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"Katie kate, wanna tell me why you have a bag of baby booties?"
Oh shit. Kate had forgotten all about the garbage bag stuffed at the bottom of the laundry basket. The same laundry basket Clint went to dig through to find something to wipe up baby food off the floor.
"No, I really don't," Kate said through gritted teeth, focusing on wiping snot and mashed vegetables off Danielle's face.
"And by that you mean you really do," Clint countered, coming out of the bathroom with bag in hand. "And by that I mean you should because if you don't I'm going to have to make up answers and that's not a road we want to go down."
"Oh my god," Kate said, looking up at the ceiling. "It's like speaking to a wall."
Clint wagged a finger in Kate's face and really, the only reason Kate didn't snap her teeth at it was due to the slim chance she might get her target and who knew where those hands had been. There was no way she was dying of ebola or whatever at the age of twenty.
"Don't lie, I'm your favourite wall," Clint said, "but you're trying to distract me from the plastic bag full of knitted children goods. Because, you see, I know you do not like babies. You even told me you only tolerate Dani because Jess and Luke happen to be two of your favourite people. So you can see why I'd be concerned. As your friend and mentor and coach, I am concerned."
"In that case, you're fired," Kate said.
"Friend and mentor."
Kate had two options, either give in now or give in later. She was stubborn, but Clint operated on a whole other level. And to be fair, though Kate made it a point often not to be, if she had found baby booties in Clint's hamper she'd be doing the exact same thing.
Goddamn that well developed sense of ethics, which definitely did not come from her father. Kate busied herself with pulling the stained bib off Danielle. "There is a...person."
"Uh huh."
Kate didn't need to look over to know Clint was grinning. It was apparently the prerogative of older sibling figure, mentor or whatever Clint was these days, to take delight in her pain. Kate was informed of this about five days after they'd met.
"This person likes to knit things. And they made booties for Dani."
If Kate was hoping this would be the end of it, she was sadly mistaken. "A bajillion booties," Clint said flatly. "Did this person think Dani was a centipede by any chance?"
Clint was the worst, Kate decided. The absolute worse. Kate sighed and stopped cleaning Danielle for a moment. "Okay, I want you to remember that I was there for every single Greatest Hits of your romantic crash and burns, so you can't judge me."
"This is a judgement free zone!"
Yeah right. Kate knew Clint, almost as well as she knew the feel of her bow. Clint was a walking, talking free judgement zone. "I wanted to talk to them again but I might have fumbled and I said I lost the booties so could they make some more. And then I just kept…'losing' the booties so I could keep talking to them," Kate muttered and buried her face in her hands.
Dani thought it was the peek-a-boo game, and squealed.
For a blessedly long moment, there was silence occasionally pierced by Danielle's cheerful giggling, then Clint said, choking a little, "Now I get why you've been volunteering to babysit for Dani so much lately."
Kate knew she was going red. It sounded bad when Clint put it like that. "Also because I want to help Jess and Luke," she protested.
"Yeah, sure. What'd you tell this person anyway? Do they think Dani's your kid?" said Clint, who looked like Christmas had come early.
"No," Kate said firmly as she finished buttoning up Dani's shirt. The next sentence came out at more of a mumble. "I told them Dani was my cousin."
"Lies upon lies," Clint said, hand on chest. "I suppose it's better than 'I stole this baby from my coach's neighbours.' After all that effort this person better be cute as all hell."
Kate snorted. "Please. Crazy hot." Dani was all bundled up, so only thing left was packing up the babybag and then Clint could take over babysitting duties and leave Kate alone to wallow in her inability to be a functional adult.
"Niiiiiice," Clint said, giving her two thumbs up. "So, who is it? Face tattoo?"
That got Kate to look up just so she could make a face at Clint. "What? No."
"Shades and tongue piercing?" Clint guessed. "Forever twenty-one and hungover? 90's edgelord?"
Kate didn't have the whole story but at some point in time, years before they'd met, Clint had gone from just living in this apartment block to owning it. Something about a gang of tracksuit wearing bros. So yeah, Clint no longer lived here but still managed to know every single occupant by sight if not by name.
"Wow. Stop. I'm starting to feel insulted. It's stars and stripes."
Clint's face brightened. "Oh! Apartment three-oh-one. Tall, built and killer eyebrows. You two would have beautiful RBF babies."
Kate very quickly decided that as much humiliation as she could handle in one day. She picked up Dani and the babybag, and deposited them both in Clint's arms. "Okay, welcome officially outstayed. Go do something else. Like, fall off fire escapes on to random people's cars."
"That was once! Bucky forgave me eventually," Clint protested, half as vehement as usual thanks to juggling the sudden armful of squirming baby.
Kate wrinkled her nose at the mention of Clint's friend who had ridiculous arms and thighs and took the cliche of tall, dark and brooding to extremes. She really did not need reminders of ill-advised crushes right now.
"Go annoy Natasha," she ordered. She made sure Dani was okay and safe before pushing Clint toward the apartment door with both hands.
"I can't," Clint said, pulling the saddest clown face. "Busy with ballet practice."
"I'm almost sure you have other friends you can harass. Like Bobbi. Or Jessica. Or Bucky."
"You're basically just naming all of my exes," Clint pointed out.
Kate stopped pushing long enough to roll her eyes and open the front door. "Yeah and that says a lot more about you than it does me." She went back to shoving Clint out, made more difficult by the jackass clinging to the doorframe dramatically. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Don't forget--"
"We're meeting at the store, I remember." Kate leaned against the doorway. "I should be asking if you do, since you're getting old and all."
"Old," Clint repeated. "I can still kick your scrawny silver medal winning archery butt, you know that right?"
"Please, it won't be silver for long. Gold next Olympic," Kate said, holding out a fist for Clint to bump.
"And then...the world," Clint said, tacking on a maniacal laugh at the end. It was...a thing. It was their thing and Kate joined in, backed by Dani's high-pitched giggles.
"Am I interrupting?"
And of course that would be Kate's friendly knitting neighbour approaching them. America Chavez of the tall, built, and killer eyebrows who was now looking at them in equal parts amusement (good) and concern (not good).
"Three-oh-one!" Clint greeted cheerfully in what was either a quick recovery or a distinct lack of shame. It was Clint so the answer was probably both.
"Hawk-guy, right?" America returned.
Clint sighed, shoulders slumping, and said, "It's Hawkeye. Or Clint, if you prefer something a little more mainstream."
America smirked.
It did very interesting things to America's face, made Kate all weak at the knees, made her want to press a thumb against those lips and then replace the thumb with her tongue. And then, y'know, also bite them. Kate wasn't proud of this.
"You two know each other?" America was saying.
"Katie Kate and I go way back," Clint said with an affectionate ruffle of Kate's hair. Arsehole knew she hated that.
"Katie Kate, huh?" America said, and turned the smirk on Kate. "Nice to finally know your name."
Clint looked between them, then gasped. "Kate Millicent Bishop--"
"Not actually my middle name," Kate told America, feeling like her face was on fire.
"--are you telling me you haven't introduced yourself properly? Let's fix that. Three-oh-one, this is Kate Bishop, she is a future olympic gold medalist, makes a mean pizza, does not actually enjoy babies, thinks your knitting is cute, and is coincidentally single."
Then, to Kate's absolute horror, Clint turned to give her an obvious wink then promptly waltzed away, cooing at Dani.
There was a protracted moment of horrified silence--at least on Kate's part--then:
"Holy shit, I am going to--"
"So you think my knitting is cute?"
"--actually honest to God murder--"
"Guess this is a good time to give this to you. Here--"
"--Clint's perfect little butt--what?" Kate stared at the neatly folded bright purple...something America was holding out. It was something knitted, she could tell that much, and looked soft and welcoming.
"You can touch. It won't bite," America said.
But I do, went Kate's inner voice. I would like to bite you a lot. Like, a lot. Luckily, Kate's outer voice said, "What?"
"Well, it's a scarf. I saw yours was kinda faded. And hey, you can never have too many scarves right?"
It was the slightly rushed way America spoke the last sentence that caught Kate's ears. And then...oh. With a mentor like Clint--who had earned the Hawkeye moniker fair and square--Kate had learned early on how to look. So she saw America's eyes slide off to the side and stay. She saw America's hands tighten briefly on the scarf. She saw a flash of pink tongue as they flicked over full bottom lip.
And 'oh' indeed.
America fucking Chavez was nervous. Over Kate's response to a gift. A gift that was handmade and--Kate snuck another peek--looked like a lot of effort had gone into it. The kind of effort you put in for people you maybe like liked.
Well. Damn.
It was one of those crossroad moments, the kind people looked back on in a year's time and wondered 'what if'. What if Kate put herself out there? What if Kate asked? What if Kate put an end to this maybe flirting business? What if Kate didn't even try?
Oh what the hell, if this went tits up at least she could blame Clint and use the guilt to get some free beer and pizza. And maybe Natasha would finally teach her how to kill with her thighs if Kate looked sad enough.
Kate widened her stance, like she was bracing for a hit. "Hi, I'm Kate not-Millicent Bishop. I like pizza, I do not like babies except for Dani. I might have been lying to you about losing all those baby booties because I needed an excuse to talk to you. And I think you're crazy hot."
America met Kate's eyes, mouth curling and full of potential. "Crazy hot?"
"I really want to lick your lips," Kate admitted. "Like, for ages."
All that potential came to fruition in a smile that set Kate's pulse fluttering. "Oh good," said America, "I was starting to get sick of knitting baby socks."
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Hot mess: How'd it go?
Me: I hate you. It's great.
Hot mess: So guess stars and stripes was...yarning for you too.
Me: …………….consider yourself fired.