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Title: The Opposite of Perfunctory
Author:
redbrunja
Fandom: Marvel Comics
Pairing: Kate Bishop/Clint Barton
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a light comedic fic. And then angst attacked. (Also, I hate my summary. Any suggestions are welcome.)
Warnings: Age difference.
Summary: Kate Bishop and the greeting habits of fools in love.
Statistically speaking, Kate Bishop knows an unusual amount of long-term couples and has been forced to observe their greeting rituals at length.
There's Billy and Teddy, who, no matter how short a time they are apart (like, five minutes while Teddy makes popcorn on movie nights), will gaze adoringly at each other when they're once again in the same room. (Seriously, Kate cannot believe how many times she's been forced to rewind things because Teddy and Billy couldn't keep their eyes off each other and then demanded to know what they missed).
Kate's sister always greets her husband with a brisk kiss on the mouth, even on days when she'd just spent the entirety of lunch listing every one of his faults.
And Kate can remember quite well the way that her mother would always turn to her father, rise up on her toes and brush her lips along his left cheekbone, the way her father would smile like his worries had been drawn away.
But Kate can't detect a pattern in the way that Clint greets her. They meet up on the street and he'll grip her hand tightly, squeeze hard, and then shove his hands in his pockets, like touching her in the first place was a slip-up. She'll come back from a run with Lucky and he'll crowd her back against the door, kiss her hungrily, Lucky poking his cold nose at the bend of Kate's knee. Sometimes, he'll come back to his apartment and Kate will be pretending to study but really be watching some truly regrettable reality tv show, and he'll lean over the back of the couch, kiss the spot where her shoulder meets her neck, his stubble rough against her throat.
It takes her a while to figure it out; that each time she shows up for one of their weird, super-hero business dates, that each time Clint comes back to find her writing a paper at his scarred kitchen island, he's surprised. Just a little. That she there at all. And Kate wants to promise that she's always be around, always have his back regardless of whether or not they're fucking, but. But Kate has a tempter, and sometimes Clint is a cowardly jerk, and Kate's a normal playing in the same league as metahumans and godlings, and her first boyfriend broke up with her by moving cross-country, and and and. And Kate just can't make that promise.
Author:
redbrunjaFandom: Marvel Comics
Pairing: Kate Bishop/Clint Barton
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a light comedic fic. And then angst attacked. (Also, I hate my summary. Any suggestions are welcome.)
Warnings: Age difference.
Summary: Kate Bishop and the greeting habits of fools in love.
Statistically speaking, Kate Bishop knows an unusual amount of long-term couples and has been forced to observe their greeting rituals at length.
There's Billy and Teddy, who, no matter how short a time they are apart (like, five minutes while Teddy makes popcorn on movie nights), will gaze adoringly at each other when they're once again in the same room. (Seriously, Kate cannot believe how many times she's been forced to rewind things because Teddy and Billy couldn't keep their eyes off each other and then demanded to know what they missed).
Kate's sister always greets her husband with a brisk kiss on the mouth, even on days when she'd just spent the entirety of lunch listing every one of his faults.
And Kate can remember quite well the way that her mother would always turn to her father, rise up on her toes and brush her lips along his left cheekbone, the way her father would smile like his worries had been drawn away.
But Kate can't detect a pattern in the way that Clint greets her. They meet up on the street and he'll grip her hand tightly, squeeze hard, and then shove his hands in his pockets, like touching her in the first place was a slip-up. She'll come back from a run with Lucky and he'll crowd her back against the door, kiss her hungrily, Lucky poking his cold nose at the bend of Kate's knee. Sometimes, he'll come back to his apartment and Kate will be pretending to study but really be watching some truly regrettable reality tv show, and he'll lean over the back of the couch, kiss the spot where her shoulder meets her neck, his stubble rough against her throat.
It takes her a while to figure it out; that each time she shows up for one of their weird, super-hero business dates, that each time Clint comes back to find her writing a paper at his scarred kitchen island, he's surprised. Just a little. That she there at all. And Kate wants to promise that she's always be around, always have his back regardless of whether or not they're fucking, but. But Kate has a tempter, and sometimes Clint is a cowardly jerk, and Kate's a normal playing in the same league as metahumans and godlings, and her first boyfriend broke up with her by moving cross-country, and and and. And Kate just can't make that promise.
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