He'd been trying so, so hard not to think about Valentine's day. Clint had tried not to dwell on the date, because it was his first real milestone without Laura. Christmas had been difficult, but he'd had the surreal time-travel adventure to take his mind off of who and what he missed. This time around, life was achingly normal. He'd settled back into his old schedule---late nights, quiet trips, work, and increasingly dirty hands
( ... )
Across Jan's lap was a thick book titled Taboo and Genetics: A Study of the Biological, Sociological and Psychological Foundation of the Family so that this drinking adventure was a little bit educational. She had made no plans to go out so she was in-- what else?-- casual clothes.
Alone a few days away from a romantic holiday. Hello, high school memories.
"But I bought you a present. You have to forgive me," she shut her book, legs curled under her on the couch. Jan gave him a wry smile. "I saw it and had to get it for you. I imagine you're not very festive, but. You know. The bow and arrow. It was too good."
Half of the champagne bottle was gone but she supposed he could partake in the rest.
"I'll find it in me to forgive you eventually," he said, leaning over the back of the couch. He could smell the sticky-sweet champagne on her---she'd made a considerable dent in the bottle already. Clint was not surprised in any way. She'd only beat him to it, honestly. "I'll use it for target practice or something. Someone will try to give me hell if I tear up the kitchen again."
One corner of his mouth pulled with a faint grin. It was a thank you, and a promise that no, he wouldn't be shooting the stuffing out of her gift.
"So. Drinking alone and toasting to science. That's classy."
"Don't look at me with those judging eyes," she murmured around her glass. Clint was the last person on this planet who would ever judge her for... anything. If it were anyone else, Jan might have at least tried to give him some bullshit story about how she had only meant to have a little or that someone else come and shared but what reason was there to lie to Clint? She had nothing to prove.
"The promise of holidays make me thirsty, if you must know."
Jan didn't lack in the friends department. People liked her, strangely enough, but God, sometimes she just felt so terribly lonely. Being with people just made her feel lonelier. Being with Clint, though, felt a little less so-- maybe because he understood her in ways others couldn't.
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Alone a few days away from a romantic holiday. Hello, high school memories.
"But I bought you a present. You have to forgive me," she shut her book, legs curled under her on the couch. Jan gave him a wry smile. "I saw it and had to get it for you. I imagine you're not very festive, but. You know. The bow and arrow. It was too good."
Half of the champagne bottle was gone but she supposed he could partake in the rest.
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One corner of his mouth pulled with a faint grin. It was a thank you, and a promise that no, he wouldn't be shooting the stuffing out of her gift.
"So. Drinking alone and toasting to science. That's classy."
People like them were rarely lucky in love.
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"The promise of holidays make me thirsty, if you must know."
Jan didn't lack in the friends department. People liked her, strangely enough, but God, sometimes she just felt so terribly lonely. Being with people just made her feel lonelier. Being with Clint, though, felt a little less so-- maybe because he understood her in ways others couldn't.
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