3616/True Lies

True Lies
Date of Scene:	09 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Hawkeye (Barton), Quake

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Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint had one of those rarest of things in his world, a day off. Not time he booked, not something planned just a day where stars and calendars aligned and he had nothing to do for either SHIELD or the Avengers. It was good timing too, with him and Skye just moving into their new place. He spent the morning sorting out his bows, because of course that's the first place his mind went and moved them and his fletching supplies down into the basement, which he was turning into bow central.

After that, and discovering the back yard was just about the right length for some halfway decent archery practice, Clint turned his eyes on the kitchen, unpacking some pots and pans and getting to work in the kitchen. He'd offered to make Skye a home cooked meal if she won a bet, but given this was a new place and all he figured he could do it without the bet just this once. Tonight, he went for something light, breakfast for dinner, omelettes and thick whole wheat toast he got from the frou-frou bakery down the block, all of it made when Skye sent a text to tell him she was almost there.

Quake has posed:
Skye had dragged her feet at the Triskelion. She wasn't actually needing to stay and do work, but she knew that as soon as she got home things would be different.. Actually, that was something of a lie. She had a mission to plan for. Tomorrow would be D-day so to speak. The day she'd do her best to convince everyone she'd worked with and gotten to trust her... to believe that she was a traitor. She's even worked out with Fury what data she was going to steal. Had made some contacts to help with her escape. And eventually ran out of things she could legitimately do without drawing attention to herself.

It seemed odd not to be heading into the residential area of the Trisk, and instead, to be finding her way back to the Village. Which also bought her some time. Just some. Not all.

Turning the lock on her house with Clint, Skye put a smile on her lips, and stepped inside, greeted by the warm smells of impending dinner. "Oh, hey, what did you break? And is dinner going to be enough?"

The words come with laughter. Skye entering the kitchen after casually putting her things away. (read: tossed them in the front all and on the couch as appropriate)

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Nooooothing," Clint sing-songs from the kitchen when asked what he broke. "Jeez, Keyboard can't a guy cook breakfast for dinner for his girl without breaking something first?" he teases as he watches the two omelettes cooking on two different pans. He glances up when Skye enters the kitchen and smiles to see her. "I'll come kiss you in a sec, but can you put the thingy down on the toaster and get that going. These are almost done."

Then he's flipping the omelettes, and pressing them down with his spatula one after the next. "Got to say, having this big kitchen, huge help," he remarks idly putting down the spatula for a moment to come over and make good on his promised kiss, a brief brush of their lips, "How was work? Still a ton of Hydra data to go through?" he asks.

Quake has posed:
"Thingy on the toaster," Skye mouths, frowning at their countertop. "And before you say it, yes, I do too know what a toaster looks like. It's the thingy I'm not so sure about."

Why were there so many buttons and knobs on the stupid thing? Why wasn't there just the stupid thingy you pushed down to make.. oh. *that* thingy.

The toast is started.

"Breakfast for dinner, huh? Nice, but really, what did you break?"

He'd been alone unpacking all day. It wasn't inconceivable he'd broken something, though she mostly expected it would be his own things he'd destroy.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint smirks as he says, "I said nothing about your abilities to identify a toaster," he promises. "Might have thought it, but I definitely didn't say anything.

Thingy found and toast started, kiss given and all of that, Clint comes back to the omelettes, noting his question had gone unanswered. "That bad huh?" he asks knowing full well it might be a case of can't answer rather than won't answer.

"Like we said the other night, I'm here to talk to if you can," he says before smiling. "And nothing beyond chipping the finish on one of my old bows. It took a tumble down the steps to the bow cave."

Yes, the basement is now the bow cave, at least to Clint.

"This right here though, this is just because I wanted to," he explains gesturing at the omelettes with his spatula, grinning.

"Grab us some plates?"

Quake has posed:
"Yeah. Long day," Skye admits. "Just a bunch of shit I got assigned to take care of that had to be handled before I left today. I got most of it done. You know how it is." It wasn't a lie. She wasn't going that far yet. Not unless she had to. And, for all the reasons she'd told Fury, she would have to to make this mission work.

"Plates, coming right up." Which of course was easier said than done, until she opened the first cupboard and discovered someone, in either brilliance, or kindness, had set the place up like their old aparment, so that things were exactly where she expected them to be. That made her smile, a smile she turned on Clint. "You really do love me. Totally made the kitchen Me-proof." Or Skye-accessible as it happened. He even kept the most used things to the lower shelves to help her out.

"Hey, wait," she chuckles as she hands the plates over to him, listening to the story of the tumbling bow. "Since when do we have a bow cave? And you best have saved Merida some room."

The toast pops, and she grabs it, throwing it on the counter and blowing on her near-burnt fingertips. "Forgot about that. Butter?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint didn't push, nature of the job and all of that. "Lame," he comforts. "Speaking of work, they called today, I'm off the sick list and back to agenting. So good thing I took the time to unpack today."

Clint turns and meets that smile with one of his own. "Like that? I did it yesterday. And the stuff on the lower shelves, totally not a short joke by the way," he says leaving that whole statement teasingly ambiguous.

When the plates are handed over, he quickly transfers the omelettes onto them, a mixture of melted cheese, chopped up ham and mushrooms oozing from the centre.

"We do since this afternoon. I figured if I left things down in the basement we might get a week or two before bows take over the whole place. Also, set up a second fletching rig downstairs, if you ever want to learn how to make your own arrows." She'd come this far into his art, he was more than happy to show her the rest of what he knew as well. "And yes, Merida has her own shelf down there, but for right now she's where you left her," he didn't want to mess with Skye's bow. Some things were just sacred.

"Watch yourself," he says and "And yeah, I think there's some in the fridge."

He grabs the plates and moves them to the kitchen island, drawing out a stool so he can sit. "Some waters and beer in the fridge as well, I'll take a water if you don't mind getting it for me." No beer? Was he alright?

Quake has posed:
Skye was glad he didn't push. Just what could she have said anyway? 'Hey, Hotshot, remember that talk we had last night? Funny thing about that. They want me to go undercover..' And things would go downhill from there. Especially if he knew she'd been the one to actually utter the words and make the mission so (even if she knew Fury would have sent her anyway), or been the one to flat out state Clint couldn't know until after he'd thought she betrayed him. That one was really the one she wasn't sure if he'd forgive her about.

Still, she'd committed. It was the job, right? If she wanted to be an Agent..

Fury's 'Ms. Johnson' was still ringing in her ears.

"Fletching, huh? Sure. Totally ordered me some personalized fletching when I was at the shop with you. When we picked our Merida." She smiles as she remembers it.

Butter was found in the fridge, as well as water for him and a beer for herself. Toast was buttered and slapped on plates.

Clint's request for water doesn't go unnoticed. "So, back to being sent out, huh? That why you've switched to water. And yeah, I'll move Merida down later. Kind of curious to see what you did down there."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
It was a good point. Had Clint been aware of what was coming he probably would have wished to remain ignorant. So in this case, silence was very much golden.

Ms. Johnson though, totally dirty pool.

"Oh?" he asks only just remembering he'd left her alone in the store all that time. "What you'd get yourself?" he asks.

"Thanks," Clint says when toast is slapped onto his plate. Then remembering they might need cutlery, he hops up to get that answering Skye's question as he does.

"Yeah," he says. "Technically I'm on call tonight, back up duty officer, one of the joys of being level 7. Though as long as Hydra doesn't attack or nobody busts out of the Raft, I should be good."

"And I might have gone a bit overboard, but it's nice to have all that space to work with y'know. Oh, and I think we can turn the backyard into our personal archery range. Definitely need to do something nice for Lara for letting us rent this place."

Clint sits back down and passes a knife and fork over to Skye. "Dig in."

Quake has posed:
"Oooo, Lara'll like that. Though makes me wonder why she didn't just make herself a range."

Skye takes a seat and digs into her dinner. The omlette was good. Really good.

"Mmm," she answers. "Some Black and White fletching in code. Won't mean anything to anyone but me, really. I thought it would be neat, though." A bite of toast is taken. "On call, huh? Let's hope there isn't an invasion."

Skye grins, even as she knows what's on the agenda for tomorrow. Not an invasion, but it may as well be.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Lara just about lives in her office when she's not out in the field," he says. "I'm guessing the SHIELD range was just more convenient, or, she's just not as obsessive about it as we are," he says, that last delivered with a smile.

Clint watches as Skye takes a bite, seeing her reaction, he smiles, "Not bad, right? I don't do anything too fancy, but I can cook a few things."

"That's the best sort of personalization if you ask me, the stuff only you get. What does it mean, the code? Or is that just between you and Merdia?" he asks with a grin. "And yah, let's hope no invasions." He says as he digs into his own omlete and takes a swig from his bottle of water.

"Guess we should decide if we're doing the house warming barbeque as well, we missed Christmas and New Years, but it should be some fun."

Quake has posed:
Skye takes another mouthful, shoving her fork into the omlette and scooping up a bite. "It's a D and an S in binary, actually. Really simple design. Hit me while I was at the counter paying for the extra gear I was picking up that it might be neat. Oh, hey, did I tell you, they think I'm Wasp? Guy practically swallowed his own tongue trying not to blurt out why was I cheating." She chuckles, remembering. "I shoudl have taken pity on him, but I wanted the discount."

"No invasions," she agrees. "But why the water.. ah. On call. Nevermind. I get it. And the housewarming?" There she had to stop and think. IIf she said yes, she wasn't going to be here when it happened. But if she said no, it might make him dif up thoughts on what was actually going on. And Skye needed a good 48 hours of Clint believing she'd left him.

With a sick feeling she gave him a tired smile. "Totally need to do that. And before your schedule gets all eaten up with assignments. What were you thinking? Next weekend?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint wondered what she'd set for her fletching and the DS sounded cool, it just sort of leave his head when she says Jack thought she was Wasp. He facepalms, laughing. "God, I kissed you while we were there didn't I?" He lowers his hand. "Wasp is sort of famously married," he explains before cocking his head and looking at Skye. "But I can sort of see the resemblance. Oh man, not sure if I should tell Jack, or let him sweat it out some. Either way, remind me to be nice to him, he totally could have sold that to the tabloids or one of those dumb superhero gossip sites. Saw a few pics from Tony's party on one of those the other day."

"Yeah, on call, I mean I'm a carny, I can shoot straight with a couple of beers in me, but appearances and all that, don't want to make it look like I don't give a shit to any team they put me with."

Clint has another bite of his omelette before he says, "Yeah, next weekend will work, we want to invite our SHIELD friends and do you mind if I invite some Avenges? I've even pulled my head out of my ass about Tony. Even if he's going to give me all the shit for living in this place." He shakes his head, but the offer is genuine, Tony can come.

The tired smile is noticed though. "Long day huh?" he asks. "We can finish up and get an early night, I probably should get to the Trisk early for some PT."

Quake has posed:
"Mind if I hitch a ride in with you for the PT. Got a bunch of shit to catch up on." Which wasn't a lie. She just didn't plan on coming back tomorrow. Heading in with him, as much as she wasn't going to appreciate it in the early light of day, was going to be one of the last memories she had of Clint for a time.

He's treated to a firm smile, then. Forehead crinkling and everything.

"Invite who you want, Hotshot. We got this place to invite all our friends. Avenger or SHIELD. Just a place where we can all forget about the job and relax."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint would be touched by the gesture if he knew about it but instead his brows raise, "You wan to get up with me at six?" he asks. "Jeez, they must really have you working on something big," he says but makes no protest. "Just remember when I'm nudging you awake, you asked me to okay. I am not evil." He says with a grin.

The firmer, smile seems to ease Clint's concerns and he nods. "Cool. I'll put a general invite out to the Avengers and hit up our friends at SHIELD."

Clint turns his attention to his food then, if they were both getting up at six, heading to bed sooner than later was a good idea.

"Love this place, but mornings sure were easier when we were living in the Trisk," he remarks with a grin between bites.