sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2014-11-13 07:23 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2014-11-13 07:23 pm
Entry tags:
Bottle Opener (Avengers, Gen)
Title: Bottle Opener
Rating: G
Summary: Clint is rebranding.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
After seeing Sam and Steve safely at the hospital, Natasha found Clint in his apartment, which made life easier for her. He was sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand, a knife dangling casually from the other.
The floor was strewn with clothes — not unusual for Clint, but generally there weren’t this many on the floor. It looked as though he’d emptied his entire closet and dresser. Underwear, sweatpants, t-shirts, uniform gear. Two pairs of boots and one pair of running shoes. Two ties. Several pairs of socks. And a six pack’s worth of beer bottles.
Sitting on the coffee table in front of him was a pile of fabric and latex discs, largest on the bottom, smaller as the pile rose, with a bottle-opener sitting on top of it.
"I guess you know what happened," she said, indicating the discs. Each had the SHIELD eagle on it — raggedly cut, sometimes ripped. Each item of clothing on the floor had a hole in it to match, or a rough, gluey patch where one of the logos had been pried off. The ties had suffered particularly. The bottle-opener atop the pile was one of a limited run minted in the seventies; Clint had won it off an old-timer in a poker game, and it was one of his prized possessions. The eagle on it had been slashed several times with a sharp blade.
"I’m rebranding," Clint said to her. He set down the knife and offered her a cutting board covered in post-it notes. Each one had a different image on it: one a large H, one a bird’s eye, one an arrow, one an upraised middle finger.
"How corporate of you," she said, settling on the couch and examining them.
"They all suck," he told her.
"Yes, they do," she agreed. She set the board aside and handed him a small velvet bag. "I stopped at Stark Tower before coming to find you. Got you a present. Limited edition."
Clint looked at her wearily, looked down at the bag, and finally tugged it open with a finger. He dumped the object inside into his hand.
It was a bottle opener with a single letter on it — a large A with an arrow. On the back it said AVENGERS.
Clint stared at it, looked at her, looked back down at it, and dissolved into laughter.
Rating: G
Summary: Clint is rebranding.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
After seeing Sam and Steve safely at the hospital, Natasha found Clint in his apartment, which made life easier for her. He was sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand, a knife dangling casually from the other.
The floor was strewn with clothes — not unusual for Clint, but generally there weren’t this many on the floor. It looked as though he’d emptied his entire closet and dresser. Underwear, sweatpants, t-shirts, uniform gear. Two pairs of boots and one pair of running shoes. Two ties. Several pairs of socks. And a six pack’s worth of beer bottles.
Sitting on the coffee table in front of him was a pile of fabric and latex discs, largest on the bottom, smaller as the pile rose, with a bottle-opener sitting on top of it.
"I guess you know what happened," she said, indicating the discs. Each had the SHIELD eagle on it — raggedly cut, sometimes ripped. Each item of clothing on the floor had a hole in it to match, or a rough, gluey patch where one of the logos had been pried off. The ties had suffered particularly. The bottle-opener atop the pile was one of a limited run minted in the seventies; Clint had won it off an old-timer in a poker game, and it was one of his prized possessions. The eagle on it had been slashed several times with a sharp blade.
"I’m rebranding," Clint said to her. He set down the knife and offered her a cutting board covered in post-it notes. Each one had a different image on it: one a large H, one a bird’s eye, one an arrow, one an upraised middle finger.
"How corporate of you," she said, settling on the couch and examining them.
"They all suck," he told her.
"Yes, they do," she agreed. She set the board aside and handed him a small velvet bag. "I stopped at Stark Tower before coming to find you. Got you a present. Limited edition."
Clint looked at her wearily, looked down at the bag, and finally tugged it open with a finger. He dumped the object inside into his hand.
It was a bottle opener with a single letter on it — a large A with an arrow. On the back it said AVENGERS.
Clint stared at it, looked at her, looked back down at it, and dissolved into laughter.