triumphantly. Why does 'boy' sound so nice off Clint's tongue. "So Ah should act the part Ah wanna take home with me?" That sounds difficult, what Jeb likes is almost the polar opposite of what he is.

Clint is trying to pull it back towards a lesson, and Jeb is mentally taking notes, but his eyes are flirting with Clint's lips and he leans back to let them flirt with the rest of Clint's body. Hey, there was a reason why Jebediah approached /this/ guy after all. He laughs a little at the last bit as he draws dark eyes back up to Clint's own, so goddamn blue. Those eyes alone would make him a wonder to draw. Eye contact easy to Jeb, half challenge, half mischief. "Now, Ah don't know how to be a devil and look like an angel all at once, stud, how you gonna teach me to do that?" He drawls, low and sweet.

Clint rolls his eyes to the side and leans in that direction as well while he talks with Jeb, his gaze dropping down to the young man's mouth occasionally. "No, that's not really what I'm saying. Maybe I didn't say it right. I'm saying that if you want to catch a bear with a sweet tooth, you gotta put down some honey. That make any more sense?" Clint squints. "Yeah, that's not any clearer." The guy admits he's wrong and flashes a wide grin again, taking a drink from his beer while he ruminates on how to explain. Swishing it around in his mouth.

While he's thinking about it, Jeb is scraping his eyes down Clint's body and the archer is /very/ aware of it. He poses subtly, pushing his shoulders back and opening his body up, chest out, outlining the structure of his frame in all those confident ways one can while just sitting there. His glass drops with a thud on the bartop and Clint turns his head slowly in Jeb's direction. Leveling his eyes right on the young southern boy. The same way he owned the corner of the bar before, Clint shifts his weight subtly toward Jeb and smiles. Slow. Slight. "I think. That you got a pretty good idea how that all goes, Honey."

Jeb is acutely aware of when Clint's eyes draw to his own lips and hell, he uses a trick he'd learned from watching the other man. He doesn't draw his tongue around his teeth but it does dart out to wet his lower lip a little, leaning against the counter drawing his thumb over it as well, feigning at studious, hanging on absolutely every word Clint drops from his lips even if the tall drink of water wasn't making any damn sense.

Oh jesus. Clint calls him 'honey' and Jebediah Guthrie feels his knees go even weaker than they had when he'd called him 'boy'. There was no amount of hail marys that were ever going to make up for the millions of terrible thoughts that rush through Jebediah's head at that moment. His lower lip drops a little as he pulls in a deep breath. "Mm, you think so? Ah reckon there's plenty more lessons you could give me. If you think Ah've got this talkin' in the bag, what about what comes after?" He leans in a little closer. "Ah'll surely mess up all yer research if Ah just ain't any good at kissin'." His wrist bumps against Clint's own, casual. And now that Clint's turned towards him, one foot mayyy just move against the bottom of Clint's chair.

Like a bloodhound scenting the air, Clint's mouth twitches slightly while he watches Jeb's reaction to that new nickname. As if it's confirmed something he was looking for. "That's what I thought." He hums with a triumphant air, smiling while he holds his ground. Approving looks over the way Jeb draws attention to his mouth, the archer taps a finger on the bartop. "Yep, that's yer angle, right there. Yer honey. Redirect attention where you want their eye, just like ya did right there to your mouth. Good move." Calling him out on it should diffuse the situation, right?

Not by half.

"Well, sure, but practice is a whole different bag of cats than theory," Clint advises with a knowing smile. "Invading personal space. Good. Didn't even have to show you that one. Honestly? The practical? It's easier. Trust me." That stormy, sharp gaze flashes up and down Jeb like lightning. "It knows what to do when you get down to it."

He pulls in another small breath because everywhere that Clint's eyes touch feels far more alive than it should, Clint's sending fire through his veins already and they haven't even touched. The praise is doing something to Jeb that he can't talk about in church… or anywhere with polite company. Christ. He doesn't know if it's hot in here or if that's just all Clint.

It's Clint. It's all Clint.

He leans in on that foot though, getting closer to Clint. There's an art to kissin' another man in a crowded bar. Not that he knew anything about such a thing, but he knew that if you were gonna do it, you had to make it quick. He moves his hand to very casually and very lightly drag it over Clint's thigh. "Oh, Ah don't know about that. With you, Ah wanna be everywhere at once. Not a bit a you Ah don't wanna kiss or have my hands all over." He whispers, low half because he doesn't want anyone to hear them and start a bar fight over the queers flirtin' at the front and half because he's so damn hot, he's afraid his voice may betray it if he talks too loud, like Clint can't tell from the flushed cheeks and the way Jeb's practically salivating over him that he's got Jeb under his thumb.

The kid's under deep. Anyone in a ten foot radius can tell. Clint is eating is up, low key, but at the forefront of his mind…

Fingers snap near Jeb's face while the kid is staring at Clint like he's never seen another human being before. "Keep your head on straight." The warning is solid, trying to push him back from that ledge. "You look like you're about half a second from trying to plant one on me, and if you do that, not only can you get arrested, I can get arrested, everyone in here can get arrested, and this place can lose its liquor license and get shut down." That's a buzz kill, and Clint says it with a casual smile and pop of his eyebrows while he tries to impress the reality of the situation on Jeb.

With a casual slide off the stool, he drops back the rest of his beer in a swallow. He stands a head taller than Jebediah, and far more broad, dwarfing the brunet once he gets up. "So, what you do here is you either tell me 'bathroom, two minutes', and I meet you there. Or you ask me back to your place for coffee." He cants his head to the side with a sly smile. "Depending on what you're up for."

Jebediah doesn't huff when Clint impresses the reality of the situation but he does lean back. He is thinking about how to rectify the situation. He hasn't gotten this far before with a man. Maybe a couple country girls, they were a little easier to coerce into kissin' him, even in a hay bale if he tried hard enough. Sometimes it was just pity, poor Jebediah with his busted lip and black eye.. he needed a kiss from a pretty girl to cheer him up. This was a whole new ballpark.

Then Clint tells him what's next but he doesn't want to kiss him in some filthy bathroom. That's hardly romantic. He stands up, seemingly unphased by how many inches Clint has got on him. Hell, that's exactly what makes him desirable. "Did.. Did you want to come back to my place? It's a step and a half from here. Ah have the absolute /best/ coffee." He asks, his confidence doesn't seem to waver though he stammers.

Eh, romance isn't always what it's cracked up to be, man. Not when you can have the excitement of a filthy bathroom tryst. Maybe not everything Clint can show Jeb is a good idea. He's leave the more advanced techniques to trying to unknowingly seduce the young man's brother.

Digging into his pocket, Clint breaks eye contact with a smile and pulls out a money clip with a few bills in it. nothing fancy, mind you, and the bills are rumpled things. He tosses a couple more on the bar top, then pauses and drops another bill, tapping his finger on the shotglass that he abandoned earlier. Asking for another refill. "A step and a half, huh? Nice. I could do for a short walk."

The bartender fills the shotglasses again and Clint presses one into Jeb's hand while he throws his own back in a swallow. The glass set down forcibly on the bartop. "C'mon, Honey. I could use a coffee."

How the entire hell, just all of it, all of purgatory, did he pull this off? Hell, Sam was going to be impressed. He's also glad Sam said he wouldn't be home tonight. He takes the shot offered to him and knocks it back, trying to keep from smiling so damn wide it moves right off his face. He tosses a couple bills of his own on the bar top because he knew that the bartenders rely completely on them. His brother was one after all.

Clint calls him 'Honey' again and makes Jeb wonder if he can walk the whole way to his apartment with this smooth talking devil wearing human clothes. He nods towards the door. "Follow me, then. Just a step and a half from the best coffee of your life." He promises, and another little wink to go with it as he starts to lead Clint out of the bar.


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