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[Clint still isn't used to this place but he's definitely getting there.
It's the closest thing you can get to paradise, right? No angry mutants trying to tear his head off, no aliens falling out of the sky, no Russians trying to evict him from his home, just paradise. Paradise, and Lucky. Oh, and Kate.
Alright, maybe Kate is a little higher up on the 'good things about this place' list than he's giving her credit for, but she's still a damn brat so he's not going to let her know that. She doesn't remember coming back to New York and that just means that she's been angrier with him than he'd like, but Clint is used to that. The women in his life are always angry at him, what else is new. It doesn't mean that he doesn't appreciate the fact that she's around, and he's going to appreciate that whether she likes it or not. So there.
He wakes him at the crack of noon, having passed out on his couch the night before. They still haven't managed to figure out the whole living situation thing, so Clint's been taking the couch while Kate takes the one bedroom in his apartment. He argued with her for it but just barely; he always knew that she was going to get it, he just didn't want her to feel like he was giving it to her.
He doesn't bother putting on a shirt as he yawns and shuffles around the apartment in sweatpants and socks, scratching his stomach as he moves to the coffee machine that already has a full pot of coffee ready from the timer about an hour ago. He leans back against the counter and brings the entire pot to his mouth, drinking heavily from the side of it before spilling some down his front.]
What - aww, coffee,
[he groans and places the pot down on the counter, lazily reaching to grab a paper towel and wipe his chest while also running his socked foot over the few drops that hit the tile floor. All better.]
Kate! It's your turn to do dishes, I need a coffee mug.
[He doesn't even know if that's true or not but he's pretty sure it's her turn.]
It's the closest thing you can get to paradise, right? No angry mutants trying to tear his head off, no aliens falling out of the sky, no Russians trying to evict him from his home, just paradise. Paradise, and Lucky. Oh, and Kate.
Alright, maybe Kate is a little higher up on the 'good things about this place' list than he's giving her credit for, but she's still a damn brat so he's not going to let her know that. She doesn't remember coming back to New York and that just means that she's been angrier with him than he'd like, but Clint is used to that. The women in his life are always angry at him, what else is new. It doesn't mean that he doesn't appreciate the fact that she's around, and he's going to appreciate that whether she likes it or not. So there.
He wakes him at the crack of noon, having passed out on his couch the night before. They still haven't managed to figure out the whole living situation thing, so Clint's been taking the couch while Kate takes the one bedroom in his apartment. He argued with her for it but just barely; he always knew that she was going to get it, he just didn't want her to feel like he was giving it to her.
He doesn't bother putting on a shirt as he yawns and shuffles around the apartment in sweatpants and socks, scratching his stomach as he moves to the coffee machine that already has a full pot of coffee ready from the timer about an hour ago. He leans back against the counter and brings the entire pot to his mouth, drinking heavily from the side of it before spilling some down his front.]
What - aww, coffee,
[he groans and places the pot down on the counter, lazily reaching to grab a paper towel and wipe his chest while also running his socked foot over the few drops that hit the tile floor. All better.]
Kate! It's your turn to do dishes, I need a coffee mug.
[He doesn't even know if that's true or not but he's pretty sure it's her turn.]
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