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The Lives of Kittens, and Other Secret Mysteries; 5/24 - Early Early (Team Re-Assemble)
Topic Started: May 7 2014, 12:14 PM (672 Views)
Wonder Man
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Red Shades, Original Recipe. No really.
ReAssemble - Admin
Well, that didn’t seem to have cleared up anything at all.

First there’d been another look from Greer, like he’d totally messed that up again. Then it had been first Bobbi, then Clint, jumping in with thinly veiled - really thinly veiled - stay away vibes masquerading under overly carefully-worded praise for Ali, and acting like nothing good could ever come of being with someone you didn’t know that well.

Leaving aside the fact that after last night (everything last night) he was pretty sure he actually did know Alison Blaire, and who she really was - and it was annoyingly inconvenient that there was no way he was going to be able to explain that, especially not to this audience, really?

Really? That was where Mock and Hawk wanted to go with this? ‘Taking it slow’, and no relationships with people who you’d only just met? Met properly, anyway, because technically he’d known Ali since she was with his best friend, and…

…yeah, that was another annoyingly inconvenient one that wasn’t going to help to bring up right now, wasn’t it?

Sigh. Really, sigh - they were trying to help, which meant that he needed to not let this get to him, or react to the fact the two of them were standing there, being them, trying to make this argument. Because they were trying to help, and not - not intentionally, anyway - meaning to act like they had some special monopoly on making something that something that started fast work out long term, because of some mysteriously special qualities that only they possessed.

Just trying to help. He knew it, and he appreciated the caring place it came from. He might have to remind himself of that a few more times if they wanted to keep up on this, but he was not going to sigh, or shift from the pleasant smile he could wear all day if he absolutely had to…

…and then Greer had just had to look up from her son, and get involved too, picking up on one little word, and reading way more into it than she (or anyone) needed to. Which might have been one thing if she’d just stopped there, and he could have explained that it was just a word, and it didn’t mean he was standing here after one night with expectations (hopes, maybe. Certainly complete lack of aversion to the idea, but… definitely not expectations).

She didn’t stop there, though. No, she just had to keep on going, flashing what she apparently really thought in a few short, blunt sentences like she’d just stepped out of the cast of Mean Girls meets Cats, mash-up edition.

It was Greer. Greer cared about him, and she’d been one of his best friend since he’d first met her, through everything. Through a whole lot of stuff on both sides they’d had to learn to grow the hell up from. She was his friend, and she cared, and god knew she’d been carrying enough around these last years, so if she wanted to claw and needle and be judgmental at him, however she wanted, then she’d have been welcome to it.

That didn’t mean he was going to stand here and let her do it about Ali, though. Especially not if she was going to do it like that, and about that. Greer tutting because someone enjoyed sex, with different people, in the absence of some kind of official relationship connection? Greer?

Was there something wrong with being unihibited, he had to ask her, knowing full well exactly what she’d gone through years ago. That had ended up as an awful, terrifying thing for her, and he knew it. Losing control of her will, and her ability to stop. This wasn’t the same though, and she knew that. Didn’t she?

“Yes, there usually is,” she told him matter-of-factly, because Greer never did allow anyone else to have a point while she was still annoyed, “because people end up getting hurt.”

“We don't want that to be you.”

Thus Bobbi, jumping right on after that, long before he’d come up with any suitable answer for that. “What she said,” Clint added, jumping right on like he knew which side his bread was buttered on.

Sigh. And double sigh. Even the memory he was carefully keeping near the front of his mind right now - the one that had Ali smiling in the way he was still almost perfectly sure was one other people hadn’t seen - was starting to lose its power to keep him able to maintain a pleasant smile through all of this. They were his friends. And they’d known him a long time, and they cared, and all of that was nice. But shouldn’t all of it also add up to giving him a little more credit than this? They were acting like he was made of emotional porcelain. Emotional porcelain that was completely incapable of thinking for itself.

“I’m not…” Simon started to protest, but before he did, Jen started sighing.

Jen! Jen, who was usually his stand-in ‘one of the guys no nonsense’ buddy, was sighing, and drawing her breath, like she was getting ready to chime in? Et tu, Jen?

“Okay, one day I will figure out why all of you guys need to make a drama out of everything,” she told them all, with a roll of her eyes that Simon couldn’t really help but feel was unfair. At least for including him, anyway, because he had so obviously not started this. “Seriously.”

“Said the-“ Bobbi began, only to be silenced rather effectively by William, who seemed to have decided to enter the lists himself just to even up the numbers on each side here.

Said the suction cup to the forehead, more neatly and succinctly than even Jen could have managed to put it.

And it seemed to break the moment. Clint snorted - or close enough there was no hiding what it had actually been, Greer was smiling, and even Bobbi was giving a cross-eyed, but mostly amused look from the arrow now sticking out over her nose, down to the little Cat-Boy who’d done everyone a favor by thrusting himself back into the spotlight. “Thanks, Will. That's pretty great aim you've got there.”

“Welcome,” he told her smug in a way that only a kid with cat DNA could manage to be, at least until the attempts he and Mock were both making failed to dislodge the arrow back off her at all.

“Little help here, Babe?" Bobbi requested, and Clint was quick to comply, moving in and expertly removing the suction cup, with a demonstration for a rapt William. “Like this, see?” He slowly peeled the suction cup off, then, on an impulse, stuck it to his own forehead and tilted toward the cat-baby. “Now you try.”

As Simon watched, trying not to grin out right, Greer moved faster than should have been humanly (or even Tigra-ly) possible, interposing herself between her son and Clint before William’s hand had made it much further than a few inches in front of him. “Oh no, no no,” she declared, closing her own hand gently over her son’s, then sending an apologetic look Hawk’s way only afterward. “Trust me, that’s only going to end in clawmarks and blood running into your eyebrows.” Which… yeah, you had to admit, three year old boy, tasks requiring fine motor coordination, and cat claws? Didn’t sound like it was going to add up to something that would let them keep Happy Hawkeye sharing looks like that one he was giving Bobbi.

Greer shook her head once more, turning back to her son and sharing a special smile of her own with him - one that might just have had a little ‘don’t mess with Mother’ about it, but mostly just looked like she was happier than she’d been for a long time. She raised the little hand to her lips, kissing it, and then the other one too, as William lifted it up to receive the same treatment.

Watching that - watching both those pairs of his favourite people - Simon couldn’t do anything but smile too.

Their team. It was family. The very best kind of family.

And since any good family script did come with certain built in cliches for moments like this one, Bobbi’s grin turned Jen’s way not too long after. “I’m giving him the putty back, then giving him to you," she threatened.

“Sounds good to me,” Jen said after swallowing another mouthful of Cheerios, as unfazed by threats of putty as she was by pretty much anything else. “Hand him over.”

Well, if this was where they were at now…

“Can I?” Simon asked, waiting long enough to get okays from Greer and Bobbi, and to give the latter time to make good on her putty promise if she was going to, then gently lifting William out of her arms. “Heyya, Big Guy. You…”

That wasn’t a sentence he was destined to finish either though, because rather than wait around listening to some big good with a smile talk to him, William too matters into his own hands (not to mention his own feet), twisting nimbly, and using one of Simon’s wrists like a springboard to launch himself into a leap that looked kind of wild, until he landed, with unerring precision, on Jen’s shoulder. “Oh, well, okay,” was all Simon had left to say, but cheerfully.

As She-Hulk turned a little, raising one large hand to share a careful High Five with the much smaller (and furrier) hand of the Kitten-Boy, Simon turned back to his mother. “He does that,” Greer commented, sending her own smile from the sight of Jen and William back his way. It was the good smile, too. The happy one. So Simon was going to choose to imagine meant that they had all agreed to call a moratorium on that other conversation for now.

Now, what were the odds he could get out of calling the little boy Tigger Tigra out loud without ending up in need of some severe body reconstruction?
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Mockingbird
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God. Maybe they needed to change the team name to Dissemble.

It wasn't like she and Clint and Greer, too, didn't know they had to sound like the biggest group of hypocrites on earth. Her and Clint, the people who'd ran off to a quickie Vegas wedding nine days after they met, telling him to take it slow, he barely knew Alison Blaire. Greer throwing in the bit about sleeping around, after doing plenty of that herself. Though sure as hell not likely for the same reasons.

Sure, Simon was annoyed. In his place, she'd have been annoyed, too. And in his place, she wouldn't be really listening, either. If somebody'd told her she needed to slow down with Clint, Bobbi knew she'd have told them just where to get off.

That wouldn't stop them now, though, because it boiled down to one thing. The thing that Greer was pointing out in that absolutely no bullshit at all way that she had. Rushing in, people got hurt. They'd seen it happen with him and Wanda more than once, hadn't they?

They just didn't want him to have to go there again. Go through that again, because it did, it hurt like hell. She, and Greer, and Clint, they could all tell him that, too, but no matter how pissed he wanted to be at them, Simon had to already know it. Even if he didn't want to admit it. It wasn't like they liked making that smile he'd been wearing and that none've them had seen hit that level in a good long while dim down like his batteries were getting lower and lower.

“What she said,” Clint agreed while, a few feet away, Jen was already throwing out a sigh like they were doing this to torment her, too. She-Hulk sized eyerolling followed and then the lawyer, of all people, was accusing them of making drama. Score another shot for Team I'm A Hypocrite.

Something Mockingbird was about to point out to her, right before that was intercepted by a suction cup arrow tip to the forehead at the hands of a furry, adorable, way too smug looking and sounding little kid. Way to kill the moment, kid.

Pretty smart, though.

The blonde couldn't do anything but cross her eyes trying to get a look at the thing, shoot William a bemused grin. Yeah, she knew Clint was trying not to laugh like hell right about now. Maybe he could make himself useful instead, though and get this thing off her head, since she wasn't having much luck and neither was William.

“You got it, Birdie,” and it only took Hawk a second to peel it off, then start a demo for William on the dos and don'ts of suction arrow from face removal. At least that had Simon smiling again and it was probably just as well the moment passed. Or was suction cupped and Jen-sighed to death.

“Oh no, no no,” Greer ran a sudden, faster-than-anybody-should-be-able-to move intercept as Clint was about to let William try his hand at the new method of suction cup-ectomy. Now why- “Trust me, that’s only going to end in clawmarks and blood running into your eyebrows.” Yeah, okay, good point. Three year old, clawed little fingers didn't make for a lot of scar free precision did they?

"And I like your face just the way it is," Bobbi told her husband, watching Simon smile and Greer smile and kiss her son's almost impossibly tiny little hands and smiling herself. At Clint, and Greer, and Simon and William, even over at Jen and...yeah. That was good. All of it. They had more than enough on their plates today without trashing everybody's mood before they were hardly out of the gate.

Who knew, maybe Simon was right this time. Either way, no point poking at that anymore until they had a better idea at least. And...well, she had a little idea rolling around in her head that she might run by Greer if she got a chance to get her aside for a minute or two.

She wasn't totally done with Jen, though, so While the others were busy with that, and before Bobbi could turn completely to mush, god help her, watching it, the former Agent 19 turned to her tall, green teammate with a semi-threat of little kids and lots of messy putty she didn't actually expect would phase Jen at all.

And she was right.

“Sounds good to me,” Jen agreed once she was done with the current mouthful of cheerios. “Hand him over.”

“Can I?” Simon asked and, grinning at William and pressing the ball of gooey putty back into one little furry hand as promised, he was set to go and she was ready to pass him off to the next victim.

"Be my guest," Bobbi agreed, once Greer had given her own okay, turning William a little more toward Simon for the transfer.

“Heyya, Big Guy. You…” and that was as far as he got before William used him as a convenient springboard from arm to shoulder to Jen's shoulder. Man, that kid could move. She was completely impressed. “Oh, well, okay,” Simon commented cheerfully as Bobbi grinned at Clint, then over to Greer as Jen and William moved onto the obligatory high five.

“He does that,” Greer commented with a smile they hadn't seen on her face nearly enough in the last several years, either.

"He does that really well," Bobbi added, sliding her now free arm loosely around Clint's waist. "He needs a jungle gym, but I guess Jen'll do for now," the blonde added with another grin toward their tall, green, hopefully continuing to be claw resistant teammate.

That kid would love the Savage Land. If they didn't completely screw up everything they were out to accomplish today, maybe they'd get a chance to take him there sometime.
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Hawkeye
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ReAssemble
Just like that, all the awkward, uncomfortable attempts to give concerned advice, and the hurt feelings that came with them, were diffused like they had never been there in the first place. Courtesy of the excellent timing of the cutest catbaby ever. Plus one suction cup arrow.

The removal of which was proving to be a little more than William, or Bobbi under the circumstances, could handle. Clint was more than happy to come to the rescue, turning it into a little demonstration in the bargain. The fascinated look on William's face almost made the whole thing worth it all by itself.

So of course Clint had to give the toddler a chance to give it a try himself. He seemed to be right on board with it, too, reaching out for the suction cup barely moments after Clint had slapped it on his forehead. But the furry hand-paw had barely moved more than a few inches when Greer practically materialized between them. “Oh no, no no,” she said, intercepting his hand by closing hers over it.

As soon as it was clear she'd averted whatever disaster had sent her running over, she turned her face to Clint. “Trust me, that’s only going to end in clawmarks and blood running into your eyebrows.” When she put it that way, he had to concede the point, didn't he? Definitely one of those 'seemed like a good idea at the time' moments.

"And I like your face just the way it is," Bobbi added.

"So much for growing a beard," Clint answered, smiling as he watched Greer give William's hand a little kiss. The smile grew even wider as William brought his other hand out for equal treatment, which it got. Greer had the whole 'Mom' thing down. He might not ever be able to look at her again without seeing a bit of her maternal side in there.

Looking around, sharing smiles with Bobbi, Greer, Simon and Jen, put Clint in that state of good cheer that seemed exclusive to moments like this. Moments that highlighted how much of a family they'd become. With this gang he wouldn't have it any other way.

Anything else they might have said about other things could wait.

Of course, part of being a family was messing with each other, and Bobbi was quick to threaten Jen with the company of both William and his putty rampage. Jen responded exactly the way any of them could have predicted, cheerfully urging them to send him right over.

Simon, definitely back in high spirits, asked Bobbi if he could do the honors, and she readily consented, though not before making good on the putty part of her threat as well.

“Heyya, Big Guy. You…” Simon started to say, lifting him up with both hands. William had other ideas, though, and bounded across Simon before flinging himself into the air and landing with perfect precision right on Jen's shoulders. “Oh, well, okay,” Simon finished instead.

Jen gave William a well-deserved high five while more grins were exchanged all around. Clint moved to his wife's side and slipped an arm around her waist. Yeah, what wasn't to like about this? Nothing, man.

“He does that,” Greer remarked. There was no missing the smile on her face. That kind of smile. The sort Clint was hoping they'd get to see a lot more from now on.

"He does that really well," Mock said, slipping her own arm around Clint's waist to complete the link between them. "He needs a jungle gym, but I guess Jen'll do for now," she said, enjoying the sight of William and Jen bonding in their own cat-and-mountain kind of way.

His wife. Always with the amazing ideas. Clint turned his head to give her a smile of appreciation. "Well why shouldn't he have one, then?" he said. "I'll put it together myself if Mister Reality Warping Big Russian doesn't just magic one up first."

He could almost picture it already, and it had been ages since he'd adopted a project like that. Hell, if he could talk their resident surly Brit spy who had apparently been designated the helicarrier's Quartermaster out of the supplies, he might even get started on that later today.
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Tigra
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Oh no. No.

Not to get in the way of Clint’s latest moment of bonding with her son, only… well, no, that. Exactly that. Though Greer was fairly sure that Hawkeye would end up being glad that she did, because however preternaturally agile her son might be already, William (and more importantly, the claws in the ends of his little fingers) weren’t quite at the point anyone wanted to be trusting them with peeling away a suction cup from a forehead.

Not unless they liked blood in their eyebrows, anyway.

For a moment, William looked like he might be considering a protest about having his hand caught before it could reach its prize. That was easily diverted though, by a quick kiss on the knuckles, blowing lightly over his fur. And the other one too, of course, when he lifted it up a second later. That was part of the ritual - their ritual, and Greer was only too happy to follow it, listening to Mock and Hawk discussing the state of his face.

Growing a beard? Clint, growing a beard?

The best you could say to that idea was that it would probably be somewhat better than Simon trying the same thing, so all in all, Greer decided it was better if she didn’t say anything at all. Easy enough to do, with her son occupying most of her attention. Right up to the point where Bobbi decided her revenge on Jen would come in the form of reuniting William with that putty, then handing both of them off to She-Hulk.

Which might actually have been quite an effective threat if she’d tried it on Jan (the only thing to pick there being which Wasp would be more disconcerted by the prospect of having in her hands: sticky putty or a small child). On Jen though, the result was just what they all might have expected. “Sounds good to me,” she declared, getting rid of one last mouthful of Cheerios the way she’d disposed of all the other ones before that, “Hand him over.”

Which Simon volunteered to step in and do, which Greer was only too happy to nod her assent for, smiling as she watched a grinning Mockingbird press that putty ball back into her son’s hand then give him up to Wonder Man. Not that Simon actually ended up with very long with her William, if that had been his intention, because he had other ideas than sticking around to be called ‘Big Guy’.

Namely, springing in a single leap, right over onto Jen’s shoulder.

“Oh, well, okay,” Simon declared, taking it in good part, like he took almost everything.

Everything except mentioning Wanda. Or now Dazzler too. That wasn’t over. On hold, maybe, till she’d had a chance to talk to Bobbi (that would have to have its place after the other thing she had to make a chance talk to Bobbi about, and soon) about Simon falling for the woman who apparently changed partners even more than she’d changed teams. No doubt that he had fallen for her already, too. He’d been bad enough yesterday, and today? Well, he was Simon, and his heart lived in his penis.

“He does that,” Greer commented though, because right now, with all of the team smiling, and the sight of her son being guided by Jen through the motions of a celebratory high five, even she didn’t want to do anything but smile and enjoy this moment for as long as they could.

Maybe Bobbi and Clint really had been onto something a little earlier. Just right now, with this, having William here really did feel like it had been the right decision. The only possible right decision, even.

“He does that really well," Bobbi added, approvingly. “He needs a jungle gym, but I guess Jen'll do for now.

“Well why shouldn't he have one, then?” Clint pointed out, bringing another slight smile to Greer’s lips as she turned from watching Jen and William back to where the two of them were standing again, arms back around each other. Wait… had he not remembered to get rid of that suction arrow himself, after she’d prevented William from trying? “I’ll put it together myself if Mister Reality Warping Big Russian doesn't just magic one up first.”

“As long as you don’t get that from Dr Nemesis too,” Greer told him, smiling still, but still with an undercurrent of sincerity all the same. Wherever Clint chose to source his arrows was his own business, and she had to admit the ones Psycho’s resident… Dr Nemesis… had made seemed to have worked out for him more often than they hadn’t, but she didn’t even want to think about what might come back from him if Hawkeye put in an order for a jungle gym.

“Pfft,” Jen snorted though, looking up from letting William stalk on hands and feet down the length of her outstretched arm. “There’s no beating the Jen-gle Gym. Can your jungle gym do this?” And quick as only a Hulk could be quick, she flicked her wrist over, snagging one of William’s feet as he went flying, then dangling him from one finger, swinging him back and forth while he laughed.
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Mockingbird
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A beard. A beard on Clint?

No, really?

Hadn't she just said she liked his face the way it was? Bobbi was pretty sure she had, so yes. So much for growing a beard. She couldn't see it, no matter how hard she tried, so Mockingbird just shook her head, one brow going up a little. See that look on Greer's face over there? Yeah, she got it, too, even if she wasn't saying anything.

Thank god they moved away from that and on to the formal passing off of William, complete with restored putty. Just for Jen. Who didn't care at all and Bobbi hadn't much expected her to. Hadn't really expected William to pass himself off, either, using Simon as a springboard onto She-Hulk's shoulder, complete with high-fives.

Yeah, okay then, and it was good that Simon was smiling again. God knew, she didn't take any satisfaction in making that stop and she knew Greer didn't, either. Or Clint, whose arm slipped around her and...did he still have that damned suction cup on his head? Jesus.

Well, they'd see how long it took before he noticed. If he went into the meetings like that, it was his own fault.

Meanwhile, it was time to agree with Greer - who it was good to see smiling again, too; especially smiling like that, at her son. It gave Bobbi herself a funny little pang she couldn't have defined if she'd needed to. Kid definitely did that really well, like mother like son, she guessed. He'd probably love a jungle gym, but Jen would probably do in a pinch.

And there was her husband, smiling too. Over her way this time and Bobbi smiled back, despite the damned suction cup arrow on his head. Or maybe partly because of that. "Well why shouldn't he have one, then?" he said. "I'll put it together myself if Mister Reality Warping Big Russian doesn't just magic one up first." She wasn't sure jungle gym manufacture was part've that power set, so Clint could probably knock himself out if he wanted to take on that project. He would, too. He'd always liked working with his hands. Whether it was arrows or a jungle gym or whatever.

“As long as you don’t get that from Dr Nemesis too,” Greer told him, smiling still but definitely also still completely sincere. Since nobody wanted to really turn a little furry boy loose with a jungle gym that'd turn into a rocket launcher, or a bazooka or who the hell knew what when nobody was looking. Nemesis was a completely brilliant scientist and biologist the likes of which she'd never seen. He was also crazy as a bag of stoned badgers.

"Don't even think that too loud," Bobbi requested, possibly pleaded, with her friend, "The crazy old coot can probably hear you."

Jen, of course, couldn't be left out.

“Pfft,” Jen snorted though, looking up from letting William stalk on hands and feet down the length of her outstretched arm. “There’s no beating the Jen-gle Gym. Can your jungle gym do this?” She-Hulk flipped the kid around, upside down, dangled him from her finger and generally had him laughing like crazy and having the time of his life.

"Showoff," Bobbi accused, but with a grin and another shake of her head before turning toward Simon and adding, "I'd say she got that from you if I wasn't pretty sure she was already like that."

If she accused Wonder Man, though, she'd probably have to throw Clint in, too. Since he could give either one've them a run for their money.
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Hawkeye
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Clint wasn't sure what was going on with the expression on Bobbi's face when she looked at him, but it wasn't the kind of look that made him worry. More like she found something kind of funny. Ah, she was probably just picturing him with a beard. That wasn't something he needed to worry about, since it wasn't something she needed to worry about either. They may as well try to picture him with pink hair.

Standing next to his wife and enjoying the sight of William and Jen bonding was a lot more fun, in his opinion. Those two were getting along great, and Jen was kind of perfect for William to climb all over the place and not worry about his claws. Plus, he'd shared his Cheerios and she'd high fived him. They were practically best friends already.

Bobbi was right, though. He really needed a jungle gym. Not that Jen wasn't great and all. So why shouldn't he have one? That got a smile from Greer, who then gave Clint a look that wasn't much different from the one on Bobbi's face. Was she picturing him in a beard, too? They knew that was a joke, right?

At any rate, the idea was in Clint's mind and he was already itching to get started. It had been way too long since he'd taken on a project like that and he'd always loved putting things together. And he could almost picture the look on William's face when it was done.

As long as the new, reality warping, babysitter didn't get to it first, that is.

“As long as you don’t get that from Dr Nemesis too,” Greer cautioned. She was smiling when she said it, but Clint didn't have to ask to know just what she'd say if he actually did put in a call for parts with their resident mad genius.

"Don't even think that too loud," Bobbi said, and he could almost see the shudder in her voice. "The crazy old coot can probably hear you." She always had been a little creeped out by Nemesis. Clint didn't mind admitting the guy was a bit crazy, but he was damn good at what he did, and wasn't even close to the weirdest person he'd ever met. Other than the constant barrage of insults, Clint got along with him just fine.

"Hey, don't worry," Clint said with a relaxed smile. "No outsourcing, I promise."

The conversation had awakened Jen's competitive instincts, however, and she put in her own comment almost before he was done speaking. “Pfft,” said while William climbed along her outstretched arm like it was a muscular green tree branch. “There’s no beating the Jen-gle Gym. Can your jungle gym do this?”

'This' was her quickly turning her wrist and catching William by his foot and then swinging him back and forth while holding him with only one finger. William, of course, loved it, and laughed that adorable laugh of his that seemed to tug at Clint on a level he couldn't quite grasp.

"Showoff," Bobbi said, grinning and then looking over at Simon. "I'd say she got that from you if I wasn't pretty sure she was already like that."

True enough, but there were bigger fish to fry here. Jen wanted to make this a challenge, did she? "Nothing against you, Shulkie, but it'll do that and more," he boasted.

"Yeah right," she said, swinging William higher, much to his delight.

Oh, so that's how it was going to be, huh? "Anything you can do, I can do better," he sang, grinning unrepentantly. "I can do anything better than you."

"No, you can't" Jen answered back readily.

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can, yes I can, yes I can!"

Halfway through the exchange, William twisted and perched back on Jen's arm, looking back and forth between them, a delighted, but perplexed smile on his face. He was in for a lot more impromptu music if Jen was nearby, and that was something Clint was pretty sure the jungle gym he was imagining wouldn't be able to do, so he'd better get used to it.
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Wonder Man
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Clint had a suction cup on his head.

In these kind of matters (they did seem to happen more than you’d think), Simon had decided a long time ago that the best thing to do was to follow Bobbi’s lead. No way she couldn’t have noticed it, after all, from right there beside him, so if she wasn’t mentioning it, then he could definitely go along with that. Be it on her head if Clint found out and demanded to know why they hadn’t told him.

Or… well, be it on his head, really. His forehead to be exact… man, good thing he’d already been accused of smiling too much this morning, huh? If there was a little bit more right now, it could probably just slide right into that, or hang it onto the remarkable jumping prowess of Greer’s tiny and adorable son.

Like Bobbi said, he did that really, really well. And a jungle gym? Man, absolutely excellent idea. And while there were probably still some of the ones in the training rooms down on the lower levels that maybe Greer (and probably Bobbi) had already thought about, something a bit more permanent, and a whole lot more personalized for tiny cat people would…

“Well why shouldn't he have one, then?” Clint pointed out, putting the hammer right to the nail, or the wrench to the bolt, or whatever the appropriate tool for the job was. Either way, you could count on Clint to cut right through to the point of things, and see the important part. And what to do about it, too. “I’ll put it together myself if Mister Reality Warping Big Russian doesn't just magic one up first.”

The suggestion had definitely brought another of those smiles out on Greer’s face, though now it did seem to be taking on an extra note below the surface, didn’t it? A warning - light, but no less a warning for that - was quick to come from their very own Momma Cat (okay, yes. That was another of the list of names he was going to have to avoid saying in her hearing, wasn’t it?), fixed on keeping Dr Nemesis out of that. Which Simon would have liked to have said was an unfair suspicion to cast over Psycho’s scientist-in-residence, however much of an absolute asset he’d been to the Resistance over the years, except that you just had to look at Bobbi to rethink that.

Where it came to science, Bobbi was willing to trust a whole lot of people you might not think anyone wanted to see in labs. Komodo came to mind, for one. But here and now, where it came to Nemesis and a playset? ”Don’t even think that too loud," Bobbi requested, possibly pleaded, with her friend, "The crazy old coot can probably hear you.”

Oh god. You really could not put that past him, could you? Even Greer’s eyeroll lacked a certain degree of its accustomed conviction, to Simon’s practised eye. But Clint took it all in good part, at least. ”Hey, don't worry," Clint said with a relaxed smile. "No outsourcing, I promise.”

“Then that would be wonderful,” Greer told him, with a smile that for once might have been almost as relaxed. See, no kinda problems that they couldn’t fix or avoid or generally make into something better, right? Simon beamed over at both of them. And Bobbi, of course. And Jen…

…who was snorting, and declaring her resolution to not be beaten out by an actual jungle gym where it came to being a climbing play-perch for small cat-children. And you had to admit, she did put up quite a considerable challenge there, flipping a laughing William off her arm and dangling him from a single finger, swinging back and forth with his little tail curling back and forth like a counterweight. The interactivity certainly wasn’t much like the jungle gyms Simon remembered, except perhaps some of the crazier ones Steve had set up in the training rooms at the Mansion in his more drill master days.

Days that… well, better not to think too much about that right now, because Sharon would definitely find worlds of pain if he did give a hint of that before she got her chance to do it like she wanted. Back into the box it went, though with the beaming smile turned back up to high wattage again. ”Showoff,” Bobbi accused, but with a grin and another shake of her head before turning toward Simon and adding, "I'd say she got that from you if I wasn't pretty sure she was already like that.”

Jen? Having picked up her very excellent show-off tendencies from him? Definitely not true at all, but Simon did like to think that would speak very highly of his instructional abilities in that fine and noble art. “I will totally count that as a compliment,” he assured Mockingbird with perfect composure, flashing an extra little grin her way, as Clint got on with meeting and matching Jen’s descent into playground competitiveness (take that as competitiveness about playgrounds, or competitiveness that wouldn’t have been out of place on an elementary school playground, as you liked) .

Yes, his would do everything Jen could do, and more. Hopefully minus the ability to crush tanks in one hand while quoting obscure legal codes, because it was hard to imagine that that would appeal to any three year old, no matter who his parents were. And… yup, there went Jen, answering that boast with the only fitting retort possible, while swinging William some more. And that had to mean, Simon decided, watching the two of them eye each other, green grin to blonde smiling, suction unicorn grin, that way, that… yup, anytime, it was coming…

“Anything you can do, I can do better," he sang, grinning unrepentantly. "I can do anything better than you.”

“No, you can't" Jen answered back readily, and they were off, amusing Simon at least, and William too. Looked like the little guy hadn’t inherited his mother’s prejudices about the fun to be had with show-tunes, and that could only be a good thing.

All the more reason to see if Ali couldn’t meet him as soon as possible, though. Definitely.

“Oh god. This will end in bazooka swings after all,” the prejudiced mother in question did comment drily, in an undertone directed toward himself and Bobbi, but the complaint did seem to lack the usual conviction of a Tigra objection to spontaneous song. So all in all, it was all to the good, right?

Too bad it was probably getting closer on to that time when they were all going to needed down there for the meeting that was definitely going to be The Meeting, so it might be time to start thinking about nudging people that way, and all. “Alright,” Simon said, only to discover that Greer was saying exactly the same word, at the same time. He looked her way, meeting feline eyes in a brief visual tussle over who’d give way. Greer won it, of course. She always did.

But it seemed like maybe they had been thinking along the same lines anyway, because without further ado, Tigra padded softly over toward Jen, eyes on her son. “You enjoying that?” she asked, receiving an enthusiastic round of nodding from the little boy in answer, then smiled at him, plucking him back off his big green perch. “Well, okay. There’ll be more of that later,” Greer added, with a slight ironic roll of her tail, “there always is. But there’s only so much time if we’re going to get you ready and to Mikhail before the meetings start, so kiss your Aunt Jen,” and she lifted William up so he could do just that, then moved on toward Hawkeye, “And Uncle Clint.” Hawk having got the same treatment, and a little furry arm squeeze around his neck for a second, Bobbi got skipped over, (which was a clue, wasn’t it?) and Tigra was stepping over his way, lifting her son up to his cheek as he leaned down a little.

“And Uncle Simon,” she finished, and Simon received a small, furry kiss, winked at William, who seemed like he might be weighing the business of red glowing eyes quite carefully. With that complete, Greer turned to Bobbi. “Would you be up for helping me out getting him cleaned up? It’s definitely a two person job.”

Talk about clues, huh? Well, he knew the codes for Greer and Bobbi wanting girl talk as well as anyone at this point, even if childcare was a new cover for that, so - suppressing a suspicion that maybe they hadn’t dropped that other thing as completely as he’d been hoping they had as nothing but paranoia - Simon flashed a quick grin toward the other two excluded parties here. “I’m thinking that’s our cue to see about making sure you two are de-puttied before the meetings, too.”

And maybe de-arrowed too. But that he was still definitely more than ready to leave up to Bobbi, if it stuck (ha!) around.
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Jungle Gym by Nemesis? Good god, not for a kid they actually liked.

He might be brilliant, he might be able to make a nuclear reactor out of a paperclip, an old computer chip, and a piece of piece of string. He was also totally fucking nuts and probably had some mad scientist enhanced hearing or for all they knew he might be brain scanning the whole place on a regular basis. So even thinking something like that too loud was risking drawing attention from the crazy old Nazi hunter.

Greer could roll her eyes all she wanted, but she knew it was true, too.

"Hey, don't worry," Clint said with a relaxed smile. "No outsourcing, I promise." Which was more than fine with her, and got another smile from Tigra that made Bobbi realize again just how not quite up to par those had been from her friend the last several years. It was good to see them back again, closer to what they should be. Really good.

“Then that would be wonderful,” Greer told him even if Jen seemed to take the whole idea of a jungle gym for William as some sort of challenge to her ability to be a big, green, organic She-Hulk Gamma Gym. The gauntlet was thrown in the form of flipping and swinging a laughing William around like a trick yo-yo.

Even Bobbi couldn't deny the cute overload that was happening there. Or the showing off. Something she'd blame on their Wonder Leader, who probably held the current Showoff Championship Title and liked it that way, if Mockingbird hadn't already been convinced that Jen came that way right out of the box. The Amazon Woman Green Gamma Irradiated Box.

“I will totally count that as a compliment,” Simon told her, complete unbothered and grinning her way in a way that had the blonde grinning back at him despite trying not to. Of course he would. He wouldn't still be Simon if he didn't, would he?

"Nothing against you, Shulkie, but it'll do that and more," Clint threw out, never being one to let any kind of challenge to his skills go unanswered, whether it was target practice or gym equipment building. It would've probably had more impact if he still didn't have that arrow stuck to his head.

"Yeah right," she said, swinging William higher and getting more happy laughter out of the little boy. Greer's son. She still couldn't get over that.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," her darling husband started singing and Bobbi sighed heavily. God, here they went again. "I can do anything better than you."

It didn't take much encouragement for Jen to break into song at the best of times and before Bobbi knew it, they were knee deep in Showtune. With a brief look to Greer that should've been full of 'why?' Bobbi dropped her head, slapped her hand over her eyes and shook her head. She loved him, she really did.

“Oh god. This will end in bazooka swings after all,” Greer decided as Bobbi raised her head and dropped her hand again.

"Only if we're lucky," Bobbi pointed out, because it could be worse. They could end up with a jungle gym that constantly played Pirates of the Penzance or Mame.

“Alright,” Simon and Greer co-announced at the end of the sing-off. Which William seemed to enjoy, poor kid, while his mom and Simon sorted out who actually got to talk. Greer unsurprisingly came out the winner on that one, heading over toward William and Jen.

“You enjoying that?” she asked, receiving an enthusiastic round of nodding from the little boy in answer, then smiled at him, plucking him back off his big green perch. “Well, okay. There’ll be more of that later,” Greer added, possibly dooming them all or maybe just giving in to the inevitable, “there always is. But there’s only so much time if we’re going to get you ready and to Mikhail before the meetings start, so kiss your Aunt Jen,” and she lifted William up so he could do just that, then moved on toward Hawkeye, “And Uncle Clint.”

Uncle Clint got not just that, but a little one armed hug that brought a smile that was softer than she realized to Bobbi's face. It was a nice picture.

Aunt Bobbi got skipped over, though, and that had one brow going up curiously as Greer moved to Simon instead. “And Uncle Simon,” she finished, and Simon received a small, furry kiss, winked at William, who seemed like he might be weighing the business of red glowing eyes quite carefully. With that complete, Greer turned to Bobbi. “Would you be up for helping me out getting him cleaned up? It’s definitely a two person job.”

Oh yeah, she was definitely in for that. If it hadn't been that, there'd have been something else, even if Bobbi had to make it up. They weren't done with the Dazzler Situation yet.

"Sure thing," Mockingbird agreed readily and with a half-grin. "I'm always up for a little living dangerously." Considering the phase Greer had gone through way back when of treating water like it was sulfuric acid, this could definitely fall into that category. She'd helped putty the kid up, though. The least she could do was help clean it off while they dealt with other business.

Wondy accepted the tacit dismissal the same way he almost always did. Pretty gracefully as he grinned at Jen and Clint. “I’m thinking that’s our cue to see about making sure you two are de-puttied before the meetings, too.”

Should she mention the arrow, Bobbi wondered, turning toward her husband? Questions, questions.

"You could definitely use a little of that, Sport," she told Hawk, leaning in for a quick kiss. So could she, but she'd take care of that, too, after they dealt with William. "See you in a while, Babe."

She'd just let him figure out the arrow on his own. Consider it payback for the singing.
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It was Dionne Warwick at twelve paces, and even though William didn't seem to quite know what to make of Clint and Jen's impromptu musical duel, he was clearly enjoying it. Which of course only encouraged both of them.

Greer, per usual, was not on board with the loving of showtunes, but she managed to keep her objection down to a wry comment about bazooka swings. Which was ridiculous. An air pressure cannon would work much better for that, and it could work purely on kidpower. Bobbi was much more expressive, going for the full hand over the face while shaking her head.

This was what happened when over half the team spent their non-hero time performing in front of the public. They wouldn't have stuck around this long if they didn't love it at least a little.

“Alright,” Greer and Simon said in unison, although the way their eyes met a second later, they had slightly different agendas behind them. Simon yielded, and Greer started walking over to Jen as the singing broke off. Which was probably for the best. Trying to sing the whole thing probably would have ended in giggles by the time they got to the part where Clint would be singing about wearing a girdle and filling out a sweater.

“You enjoying that?” Greer asked her son, which he answered with animated nods. Couldn't ask for a better endorsement than that. She collected him from Jen and promised there would be more, which was undoubtedly true. “there always is. But there’s only so much time if we’re going to get you ready and to Mikhail before the meetings start, so kiss your Aunt Jen[.]”

She hiked William up high enough for him to reach her, then brought him over to Clint. “And Uncle Clint.”

Uncle Clint. He liked the sound of that. Clint leaned forward and William, completely unexpectedly, reached around and gave Clint a furry hug. The blonde man's eyes widened slightly and he let out a soft, surprised little "heh" as his grin went a little goofy and his heart probably dropped to his feet in a little puddle. "See you soon, Sport," he managed to say as they pulled apart.

Sweetest kid ever.

He looked over at Bobbi, still smiling, as Greer strode past her with no good-bye kiss from William. Clint wasn't quite dazed enough to miss the signal there, and then Tigra brought the catbaby over to Simon. “And Uncle Simon,” she said, who also got a kiss as well as a quiet study of those glowing red eyes of his.

And then Greer was back to looking at Bobbi. “Would you be up for helping me out getting him cleaned up? It’s definitely a two person job.”

Especially when that job also worked to give those two people a chance to speak in private.

"Sure thing," Mockingbird agreed readily and with a half-grin. "I'm always up for a little living dangerously." Yeah. Depending on how William felt about water, that could be a lot more than chancing a little nip for ruffling the hair on his head.

Still, if anyone could handle it, it was his wife, and they had signal to head out so they could get on with whatever discussion was brewing. Simon, no slouch when reading between the lines himself, grinned over at Jen and Clint. “I’m thinking that’s our cue to see about making sure you two are de-puttied before the meetings, too.”

"You could definitely use a little of that, Sport," Bobbi said, then leaned toward him. Clint obliged her by meeting her halfway so they could share a quick kiss. She was going to need a little de-puttying herself, but she could probably work that in with the William-bathing girl talk session. "See you in a while, Babe."

"I'll save you a seat," he assured her, stepped back and turning toward the door. "You three have fun," he said, adding a little wave for William, and followed Simon and Jen back out into the hall.

They hadn't gone three steps before Jen said, "There's an arrow on your head, you know."

"Huh?" Clint said, reaching up and patting experimentally, his fingers brushing over the suction cup arrow just as he remembered that he never had actually removed it. "Ha!" He peeled it off and rubbed a little at the spot, wondering if he had a nice round mark there now, and then tucked the arrowhead back in his pocket.

"Any note you can reach, I can go higher..." Jen sang softly, nudging him with her elbow. Luckily she was nice enough to pull back on that so it was mostly like a regular elbow nudge.

Clint chuckled. "I can sing anything higher than you!"

They might end up giggling like loons before they got to the end of it after all, but like a lot of things when it came to his team, his family, it was totally worth it.



[Exit Clint to National Treasure]
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Singing. There would have to be singing, wouldn’t there? Heaven forbid anyone try to make a point without shoving some kind of excuse to a melody on it. But William was smiling happily, and if that was for more than the suction arrow Clint still had stuck right to the middle of his forehead, well, Greer supposed to she could learn to deal with a son who had as unfortunate taste as most of her best friends in the world.

At least there was Bobbi to feel her pain, but while Mock clapped a hand over her eyes (ears might have been a better choice, but something about Jen’s voice could go through the strongest earplugs, so it probably wouldn’t have helped either), Greer only clicked her tongue and shook her head softly. First stop showtunes, and where was this newly-invented kids play rivalry going to end up?

“Oh god. This will end in bazooka swings after all,” she complained, knowing full well none of the singers (including Simon, who you could practically smell waiting for an opportunity to join in over there) would pay it any mind.

“Only if we're lucky," Bobbi pointed out, which was unfortunately true. Once Clint (or Jen) got competitive about something, there was no telling at all where it might end up, except that it would probably be guaranteed to stretch their brains into places they had not been made to go.

Alright. Now that that interlude was mercifully over though,…

…wait, why was Simon joining in on that too? Greer turned to meet his gaze, holding her own eyes steady till their team leader’s red glowing ones blinked and looked away. Come to think of it, wasn’t it a little strange that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses this morning? Did they owe that to Dazzler, along with that smile too?

Hmmm. Well, that could go down on the general list of things she’d discuss with Bobbi, if she got time to do it after the most important items on that list. But to get to that, first she’d need to make an opportunity to talk to Mock privately, and one glance at her son - or rather, at the streaks of putty adding another shade of stripe to his fur, and the full layer of gray covering his hands - provided all the excuse she might ever have needed.

Time to retrieve him from his perch on Jen, which Greer did, inquiring about whether he’d enjoyed himself. The answer was an enthusiastic nod, of course, not unexpected at all, but at least she could promise with no fear of being later proved wrong, that there would be more of it later. With Jen around, you could count on that. For now though, if she was going to get him cleaned up and to Mikhail before those meetings, it was actually time to start. That meant prompting William to goodbye kisses for Aunt Jen, and Uncle Clint, who also received a spontaneous little hug from his newest friend, that seemed to take even him by surprise.

“See you soon, Sport," he managed to say as they pulled apart, in a tone that made Greer smile a little more as she moved with William over to Uncle Simon, who also needed his goodbye kiss, and who might well need to start wearing his glasses again, and soon. There was a look in William’s eyes as he stared at Simon’s, and if she knew her son at all, it was one that meant an attempt to pounce on the bright blinking laser point-esque lights might not be far off at all.

All in all though, you had to say that having the proxy of a small, cute, and incredibly mucky son made the business of hinting the rest of the team off far more pleasant than it could otherwise have been. Not that Tigra imagined she was fooling any of them, but there was still enough tactful plausible deniability there to smooth things over as she turned to Bobbi, who had to have anticipated this coming a mile away. “Would you be up for helping me out getting him cleaned up? It’s definitely a two person job.”

They needed to talk, and they both knew it, even if they actually needed to talk about more than Mock might have realized yet.

“Sure thing,” her friend agreed quickly anyway, grinning like she’d guessed how much of a dubious privilege that might turn out to be, if William decided to be, well, call it ‘playful’. “I’m always up for a little living dangerously.” Greer grinned slightly, turning her smile down to William, who greeted it with one of his own, touched off by a sticky handprint on her other shoulder.

Heaven forbid she miss out on the fun, huh?

“I’m thinking that’s our cue to see about making sure you two are de-puttied before the meetings, too,” Simon suggested to the other two, neatly combining tactfully polite exits with a torpedoing of any polite fiction that she might actually have gotten away with her own suggestion, like he always could. Never mind, though - it had been a hint wide enough for even Hawk to pick up on, not to mention Jen, so there was no help for Simon.

And she had Bobbi for backup, gently but firmly dismissing her be-arrowed husband with a suggestion he got cleaned up, and a kiss to sweeten the deal, while Simon and Jen grinned and waved to her and William. She-Hulk even threw in a broad wink, miming a finger to her lips as she tucked the rest of the cereal box under her arm on her way toward the door.

“See you in a while, Babe,” Bobbi told her husband, apparently still set on leaving him to his own devices about that arrow. Her choice, and definitely an amusing one.

“I’ll save you a seat," [Clint] assured her, stepped back and turning toward the door to follow the other two out, the arrow on his forehead bobbing lightly with his every step. “You three have fun.”

Glancing down at her son, then to herself, then to Bobbi, who was by no means un-putty scathed herself, Greer had to snort lightly. “That’s one word for it,” she commented, lifting up her son’s hand to work in one last goodbye wave before the door closed on Clint.

No sooner it had, but there was Jen’s voice - faint, but not so faint it was beyond Tigra’s hearing - giving the game away. “There’s an arrow on your head, you know.”

Greer shook her head, glancing back to Mockingbird with a somewhat amused sight. “And once again, Jen ends a good joke too early,” she informed her friend, then cocked her head to one side, listening a little more carefully to what was still audible out in the hallway, “And… yes, they’re singing again. All three of them.”

She’d known Simon couldn’t resist that.

But alright, now that they’d seen those three off, she and Bobbi could get down to business. Though - pressing as the things she really did need to not put off talking to her friend about for any longer than she already had - getting William clean might still have to take precedence after all. Who knew that amount of putty could be spread so far, in such a short time?

Another moment’s thought led Greer to suspect that that answer would almost certainly be Bobbi, just through association with Clint, so rather than ask it, she shifted William a little on her hip, pointing them both in the general direction of the bathroom, then smiling conspiratorially. “Do you know what’s even more fun than singing ridiculous songs? Washing our hands.” The odds weren’t great that he’d believe her, but still, it was probably worth any shot she could have at making this a little easier than it might be. “It’s true,” Greer continued, in response to a rather suspicious look on a small furry face, before glancing back at her friend for backup, “A whole lot more fun. Just ask Aunt Bobbi - she’s a doctor scientist, she knows things.”

Just like your Daddy, she added, though only in her head. There would be time for that later, but not wasn't that time.
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Deputtying all around. William, her, Clint (maybe a little de-suction cup arrowing for him, too, if he was lucky), Jen. Were Simon and Greer the only ones that'd missed the putty sharing?

But sure. She was up for a little living dangerously. This time in the form of helping wash up a little kitten boy. Who Mockingbird could only hope hadn't inherited his mother's once upon a time nearly clinically psychotic aversion to water.

Tigra grinned back a little, then turned that smile back down to William. Who not only sent it right back, but added in a bonus smear of putty. Then there was one, and that one was Simon. Their fearless leader who was herding the rest of the puttied masses off for their own washing, before any protests could be lodged. Probably as willing to make his escape from any more possible Dazzler related conversation as they were to have one've those without him as a spectator.

Not to mention, it wasn't just an excuse. Hawk was practically covered in his own arrow putty, so Bobbi saw him off with a quick kiss goodbye and a promise to see him later (and deciding she really did like that arrow where it was for now).

"I'll save you a seat," he assured her, stepped back and turning toward the door to follow Jen (and her stolen Cheerios - yeah, she was big and green and not that stealthy) and Simon. "You three have fun," with a last wave to William, he was out the door, too.

“That’s one word for it,” Greer commented, helping William with a last goodbye wave. Then paused and shook her head, looking back her way. “And once again, Jen ends a good joke too early,” Greer informed her as Bobbi sighed a sigh that only people who had to sometimes deal with a nearly eight foot tall, green spoilsport could sigh. Greer had her head cocked like she was picking up something else, though, and Mockingbird's brows lifted, even as she reached out to take one of Williams little furred hands. “And… yes, they’re singing again. All three of them.”

Oh god, of course they were.

"At least they're doing it out there now," the blonde replied with a grin and a shake of her own head. Sometimes not having enhanced hearing was a blessing.

After a second or so's thought, Greer shifted William on her hips and Bobbi let his little hand go as Tigra turned them toward the bath. With a smile like the one Bobbi remembered her mom wearing when she was trying to convince her medicine actually tasted like candy. “Do you know what’s even more fun than singing ridiculous songs? Washing our hands.” Was the kid actually gonna buy that? It was hard to tell, but right now she was going with 'probably not'. “It’s true,” Greer continued, in response to a rather suspicious look on a small furry face, before glancing back at her friend for backup, “A whole lot more fun. Just ask Aunt Bobbi - she’s a doctor scientist, she knows things.”

Oh yeah, drag her right into the middle of the bath conspiracy. She'd asked for it, though, hadn't she? Yes she had, so Bobbi kept her own smile where it was, widened it a little and nodded with absolute authority.

There came a time in every adults life, Mockingbird suspected, when they had to suck it up and lie to little kids with a straight face for their own good.

"Best thing ever," she agreed as they headed into the bathroom. Yeah, that was getting her the skeptical look, too, wasn't it? "Gets rid of all those germs running around loose, and nobody wants those, right?" Not buying that much, either, huh? Okay.

"You can't see them," she tried to explain when William frowned down at his hands, apparently not finding any evidence of these germs she spoke of. "They're really, really small, but trust me. They're there. Running allll around your fingers."

In demonstration, she reached out and ran her index fingers lightly over his. Which got her a little attempt at a playful swipe for her trouble, but she grinned all the same. God, he really was the cutest kid ever.
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“At least they're doing it out there now.”

Bobbi, as always, could be counted on to see things as they were. And in this case, with the other three well outside with their renewed singing, and disappearing out of her hearing range too, it definitely seemed like for once things as they were was the same as looking on the bright side.

On the other hand, the state of other things - particularly William’s hands (and Bobbi’s too, for that matter) was still more to the side of the ‘completely be-puttied’, and that wasn’t only going to get worse if they didn’t start dealing with it first. This much three years of motherhood (even absentee motherhood) had taught her.

Foolproof methods of getting her son to cooperate on getting himself cleaned up, though? Well, those were still very definitely a work in progress, but Tigra made a stab at a new angle all the same. Even more funning than people singing ridiculous songs? Well, that would be a lot of things, and she personally didn’t think she was being dishonest to her son at all by including ‘washing our hands’ in that category (root canals might still be in that category, in Greer’s opinion), though a conspiratorial smile might still be in order.

Or might fall completely flat, earning her nothing more than a suspicious look from William, and a smile she was pretty sure she could hear (yes, hear, really) on Mock’s face.

Bobbi had agreed to helping though, and it might just be time to make good on some of that. So yes, it really was true, Greer continued to tell her son, before appealing to the good Dr Morse (MD/PhD) as an arbiter of fun. Doctor scientists knew things.

Her son was three, and had only just met Bobbi. He’d believe that, right?

It started well, with Mock smiling wider, and nodding like there was not even the slightest possibility for doubt as they moved toward the bathroom. “Best thing ever," she agreed, though Greer’s confidence that that air of conviction might be enough to sway William began to waver a little again when that failed to budge the suspicious look from his face. “Gets rid of all those germs running around loose, and nobody wants those, right?”

And that, should it come up for the deposition statement later, was when things began to slide out of hand, helped along by some extra spade work from Dr Barbara Morse.

“You can't see them," she tried to explain when William frowned down at his hands, as though this would reveal the presence of germs. Which probably wasn’t going to satisfy, as an explanationa, but…

“They’re really, really small, but trust me. They're there. Running allll around your fingers.”

And just to top that off, Bobbi ran one of her own fingers lightly over the putty on William’s. He broke into a grin, batting back at her, but it wasn’t that that had Greer trying not to put a putty mark on her forehead (even her hands had started to pick it up now, just carrying him) a moment later as she looked back down from glancing around the bathroom (still dripping wet in places, where some of the larger splashes had hit).

No, what had her wishing facepalming was an option was the look her son turned back on his hands after reflexive swiping had chased off Bobbi. The completely, utterly intrigued look, that it was all too easy, even with the fur, (at least for her) to see his father in.

“Oh god,” the feline woman declared, groaning in a way that wasn’t entirely serious, but wasn’t quite completely joking either, “I suspect you’ve just guaranteed he’ll never want to wash his hands again, in case of losing some potential tiny germ friends to play with.” Tiny things, that ran all over his fingers. And he was supposed to not like that. Good lord.

Thankfully, before she’d had time to worry about how to undo that, William resolved the situation by taking matters into his own hands. Or rather, taking them into his jaws. With an air of someone conducting a solemn experiment, the little boy stuck one puttied hand in his mouth, only to pull it out quickly, making a face.

Suppressing most of a snort, Greer shot a grin over at Bobbi, before directing a sympathetic smile down to meet William as he looked up from his grimace at them both. “Tastes pretty bad, huh?” she asked.

A screwed up nose said most of it, but just for good measure, William added on a, “Bleerrggchhh.”

“You want to wash it off now?”

A quick nod. Then a slight pause, and another look, this time a little worried, or at least uncertain, directed to her and then on to Bobbi. What… oh wait, she knew this one. “It’s okay,” Greer assured him, smile turning right back to wry as she did, “The way you are, it won’t take you more than another minute to find a whole new set of germs to be friends with once we’ve washed these off.”

“Bath?” William asked, perking up a little (now, he decided he liked that. Where had that been an hour ago when she’d been trying to bribe him into it the first time round).

But - having already gone through one round today of how to dry an entire small but very wet cat person who was constitutionally incapable of standing still - Greer shook her head firmly. “Sink,” she declared.

They might as well clog up another drain in this bathroom while they were at it, after all.
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Mockingbird
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Convince the little cat boy that hand washing was the best thing ever: Check.

Well, hopefully check once she'd backed Greer up with a nod and a smile that was, with any luck, believable enough for a little kid as they headed into the bathroom. Some reassurance that handwashing was just that amazing. Maybe throw in that it'd get rid of all the germs running around loose on his little furry, putty covered hands.

Nobody wanted to deal with that, right?

Sure, he couldn't see them, and Bobbi pointed that out when William started frowning down at his hands like he was wondering where those promised germs might've run off too. Too small for even keen little cat eyes to be able to see, but he'd just have to trust her. They were there, running all around his little fingers, whether he could see them or not.

She couldn't resist reaching out and and running her index finger along his. It got a grin out of him, even if he was batting at her at little, too. Okay, this wasn't going so bad. They hadn't hit the water yet, and the bathroom looked a little like it might still be recovering from an earlier battle, but yeah.

Or not, Mockingbird revised, when she got a look at Greer's face, and then the completely fascinated one on William's face as he looked down at his hands again. Maybe they didn't want him to be quite that fascinated by the possible germs...

“Oh god,” the feline woman declared, groaning in a way that wasn’t entirely serious, but wasn’t quite completely joking either, “I suspect you’ve just guaranteed he’ll never want to wash his hands again, in case of losing some potential tiny germ friends to play with.”

Oh. Well, crap. Whoops.

"Hey, I'm new at this," Bobbi returned with a slightly sheepish grin Tigra's way. "You can't blame me if it backfires." Well, yeah, she probably could, but that was her story and she was sticking to it.

Meanwhile, William apparently decided to do a taste test on that putty and those germs and, yep. There came the face.

Greer grinned her way and Bobbi grinned back. Then the blonde shifted that grin to the little kid who'd got his first taste of whatever godawful stuff Clint's putty arrows were made of.

“Tastes pretty bad, huh?” her friend asked her son and the kid's face said more than enough. But along with the scrunched up nose and 'what the hell just happened here' face, he decided to add an expressive, "Bleerrggchhh.”

"That stuff takes bad to a whole new level," the blonde sympathized from her own experience. Hawk used those a lot and it was amazing the weird as hell things that could happen in the middle of a fight.

“You want to wash it off now?” Only had to ask once and William gave a quick nod, but then there was a more worried look between her and his mom. Okay, she still didn't speak little kid looks that well. Or at all.

“It’s okay,” Greer assured him, smile turning right back to wry as she did, “The way you are, it won’t take you more than another minute to find a whole new set of germs to be friends with once we’ve washed these off.”

With a soft chuckle, Bobbi nodded, feeling pretty confident that she could back that up without causing another catastrophe. "You'll have them all replaced in no time. You won't even miss them."

Now that he'd come to terms with the idea of water, and the loss of possible new microscopic friends, and that Clint's putty arrows tasted like crap, William was apparently ready to go. “Bath?” William asked, perking up a little as Bobbi's brows went up.

Something told her none've them would come out of that unscathed, no matter how happy he sounded about it. But she was game if Greer was. That's what the healers were for, after all.

“Sink,” Greer declared, heading that idea off and Bobbi made her way over to the sink to get the water going and at a hopefully decent temperature for little cat boy fingers.

"You make this all look a lot easier than it possibly can be," she told Greer as she looked back up from messing around with the temperature control knobs.

Kinda gave her hope that she and Clint wouldn't be complete and total failures at the whole parent thing, if and when the time happened to come.
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Christ. It would never cease to amaze Greer - though in fact it had long since ceased to surprise her - how the smartest, most over-supplied with degrees and letters, brilliant people she knew could be as clueless as anyone else where it came to children. But here was Mock, proving it all over again.

”Hey, I'm new at this," Bobbi returned with a slightly sheepish grin Tigra's way. "You can't blame me if it backfires.”

“It helps if you think of him as a tiny Clint in cat fur,” Greer told her. It had helped her more than once since William had been old enough to make trouble.

Right now though, by some miracle she wasn’t going to question too closely, it was her son who solved the problem of how to convince him he did want to wash off his hands - putty and new germ friends and all - for himself. Nothing like a tongueful of whatever godawful stuff was in Clint’s arrow-putty to change your mind, Tigra supposed, even with germs involved, especially if you were already in the habit of drinking milk through your own hands. So.. it tasted pretty bad, huh?

”Bleerrggchhh.”

Well, there you had it.

“That stuff takes bad to a whole new level,” Bobbi sympathized, sounding like she knew exactly what she was talking about there. Experience or not, capturing the moment while it was there seemed to be of the essence, and Greer was quick to try to do just that, capitalizing on the moment of distaste that had William wavering and suggesting washing it off now.

There was agreement, then slight hesitation which she was pretty sure she was correctly interpreting as concern for the new friends Bobbi had so kindly told him were running and playing all over his fingers. But that was easily dealt with - or relatively easily dealt with - with the help of a little wry humor, and assurances to her son that being who he was (or rather the way he was), he’d have no trouble finding a complete set of new germs to be friends with in under a minute.

That had Bobbi laughing, maybe a little more relaxed than she’d been before. “You’ll have them all replaced in no time. You won't even miss them.” And see, she was picking up the hang of this. She’d be…

Lifting her eyebrows higher as William picked that moment to decide that he’d liked the last disastrous bath (the one that could still be read from the state of the walls and surfaces in the bathroom) so much he wanted another. But no. Sink, she told him firmly, smiling somewhat gratefully after her friend, who took off toward that fixture hopefully fast enough to make it fait accompli, even for William.

Better to keep him occupied with not turning this into an ongoing argument, huh? Or maybe it was nothing as calculated as that that had Greer smiling and dropping her head down to press her nose against her son’s when she found him looking up at her. Either one, or even both, it didn’t matter, because what did was that she had him here, right where she could do this.

“You make this all look a lot easier than it possibly can be,” Bobbi remarked from over by the sink.

Greer took one more moment to finish nuzzling William’s nose then pulled back, smiling at him, then turning a pair of raised eyebrows of her own at her friend. Making it look easy? Had Bobbi seen this bathroom? Or the destruction of breakfast? Or her son, plastered all over with putty (and probably still some milk). “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she declared, though with another slight smile, because sure, if you took only the last twenty seconds, maybe you could make that impression. Except if you knew what was closer to the truth of what was going on here. “He’s the one making this look easy right now, and it will not last,” Greer added, and then - just as though she’d jinxed herself this time, and right on cue, that was William perking up again.

“Bath?” he repeated, hopefully, then once Greer shook her head again, with a mixture of innocence and mild reproof, “Bath.”

There. That was more like the son she knew and loved. “Sink is faster. No more ‘bleergch’ on your fur,” Greer pointed out, trying to sound more confident than she felt about that actually convincing. “Look, Aunt Bobbi’s already making it just right for you.”

Perhaps it was just the novelty about that, or curiosity about what she might be doing, but that placated William for long enough that he submitted to being carried over to the sink without any further protest, perching on the rim with his tail extended behind him for balance, and even going as far as dipping first one hand, then the other, under the flowing water. Seizing this temporary advantage, Greer put her arms around him to help prevent sudden thoughts of escape, and reached out for one hand, rubbing at the putty that was caked in his fur to loosen it.

“The truth?” she asked, glancing up from this to Bobbi and shrugging slightly, “Kids aren’t all that different from everyone else. You get to know who they are. And you make mistakes,” and plenty of days, she’d felt like she made nothing but mistakes, and there hadn’t been all that many days at all. “Then eventually you learn a few things to do, and a whole lot of things not to do.”

And you kept trying, every day, to do better, because that was just what had to happen.

As maybe… well, there wasn’t any good way to do this, was there? So no more putting it off - one way would just have be as good as any other. That in mind, Greer set William to soaking his hands well under the water, then straightened up, fixing her gaze seriously at her friend. “Bobbi,” she started, then with no more ado than that, “have you thought about why you were throwing up in the morning today?”

Not the best way, maybe… but then, was there any good way to do this?
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Mockingbird
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Plausible deniability. She was new at this whole kid thing, Greer couldn't blame her if it backfired.

On second thought, it was Greer and she could, but instead of doing that she said, “It helps if you think of him as a tiny Clint in cat fur,” and, funnily enough, that didn't surprise her. It made her smirk a little, but didn't surprise her at all.

"I can't imagine why you'd put those two things together," Bobbi replied with dry amusement that turned into just plain old amusement once William stuck one hand in his mouth and got a good taste of that putty. Yeah, that was pretty bad. She could sympathize, having gotten a taste by accident a time or two over the years.

Bad on a whole new level and it'd never catch on as a snack, but it did at least get William to be a lot more agreeable to getting his paws washed. Or it almost did, right before he apparently remembered all his 'germ friends' that he might wash off.

It was adorable and made her want to facepalm a little at the same time, but she settled for laughing and agreeing with Greer. Just from what she'd seen this morning, he'd have all those germs replaced in no time. He wouldn't have a chance to miss them.

So, of course, now William jumped to a new thing. Full on bath. Which was what had cut the current swath of residual chaos through the bathroom that they were seeing now, if she had to hazard a guess. Oh god, they'd never manage to get out of that without being soaked through twice over.

If they were lucky.

Greer was holding firm to sink over bath, though, and Bobbi was pretty sure she at least knew what to do with this one that wouldn't turn it upside down. Get her ass over to the sink and start the water going, being careful to get it to a temperature that wouldn't scald little cat boy hands and fingers.

Then she looked back up and couldn't help but smile. At Greer and at William and at how much happier more...easy, maybe, her friend looked. Just having that little boy here. Standing there with him and bumping her nose gently against his and Bobbi felt another funny little twist in her chest, watching that happen.

Yeah, whatever happened they'd find whatever way they needed to to make sure he could stay and be safe and be with his mom. How Greer had managed all this time, keeping him secret and keeping him hidden, she couldn't imagine. She made it look easy, though. All of it. Easier than it could ever actually be, Mockingbird was sure.

Greer didn't seem to think so, though, going by those raised, furry brows turned back her way. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she declared, though with another slight smile, that Bobbi met with a pointedly widening one. Hey, she was the one that'd convinced the kid that germs were his new friends in about ten seconds flat and nearly torpedoed the putty removal. Trust her, it could be a lot worse. “He’s the one making this look easy right now, and it will not last,” she insisted. And completely jinxed herself in the process.

“Bath?” he repeated, hopefully, then once Greer shook her head again, with a mixture of innocence and mild reproof, “Bath.” Yeah, see, no damned idea what to do with that herself. Leave it up to her, she'd cave under that look and they'd be treading water in no time. But Greer knew.

“Sink is faster. No more ‘bleergch’ on your fur,” Greer pointed out, confidently and, in case that didn't work, added, “Look, Aunt Bobbi’s already making it just right for you.”

Distraction she did understand so the blonde smiled and splashed a little in the flow from the faucet. "Mmmm...nice and warm and everything." Some of that or all of that or just the sight of someone who had no clue what they were doing but pretending like they were was enough to get William to the sink and dipping his hands under the water. And Greer got a good grip, probably to keep him from changing his mind and bounding off.

"You're gonna need some soap for that," Bobbi told her with the certainty of someone who'd had to get this stuff out of clothes and hair and everything else for years. There was some close by, so she reached for it, bringing it over closer for when they got to that point.

“The truth?” she asked, glancing up from this to Bobbi and shrugging slightly, and Bobbi glanced her way curiously, “Kids aren’t all that different from everyone else. You get to know who they are. And you make mistakes,” Well, that part she was pretty sure she'd have down, regardless of the rest, “Then eventually you learn a few things to do, and a whole lot of things not to do.”

"So, trial and error," Bobbi commented with a half grin before looking back down to make sure she was actually hitting the parts with putty on them. "That at least sounds familiar." Sometimes it seemed like her whole life had been like that. Always trying to figure out what worked. Mostly, she'd done okay, with a few notable exceptions. "It still seems to come pretty naturally to you, or you're faking it really well." Looking over at her friend thoughtfully, she added, "But I don't think you are, and I'm not talking about the superficial parts."

Nobody cared if the bathroom was covered in water, or the kid was covered in putty, or if there'd been some sort of breakfast related battle of wills. She knew how to make him smile, how to talk to him and what to say, and how to treat him like he wouldn't break if she tilted him the wrong way. Bobbi wasn't sure that she had those kinds of instincts, if you could learn them or if she'd even be able to fake them. It worried her a little, in light of what she and Hawk had decided last night. Maybe it was normal, but it wasn't comfortable.

“Bobbi,” Greer started, putting Williams little hands under the water to soften that putty up a little more as the blonde looked up again at her friend, “have you thought about why you were throwing up in the morning today?”

Huh?

Oh, that. Things seemed to have settled down with her stomach and she'd almost forgot that godawful fifteen minutes or so of puking her guts out and then the almost equally godawful hour or so of still wanting to. Thank god remembering it didn't make it want to come back again.

"I dunno, nerves maybe?" Bobbi answered with a shrug and a little bit of a frown. "I'm usually fairly nerve proof, but it's a big thing we're going out to do today. Skipping dinner last night probably didn't help, either." Or breakfast this morning, since the idea of even looking at food had made her want to head back into the bathroom at a run. "Maybe it all snuck up on me. Or I can just go with the default setting of 'somehow it's Clint's fault'," she added with another half grin.

Sure, it'd never happened before, but she'd never taken on anything quite this big before, either. Even with SHIELD. She might've blamed it on too much to drink, too, the night before, except she'd never got around to having anything.
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