He's used to long and awkward car rides, plane trips. He keeps his lips pursed and his jaw clenched the entire time, taking in the world around him. It only serves to hammer home the point: Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. But for him Kansas is the twenty-first century, and Glinda the Good Witch is Captain-freaking-America.
It's only when he spots the house that he genuinely begins to panic. He doesn't know what he was expecting, really. A government issues, entirely sanitized set of quarters? A large and comfortable apartment in Brooklyn that was big enough for two but still obviously a bachelor's pad? These make up Clint's frame of reference, when he thinks of Steve and himself. But Peggy is the variable here.
He spots the children--of course he spots them, who couldn't spot them and know exactly who they were--and his blood goes cold. When Peggy turns to deliver her threat, he meets her gaze with as frank and honest a stare as he can muster.
Hawk's eyes. They see better from a distance. When Peggy and Steve step out of the car to greet their daughters, Clint realizes he is getting far too close.
He steps out of the car all the same, quiver still on his back and the bow, collapsed down to its smallest form, tucked under his arm. He doesn't say anything, just swallows noisily.
no subject
It's only when he spots the house that he genuinely begins to panic. He doesn't know what he was expecting, really. A government issues, entirely sanitized set of quarters? A large and comfortable apartment in Brooklyn that was big enough for two but still obviously a bachelor's pad? These make up Clint's frame of reference, when he thinks of Steve and himself. But Peggy is the variable here.
He spots the children--of course he spots them, who couldn't spot them and know exactly who they were--and his blood goes cold. When Peggy turns to deliver her threat, he meets her gaze with as frank and honest a stare as he can muster.
Hawk's eyes. They see better from a distance. When Peggy and Steve step out of the car to greet their daughters, Clint realizes he is getting far too close.
He steps out of the car all the same, quiver still on his back and the bow, collapsed down to its smallest form, tucked under his arm. He doesn't say anything, just swallows noisily.