bettercallit | (no subject)

[ Stiles is outside of the Youth Centre. Mostly the snow has all melted away, so he's happy enough to sit out with his back to the wall, tapping aimlessly on his knee, his eyes closed.

Truth be told, it's kind of lonely without Scott. ]

[ Clint finds him easily enough, standing a foot or so away from him without making so much as a sound, and he watches him for a second. ]

Youth Centre? [ He shifts to his side, lowers himself down next to him. ] How's it working out for you?

It's --. [ Boring, normal, stifling. ]

It's all right. [ It makes him miss home more, makes him crave the sound of his dad moving around downstairs, Scott texting him. It makes him lonely. ]

The couch is always there.

[ Because he knows what it is to be alone and if there's something there, well, it usually makes a difference, and he's just a kid. ] Fury's gonna miss you. He's not supposed to sleep on it.

[ Laughing, because yeah, Fury slept on Stiles and Stiles slept on the couch and it was a thing that worked for them. ]

I'm bringing him a cape soon. And dog biscuits. I found some great ones, I just want to get a job first.

[ Wistfully. ] Coulson wouldn't let me get him one, but I do have permission to dress him up at Halloween. I think you're the new favourite. [ Not that Phil takes favourites, but he likes to be dry and sarcastic. ]

Got something in mind?

I told him Fury wanted to be a superhero like his dads. [ Because he is a dork, do not forget that. ]

I don't know, my skills aren't extensive.

Dads. [ He blinks at that. Weren't they subtle enough? It's probably just Stiles being Stiles, so he shrugs. ] Not sure about the superhero part, never did get a cape to make it official.

You never wanted to be something later on in life?

I don't know. Maybe a sheriff like dad. Or uh, a teacher? [ Shrugging. ] I'm too spazzy for either of those things though.

And there's nothing you're good at you'd love to do for the rest of your life?

[ Shaking his head. ]

I like to help people.

You any good at cooking?

Sure. I cook for my dad all the time and he's never complained before.

He's either far too nice or you're actually good.

[ But to the point, because the risk is worth it. ] Wanna teach me the basics? 'Cause if I have to suffer another lecture on all the ways not to ruin pans then I'm ready and willing.

I'm good. Not amazing, but my chicken pot pie? Pretty sweet.

[ Raising an eyebrow. Teaching Hawkeye to cook? Hell yes. ] Sure. We could start small. What do you know how to do?

You and me? Cooking lessons. [ But maybe there should be a fire extinguisher on standby.

Shrugging. ] Toast counts, right? Warming stuff up. And my dialling finger? Could take an unsuspecting victim down.

Toast and take away sometimes work yeah, but if you need to figure out something a little more substantial, I can help.

[ He's quiet for a second, because it's all Phil's fault - he wants to prove to him that he can take care of himself and others. Cooking something proper? It's a start. ] Start slow. The apartment's growing on me, don't want to have to get a new one.

What about an omelette? Easy enough and it's doubly delicious for you and y'know, whoever you're making them for.

[ Like your government agent boyfriend, okay? ]

[ Clint will neither confirm nor deny these accusations. ]

Eggs. I can do eggs. Right?

Yeah, I mean, there's the possibility of food poisoning but I'll make sure you get it right.

Food poisoning. I'll stock up, prepare for the worst.

Yeah, make sure you take a trip to the pharmacy.

You doing anything tomorrow?

Uh, besides staring at the wall? Not much.