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| The Lives of Kittens, and Other Secret Mysteries; 5/24 - Early Early (Team Re-Assemble) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2014, 12:14 PM (668 Views) | |
| Wonder Man | May 7 2014, 12:14 PM Post #1 |
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Red Shades, Original Recipe. No really.
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[Continued for Simon from What a Feeling!] A good morning? It was an utterly fantastic morning (one might even say close to spectacular), and it was going to take an awful lot more than dire news and emergency calls (even ones that really might actually have come from Tony Stark, Confederated Commander of Evil) to shake that conviction out of Simon Williams’ head. Or the bounce out of his step. Or.. …yeah, no, there was just no way that anything at all was going to dislodge the smile he was wearing right now. Not after a night like that. With a woman like that (‘that’, in this case, standing in for all things indescribably amazing), though on second thoughts, he should probably remove the word ‘like’ from that description, on account of there being a very distinct probability that there could not possibly be anyone else in the world who could stand up to the comparator. With Alison Isabel Blaire. Who, for the record, he was already missing, because there was an Ali-shaped gap right there beside him. On the other hand, it was probably a good thing that she’d had some business of her own she’d needed to get to before the All Resistance meeting. Simon could admit to himself (reluctantly, but still, he was admitting it, he really truly was), that this thing he’d rounded up the rest of his own team (or at least Jen and the Oldly-Weds) for probably needed to not have extra people involved, even spectacularly fantastic people with codenames that barely even started to describe… …right, he should probably stop having naked thoughts about Dazzler now. Any time. Any time… …ah well. He’d put it on the list for later, along with saving the world, punching Tony in the face, and whatever else needed to be there. For now, the top priority category of To Do had only one task on it, and that was getting the rest of the team shepherded over to Greer’s room, following Tigra’s request, and making sure none of them bolted for bed or breakfast along the way. They all needed to be here, and all together for this. No stragglers. Right on cue, that was Jen, catching up and falling in beside him as they went down the hallway with a look in her eyes that promised that kvetching was about to resume. “And again, this public defender humbly begs to know why the hell you dragged us out of bed and away from breakfast?” their very own Gorgeous Green Giantess demanded, looking neither humble nor like she was thinking about staying on defense. “There’s still forty-five minutes before the Big Bad Briefing, and there was bacon happening somewhere. I could smell it.” “Trust me, Jen, I wanted to leave bed this morning even less than you did,” Simon told her sincerely, though the serious look effect that he was going for did get kinda (well, okay, totally) ruined by the wide smile he was still wearing. “But this is Re-Assemble time, and Greer’s asked me to get us all to her room, so…” Simon trailed off for a moment, inventing some details that seemed like they might help off the top of his head, “…I think she might have made breakfast arrangements there?” Greer was practical. She’d do that kind of thing, right? Or, okay, he probably should have done that himself, actually, given that Greer had plenty to deal with herself already this morning, but what could you do? Sometimes your head just got temporarily too full of naked thoughts, and other things slipped out the back, and you just had to let it go and figure out how to make it up to people later. Still a fantastic morning, no matter how many narrow eyed, suspicious looks Jen gave him right at this moment. “She’d better. We all know we don’t like me when I’m Hangry,” She-Hulk warned ominously. Not entirely seriously though, Simon thought, so he just smiled even harder (there was a little room left to turn that up) and threw an arm over her shoulders as they turned down the last hallway that led to the quarters Greer had been assigned. It would be a good morning. This meeting was going to help with that, he was really pretty sure about that. |
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| Mockingbird | May 8 2014, 10:16 AM Post #2 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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[Cont'd from Two of A Kind (Working On A Full House)] Not her best morning. Hell, not even in the top fifty, Bobbi decided as she and Clint made their way down the hall toward Greer's room. No morning when she woke up puking her guts out for no apparent reason was anything to cheer about and she still didn't know what the hell was up with that. Food poisoning? Couldn't think of anything lately that might've been suspect. Actually, she wasn't entirely sure when the last time was she'd had a chance to stop long enough to eat. She hadn't had so much as a drink last night, so no blaming it on that. Not nerves, Mockingbird didn't think. A lot going on, sure, a lot hanging on today, though nothing all that much worse than they'd faced before as Avengers or Resistance or in her time with SHIELD or in the Savage Land. But then she'd been in the game long enough to know they could sneak up on you sometimes when you least expected it. Hit you when you thought you were fine. One way or another, her gut told her it was going to be a make or break day. Maybe she could chalk it up to that after all. Or maybe she was just coming down with something. Whatever it was, it'd picked a hell of a morning to show up. "Wonder what's up with the pre-meeting meeting in Greer's room?" Bobbi commented curiously to Clint as they got closer, turning a brief look his way. Not that he'd know any more than she did, but she'd put all the thought about the morning episode of puking that she wanted to. "If Simon got us all out of bed early for a pep talk, I'm not gonna be responsible for my actions." Since they were invading Greer's room to do it, Tigra might even give her a hand with that. Loved Simon to death, would still smack him with whatever was handy. Even if it wouldn't hurt him, it'd make her feel better about not getting to crawl back in bed to die for another half hour. Though at least the worst of whatever the hell this was seemed to have passed. Hope to god it'd stay gone. They rounded the last corner before Greer's quarters and there was the Wonder Leader and Jen, coming from the opposite direction. One look at Simon and Bobbi turned back to Clint with a smirk. "Looks like someone's having a good morning." That was an extra-blinding smile even for Simon. She'd take that to mean he had a good night, too. Hopefully a good night that didn't involve any Genoshan princesses that'd just hand them back broken pieces of Simon later. Or, for that matter, anyone that was just gonna end up leaving them with shattered bits of Wonder Man. “She’d better. We all know we don’t like me when I’m Hangry,” Jen was saying, reminding Bobbi that even thinking about food right now was a terrible idea. "As long as you take it out on Simon," Bobbi interjected as they got closer. Yeah, jesus, all the smiling happening there with Wonder Man. Even in the face of Low Blood Sugar Jen. "We're just the innocent bystanders." |
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| Hawkeye | May 11 2014, 01:35 AM Post #3 |
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I retire for what, like, five minutes and it all goes to shit.
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That was probably the fastest a pleasant morning had turned around without it involving a surprise attack from the Masters of Evil or, more recently, some kind of emergency evacuation. One moment Clint and Bobbi were slowly waking up, looking into each other's eyes, and the next Bobbi's expression completely transformed and she was bolting for the bathroom so she could shove her head in the toilet. And then, as quickly as it had struck, she was fine again, if a little off balance and in serious need of some mouth rinse. What the hell had that been about? Bobbi didn't seem to know and Clint had no idea, either. Nerves might explain it, but this was Bobbi, and he'd never seen her get a case so bad she was actually throwing up. Clint couldn't even bring himself to suggest it out loud, but he couldn't quite dismiss it out of hand, either. He wasn't getting anywhere trying to think of something else that might have caused it, and other than her possibly still feeling a bit squeamish, she seemed mostly recovered. For the moment it was probably better to chalk it up to a freak, one-time thing and think about something else. Like why their fearless leader had summoned them out of their rooms so early. That, at least, was something Clint knew he and Bobbi were of one mind about. Mostly because she said so. "Wonder what's up with the pre-meeting meeting in Greer's room?" she remarked as the drew closer to their destination. He turned slightly to meet her eyes and shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Babe," he said. His best guess was something about the final push that was in the works. There was a lot riding on today, no question about that, but past that, he was all curiosity. "If Simon got us all out of bed early for a pep talk, I'm not gonna be responsible for my actions." "Don't worry, I'll cover for you," he promised. Sometimes being a good husband meant intervening when Bobbi's temper got the better of her, and sometimes it meant cheering her on. "Part of me's afraid it's about Wanda." Everything had seemed okay last night when they'd left the party, but they knew from experience how quickly that could turn around. He really hoped they weren't dealing with a broken Wondy this morning. Or even a pre-broken Wondy. "Or Disco Tinkerbell," he added, since they couldn't rule that out, either. As they turned into the final hallway, they spotted the man in question approaching from the other direction with Jen. And his million-watt smile was cranked up so high it almost counted as a third member. Clint glanced over at Bobbi and she was already smirking at him. "Looks like someone's having a good morning." Yes, it did. Which was amusing in its own right, but wasn't doing much to rule out the more worrisome theories he'd just thrown out. Jen, on the other hand, looked about as eager to be out of bed as Clint and Bobbi were. “She’d better. We all know we don’t like me when I’m Hangry,” she warned Simon, but that just seemed to make him smile more. Cripes, depending on just how hungry Jean actually was, he was practically asking for it. "As long as you take it out on Simon," Bobbi quipped as they approached. "We're just the innocent bystanders." That or hostages, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Either way, all smashing needed to be directed Simon's way. Clint turned he head to the side a bit and made to shield his eyes with one hand. "Think you can turn that down a notch?" he mock-complained. "I don't know how much more my retinas can take." Lowering his arm back to his side, he dropped the act and smiled at first Jen, then Simon as they reached the door. "So we're here," he announced. "Do we get any hints of what this is about or are you going to keep us in suspense a little longer?" He already knew the answer, of course, but he still had to ask. |
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| Tigra | May 12 2014, 06:47 PM Post #4 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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How many moments over the last three years had she spent fantasizing about being able to spend the morning with her son? Many, many more than she’d ever got the chance to act on. There had been a few, snatched there and here whenever there seemed to be enough time to take a day or two in the Cat People’s dimension, but only a few, and the lost time, the moments she’d missed had felt like they were a slowly ripping out part of her heart as they accumulated. If she was going to be honest though, Greer had to admit to herself in a practical manner, the rather amorphous content that had been in those fantasies hadn’t necessarily had very much in common with the way the real thing was going this morning. It was a matter of negotiation. Washing was a negotiation. Clothing was a negotiation, and a hard-fought one at that, though she had finally managed to inveigle William to submit to the indignity of a pair of shorts (tailored for tails) with a promise of introduction to the jungle gym in the training facilities. Currently, the negotiation was breakfast, and judging by the state of her makeshift table - trails of milk, cereal exiled to a ‘bad corner’, and spoon languishing untouched by little paws - Greer suspected she was losing. Which was not to say that she minded at all. In fact, as she sat perched on the edge of the sofa drawn up beside the table, watching her son stick his hand in a bowl of milk and suck the liquid down through the fur on the back of it (it tasted better that way, she now had it on good authority), Greer was smiling as much as she could remember doing in a long, long time. When he turned his head her way, a mischievous look wrinkling up his nose and flashing with the blueish cast of his eyes, her smile only grew. “Me. Fish,” said William, eyeing the plate of tinned salmon she’d been guarding in a failing attempt to leverage for cereal, then flashing one of his most charmingly unapologetically naughty smiles back at Greer as she pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. “Want.” That was too much for Greer, who couldn’t quite keep herself from chuckling, even while she did her best to shake her head seriously. “Milk first,” she tried one more time, “And do you remember your other words, William?” Her son could, when he wanted, speak English as well as (if not better than) any three year old. It was just that ‘when he wanted’ translated as almost never at all, complete sentences being, apparently, inefficient things that happened to other people. But in the general scheme of things, Tigra couldn’t see any particular reason to worry about that, so when William smiled a little more, and answered her with a not-very-innocent-at-all, “Me. Fish. Want. Please,” she laughed again, sighed, and pushed the plate of salmon over. “Thank you,” he said, completely unprompted, then purred a little when Greer leaned over on a whim, scratching gently at the spot just behind the little tuft at the top of his ear, before finally taking up the spoon and attacking the fish with far more enthusiasm than he’d shown for the milk. Greer kept stroking his fur a little while longer (it was unruly at the top, never quite lying completely flat), still unable to quite convince herself that he wouldn’t have to be gone again in a few minutes. The sound of footsteps and quiet voices in the hallway - muffled by the sound-proofing in the walls, but not quite enough for Cat person hearing - was what finally pulled William’s attention from the rapidly disappearing salmon. He sat up a little straighter, ear tips twitching, and cocked his head toward the door, then at Greer, who smiled a little reassurance back to him, brushing the fur at his neck one lightly one more time, in case the 200th time might be the charm for getting it smooth), then putting her finger silently to her lips. Jen’s voice was, as usual, the first to be clearly audible through the door. “She’d better. We all know we don’t like me when I’m Hangry,” she was saying, a little mysteriously, but Greer wasn’t about to let herself worry about that. “We have visitors. Are you ready to meet some new friends?” Greer asked her son softly, hearing Bobbi throwing back some kind of rejoinder outside the door, and then had to smile once again at the considering look on his face as he turned his that proposal over in his thoughts. He looked like her, of course. No question of that. But sometimes - especially now, after the conversation she’d had last night - it was somehow easier to see the other side of his genetics. Finally, William nodded, but before Greer had a chance to do anything more to ready him (or more honestly, herself) for that, he’d bounced out of the seat in a flash of orange fur, bounding almost silently across the room and straight up the wall beside the door. Somehow he found some kind of purchase for his claws up there, arranging himself between the ceiling and the wall above the doorframe, apparently ready to observe whatever new visitors might come from territory of his own choosing. “Think you can turn that down a notch?” Clint this time, outside, also mysteriously. Or possibly just Clint-ly. Greer wasn’t sure of that as she got to her feet, padding far more slowly toward the door. “I don't know how much more my retinas can take.” “No, pretty sure it’s stuck this way,” Simon’s voice rejoined cheerfully. Even by his standards, that was cheerfully, in fact. Which was a good thing, of course. Theoretically. Maybe. That mood had better not have come from Wanda, though, or they were going to be dealing with the post-high hangover for months. “So we're here," [Clint] announced. "Do we get any hints of what this is about or are you going to keep us in suspense a little longer?” In the pause that followed, Greer would actually have willingly sworn that she could hear a smile widening on Simon’s face. some sort of ultrasonic reflection from his teeth, maybe. It didn’t matter though - she waited one second, two, to give herself a chance for one last deep breath, and one last brief look up at her son, before dropping her eyes back to the door, and pulling it open. “Thank you guys for coming. Really,” she told them as it opened, looking to each of the four of them standing outside, her family, in turn with a sincere expression, before stepping back and ushering them inside, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” That too, didn’t go exactly like she’d imagined it though. William dropping down from his perch at the top of the door right on top of Clint’s head had not been part of the way she’d pictured this moment, for instance. But that, in fact, was exactly what happened. Not exactly a lot of room negotiation there, though Greer to herself, but it was too hard to even try to keep from smiling a little as she shrugged, and gave up on imagining anything else. Well. Play it as it lays, wasn’t that the saying? “This is my son, William,” said Tigra. |
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| Mockingbird | May 14 2014, 01:38 PM Post #5 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Strange place for an early morning pre-meeting meeting and Bobbi couldn't help but wonder what was up with that. Clint didn't seem to have any better idea than she did with his answer of, "Your guess is as good as mine, Babe," so Mockingbird more or less shrugged it off. Maybe just a general, last minute team meeting before they all got thrown out into general Resistance population for the main events. Not a bad idea and they'd had meeting in stranger places than somebody's quarters. So help her god, though, if Simon'd got them outta bed early for another pep talk, or to watch him kiss Dazzler again, she was not gonna be responsible for her actions. No matter how much she generally loved Wonder man. "Don't worry, I'll cover for you," Hawk promised, since he was used to doing that anyway and vice versa. "Part of me's afraid it's about Wanda." Oh god, perish the thought. She liked Wanda, she really did. Always had. She just liked her as damned far away from Simon as they could get her and today was definitely not an exception to that. Not in the mood to deal with shattered bits of Simon that needed gluing back together. "Or Disco Tinkerbell," Clint added and Bobbi pushed out a sigh, more from habit than any real objection to Dazzler. "Much as I hate to say it, Sport, it could be worse." Sure, there was a lot of pink and glowing and pastel going on there, but if it was between that and lonely, unhappy Simon, she'd rather deal with the pink. After the last couple of days, and Utah, hell it wouldn't surprise her if Wondy was calling them all in to announce Dazzler was officially joining the team. No sign of Alison Blair, though, when they turned the corner and headed toward Greer's quarters. Just an even more cheerful looking than usual Simon (god, still wished she could siphon some've that off an transplant it, especially this morning) and Jen. Who wasn't sounding quite as happy for lack of breakfast. Yeah, okay, not thinking about food ever again. As long as Jen took out her low blood sugar on Simon, and left the innocent bystanders (namely them) in peace, they'd all probably survive the morning. Hawk was turning toward their Wonder Leader, hand up to shield his eyes apparently from the blinding dental work. "Think you can turn that down a notch?" he mock-complained. "I don't know how much more my retinas can take." Didn't even give Simon pause, of course. “No, pretty sure it’s stuck this way,” the Re-Assemble leader countered way too damned cheerfully for this early. She'd decide if that was a good thing or not once she found out who stuck it there. Dropping his arm, Hawk smiled at their two teammates as they got to Greer's door. "So we're here," he announced. "Do we get any hints of what this is about or are you going to keep us in suspense a little longer?" Yeah. More smiling. Bobbi still didn't know if that was something she should be feeling good about or not. Wondy didn't get as far as answering, though, before the door swung open, and there was Tigra. “Thank you guys for coming. Really,” she told them as it opened, looking to each of the four of them standing outside and looking pretty cheerful herself as she stepped back to let them inside. Heading through the door, Mockingbird lifted one blonde brow questioningly Greer's way. Was Simon contagious? 'Cause she could use some've that, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Starting to turn toward Simon, who had to be behind this (even if it didn't explain Greer's part in this) Bobbi got as far as, "Y'know, we've already-" before the met Dazzler (and it better be Dazzler, because if this was about Wanda, bad things were going to happen) part got cut off by the sight of something dropping down right onto Clint's head. It was furry and striped and kid shaped. With a tail and wearing shorts. And looked like Greer. Bobbi's eyebrows made a play at sailing off her head, but Greer was smiling and she felt her lips twitching to do the same. Because Clint had a cat baby on his head. There was no other way to look at it. "Hey, who's the little guy?" she asked, smiling and stepping over to, hell, maybe help Clint get him off his face? Maybe help the kid get a better grip? Though it looked like he might have that covered. God, he was cute. “This is my son, William,” said Tigra and, wait. William? Greer had a kid? Named William? When the hell had this happened? "When did this happen?" Bobbi turned to ask Greer, forehead creasing and leaving Clint to fend for himself for a second, "Maybe a better question: When were you pregnant?" She'd have remembered that, it wasn't exactly something you missed. Only she didn't remember it. Or maybe an even better question, as the former operative mulled over that name and put it together with other things she knew and found herself looking pointedly from Greer to Simon and back again, hands going to her hips. "Is there something else you guys might want to tell us?" Starting with, hopefully, I really didn't let Simon name my kid William Williams. |
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| Hawkeye | May 16 2014, 07:24 PM Post #6 |
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I retire for what, like, five minutes and it all goes to shit.
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Mock was completely right about Dazzler. It could be worse. A lot worse. They'd both seen it happen. Dazzler didn't even seem that bad, really. At least not so far, and Clint made a mental note to have a chat with Simon just to make sure it stayed that way. He didn't even have to ask to know that the ladies would be doing the same with the pink-haired pop star herself. Still, if Simon had roused them all out of bed just to brag, he'd not only cover for Bobbi and whatever she did, Clint would jump right in there to help. He'd sooner go with the pep talk. Rounding the corner and meeting Simon and Jen halfway to the door, however, brought a new set of concerns. Namely, getting caught in the crossfire of Jen's possible hunger rage, and the merciless intensity of Simon's grin. It was a good thing Brian wasn't around, or the combined power might have instantly sunbleached everything in sight. Was it too much to ask Simon to pull that back a little? “No, pretty sure it’s stuck this way,” their fearless leader replied. That settled it, they were seriously going to have to figure out how to put a dimmer switch on that thing. Blind or not, they were here, at least. Maybe Simon would cut the theatrics for once and just tell them what was going on. Experience told Clint he shouldn't have even bothered, but once again hope had triumphed over it. Not that Clint wasn't fond of putting on a good show himself, but Simon took it to a whole new level. Always had. All he got for his efforts was an even bigger smile. There! If he could do that, he should be able to go the other direction. Before Clint could point that out or complain about how much he was clearly enjoying keeping them in suspense, Tigra's door opened. Greer stood on the other side, looking at all of them with an impressive smile of her own. Okay, seriously, what was going on here? “Thank you guys for coming. Really,” she said, and not in an off-hand gesture of politeness. She was sincerely happy they'd come, which had Clint's curiosity climbing even higher. Something was definitely going on here. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” That, of course, only made things even more mysterious, and as Clint passed through the doorway, he looked from left to right, wondering how they were going to meet someone if it was only Greer in the room. Or were they just gathering here to move on to some other new place. Bobbi sounded like she might have an idea of who it was, as she started talking to Simon and the Gah! Something dropped right on to Clint’s head. “Gah!” Clint said, stumbling forward and whipping his head up to the left and then to the right in a combined effort to see his ambusher and possibly shake it off. Neither of which was working out too well for him so far, since whatever it was clung to him pretty tightly and weighed at least twenty pounds. Fur. There was definitely some fur going on there. Clint could feel it, and the occasional claw (ow!) as well as see flashes of orange with black stripes. Damp paws that bore a faint aroma of fish kept prodding his head, clutching at his hair to keep purchase, and yes, that was definitely a tail that just smacked him in the face. Clint stuck his tongue out and tried to spit/blow away the small bits of fur that were now stuck to his lips. "Hey, who's the little guy?" Bobbi asked as Clint regained his balance and tilted his head back. Up there, a wide, luminous pair of slitted eyes looked right back at him. They were attached to the face of a smiling kid. A kid with Tigra’s face – no, that was just the fur and ears and whiskers. The face was someone else’s. It was right there on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite place it. How old was he? Three? Four. “This is my son, William,” Greer said, answering Bobbi’s question, and probably a couple of other questions that had to be on everyone else’s minds. And probably creating a hundred new ones in the process. Greer had a son? When did this happen? “Oh, my God, catbaby!” Jen gushed. “Or kitten-boy! Or- aw, who cares, he’s adorable!” Clint smiled up at the kid, because seriously, how couldn’t he? “Hey there, Buddy,” he said. “I’m Clint.” The kid seemed perfectly happy to stay right there on Clint’s head, and that was probably okay, even if a little less with the claws might be nice. “Hi,” William said, and giggled a little, which made Clint chuckle right back at him. God, he was just about the cutest thing ever. Where had Greer been hiding him all this time? Bobbi didn’t ask that question, but she did start with some big ones. When. Yes, that he wanted to know. But that look Bobbi was sending Simon and Greer had some weight all its own. "Is there something else you guys might want to tell us?" she asked, hands moving to her hips meaningfully. Clint trained questioning eyes on Greer. Yeah, he got was Bobbi was driving at, and he wanted to know, too, but the kid didn’t look a thing like Simon. This was seriously going to drive him crazy. God, if he could just put it together… But depending on Greer’s answer, he might not have to. |
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| Wonder Man | May 19 2014, 11:40 PM Post #7 |
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Red Shades, Original Recipe. No really.
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Alright, so the gang was all here! Even if they were complaining about the Smile, and even if it already kinda didn’t feel right that the cause of that smile being stuck on his face like this was missing from the group, and even if Bobbi didn’t look all that comfortable just now. And especially even if Clint was demanding hints about what they were here for. Seriously, what was Hawk thinking? Because you’d think a former Carnie would know about suspense and not giving away the tricks of the trade. Unless that was only magicians? Either way, Simon had only one answer for his teammate, which was to smile even wider, preparing to knock on the door only to be pre-empted by Greer pulling it open from the inside, and standing right there smiling calmly at them all. “Thank you guys for coming. Really,” she told them, and she, at least, was looking good this morning. Looking happy, or at least a whole lot happier and easier than Simon could remember seeing her in a long long time. Not quite the same thing, but still, progress. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” And cue, right there, right on the beat, to Bobbi turning around to him, while her husband headed through the door, fixing him with a look that Simon would have been ready to argue that he didn’t deserve if he’d had any desire to argue about anything on this fine morning. Which he didn’t. Nor did he have time, because even Bobbi had hardly gotten out more than three and a half words about ‘alreadys’ when Clint yelped from just inside the threshold. “Gah!” Somehow, even in the midst of Hawkeye stumbling and twisting here and there, it still wasn’t hard to make out the small figure that could only have been Greer’s son (Simon himself had only seen him once before, as a baby in the Cat People’s dimension, and this definitely wasn’t looking much like the swaddled bundle of new Tiger Prince that he remembered). Or possibly a rather large orange monkey, but as the mutual scrabbling between the pair pattered out for long enough to catch a good glimpse of the little boy’s face, yeah. No doubt at all. Greer’s son, right to the tip of his tiny pointed teeth that were poking right out there when he grinned down over Clint’s face, upside down and balanced a way that might have looked precariously, if you didn’t know his mother. “Hey, who's the little guy?” Bobbi asked anyway. Probably because sometimes you had to say something, and with smiles all round, why not that? “This is my son, William,” said Tigra. Which seemed to be pretty much everything that needed to be said, from Simon’s point of view. Not from Jen’s, of course, because she was having a Cat-Baby induced gush-gasm like only a She-Hulk could, while Wonder Man slipped through the gap in the door and into the room, greeting Greer with a kiss on the cheek and a quick one-armed hug slipped around her shoulders. Clint took the time to grin some more, and introduce himself, and while His were exchanged, Greer turned to look up at Simon, one furred brow lifting slightly as she squeezed his arm once, then shrugged out of it. “Shower more. I can still smell sex,” she murmured, just loud enough for his ears, and no one else’s. “You can smell everything,” Simon pointed out in return, only a little louder, amidst the sound of Hawkeye chuckling and something else that… was that what it sounded like when kittens laughed? Alright, so that had sounded (even in his head) like he’d smoked way too much on the Crack Pipe of Adorable. But still, he was pretty sure that had been the sound of kitten laughing. You could always trust Mockingbird to be able to think straight even through things as mind-cloyingly cute as playing, laughing Cat-Babies, and sure enough, “When did this happen?” was shortly being directed at Greer, along with a Serious Scientist In Thought frown, followed up rapidly by, “Maybe a better question: When were you pregnant?” Right. That was one of many kind of complicated questions they could be getting right down to, huh? Only by the time Greer had looked back from running what looked like a fond, and concerned (though not overly concerned) glance over her son, and possibly over the current state of Clint’s shoulders and forehead, or maybe just whatever it was that Jen was doing over there, waving at William and mugging like crazy - by the time she’d looked back to Bobbi, and opened her mouth to give that an answer, Mock had already apparently moved on again, now with her hands on her hips and a look that- -wait, how had he come into earn a piece of that one? Simon didn’t exactly stop smiling (he hadn’t really been joking to Clint about it being stuck. Or not all that much), he definitely did give their very own blonde genius biologist a mildly confused frown. “Is there something else you guys might want to tell us?” Alright, scratch that, and come back with a definitely confused look, that also unfortunately had more of a shade of guilty than Simon had intended to put in it. “Well, yes, but-“ he’d begun, but apparently hadn’t gotten nearly far into to keep Jen from snapping her head around, joining right on in in the significant looks that he was definitely getting too much of a share of here. “Yeah, that. Also - seriously? William Williams?” demanded She-Hulk, incredulously. “-not what you think,” Simon finished, trying not to sigh. At least Clint was only looking at Greer, though judging by the full on exasperated sigh he’d heard from her just then, the other man might quickly come to regret any kind of eye contact. Was she rolling her eyes? Because he had a feeling she was probably rolling her eyes, only he didn’t really want to turn his head to look and produce any movement that might draw him into the crossfire on this one. “He’s not mine,” Simon added though, as quickly as he could, deciding it was probably better to get that out there and very, very clear, before Greer had one of her moments about what were, admittedly, kind of perfectly logical misunderstandings. “He’s mine,” followed right after that, in a tone that could just be counted as calm, but mostly counted as very very obviously the final words Greer thought anyone needed to say about the matter. The next moment, Tigra stalked a step or two toward Clint, reaching up and plucking her son (who was actually looking way more curious than confused by the turn of events, let alone upset by them) off Hawk’s head, and then shifting him so he was sitting easily at her hip. “He’s William Grant, and he just turned three last month,” Tigra said then, looking at Bobbi for a moment longer than seemed appropriate for Simon’s carefully tuned sense of dramatic impact. Ah well though, she was tense, so awkward timing was probably inevitable. Also, for the record, he was definitely not even thinking about interrupting, or trying to explain anything about anything at all just now. Even practically indestructible and functionally immortal people could value their lives. “Things run shorter for Cat People,” Greer finished, very much in a tone of ‘and that’s all I have to say about that’, though some of the effect was spoiled by the way William had started batting at her hair with one tiny balled kitten fist. Still smiling. He was definitely still smiling. |
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| Mockingbird | May 20 2014, 04:51 PM Post #8 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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“Gah!” her amazingly eloquent husband exclaimed, probably understandably enough since he'd just got a head full of unexpected cat baby. Something she should maybe help with, Bobbi decided, though she wasn't exactly sure who'd she'd decided to help as she stepped toward Clint and the adorable, furry little kid attached to him. Cute little guy, whoever he was. Somebody Greer was kitten sitting, in the...middle of what was about to be all out war? Yeah, okay, that didn't make any damned sense at all at all. Not that him being Greer's son was anything she'd expected, either. Despite the fact that William the Kamakazi Kitten Baby looked just like her, but then so did a lot've the Cat People in general. “Oh, my God, catbaby!” Jen gushed as Bobby put a hold on assiting Clint, or William, since that seemed to have settled down. “Or kitten-boy! Or- aw, who cares, he’s adorable!” Instead, as Hawk got acquainted with his passenger, Mockingbird's mind started kicking in and putting things together. Greer had a kid, that kid's name was William, despite Bobbi not remembering Tigra being pregnant, and that wasn't exactly the sort of thing you just happened to miss. Greer and Simon had their arrangement, and...Jesus. Was there something else those two maybe wanted to tell them? Something Bobbi hoped would start out with, 'god no, I didn't let Simon name the kid William Williams'. The cute little furry kid who - was he laughing? Was that what that sound was? God, it was, wasn't it? Alright, going into cuteness overload here. Too much cute, way too early. “Well, yes, but-“ Simon started, looking a little too damned confused to be acting, no matter how good he was. “Yeah, that. Also - seriously? William Williams?” Jen jumped in, also making with the 'I'm really hoping the answer to that is no'. “-not what you think,” Simon finished, a little late to head any of that off. Looking less confused and more, well, how Simon tended to look when he was suddenly in the middle of something he couldn't head off and didn't want to be in the middle of. “He’s not mine,” Simon added quickly and Bobbi's head swung back to Greer “He’s mine," Greer insisted and Bobbi's brows inched up. Yeah, nobody was disputing that, even if Bobbi was pretty sure parthenogenesis didn't come with the Cat Buffy powers package. But that wasn't what she meant, was it? That was the Tigra pseudo-calm 'we aren't talking about this' voice. What, then? She'd expected nobody to ask? Because that was a pretty unrealistic assumption when you were presenting your friends with a kid nobody even knew you had. Greer went over and plucked William off Clint's head, settling him on her hip. Kid looked like he was dealing with all this a lot better than his mom and Bobbi put the minor prickle of irritation and total damned bewilderment on hold long enough to smile at him for a second. The hell was the big deal about who his dad was? They were practically family. No, hell, they were family. It wasn't like they were judging, if it was Simon or some Cat Man she'd had a fling with or, well, whoever. Other than the name, anyway, because William Williams would've needed some serious intervention for the kid's own good. “He’s William Grant, and he just turned three last month,” Tigra said then, looking her way and, what? What was that look? Looking back at her friend, the minor irritation (yeah, blaming that mostly on the good morning puking extravaganza), morphed pretty fast into something closer to concern as Bobbi's brows drew together. Okay, whatever this was? It was a definite sore spot, wasn't it? “Things run shorter for Cat People,” Greer finished making it clear she expected that to be that. Might've been a little more intimidating if there hadn't been a cat baby on her hip, batting her hair around. With a look over to Clint, and a small shake of her head in case he decided not to take the very broad hint and keep going with 'who's the dad' (and if he did, he'd better hope there were still some healers around the infirmary to patch up the claw marks). Jen, she couldn't do anything about, but Simon could maybe run interference there if he needed to, so Bobbi turned back to Greer. "Well, thank god," she told her friend, stepping over to get a closer look at William, now that he wasn't hanging off Clint's head, "For a second there, I thought we'd have to stage some kind of kid naming intervention." Bending down a little, the blonde smiled at William. "Hi there, William. I'm Bobbi." Then she looked back up at Greer and added, "He's cute as hell. Looks a lot like you." Couldn't help it, with the tail and the fur and the eyes, she supposed. If there were other bits in there that'd probably come from dad, well, it didn't change the truth of that. Jesus he really was a cute kid.One that had a clump of her hair in his little pawed hands, Bobbi realized. Well, it was better than having him on her head, she guessed. |
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| Hawkeye | May 24 2014, 01:11 AM Post #9 |
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I retire for what, like, five minutes and it all goes to shit.
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Aha! So it turned out Simon actually could do something about that smile, even if it was just for a second or two. Did he really expect them to believe he didn't know why Birdie was giving him that look, though? The were talking about a surprise catbaby, here. One that Simon apparently already knew about, and considering his history with Greer, the story sort of told itself. Even if that story wasn't exactly adding up in Clint's head the way it probably ought to. Either way, there were definitely things Simon and Greer might want to tell them, and that confused look on Simon's face wasn't going to earn him a pass there. Kinda looked like he knew that too, because he definitely sounded a little guilty as he said, “Well, yes, but-“ That, however, was as far as he got before Jen cut in, dropping her attention from waving and making funny faces at little William so she could add her own version of that look. “Yeah, that. Also - seriously? William Williams?” Oh, man. Clint hadn't even considered that yet. They wouldn't. Or if they did, they were going to be hearing a whole lot more from Bobbi and Jen about it. “-not what you think,” Simon finished, despite all that. Fair enough then, but then who....ooooooooohkayyyy, maybe it was a good idea to just let that train of thought hang out at the station. Maybe even send it back to the trainyard. Man, how did Greer do that, anyway? It was like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and that sigh was definitely trouble. By the time she rolled her eyes, Clint opened both his palms toward her in a silent 'backing off, now,' gesture. “He’s not mine,” Simon added, a bit hastily it sounded. Maybe too hastily, because when Greer spoke next, she did not sound like she was in the mood to pursue this subject more than she had to. And that she was going to decide how much she had to. “He’s mine,” she said, which... yeah, there went Bobbi's brows. Didn't look like that was going to be the end of it, after all, no matter what Greer was hinting. Greer walked up to Clint, and despite how comfortable William seemed to have gotten on top of Clint's head, when she reached out for him, he climbed right into her arms and let her bring him down to where he could sit at her hip. Man, the cute with that kid just wasn't going to quit. “He’s William Grant, and he just turned three last month,” Greer said, seeming to direct it mainly to Bobbi. Clint's eyes shifted toward his wife, whose brows were knitting together with slight concern. “Things run shorter for Cat People,” Greer said. Or maybe concluded, since she was still giving out pretty clear 'don't go there' vibes. The warning didn't quite have the proper ring to it, though, thanks to William, who'd decided to bat at Greer's hair with an adorably tiny fist, and Simon, who was back to smiling like he had way too much happy for anyone's health. Bobbi shot her eyes toward Clint and gave her head a slight shake. Now that was hardly fair. He was kind of ahead of the curve as far as getting on the 'leave it alone' bandwagon went, and he answered Bobbi with a slightly wounded expression. The next moment Mock turned her attention back to Greer. "Well, thank god," she said, and approached their friend and teammate, looking her son over. "For a second there, I thought we'd have to stage some kind of kid naming intervention." She leaned a little closer and introduced herself to William with a smile. "He's cute as hell[,] she told Tigra. Looks a lot like you." Huge understatement on both scores, there, but Clint still found himself saying, "Yeah." He sidled up next to Bobbi so he could join her. Now that he wasn't trying to raise his eyes up his own head, he had a chance to get a decent look at him. "He's a happy little guy, isn't he?" he added with a smile, looking up at Greer. No surprise, there. He had one heck of a mom. Clint then stepped aside so that Jen could get in there and introduce herself or whatever else she wanted. Better that then having her pick him up and move him, which she would. Shulkie'd done it enough times for Clint to know when it was coming. "I just-" Clint began to say, but faltered. "Wow." Now that that there weren't any kids dropping on his head and he'd had a chance for it all to sink in, he was feeling a bit stunned about it all. Too much to trust himself to say or ask anything else just yet. Especially since he didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to responding appropriately to teammates and surprise blessed events. And even though this wasn't even close to the same thing, he really wasn't in the mood to start breakfast with his own foot. |
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| Tigra | May 26 2014, 04:54 PM Post #10 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Ten seconds. Was it really only ten seconds that it took for even her best friends to make this all into some kind of paternity guessing game? Clint staring at her son like he had calipers in his gaze, and now Bobbi and Jen joining in staring at Simon, and asking their leading questions. Like the first and only thing that might be of note in meeting her son was the identity of who she’d been acting as a broodmare for. “He’s mine,” Greer declared flatly, putting as much emphasis into shutting all of that down as she could possibly squeeze in there. William was her son, and she was not going to let who his father was be the part of his story that dominated people’s attention before they’d even got a chance to really meet him, let alone know him. Eventually… and no, of course she knew it couldn’t stay a secret, and she didn’t want it to. But people judged, and even the best people judged immediately, and unintentionally, and unconsciously, and she could at least not expose her son to that before there was something else there to weigh against it. William, at least, though he’d clearly been enjoying himself immensely on the high perch he’d claimed on top of Clint, came readily when she went to retrieve him. A brief, quizzical expression looked up at her from blueish green eyes, then he seemed to decide that whatever this was, it wasn’t nearly as interesting as making himself comfortable at her side. He was getting so big now, not quite fitting like he had, and when had that happened? How much had she missed that she could notice that kind of change in her own son? But Tigra set that thought aside, too, as another one that wouldn’t help, and told her friends her son’s name. Named for her husband, like Bill probably would have wanted if they’d ever got their chance to have the kids they’d half-joked and half-dreamed about, and with her own last name. He was William Grant, and he was three - that last part was for Bobbi’s other question, though for a few moments, as she looked directly at the blonde woman, feeling the hint of irritated confusion mingling in with that other new note in her scent, Greer lost the thread of the point she’d been trying to make about her son’s age, and went back to wondering if she hadn’t made the wrong decision yesterday about waiting to find a better time to talk to her. And how she was going to figure out how to get Mock alone for long enough to have that conversation as privately as it needed. But the pair of blonde eyebrows drifting into a worried cast pulled her back from that, reminding her that she hadn’t finished any kind of satisfactory - or even half-satisfactory - answer to the question of when she’d been pregnant. “Things run shorter for Cat People,” Greer finished, and left it at that, aware of the way two kittenish claws hands were batting and tangling with the hair that had fallen over her shoulder, but not quite sure of whether she could afford to look at William right now. Shorter. Two months start to end, and by the time she’d realized that, it had been far too late to make the decision she’d been intending. And now she had William, and she didn’t regret that, Greer knew all over again as she looked back down at her son, smiling softly as he chased the hair that twisted out of his grasp as she turned. She’d never regret that. “Well, thank god,” Bobbi declared, with a note of something like a truce offer in her tone as she stepped closer, looking at William. “For a second there, I thought we'd have to stage some kind of kid naming intervention.” Greer relaxed enough to quirk her lips into a smile, lifting her eyebrows skeptically and looking from Bobbi to Jen, and then to Clint just for good measure, before jerking her head toward Simon. “You guys really thought I’d have let him do that?” she asked drily. “You guys really thought I’d have done that?” Simon retorted, a little plaintively in a way that even that ridiculous afterglow smile he was wearing again wasn’t quite enough to mask. “Yeah,” Greer heard Jen telling him as she turned back to watch Bobbi bending down to put herself on eye level with William, “Kinda absolutely.” Simon’s “Hey!” of protest faded into the background as Mockingbird smiled at her son. “Hi there, William. I'm Bobbi,” she greeted him, getting a curious smile in answer that turned into having her own hair attacked for her trouble the moment she was unwise enough to look away, back up at Greer. ”He’s cute as hell. Looks a lot like you.” “Yeah,” Clint agreed, joining his wife in what was starting to feel a little like a reenactment of the Adoration of the Magi, kitten version. Smiling a little crookedly, Greer nodded. Her, and possibly Tigger from Winnie the Pooh as a fallback guess. ”He’s a happy little guy, isn't he?" he added with a smile, looking up at Greer, while Jen too joined in the picture, leaving Simon to step in by her other side, squeezing Greer’s shoulder quickly like he did when he wanted to be reassuring. “Yeah,” Greer agreed, shifting William back a little on her hip just in time to prevent the lunge he’d made for Jen’s finger when she let it get a little too close. “But careful, he’s also a biter.” “Like mother, like son…” Jen teased, grinning as broadly as only She-Hulk could (about as wide as Simon, but slightly less blindingly, and with more green around the edges), before moving the hand in anyway, and letting William chomp down happily on a finger that hopefully wasn’t going to break his teeth. “Are you going to eat that cereal?” she asked, cocking her head toward the remains of breakfast at the table. Not for everyone though, the simple priorities of a hungry She-Hulk. ”I just-" Clint began to say, but whatever it was he’d just, he lost it. Maybe even thought better of it, or maybe just didn’t know what to say. “Wow.” Wow. With her lips pressed together tightly, Greer nodded, feeling absurdly grateful for the gentle pressure of Simon’s fingers on her shoulder. She’d known this was going to be hard, or maybe ‘big’ was a better word, but now it came to it, to the point she’d imagined a hundred times if she’d imagined it once, telling the rest of her family about her son, and having pictured it didn’t seem to have helped at all. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she started again, after a second to try to compose her thoughts, and her voice. It helped a little, maybe, and then the next words, the words of explanation that maybe they wouldn’t have demanded, but certainly they deserved, came a little easier. “When he was born - and ever since - it…” Okay, easier was definitely a relative thing, but pausing, frowning, trying to search for the right thing to say, while difficult, at least wasn’t utterly impossible. “Our position, it was always so precarious,” she said, trying to keep the point brief, and simple. “It was safer, the fewer people knew about him. That was all.” Simon, she’d told, because she’d always been able to tell Simon anything, right back since the earliest days in WCA. Simon, who’d let her have her way when she’d decided to only confess what she’d been doing spying on them, and not about what had made her realize how much sooner she should have changed her mind about doing that when it had come to telling the rest of the team, and Gateway, who’d made it possible to see her son as much as she had managed to in the last three years. Only two, because if anyone who knew had been caught, what might have happened with that knowledge? She couldn’t risk it. “Not sweating it here, Greer,” Jen told her, shrugging it away like she always seemed to be able to do with just about anything, before glancing back, yet again, at the damn breakfast table, then back again. “Really though. Anyone going to mind if I just take that box of Cheerios?” |
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| Mockingbird | May 27 2014, 08:53 PM Post #11 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Concern won out over that prickle of irritation. Alright, so it wasn't Simon and whoever it was wasn't something Greer was ready to talk about. For whatever reason. Since she hadn't had the greatest morning herself, and throwing that at Greer when she already had her hackles up was a sure road to disaster, Bobbi let the stubborn bit of annoyance die away. Right now, didn't matter. Greer would tell them when and if she was ready so Mockingbird left it at a pointed look to Clint, to hopefully head off anything else from him right now. Oh, and now she was getting a look from Hawk. A wounded look, no less. Well, he could take it up with her later. For now, she'd just thank god the poor little guy wasn't stuck being called William Williams for the rest of his life and then she'd go introduce herself. And get her own hair in on the batting action, apparently. “You guys really thought I’d have let him do that?” Greer threw out dryly, but with something a lot closer to a smile, now. “You guys really thought I’d have done that?” Simon retorted mournfully. At least it might've been mournful if he still wasn't wearing that smile that blew the attempt right outta the water. “Yeah,” Jen chimed in, answering for all of them, “Kinda absolutely.” "What she said," Bobbi threw in herself with a quick smirk at their fearless leader before turning back to William. God he really was cute as hell. And he looked a lot like Greer. Though she guessed that was pretty obvious, with the tail and the fur and those big, curious feline eyes. He looked good there, though, hanging out on Tigra's hip. Happy in that little kid way that had Bobbi's smile softening. Why the hell had Greer waited so long to say anything? Being away from him for so long must've been killing her. "Yeah." Clint moved up next to her to get a better look at his kamikaze head sitter. "He's a happy little guy, isn't he?" He smiled over at Greer and Bobbi turned toward her husband wearing that slight frown again as Simon and Jen both wandered over into the circle of kitten baby admiration. What- "Yeah,” Greer agreed, shifting William back a little on her hip just in time to prevent the lunge he’d made for Jen’s finger when she let it get a little too close. “But careful, he’s also a biter.” “Like mother, like son…” Jen teased, grinning as broadly as she offered her finger in as a teething ring. Or maybe a chew toy, since William looked a little big to be teething. "Are you going to eat that cereal?” And just like that, they were back to Jen's stomach. "I just-" Clint began to say, but faltered. "Wow." Stunned. Clint was stunned. That's what that was. Not that she blamed him, Bobbi guessed, slipping an arm around his back as Greer nodded, lips pursed and Simon's hand on her shoulder. Maybe it hadn't sunk in as much for her - hell, actually, she knew it hadn't. Right now, she was stuck on trying to figure out how Greer had managed it. Leaving that little guy somewhere else while she was here. In her place, Bobbi wasn't sure she could've made that decision. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Tigra tried again. “When he was born - and ever since - it…” More faltering and that wasn't like Greer, but this wasn't just any old thing, either. “Our position, it was always so precarious,” she said, trying to keep the point brief, and simple. “It was safer, the fewer people knew about him. That was all.” Put it that way, and it made perfect sense. At least to her. If they'd known, been caught, if the information had somehow got out, well, Bobbi knew how that worked. Could respect it. You didn't take chances you didn't need to. Chance giving the other guys anything they could use against you. Much as she hated to say it, admit she thought it, after everything the last few years, she knew damned well their former friends wouldn't have a problem using whatever they thought they could, including a little kid. "You did what you needed to," Bobbi told her with a nod of understanding and trying to meet her friends eyes, "Nobody's going to blame you for that. Especially not us." “Not sweating it here, Greer,” Jen told her eyes going like some kind of radar back to the table. “Really though. Anyone going to mind if I just take that box of Cheerios?” Jesus, Jen and her stomach. "Please feed her," Bobbi half-pleaded to Greer or Simon or whoever the hell would give Jen some Cheerios or whatever was over there that'd stop her from talking about the food right now. Even cereal. "You know she won't stop until somebody does." Then she turned to William and added, since they were probably his cheerios, "What do you say, William? Share your cereal with the big, green walking stomach there?" |
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| Hawkeye | May 31 2014, 09:42 AM Post #12 |
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I retire for what, like, five minutes and it all goes to shit.
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Why was Bobbi frowning now? Wasn't it a good thing that Greer's son was happy? Or maybe something else had her giving him that look. That nasty wake-up call (the one that hadn't come from Simon) hadn't exactly done wonders for her mood. Greer didn't seem to mind, though. She seemed content to just acknowledge his comment along with an additional warning that William liked to bite. That didn't even slow Jen down as she offered her invulnerable hand up. Sure enough, the kid went after it with gusto and by some miracle didn't break all his teeth. Jen, meanwhile, had her eye on the cereal. Not even the cutest catbaby any of them had ever seen could distract her from the demands of her stomach forever. And it was just now starting to sink in. Wow. Okay. Wow. Greer had a baby. You'd think after getting divebombed and having time to introduce himself and get a good look at him, he'd have already moved past the bowled over stage, but here he was. No idea what to say, so for once took that as a sign to say nothing. Bobbi's hand slipped around his back and he shifted closer to her, completing the side-embrace with his arm around her waist. Maybe more toward her hip. Didn't want to set off another round of Bobbi puking her guts up right here in Greer's quarters. That might send the wrong message about how they were all taking this. Simon was next to Greer, doing what looked like a pretty good job of his reassuring thing. Greer did look pretty glad to have his hand there on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she told them, sounding like she was having a little trouble finding the words. “When he was born - and ever since - it…” She trailed off again as if speechlessness was contagious. These weren't exactly ordinary circumstances, though. It wasn't every day you revealed a secret baby to the rest of your team. “Our position, it was always so precarious, It was safer, the fewer people knew about him. That was all.” Safer. Their position. That really said it all, at least for Clint. She didn't need to explain what any of that meant for him to get it. Any illusions to what Tony, Hank and Carol wouldn't do in their effort to stamp down the Resistance had been dashed away years ago. Nothing they wouldn't exploit. They'd seen it before and they'd learned the hard way that you couldn't be too careful. Not when it came to surviving. Or protecting those you care about the most. Life happened. The proof of that was perched right on Greer's hip. It wasn't hard to see what kinds of decisions she'd been faced with, and no surprise at all that she'd have done whatever it took to ensure William's safety. "You did what you needed to," Bobbi said without hesitation. "Nobody's going to blame you for that. Especially not us." Nodding, Clint gave his wife a little squeeze. That right there. He knew he was doing the right thing letting her and Jen field this one. And Jen was right in there next with her own assurance not to sweat it. At least, for the time it took before her eyes wandered back to the breakfast table. “Really though. Anyone going to mind if I just take that box of Cheerios?” Oboy. "Please feed her," Bobbi said, looking her appeal to Greer and Simon. "You know she won't stop until somebody does." That was gospel truth, all right. Either she'd keep bringing it up or she'd take it to the next level, and nobody wanted that. Bobbi switched her attention down to William, then and said, "What do you say, William? Share your cereal with the big, green walking stomach there?" William stood there, looking like he was thinking that over, or waiting for something else, so Clint smiled and added a gently leading, "Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?" on top of that. That seemed to do the trick. William looked up at Jen and nodded as he said, "Me. Share. You." Man, just when it seemed he couldn't get more adorable, he just did. Jen didn't need any more encouragement than that. "You have just saved my life," she said, heading over to the table to grab the cereal box. On impulse, Clint crouched forward and reached out to give William a little scratch, right behind the tuft at the top of his ear. "Thanks, Tiger," he said. Tiger? Had he really just said that? He didn't wince, but a definite pained look came over him as he looked up at Greer and Simon. "Okay, I officially withdraw any part I had in agreeing with everyone else's concerns about what you might have named him." Pulling his hand back, Clint rose back to his feet. "Will he be able to stay long?" he asked. "And is there anything you'd like us to do? We're here for you, Greer." |
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| Wonder Man | Jun 1 2014, 06:58 PM Post #13 |
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Red Shades, Original Recipe. No really.
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See, and they were already back to Jen and her stomach. If he hadn’t valued his functionally immortal life as much as he did, Simon would have been tempted to point out to Greer that this was evidence that he’d been right in assuring her that whatever it was she hadn’t been admitting to fearing for three years, the rest of the team was not going to hold the surprise against her. Jen was communicating her understanding and acceptance, in her own inimitable and open-hearted fashion. Or so Simon was choosing to interpret it, anyway. These guys were the best, and they were just going to take it in stride, like the fantastically awesome people that they both knew they were. They… …instead, they were going to pick this moment to do the ‘I was just slapped in the face by a fish’ impression. At least they were if they were Clint. Well, that was probably more than understandable too, admittedly. “I just-" Clint began to say, but faltered. “Wow.” Yeah, definitely couldn’t blame him for that either, though it certainly hadn’t done Greer’s attempts to keep herself on the even keel that was so important to her any favors either. Moving in beside his old friend, while the Morse-Bartons took the moment to offer each other the physical reassurance they probably needed too right now, Simon put his hand on Tigra’s shoulder, to help steady or comfort or whatever she might need. It was probably proof of just how much she had needed that she didn’t even try to act like she hadn’t, even going as far as to glance his way briefly with a look of thanks before she took her time and found words. Words of apology, because she’d think she needed to do that, with her friends, and an explanation that she delivered in a halting set of half-sentences that was definitely an unaccustomed experience coming from Tigra. “It was safer, the fewer people knew about him. That was all,” she finished more strongly, and Simon squeezed her shoulder again one more time, looking back to the others, not surprised to see the understanding in each of their expressions. Greer was Greer, so she’d beat herself up and hold herself accountable for not having met the sometimes impossible standards she had for herself, but these were her friends, and they loved her. “You did what you needed to," Bobbi told her with a nod of understanding, that was clearly spoken on behalf of her husband, as well as herself, blue eyes meeting green. That look definitely seemed to relax some of the tension out of Tigra as much as the words themselves did. ”Nobody’s going to blame you for that. Especially not us.” “Not sweating it here, Greer,” Jen added with a shrug, before getting right back onto what Simon was still telling himself was the world’s best advertisement for acceptance, in the form of angling to take a three year old’s box of cereal. “Please feed her," Bobbi half-pleaded to both himself and Greer, which at least had Tigra smiling a little, though for himself, Simon was feeling a little more disposed to sigh. “You know she won't stop until somebody does.” Yup, definitely at least faux-sighing now. This was going to be his fault if an appropriate amount of food to tame the Savage She-Hulk wasn’t available, wasn’t it? The fact that it probably was his fault for not coming prepared wasn’t really any kind of relief, either. But Bobbi had her very capable brain already turning toward potential solutions though, as she leaned in a little to William and put the question right to him. ”What do you say, William? Share your cereal with the big, green walking stomach there?" To that, Jen only grinned good-naturedly, though Greer’s eyebrows did rise a little more as Clint joined in with the leading smiling looks for her son, who wasn’t exactly speedy to answer. “Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?” Clint added. “Me. Share. You.” their new Kitten-Buddha proclaimed, with a little nod that would have needed only a .gif tag to have created an instant internet sensation, and an air of great mangnanimity. That was all the encouragement Jen needed of course, heading off to the desk that Greer seemed to have repurposed into a breakfast table practically before the end of the agreement. “You have just saved my life," she said. That made Greer laugh, with an easy air that Simon didn’t think he’d heard from her in way, way too long. “Don’t let him con you,” Tigra told them all prosaically, glancing from Jen to Clint and back. “He’s not being gracious, he’s just looking for a way to pass off the cereal he refused to eat.” “Thanks, Tiger,” Clint said though, as he leaned in a little, taking his life - or at least his valuable archery digits - into a gamble to have a go scratching behind the slightly pointed ear of the Cat-boy, warnings of biting aside. Thankfully, Greer had enough presence of mind to move just enough to keep the probably automatic and reflexive nip her son tried to playfully take out of Hawk’s fingers from actually making contact though, because Clint looked like he had other concerns taking up his mind as he turned up to them. “Okay, I officially withdraw any part I had in agreeing with everyone else's concerns about what you might have named him.” In spite of himself - though at least Cat People teeth couldn’t actually leave permanent marks on him, as he’d had the opportunity to prove more than once over the years - Simon couldn’t keep from flashing his dimples, and a toothy smile to go with them, back at the others. “Oh I don’t know. Tiger Tigra, burning bright…” he suggested, then grinned all the harder when Greer made a cat noise in her throat and showed him her teeth in the not-smiling kind of way. “Will he be able to stay long?" [Hawkeye] asked. "And is there anything you'd like us to do? We're here for you, Greer.” “Keep him occupied for a moment while I disembowl Simon for that?” she suggested, though not seriously. Well, probably not seriously, Simon assured himself, though it was a little hard not to notice the very visible way that William had perked up at that one word, looking around at his mother like he suspected there might be a treat in store even as she began disengaging him from her hip and passing him toward Clint. “No, not actually,” Tigra explained to the boy Simon knew already he was going to keep thinking of as Tiger Tigra inside his head up until Greer proved she could actually hear him doing it, before turning her gaze back to the rest of them, ending on Hawk and Mock. “But trust me when I say that you don’t realize how much time in the morning you have to spend sorting out yourself until there’s someone else taking all of it up.” “You look great, Greer,” Simon assured her, because it was the kind of situation that clearly asked for that kind of assurance, however much she might have denied it, and because it was also absolutely the truth. Happy was a great look on her, and there was a lot more of that this morning than he’d seen on her in a long, long time, even if she tried to keep papering it over with the semi-snarls when she looked his way now. Or with the serious expression that had come back to her furred face now, as she seemed to take time to consider the rest of what Clint had been asking. “As for how long he stays… I don’t know.” She paused for a moment, pressing her lips together, and glanced his way, and back to the others, as though she were looking for their opinions (or maybe, being Greer, fishing for imagined censure once again). “It’s selfish, and maybe a little plain stupid, but I can’t help but think I want him to be here today, not in another dimension.” Which actually reminded him of one of the parts of the planning that had been going back and forth last night and this morning that he’d made sure to keep semi-surreptitious tabs on in anticipation of exactly this problem, so Simon brightened a little, smiling reassuringly to the not-quite worried expression on Tigra’s face. “Oh yeah, I meant to say earlier.” He was saying now though, which wasn’t too belated, so she’d forgive him, really she would. Even if he smiled. “They’re organizing the safest daycare possible for Calvin Rankin’s daughter here on the Helicarrier today,” Simon explained quickly. And little James Rogers too, of course, but that part didn’t need to be included to make the point here, and it wasn’t his place to break that piece of news before Sharon had had a chance to do it her way. “I know they’d be happy to have William too, if you wanted.” There, and this time, there was even an actual smile that came back from Greer for his trouble. A good one, even. Seriously, how long had it been since they’d really seen one of those that looked that relaxed and natural on her? “I do want that,” she replied sincerely. “Thanks, Simon.” See? Definitely no problem in the little belatedness. Look at that! |
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| Mockingbird | Jun 2 2014, 09:39 PM Post #14 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Clint's hand settled at her hip at about the same time Simon's settled onto Greer's shoulder. Simon was always good that way. He knew exactly when to step in and lend support, reassurance. Tigra looked like she could use it right now, but Bobbi hadn't meant to send her off in a flurry of apologies. Of all the people on this flying aircraft carrier, they were the last people she needed to apologize or justify things, too. All the justification she needed was sitting there on her hip. Little and defenseless and cute as hell as he batted at whatever came close with little pawed hands and big, curious green eyes. Keeping him safe, that's all she'd really needed to do and nobody was going to blame her for that. Especially not them. They were family and Bobbi had spent more than enough time as an operative to know that some things, you might not want to do, but it was the best thing for the people you cared about. Clint nodded along his agreement, giving her waist a light squeeze, and Bobbi sent a small, brief smile his way, before she turned back to William. Just in time for Jen's damned stomach to take center stage. Somebody - Greer, Simon, anybody, but mostly Simon, since he promised Shulkie breakfast and all the sighing in the world wasn't changing that - needed to feed their Jolly Green Giantess, or they were going to hear that every five minutes until they teleported off to go their separate ways for the day. Actually, the one Bobbi ended up appealing to was William, since he was probably the owner of record for the cereal Jen had her eyes on. "Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?" Clint threw that in for good measure when it looked like the little Tigra baby was giving the idea due consideration. But he finally looked up at Jen and nodded like he was passing over the family crown jewels. "Me. Share. You." Yeah, just when she thought he couldn't get any damned cuter. Bobbi shot that same, small smile over to Greer. Still didn't know how she'd managed to stand all the time she'd had to spend away from him, but she looked as happy with him here now as Bobbi remembered seeing her in, well, just about longer than she could remember. Add that to Simon's overabundance of smiling and cheerful, even by Wonder Man standards, and Bobbi decided it all just might be a little contagious. Happy was good to see on both of them. None of them had had enough of that these last five years. "You have just saved my life," Jen assured William as she headed over to lay claim to the Cheerios before they got away or he changed his mind. “Don’t let him con you,” Tigra told them all prosaically, glancing from Jen to Clint and back. “He’s not being gracious, he’s just looking for a way to pass off the cereal he refused to eat.” Not like Jen would care and it made everybody happy, so it was a good enough tradeoff. "Thanks, Tiger," he said and Bobbi tried not to groan. Didn't quite make it but she at least managed not to facepalm. Hawk was leaning down to scratch the kid behind the ear, nearly getting nipped for his trouble. After that name, Bobbi couldn't say that she blamed him. "Okay, I officially withdraw any part I had in agreeing with everyone else's concerns about what you might have named him." Then Simon had to get in on the act, dimples and all. “Oh I don’t know. Tiger Tigra, burning bright…” he suggested as Greer growled at him or something close to it and a snarl for good measure. The blonde gave her head a shake, turning briefly toward Tigra. Men. Jesus. "Will he be able to stay long?" Clint asked, and Bobbi's features drew into a slight frown. "And is there anything you'd like us to do? We're here for you, Greer." "Yeah, of course. Just name it," Mockingbird agreed, still frowning a little as she looked back to Greer questioningly. Wasn't William here for good now? “Keep him occupied for a moment while I disembowel Simon for that?” Greer handed a suddenly intrigued looking William back off to Clint. “No, not actually,” Tigra explained to the boy and Bobbi's smile popped back up. Like mother like son, she guessed. “But trust me when I say that you don’t realize how much time in the morning you have to spend sorting out yourself until there’s someone else taking all of it up.” "Obviously, you've never lived with Hawk," Bobbi quipped back with a smirk from Greer to the husband in question as Simon assured their cat lady that she looked great. Which she did. Happy made her look great. “As for how long he stays… I don’t know.” Tigra paused as Jen wandered back over with the cereal box and started mugging at William again, between mouthfuls of Cheerios. Maybe during mouthfuls of Cheerios. “It’s selfish, and maybe a little plain stupid, but I can’t help but think I want him to be here today, not in another dimension.” Dammit, why didn't she have anything on her that'd work for a little kid to play with? Bobbi couldn't think of a thing, though, and couldn't help thinking handing him a stave would be a bad idea. Especially maybe for Clint and his head, that'd be in pretty easy reach. "It's not selfish, Greer," Bobbi told her, turning back Greer's way. Well, maybe it was, if you wanted to look at it that way, but she couldn't see it that way herself. "He's your son, he belongs Where you are." Hell, wasn't that exactly why they were doing this? This big push today, trying to topple this house of cards the people that used to be their friends had built? So that they could all have their damned lives back? So that Greer wouldn't have to stand there and feel guilty or worried about wanting her son in the same place she was? “Oh yeah, I meant to say earlier.” Simon spoke up as Bobbi gave up on trying to figure out what on a Resistance stealth suit would work for a toy, and just smiled at William and held out a hand his way. If he decided it was a chew toy, well she'd lived through dinosaur bites. She'd probably live through that. “They’re organizing the safest daycare possible for Calvin Rankin’s daughter here on the Helicarrier today,” Simon explained quickly. Right, they had another kid onboard, didn't they? “I know they’d be happy to have William too, if you wanted.” Whatever worries Greer had, that seemed to settle them and she smiled again. Even at Simon. “I do want that,” she replied sincerely. “Thanks, Simon.” "You keep him here however long you want," Bobbi added, turning back to her friend and meaning every word. "A day, a week, a year, permanently. We'll make it work." Whatever they needed to do and however they needed to do it. End of story. That's what family was for. |
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| Hawkeye | Jun 4 2014, 02:01 PM Post #15 |
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I retire for what, like, five minutes and it all goes to shit.
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Tigra hadn't been exaggerating when she said the kid liked to bite. There were the teeth, just as promised, but Clint had learned a long time ago that sometimes you had to walk away with a few marks when making someone's acquaintance. No harm intended, and whatever harm might come anyway would be easily taken and remedied. His hand and fingers were spared, though, by Greer's quick thinking as she shifted just enough for Willaim's snapping teeth to fall short of their target will still letting Clint get to that tuft behind the kid's ear and give it a scratch. Clint's dignity, on the other hand, took a bit of a hit, but he only had himself to blame for that. Tiger. He'd really said that, and Bobbi's barely suppressed groan was proof. Yeah, he needed to take back his own part in believing Simon and Greer would have named him William Williams. The smile (bigger, dimplier, since the other smile had never really left) that appeared on Simon's face next could only mean trouble, and sure enough their fearless leader chimed in to say, "Oh I don’t know. Tiger Tigra, burning bright…” There. That was why they all believed he'd let her do something like William Williams. He just grinned more when Greer barred her teeth and made a sound much too close to a growl. Some people would take that as a warning, and some people were made of invulnerable ionic energy like Simon. Bobbi just shook her head as if conceding that the whole thing was a lost cause. At least they didn’t have to worry about hungry, rampaging Jen anymore. Taunting the Greer aside, though, she looked happy in a way that Clint hadn’t seen in far too long, and it was a great color on her. Simon, too, grins and all, though he was still reserving final judgment until he knew for certain the entire story behind that happiness. For now, he was just going to enjoy it while it lasted. How long was it going to last, though? As much as Clint understood why William had been kept a secret and everything she’d done to keep him safe, he hoped he’d get to stay a while, now that they’d all gotten to meet him. And apart from that, if Greer needed them to do anything for her, they were there for her. She only had to ask. That got an echo of agreement from Bobbi, though she was frowning again for some reason Clint couldn’t work out. “Keep him occupied for a moment while I disembowl Simon for that?” Greer said, which might have been just a joke, except as she handed William over to Clint, the catbaby gave his mother a very interested, expectant look. "No, not actually," she told him. Clint lifted William up to eye level and smiled at him. “Promise to be careful with those claws?” he asked, and then turned him around to raise him over Clint’s head and settle him on top of his shoulders. Tigra directed her eyes to everyone before they finally fell on Clint and Bobbi and she said, "But trust me when I say that you don’t realize how much time in the morning you have to spend sorting out yourself until there’s someone else taking all of it up." "Obviously, you've never lived with Hawk," Bobbi answered back with a smirk. “Hey!” Clint said with mock-indignation. “I’m not that much of a handful.” The Simon, still showing that gift with timing he must have been born with, let Greer know she looked great, which was absolutely true. “He’s right, there,” Clint agreed. That might even earn Simon a little forgiveness for that name. Jen walked back over to the group, cereal box in hand, and started making funny faces for William’s entertainment again. When she wasn’t shoving handfuls of cheerios in it, and maybe even while she was. A more serious expression had come over Greer’s face, then, and Clint turned his focus back to her to listen to whatever it was she needed to say. "As for how long he stays… I don’t know."She fell silent then, lips down to a thin line as she looked up at her son and then everyone else, like she was trying to read what they hoped she’d say. She probably already knew just by the way he’d asked how Clint felt, but it was her decision, and William was hers. "It’s selfish, and maybe a little plain stupid, but I can’t help but think I want him to be here today, not in another dimension." Bobbi was the first to jump in with an answer to that. "It's not selfish, Greer," she assured her. "He's your son, he belongs Where you are." Nodding firmly (well, being careful on the backswing not to smack William with the back of his head) Clint said, “We’re getting our lives back, piece by piece, and I can’t think of a better place to start than him.” He was going to need more than a perch on Clint’s shoulder to keep himself occupied, though, and Clint started fishing through his pockets. There had to be something that would work- aha! And just in time, too, since Bobbi was smiling at William and starting to extend her hand toward him. He could feel William leaning toward it with interest, too. Clint slipped his hand out of his pocket and passed the contents over to his wife. He loved her, and she may have spent a lot of time in a place that redefined the term ‘the wild,’ but she was already having a rough enough morning as it was. No need to add bitemarks on her hand to that. The putty arrow tip he’d just given her would probably work much better as a distraction for William. Bobbi had a good imagination, after all, and kids loved putty. It was a win-win. While all that was going on, Simon was smiling again as he got around to something else he’d meant to say earlier. "They’re organizing the safest daycare possible for Calvin Rankin’s daughter here on the Helicarrier today," he said, the words moving at a trot. "I know they’d be happy to have William too, if you wanted." Now that sounded like an absolutely awesome idea. Greer seemed to like it, too. She smiled at him like she’d forgotten all about that Tiger Tigra crack. Or any other worries she was still carrying around. "I do want that," she replied sincerely."Thanks, Simon." Bobbi turned back to Greer and in a sincere voice added, "You keep him here however long you want, A day, a week, a year, permanently. We'll make it work." “Da-“ Clint started to say, then immediately corrected himself. General audiences, here. “Darn right we will. You’re family.” End of story, as far as that went. Whatever she wanted, they’d find a way to make it happen. Then, tilting his head back up to look at William he said, “You hear that, kiddo? You’ve already got a new friend waiting for you. Whaddya think of that?” |
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3:32 AM Jul 11