Owner	Pose
Clint Barton	Date night came early. Mostly in part due to the enthusiasm of both Clint and Skye. A restaurant was chosen, fancy, but not like Tony Stark fancy, and wardrobes were assembled and it was agreed they'd meet at the spot, so as better to surprise the other with what they looked like 'all cleaned up'. Clint for his part is early for a change, another sign of his eagerness for the date, waiting at the restaurant's bar with the other guests waiting to be seated. He's done his part to look dressed up, he's shaved, his close-cut blonde hair is neatly combed and he's rocking a slim cut grey suit, that clearly was made for him given how it hugs his shape just enough to be fitted and not simply too tight. To go with the suit is a grey tie with purple triangles on it and a pair of expensive looking leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. Not bad for a kid from the circus.
Skye Johnson	Skye went shopping. Voluntarily even. In fact, at this point, it had become something of a mission, with all the attendant amusement over the fact that while she'd lost the best, she'd also won it. Big time. And she knew it. ...not that she wasn't planning on collecting on that dinner at Clint's house in the future. She had plans for that, too. Money was no object. Well, less of an object. After a year working for SHIELD with pretty much everything she needed provided, and a strict personal aversion to shopping, Skye had racked up quite the bank account. It wasn't Tony Stark amounts, but it was enough that she wasn't looking at price tags when she set out to find her outfit. Come the night, she'd not let him call or see her beforehand, shooing him away the night before, insisting she needed her 'beauty sleep', and he would see her the next evening. Of course, that backfired a little on herself, as it meant she didn't get to see *him* until then either.. She arrived at the restaurant in a hired car. Mostly for the whole picture. She was going to make one single perfect impression in Clint's mind. Skye was almost smug about that. Over her shoulders, she wore a lace shawl that slid down to pool at her elbows and along her back as she stepped out of the car, thanking her driver. His view? Five inch heels that not only added to her height, but did sinful things to her calves, thighs, and ass. And she was rocking a mid-thigh length little black dress(tm). Strappless.. Because. She'd even put on makeup and had her hair done - pulled away from her face to let fresh curls fall down her back, leaving only two delicate strands of curl to frame her face. She waited for him to acknowledge her.
Clint Barton	Old SHIELD and crook habits had Clint watching the door through the mirror above the bar, when he sees the car pull up, he turns as he did for the last half dozen or so. The bartender was no doubt getting a kick out of it. This time, he was rewarded, Skye comes out of the car and all he can say is "Holy shit." He snorts a laugh when he catches the bartender agreeing with him and drops twenty on the bar before he slams back his gin and juice and then hustles to get the door before the staff does. It may break that whole suave James Bond thing he's got going on right now but he doesn't give a damn. He wanted to greet her himself. "Hey," he greets while opening the door for her. His eyes take in the whole package etching how she looks into memory, "You look amazing," he says without any deflection. He steps out of the way to let her inside, eyes following her the whole way.
Skye Johnson	Skye might not have *heard* the 'holy shit' go down, but she most definitely can read it in his attention on her. That alone was worth the effort she'd gone to to shop and dress.. and he'd not even seen all of it yet. Skye had even lived up to that part of the bargain, bras, panties, stockings and garters. Oh, she'd gone all the way with this one. And perhaps for hte first time in her life she understood the power of such a thing.. even if she had no intentions of tuurning into a regular girl. Once might be enough. Maybe a time or two more if things continued to go well between them. She'd see. She casts her brown gaze over his new suit, and the fresh shaven look. "Hey yourself." Her brain screamed a snarky commentary that she refused to give in to, but she allowed herself the amused smile. "Table for two?"
Clint Barton	Regular girl is in no way what Clint is looking for from Skye, because well, Skye, he'd have better luck looking for sanity from Deadpool, but damn if he didn't enjoy this little foray into normalcy for them. He offers his arm to Skye, "Yep, it's ready for us," he says. "Though say the word I'll whip out the badge, and clear this place," he says, before without showing any outwards sign he's saying anything but polite adult things to his date, "And note I said badge there," he adds knowing where phrases like 'whip it out' lead to last time. The maitre'd ushers them into the restaurant, past the other diners, more than a few of whom look up at one or both of them before taking them to a small table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Clint steps forward and pulls out Skye's chair. Might as well go all out if they're doing the fancy date thing right?
Skye Johnson	Skye's lips purse over a smirk, "Nice restraint. Though given circumstances, I might not have complained if you had said the other. But not before clearing out the riff-raff." As though this place has riff-raff. Her arm is an easy weight in the crook of his. And she walks in the heels like she's wore them her whole life, or, more to the point, has been practicing since she bought them. Not to mention, Skye is more than aware of the eyes upon them. They're a stunning couple. Both of them. The pulled out chair gets a quirk of brow, but no comment. Skye taking her seat, slipping her shawl onto the back of her seat, and waiting for Clint to join her. "I know I'm paying, but how traditional are we doing the rest of this," she asks. "Am I being surprised, or?"
Clint Barton	Clint gets all he needs from the raised brow and grins before he's seated, menus are presented, and water is poured in fancy wine glasses before they choose the actual wine. "You mean did I order for you? Nah, there's traditional and then there's being an ass, the choice is all yours, especially since it's your dime." He has a look at the menu and wonders it's terrible manners to pull out his phone to use Google Translate, he knew some of those words, maybe. Normally, when he was in place like this it was for work, and he had Nat's lead to follow on what was what. "So, looks like we may both be surprised unless you know what pomme duchess, or Du Puy lentils are," he remarks.
Skye Johnson	Skye looks over the menu, shaking her head. "Pomme is either potato or apple," she mutters. The disadvantage to the fancy meal being exactly this: the two of them staring at a menu they're not entirely certain what's being offered. "And I'd have let you order for me." He's given an amused look. "This time. Even if it is my dime." Her menu is folded and set down. "What say we just tell them to bring us the lover's special and see what comes?" It sounds reasonable to her. Don't these places come with lover's specials?
Clint Barton	"Right, I thought so," Clint says looking back at the menu. "No idea what Du Puy means though," he says before nodding to the idea of ordering the lover's special. "That sounds like a good plan," he says, before turning his attention to the wine. "I figure, pick one at random as long as it doesn't cost as much as a car? Can't be worse than the frou-frou beer."
Skye Johnson	Skye arches a brow, "I'll tell you what Du-pooey sounds like." Then she remembers belatedly that she's supposed to be trying to behave. Well, they hadn't agreed upon that, but given their outfits and all, she should at least give it a shot. His suggestion of how to order their meal gets a laugh, and in the totall spirit of the thing, she picks her menu back up, opens it, shuts her eyes, and points. Where her finger lands is what she plans on ordering. "Couple items each? We can share? Ooo, this one looks like a winner."
Clint Barton	Clint snerks into his water at the du puy remarks, trying hard not to add to it. The date was just starting, and as much as he wanted to get Skye home he didn't want to get kicked out. Or at least, not for bad jokes, if they were going to get kicked out of somewhere it was going to have to be for something more fun than that. Clint chuckles as Skye finds a way for them to order. "Done," he agrees and picks one at random himself, doing the same for the wine as well. "See, we figure things out," he remarks with a grin.
Skye Johnson	Their waiter was sure to be horrified, but luckily the man was paid well enough to hide it until he was at least in the kitchen placing their order. Skye picking three items with the 'close your eyes and point' method. Plus a wine to boot. They might not get through all of this, but they were going to enjoy themselves.
Clint Barton	Once the food is ordered and the wine is yet to arrive, Clint picks up his water glass and swirls it around. "So, what do normal people talk about in moments like this?" he asks Skye. Not that he expects her to know, the question is more rhetorical than anything. "All the ones on the top of my head would get us kicked out, probably."
Skye Johnson	Skye's lips press together, barely holding back mirth. "Fucked if I know. Never been a normal person." He gets a nudge of her foot underneath the table. "I bet we'd be okay if we kept our voices down. And it's just money. Food we can get anywhere." If he'd wondered, she'd as much as written it in huge letters that what she was here for was the company. And that single uttered curse of appreciation at the doorway when she'd arrived. Everything after that wasy gravy. Those alone worth every cent she'd already spent, and all the effort put into getting ready, including practicing her walk in heels? Every bit of it worth it up to here. Amused, she offers, "We could wager to see how long before we get kicked out.. with the caveat that we can't *try* to. It's just got to happen."
Clint Barton	"Don't I know it," Clint says of Skye never being normal. "It's one of your many good qualities," he says both teasing and not. He settles back in his chair a moment thinking things through. "You know, we could do the betting thing, or, we could just seize the initiative and kick ourselves out. Maybe grab that bottle of wine on the way and find a place that's more our scene?" he suggests having gotten the message that what they were here for had already been accomplished.
Skye Johnson	Skye's lips press together, her head canted at an angle as she considers the offer. "Seriously? You'd be happy with that?" Even before he's answering, she's giving a slow nod, indicating that she'd be more than happy with that. "Let's blow this posicle joint."
Clint Barton	"Definitely, I'm more of a beer and pizza guy myself," Clint says with a raise of a single well-dressed shoulder. "Besides, I got to see you in all of that. I'm good." "Alright," he digs out his wallet and drops a few bills on the table for their waiter, then stands up. "Shall we?" he asks holding out his arm.
Skye Johnson	Skye nods, reaching into her clutch and pulling out a wad of bills to add to what he'd left there. She's fairly certain, if she's done the math correctly (and she has) that they've left their waiter enough for the meal, the wine, a substantial tip, and something to talk about besides. "You have no clue how happy I am you said that. I was afraid we'd ordered nothing but soup and side dishes. Besides, a good motto is never eat anything you can't pronounce." Her lips twist over something that amuses her greatly as she says that.
Clint Barton	Clint leads the way past the diners who watch them again as they pass. "Definitely a good motto. This coming from a guy who's logged a ton of foreign ops." His stomach twinges at the memories. Though that's not the important bit, since they were kicking themselves out, he wanted to know what it was that had Skye twisting her lips. "What?" he asks, grinning expectantly.
Skye Johnson	There's an actual giggle from Skye. "I can pronouce dick quite well, you know." Her arm is threaded through his, and she leans on him, tall enough in her heels that she actually manages to lay her head against the top of his shoulder. Leaving it at that, and waiting for his reaction. Yeah, there are folks here who are quite envious they're not part of that couple.
Clint Barton	Clint blinks for a second before he laughs out loud. "Did I mention how awesome you are?" he asks as he wraps an arm around Skye's waist enjoying the reprieve from their height difference. When he catches one of the diners looking, he waggles his eyebrows at the guy and heads on past to the door. "Soooo, head to my place then?" he asks with a grin.
Skye Johnson	"Mmmm," Skye murmurs, showing absolutely no shame, "You might have mentioned I was hot. But this awesome thing, not so sure." Teasing with a tease, because they'd had this very conversation before, only with different words in places. "Your place sounds fine. Pick up pizza and beer along the way?" Once they're outside, she laughs heartily. "I thought that lady was going to fall out of her chair when she heard me say dick like that."
Clint Barton	Clint turns to Skye and grins. "Well, you are definitely awesome, see this guy thinks so," he says poiting to one of the diners as they pass. As for pizza and beer? "Sounds like my kind of dining," Clint agrees. "I know some good spots for both right down the street from my place," he says as they exit and he holds up a hand to flag down a cab. In this neighbourhood in what they're wearing it doesn't take long. Clint laughs as he gets in, "Did you see her husband staring at you? I've never been that envied in my life," he says before he wraps Skye in his arms and kisses her in the backseat of the cab, managing to get out, "540 Sherwood Lane, Willamsburg," before he's otherwise engaged.
Skye Johnson	The kiss is fairly heated, considering there's still dinner to go through and they've had none of the wine. When she emerges some bit later, mussed and flushed, Skye licks her lips and points out, "Not sure why you wouldn't have been envied? You're a decent looking guy. You've dated hot women before." A brow arches. "Nat for example." She does laugh, though, "I thought she was going to bean him with her plate right then and there for staring at me."
Clint Barton	Clint smiles, catching his breath after they break up the kiss, poor cabby, yet another person wishing he was Clint right now. Clint straightens up, running a hand through his hair. "Make it openly envied, then. When I went to places like that with Nat while she looked as good as you do we blended with the normal people, so they didn't just stare. But I'm sure it would have been fun to be a telepath a couple of those times." Then he snorts. "Yeah me too. Still I'm glad I am not him tonight. That guy is definitely getting the couch."
Skye Johnson	Skye grins, "Couch isn't so bad. I mean, I thought of at least one way we could enjoy it. Maybe two or three. But then again, maybe I just have a better imagination than you do." She smiles, looking ever so innocent, which is a total facade at this moment. Yeah, the cabby really wishes he were Clint right now. He's already got images in his mind that might have him making a little side trip after he drops these two off. "And how do you mean you blended in?" Her brow furrows as she tries to figure out what he means, or how he could mean it. "How are we so different?"
Clint Barton	"I don't think his wife is going to be joining him for any of that sort of thing," Clint says unable to keep the curious smile off his face. "And oh? What sort of things did you have in mind?" he asks. Yeah, poor cabbie is getting an earful tonight. "What I mean is while we tried, we were still very, us in that place. When I went to places like that with Nat, half the time we were working, and the rest, we just tried to play by everyone else's rules, or at least look like we were. Plus, Nat knows all the fancy words, so we looked like we belonged. That said, our way is way more fun," he says, leaning against her and taking her hand in his.
Skye Johnson	Her fingers thread neatly through his, and she regards her fingertips laying over the back of his hand. "See, you're out with someone like her, all poised and collected and.. her.. and you did business? Didn't she ever just let loose with you? She sounded like she could relax when the three of us were at the bar. I can't imagine you being all that serious."
Clint Barton	This was so not what Clint wanted to talk about. "Sure, she did, but not in those sorts of places, we hit bars and out of the way places for that. We were big about keeping off the radar. Mostly for her sake," he says. "It was different, not better, but different, but to tell the truth, going in there, bailing, having the whole place staring, definitely more me than keeping under the radar."
Skye Johnson	Skye makes a small noise of almost understanding. "And I'm ruining our date by asking all the awkward questions." She lifts their hands to her lips and kisses his fingertips. "Another time for that. But for now, how about we find out if we're pizza compatible? That's like this huge step in a relationship. I mean, what if I like double pepperoni and you want tofu? I might have to drop you like a hot stone. And then you wouldn't get to find out what we can do on a couch, or see my new underwear."
Clint Barton	"And that would be a terrible shame," Clint says as he nods for the cabbie to stop out front of a place called Dino's. He offers his hand to help her out of the cab. "Also, for the record, there's a time and place for tofu on a pizza and that's never and in the garbage can," he says feeling confident his opinions would be shared and if they weren't, well he still stood by them. Tofu pizza. Ick. He leads the way inside, greeting the guy at the counter in the same familiar fashion as the Ukrainian at the bar, clearly he's a regular. The guy, Dino, calls him 'Hawkguy'. Clint looks at the pie ready to go in the warmer, remembering the comment about the new underwear as he does, "Double pepperoni. It looks good to me, are we compatible? Or am I doomed to a night alone, like that guy at the restaurant." Dino helpfully chimes in, "Don't do it lady, you're too good for him," before chuckling.
Skye Johnson	Skye bites at her lower lip, grinning. "Never and in the garbage can? Oh, baby, you're speaking my language. As for pizza..." She looks at the menu. "Double pepperoni. Side order of breadsticks. They have takeout beer here?" A glance flicked over to Clint. Dine gets a smirk, "Oh, I lost a bet. I'm obligated to buy him dinner." She shrugs at the man. "What can I do, huh?"
Clint Barton	Clint grins back. "Knew we had something special," he jokes before he nods in approval do the extras with the pizza. At the mention of the beer, Clint breaks into a smirk, "Yeah, Dino, can I get another sixer of beer," he says. The pizza man nods, and produces a six-pack of that frou-frou shit Clint keeps bringing by. Dino shrugs apologetically. "My son makes it, what am I gonna do?" he says with a shrug. "And must have been some bet to get stuck with this one," the pizza man remarks before ringing up the total for them.
Skye Johnson	Skye nods at Dino, in all seriousness, "I was having an ass of a day and he bet me he could make me laugh. Told him to fuck off. Says if he can, I have to go through with this.." She gestures at her outfit, making everyone look at her. "Stupid me, I agree. He drops his drawers, boxers and all, and the rest, as they say, is history." She shrugs, flicking an amused glance Clints way, trying to hide it. But there is a sigh when it's *that* beer. "Of course," she mutters, pulling out bills to pay for the meal.
Clint Barton	Dino roars with laughter, and with a punch of a couple buttons takes the cost of the food and beer down by half to boot. Clint shakes his head and mouths at Skye, 'so dead', but he's laughing too. "Thanks Dino," Clint says to the pizza guy before picking up the food, taking Skye's arm and leading her out of the store before she could do an more damage. "You're evil," he laughs as he leads the way towards his building just a couple of doors down. "Pure evil." He leads her inside then up the stairs, to his place, unlocking that door in turn. "Here we are," he announces, as he steps in to put down the food.
Skye Johnson	Skye grins at Clint when he mouths 'so dead', blowing him a kiss, and making talk-talk motions with her hand. She throws an extra bill Dino's way, and winks at him, before her arm is claimed and she's dragged on out. "Oh you know you like it," she laughs when he calls her evil. "Tell me you didn't enjoy that and I'll stop." following him up the stairs and into his apartment where she looks around. "Mind if I get out of the heels?" Even as she considers their value as part of the rest of the evening's entertainment. It makes her pause where normally she'd have taken them off regardless of his answer.
Clint Barton	Clint just chuckles, catches the blown kiss, and slaps it on his ass. "Sure take off the heels," Clint says, pausing to let her do that before saying. "Heck no, that was hilarious, I mean I'll be hearing about it for a few years, but totally worth it." "Actually, wait a minute," Clint says about the heels as a few things occur to him. He ducks down, intending to scoop Skye, up into his arms, to basket carry her the rest of the way up the stairs. He does it slowly, his way of giving her warning. Hopefully this time will go off without the kneeing and the falling unlike the last.
Skye Johnson	Okay, that she wasn't prepared for.. well, she was in the sense by the time he'd reached for her she'd caught on and while there was still the startled, "ooof" as she's picked up, there's no trying to thrown him to the floor or knee his privates this time. "Oh, come on. Did you see his face light up? You'll be getting cheap pizza and beer for ages on that story alone. But hey, why'd he call you Hawkguy? There some story behind that I want to know?" Her arms wrap neatly about his neck as she appreciates not only the unexpected carry, but the fact that she's not navigating those stairs in these heels. She'd practiced.. but not on stairs. And now he'll never know.
Clint Barton	Clint grins when he picks her up without the usual disaster befalling him, also, he had to admit the view was pretty great. He stars up the stairs. "True, I -suppose- that's worth a bit of ribbing," he teases before he snorts. "One of the guys in this building started calling me that, never could figure out if he just kept mishearing me or he was just messing with me, anyhow it started to spread, so now, as far as the neighbourhood is concerned, I'm Hawkguy, the Avenger," he chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose there is worse names to be called." He makes it up the stairs and puts Skye down by his door, breathing a little heavily, but doesn't seem entirely wiped by carrying her three floors. Though his shirt has a few damp spots on it now due to sweat. "Here we are," he says once he's caught his breath. He sticks his key in the lock and opens the door.
Skye Johnson	Skye blinks, "No. No way. Oh my god. Oh my god." She thumps his chest with a hand. "You're Hawkeye and you let me make a stupid bet with you about that whole shooting the target thing. You ass." She's both indignant and laughing all at once. "You utter ass. Now I feel less sorry about that joke back at Dino's." Again, she's still laughing. And if she's really all that angry at him, she's doing a poor job of showing it by hugging herself to him, arms about his neck, when he puts her down. "Damn you. Quit surprising me."
Clint Barton	Clint stops mid-stride when she starts yelling no. Then when he figures out why he keeps going, but does so with his chest shaking with laugher. "Seriously?" he asks with a grin. "I really need to yell at our PR guys, I thought everyone knew who I was." It's true, Hawkeye barely wore a mask and his identity wasn't that closesly kept, but Clint Barton is Hawkeye was hardly the topic on everyone's lips. "Well, you feel better about the joke at least," he says putting her down. "And hey, now you can say you're banging an Avenger." As for there being other surprises, there's none he can think of but he doesn't comment to keep the air of mystery up. In stead he just pushes her against the door kissing her.
Skye Johnson	Skye feigns shock and surprise, "You have a *PR* guy?" Which is how she's laughing when he pushes her against the door to kiss her. It's not as heated as in the cab - likely because of the laughing - but it's still a good kiss. When it's over, she gives a little mock-sigh, "I'm banging an Avenger." As though that were somehow better than good old Clint Barton, Agent of Shield. She can't keep a straight face, though, reaching behind her to turn the now unlocked door handle, swinging the door inwards, and drawing them both into his apartment. "Just where do you think I was going to find that out, huh, hotshot? You really are an ass, letting me make that smug little bet." Even if she had lost on purpose. Or the fact that she could have looked him up in SHIELD's systems anytime she wanted too since they'd started dating. Before that even. Begging the question: why hadn't she?
Clint Barton	"The Avengers have one, several actually, but yeah," Clint says, with a sort of bemused tone that says, it's sort of a weird thought for him too. Him having a PR guy, who didn't wear a top hat and stand in the middle of three rings. Clint arches an eyebrow as she sighs over banging an Avenger, chuckling. "Great. One moment the most envied man in the room, now, I'm jealous of my alter-ego," he jokes. That was the question, though when Clint asks it, of course he's teasing her as well, "Yes, where would a world class hacker ever look that up?" he begins teasing before he finishes with. "Though jokes aside, I'm surprised you didn't look me up."
Skye Johnson	Skye scoffs, turning to grin at him once they're both in the room. "Oh, don't get your panties in a knot. I totally digged you without knowing the other. Now I'm just a little bit luckier. Or you can think of it this way, you're the only man I know who gets to have a menage et trois with me. Take that to your PR guy and smoke it." Oh, she's an impish thing, totally playing up the alter-ego bit. "And where. Where would someone like me find out your lurid past, huh?" Skye shakes her head, and finds his couch, taking a seat on it, reaching down to take off her heels. "Looking you up would be cheating, don't you think?"
Clint Barton	Clint kicks the door closed behind him. The apartment as promised is full of stuff, boxes mostly, and most of those hold bows, and various bow related things along with some knives, swords and a bunch of other knickknacks. He chuckles at the menage et tois bit, "Well, when you put it that way maybe this Hawkeye guy's alright," he says. He follows her to the couch, "Huh," Clint says as he sits down beside her, "I agree with you there," he was level 7 he could pull her file any time he wanted, or at least as much as he had access to but hadn't done so for similar reasons. It was more fun learning it from Skye herself. "I just figured you would have looked me up as soon as we met. But I get why not."
Skye Johnson	Skye rolls her eyes. "You were an ass when we first met. Just what was I going to be looking you up for then? So I could needle you and make you an even bigger ass to me? As if." Rubbing her heels, she looks about. "You weren't kidding about the pack rat thing. Kinda polar opposite on this one, aren't we? And after we met and were starting to be friends it seemed kind of wrong to look up your secrets and stuff. They're yours. I didn't need to know what you did when you were fifteen in order to use you on the mission. Besides, I'm only really in charge in the loosest sense of things. It's not like I'm deploying all the teams personally. I helped assess where we might want those teams, I've set up the programs I'll be using, and co-ordinated with Nat and Stark over the counter-attack. Once we're situation go, my ass is behind a keyboard. You and I won't even be near one another." Or so she assumes.
Clint Barton	Clint stretches, and cocking his head a little, agrees, "Good point," he considers the rest before saying, "Thanks. For not digging I mean. For the record, didn't pull your file either, for the same reasons, your past is your pass, besides it's much more fun learning it from you directly," he says before nodding to her feet and gesturing with his hands, "Give those here." Yep. He's offering a foot massage. "Sounds about right," Clint says. "I'll likely be in a quin-jet over who knows where waiting for you to dig out some Hydra hide-y holes to raid. Not that I mind. I'm still pissed I wasn't there when the Triskelion was hit, glad to hit the bastards back." He looks over to Skye. "Anyhow, boss, I'm sure you'll do fine," he smiles.
Skye Johnson	Oh, he's surprised her again with his offer to massage her feet. She does shift position so that her back is to the armrest, putting her feet up on the couch within easy reach. "Nothing much to thank me for. Figure if it's something important enough you want me to know, you'll tell me. Though, okay, I know you were dating Nat, but who was it you married? And, no, you don't have to tell me." She settles back comfortably, watching him. "Think a lot of people were pissed they weren't there. I think the whole point of when the attack went down was that most of the regulars were out. Hell, it was only chance I was behind the computers. Anyone else and we'd have lost a lot more than we did." It's not really cocky if it's true, is it? Skye reaches up and tucks a tendril curl behind an ear. "I'm.. So much could go wrong," she sighs. "I just don't want to fuck up."
Clint Barton	Clint shifts over a little more so he can put Skye's feet in his lap and begins to massage them. He's careful at first, he knows at least some parts of her feet are ticklish, but as he figures out the ins and outs he gives them a proper massage. When she asks about who he married, he considers it a moment, before answering, "Bobbi Morse, Mockingbird," he says. "It was one of those spur of the moment, crazy let's get married things, I think I knew her for about, nine days before hand. Turns out, I didn't know her like I thought." He leaves the matter at that. "Sounds like it," he says believing her assessment about the damage she stopped Hydra from doing. "From the sound of things, you're good enough to do this job, you think so, Fury thinks so, Nat thinks so, just do what you do, and push all that fucking up stuff out of your mind. Like on the range, just aim and fire. The rest doesn't matter."
Skye Johnson	Skye relaxes enough that she allows herself to close her eyes, trusting him in his ministrations. "I'm sorry it didn't work out," shem urmurs. "But I bet there were good things about it." She leaves it at that, not asking anything further. Letting it be whatever memory it is for him. If he wants, she'll know. If not, she didn't know it yesterday, and it had nothing to do with her tomorrow. She was surprisingly calm about it for her usual non-trusting self. "Fury thinks I am. Nat I don't know about. And yes, I'm saying that because we fell out. I don't know she trusts me. It's going to be a problem. And before you say it, yeah, she trusts I'll do the job. I don't know she trusts /me/." Skye opens her eyes then, "Only it's not like the range, Clint. People might get hurt." She sighs, "Shut up Skye. I know. Say, what name do you prefer anyway?"
Clint Barton	"There were," Clint says with a fond smile for that part of that history. He glances over at Skye giving her a fond smile of her own, since she didn't seem to be freaking out over any of that. "Anyhow, all in the past," he says just to make sure she knew it was buried. "If Nat didn't trust you, she would have said something by now, can't promise she likes you but she definitely trusts you to get the job done," he says the words delivered matter-of-factly. "Fair point, I guess what I am saying is, you know people can get hurt, it's on your radar and it's going to come into the decisions you make because of it, that's all good, what you don't want is to get fixated on it. That's what I'm saying." As for the name. "I'm good with Clint, but I gotta admit, I like when you call me hotshot."
Skye Johnson	"You would, too, wouldn't you?" Skye chuckles. "And I'm not fixating. I'm just.. Ever do all you can and still worry it's not enough? I never really cared about anything before. Not like this. Out on the darknet, you're just you. Even when I made connections for jobs, they weren't like SHIELD. You didn't have team mates. I can't even say I worried about innocents. I told myself I was helping them, but it's not the same. Funny, never thought I'd get here. And listen to me, we haven't even had any of that horrible beer, and I'm talking like I've been drking since Sunday and mourning the loss of my best friend." Skye chuckles. "Or my dog. I could have lost my dog. That feels good, by the way. And thank-you for not repeating the tickle disaster of last week. Much fun as it was undressing you." She does pause ot check him out again. "You look pretty hot tonight. Anyone tell you that?"
Clint Barton	Grinning Clint says, "Well, the name does have some interesting memories associated with it now," before more seriously he says. "I get it, it's fucking scary to suddenly give a shit, but like I said, you've got the skills, just don't let the rest spook you." Clint smiles though when she mentions the tickling incident and all that it led to. "Likewise," he says about the undressing. He looks over as she checks him out, "I can't recall being told that, no," he teases. "Are you sure you're not thinking of that Hawkeye guy?"
Skye Johnson	The look Skye gives him is pure smoldering regard, "Oh, no. Looking at you hotshot. Who the fuck is this Hawkeye guy?"