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i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.

CHARACTERS: francis and clint barton!
LOCATION: deck 10 common room.
WARNINGS: trainwreck incoming.
SUMMARY: are you my ~~mother~~ father?

[ clint's not a kid person. it's...it's not his thing. he's not cut out for it, so it's weird in ways he doesn't know how to deal with that there's a kid that belongs to some version of him running around with a bow and arrow and--

well, it's weird. just as weird as most things on this boat tend to be, and clint considers seriously pulling his blankets over his head and sleeping this off too, but he's well past the excuse of exhaustion and all the rubble's been washed out of his hair, so he pulls his jacket on, sticks his gun into his belt and goes to see the kid.

here goes nothing. ]

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[after what UltsTony told Francis about "Clint," the youngest Barton isn't going in unprepared. he has no way of knowing this isn't the same Hawkeye whose family was killed; it wouldn't matter if he did. there's someone on this ship calling himself Clint Barton and that's just not possible because his dad is dead, and he's going to get to the bottom of this

parallel universes and different realities are all well and good in theory, but when faced with the possibility of Clint Barton - any Clint Barton - being on this ship? none of that matters. it's all stomach tightening, fight-or-flight, instant anger and hurt and everything else he feels when thinking about his dad

he makes his way to the common area as directed, bow and quiver on his back. he's cautious, quiet. watching. he's in survival mode]

[ clint recognizes keyed up when he sees it. probably because it's like looking in a mirror, to some degree. he knows he's on edge, sunk into sniper mentality and carrying a loaded weapon because all he can think is that loki is on board and fuck if he isn't worried about it, but he makes such an effort to downshift. because this is a kid and he's...well, something, and clint knows that if he's a tensed up mess that won't make this any easier.

the kid comes armed too. it's almost funny. maybe if things had gone a little differently clint would have come with his own bow strapped to his back, but he's skittered away from it since he woke up covered in blue ooze, slowly coming down from the adrenaline rush of battle and remembering all the sins he'd recently acquired. ]

You can relax. I'm not a threat, you know.

You say that, but I'm not so sure.

[still, he relaxes a little, keeping his distance and looking this 'Clint' over. he's definitely not his dad - too short, too stocky, not nearly doofy enough. whoever this is, it's not Clint Barton, at least as far as Francis is concerned, and that has him instantly wary]

Barton, then?

[ paranoid little thing, isn't he?

clint sizes him up, noting every detail. the scrutiny takes him all of a moment. clint's honed that ability to perfection over time until everything is committed to memory after a moment's scrutiny. and doing that distracts from how damned surreal this is, meeting an alternate version's kid.

when did this become his life? ]

Clint Barton. Call sign's Hawkeye.

You don't look like him at all.

[Francis does his own assessment, jaw tight. he finally, finally moves further into the room, cautious but sure-footed]

I'm Hawkeye, too. [he doesn't quite want to offer up his actual name yet, though if there's anyone he would tell it would be alternates of his dad]

Different universes'll do that.

[ he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel about it. there should be a fucking pamphlet for things like this. if coulson had one all these years and never told him about it, clint's going to feel betrayed.

but then, coulson...

well, that's not a road to be going down. ]

You got anything more official to go by?

Yeah, I guess they will.

[if there is a handbook, Francis wants a shot at it, too, because right now he doesn't know whether to lash out or be buddy-buddy or just run away with his fingers in his ears. he's wanted to see his dad again so much but this isn't at all what he had in mind

life's just unfair in the worst possible way, it seems]

Most people just call me Barton back home. [he doubted that would be good enough, but he was damn well gonna try]

That's gonna get confusing real fast.

[ maybe this is his kid after all, if the way he's edging around the name business is anything to go by. though that really begs the question of how alike was he to his alternate counterpart? was there anything there at all?

not that he was going to ask. it didn't seem like a smart move, not in any configuratin. ]

[Francis ducks his head awkwardly, scrubbing at his hair. it was true; it would get confusing, at least for others]

Maybe we can set up a system. You go by Hawkeye and I go by Barton. Something like that.

[awkward paaaaaaause]

Or the other way around. You've been here longer, haven't you?

[ clint shrugs a shoulder, hunches into his jacket. is it always this awkward dealing with kids? ]

It's not my call. You got a preference?

[he almost says 'of course it's your call, you're my dad,' but he stops himself before that unfortunate slip up. instead Francis sighs, flopping down on a chair]

I like Hawkeye.

[there's a pause, and he just watches Clint before]

So you're really him? You're really Clint Barton?

[ it's good that he doesn't say that. it really is. clint wouldn't have handled it well. clint's bad with things like that, doesn't have an ounce of real father-son interaction to draw from. he's scrambling along without any real idea what he's doing and hoping he doesn't fuck up too badly. ]

That's the name on my birth certificate. Never had any kids though.

[ the life of an assassin didn't really lend itself well to family dynamics. ]

[never had any kids? but wait - Tony said]

What do you mean, never had kids? Tony said the Clint Barton here had a family. [oh man this is just getting confusing now]

He did? Why would he...

[ there's a moment of confusion because seriously, what was tony on? before clint remembers that he isn't the only one of himself, and there wasn't only one of tony.

but maybe this isn't the best thing to dump on the kid. two tonys, two clints. christ. ]

You might want to ask him what he's talking about. Probably got his wires crossed.

[Francis is still trying to wrap his head around there being two Tonys, and one of them he's only texted. there's just so much here he can't quite process, can't quite accept. two Clints might indeed be a touch too much at the moment]

Figures he'd have his facts wrong.

[he was only just starting to warm up to Tony back home, after all, and bitterness is a difficult beat to overcome]

[ throwing tony under the bus: practically an american past time. clint should probably feel a little guilty about it, but needs must. ]

Cut him some slack. Getting spacenapped can throw anyone off their game.

[ me included, he wants to add but doesn't, because that isn't something clint's advertising. ]

I guess. You're taking it pretty well, though. [Francis manages a faint smile] Can't say I'm surprised, considering your namesake.

I've learned to take things in stride.

[ if a freak out was to be had, it would be had later. but all in all, this wasn't the weirdest thing his life had dropped on him. all things pale in comparison to being spacenapped. ]

If you're not panicking, I'm not panicking.

I'm not panicking.

[he was intently curious, though, just ... watching Clint. trying to work him out a bit without asking questions. but there is one pressing question he can't let hang any longer, so]

Are you - are you an Avenger? Back home, I mean.

[ clint's quiet for a minute, studying him. avengers, well. that was a thing that had just happened, and clint wasn't sure himself whether he was or he wasn't. he'd never been considered for the avengers' initiative, he'd just hopped on board because he could help and he wanted to help, to wash some of the red from his ledger.

whether he was actually on it though... ]

Too early to call. I might be, depending on how the debrief goes.

Do you want to be?

[ that pulls clint up short.

he hadn't really thought of it, not beyond the initial flurry of battle and saving the world. and now he was here and these were the only people he knew and if this all turned out to be some crazy team building exercise he was punching fury in the head.

but did he want to? did he want to be a goddamn avenger or whatever ridiculous name stark came up with next? ]

You sure know how to ask the hard questions, don't you?

[for Francis, it's more just a sense of continuity. this guy isn't his Clint, but he wants him to be like Clint, and the Avengers ... they were something his dad believed in. something he believes in. it's childish, he's sure, and he's just setting himself up for heartache, but he just. needs this one thing to be the same, at least. to know that no matter the universe, Clint Barton wants to protect people]

Learned it from my dad.

Nice to know my alternate's raising his kid right.

[ of course, there's still the matter of an answer. of deciding his loyalties in a split second, which isn't actually the hardest thing, because his loyalties are with natasha first and shield second, have been for a while, but where the avengers fit into that is a tricky thing to decide. ]

I'm S.H.I.E.L.D. If they tell me to suit up, I'll suit up.

Raised. He raised me right.

[it's a distinction he feels like he needs to make, because his dad isn't around anymore, and it's important people know Clint did right by him while he still had the chance]

Mom mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D. a few times when I was little. I guess it's the next best thing, huh?

Raised.

[ well, fuck. the past tense can never mean anything good, ever. there's an awkward pause, clint shifting inside his jacket. ]

Sorry.

Don't be. It's fine. [Francis shrugs, examining an arrow]

Don't suppose you'd ever be up for target practice, though?

[ clint'd call bullshit on that, but he remembers when he was a kid, remembers shrugging things off and how much he'd hated when people kept pushing. so he lets it go. ]

Sure. Maybe I can even teach you a thing or two.

You really think so?

I've got some moves you've probably never seen.

[ which might not be wholly accurate, if his father was clint barton, but hey. clint could try. ]

Hah. I doubt it. [cocky little brat] Wouldn't mind testing that, though.

Sure you want to go up against the best marksman in the world?

[ modesty is for lesser souls. ]

Pretty sure I can handle it.

Next time then. Better practice, in the mean time.

[ because this should end on a good note. this should end happy, and clint should move out before he fucks it up in some ridiculous way, as he seems to be doing with everything these days. ]

Yeah, practice.

[so few happy notes in his life, this ending on one would definitely be appreciated, especially since he's still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing in the first place]

[ clint tugs his jacket into place, then crosses his arms over his chest. well then. ]

You got my comm number. If you need anything...

[ the just call hangs there. clint's not really sure how he'd do at parenting, but he can offer help. ]

[Francis keeps his gaze a minute, then starts fiddling with an arrow, nodding]

I won't, but I'll keep you in mind if something comes up.

[ and it's enough. that's all he could ask because he's not this kid's dad, right? clint nods, has an awkward moment where he wonders just what to do ( hair ruffling? handshake? ) before he raises on shoulder in a shrug and nods. ]

Alright then.

[ and then he vacates the scene before he actually does do something awkward. ]

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