Joss owns Dawn, Buffy, and Co; Hawkeye and the Avengers are owned by Marvel. I write for fun, not for profit.Summary:
Nevada laws were stupid. Annulment laws, even more so. #310 (Woke Up In Vegas)Warning:
Timeline's not wonky this time. Random/fictional laws for Nevada.A/N 1:
This took longer than I expected. I went to a convention where I met several Power Ranger actors (including Jason Narvy, who played Skull in the original) and then it was Parent/Teacher conferences and the end of the quarter at school and holy crap, I had a lot to do!Five
Her new husband knew about the supernatural. Dawn wasn't entirely surprised—he'd worked with a God, not to mention whatever the hell it was the Hulk was—but it had clearly thrown Buffy. Apparently there had been one or two missions where Clint and his partner, Natasha (aka the Black Widow) had gotten too deep before figuring out the situation was not mundane. Coulson had mumbled something about Budapest but none of the SHIELD agents would elaborate. Dawn had vowed to get it out of them eventually.
Clint didn't like Willow. His reaction to finding out Willow was a witch was...impressive. Finding out he'd been in Vegas to try and come to terms with the fact he'd nearly killed a bunch of people because he'd been possessed by a magic user explained why but it couldn't erase the fact he didn't trust Willow. Fortunately, Willow seemed to understand and while pissed off on his behalf—if it wasn't Loki who'd done it, Dawn had a feeling the redhead would have gone after the caster herself—she made certain to stay away from him so he'd be more comfortable the rest of the meeting.
Dawn didn't tell him about the Key. Not even Fury knew about Dawn being the Key and seemed to be chalking up her special blood to being Buffy's sister. Dawn knew there was no reason to tell him when they'd be separating/divorcing/annulling the marriage as soon as it was safe to do so. Still, a part of her felt incredibly guilty about keeping it from him.
The rest of the meeting went as well as Dawn could have hoped for. Clint and Dawn now had a (somewhat) believable cover story so people wouldn't know they hadn't known each other before tying the knot. As far as the world would know, Dawn and Clint had been together for a few years but given the nature of his work, had never gone public about the relationship. They'd been engaged for a few years but had gotten married admittedly spur of the moment after New York had impressed on Clint that he had no reason to wait anymore. If any of the mini's actually bought it, they'd think it was romantic. Cliche, but romantic.
“So we met when you were working in London,” Dawn said in the car on their way to the Stark Mansion. They'd left behind Buffy, Xander, and Willow to work with Fury and Hill about routing out the HYDRA teams. They were coming up with their meeting story, something Buffy had insisted Dawn and Clint themselves be allowed to do. “How?”
“I got a bunch of pigs to back off at a bar?” he suggested.
“Pub,” she corrected. “And why do you
get to be the hero in this scenario? This woman can take care of herself. I ain't no Cinderella.”
“Noted,” he smiled. “So you saved me
from unwanted advances from a bunch of pigs?”
“That works,” Dawn smirked and Clint rolled his eyes. Faith snorted from where she was sitting across from them in the town-car. Dawn ignored her in favor of smiling at the barely-hiding-his-own-smile-Coulson. She turned back to Clint.
“So I saved you from a bunch of pigs--”
“And then I swept you off your feet!”
“Uh, more like we talked for hours and exchanged numbers,” Dawn said.
“I just can't win with this, can I?” he asked the other brunette.
“Against D?” Faith said and snorted. “Not a chance. That's one girl who always goes after what she wants and usually gets it. It's kind of annoying.”
“Well, I'm used to take-charge women,” Clint smiled.
“Then you'll be fine with D,” Faith said. “She's bossy.”
“Uh, sitting right here?” Dawn waved a hand in the air.
“I can handle bossy,” Clint told her and she frowned at him.
“This is going to be an interesting marriage,” Coulson noted as the car slowed to a stop in the back garage of the Stark Mansion.
“Mission,” Dawn and Clint both corrected him. The senior agent looked up, eyebrow arched.
“Isn't that what I said?”~~*~~
The Stark Mansion had been built just before the United States entrance into World War Two. It had been designed and built by Howard Stark and consisted of numerous rooms, suites, and entire apartments. Tony had donated one end of it to the Maria Stark Foundation, as their headquarters when they had just been getting off the ground. Eventually, MSF had built their own offices and left the now historic landmark as a private residence for Tony and, until his betrayal, Obadiah Stane.
After the attack by the Chitauri, Stark had opened it up to any member of the team who needed a place while they rebuilt the Tower. Steve had eventually taken him up on it, as had Bruce. Natasha and Clint preferred their own safe-houses but had agreed to suites. Thor would also have his own rooms once he got back. After the fiasco with the Mandarin, Stark himself had moved in with Pepper Potts, since the renovations to the Tower Penthouse were progressing slowly. When they'd discovered Phil was alive, they'd dragged his recovering ass there as well. Clint had only stayed there a few times, usually after they'd trained as a team and he hadn't wanted to take the subway or a cab all the way to his place an hour away.
“Big place,” Faith noted as they stepped out of the car. “Who all are we meeting here again?”
“Natasha, Stark, Steve, and Banner,” Clint replied. “Thor's still on Asgard.”
He pretended not to hear his...to her Dawn's sigh of relief. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know why she seemed leery of the God.
“And Pepper,” Coulson added. “She's inside as well.”
Clint's hope that Potts presence would stop Stark from something outlandish was dashed the moment they stepped into the great room and found a sign that said “Congratulations, Clint and Dawn!” hanging from the rafters. The man himself was standing underneath it and the moment they appeared, he popped a champagne bottle.
“Sweet, the good stuff,” Faith murmured and Clint didn't need to look behind him to know Dawn had just smacked the back of the brunette slayer's head.
“Be nice,” she hissed. “Seriously, it's like I'm meeting the in-laws!”
Clint must have made a truly hilarious face because Natasha, who had the best poker face of anyone he'd ever met, started snickering. Steve fell into a rather violent coughing fit that did nothing to hide how much he was trying not to laugh, so he too must have heard Dawn's comment. Stark was frowning between them but Potts was already coming forward, hand outstretched.
“Ignore the iron idiot,” she advised. “It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Pepper Potts.”
“Dawn, uh, Barton, I guess,” Dawn said and Clint honestly couldn't say what the two of them said after that cause his head went fuzzy at the sudden realization that he was honestly married
“It just hit you, didn't it?” Natasha asked, sidling up to him. Stark was pouting as his “celebrations” were systematically ignored.
“Do you know the plan?” he asked instead of answering the obvious.
“Coulson briefed us on what Fury wanted to do,” she nodded. “I take it she agreed?”
“Wasn't given a choice,” Faith said, standing between him and Dawn with her hands in her pockets and eying the inside of the mansion as Steve introduced himself to the other brunette. “Big Sis agreed so D agreed. She knows better than to argue with B when she's in a mood.”
“She was in a mood?”
“A mild one, yeah,” she agreed. “You don't wanna see her when she's in a real one.”
Clint eyed her skeptically and Faith smirked back but didn't elaborate.
“You must be Faith,” Natasha said, eying the brunette critically. Faith just studied her back, no freaking out like others would have to be under the Black Widow's eye.
“So what's your schtick?” Stark asked, butting into the conversation. “Agent didn't say.”
Faith's head tilted slightly before she looked around. Finally, she picked up an iron poker from the fireplace. The three of Avengers watched as she quickly and efficiently twisted it around in a circle before handing it over to a staring Stark. He hefted it up, looking at it every which way, before handing it over to Steve.
“Can you undo that?” he asked and Steve did so. It took more pressure that what Faith had seemed to exert but he was able to get it back to its original shape.
“So you have strength,” Stark noted before he tilted his head towards Steve. “Got that already.”
“Weapons expert, she's got speed, endurance, and senses like you wouldn't believe,” Dawn said, coming over and slipping her arm through Faith's. “If its not normal, she'll be able to tell you.”
“And D's got her own little tricks,” Faith said and Clint snapped his attention to Dawn, who gave him a wry smile.
“Nothing like Buffy, Faith, or Willow,” she assured him. “And I tend to be a huge klutz. But I do, as Faith said, have my own little tricks.”
The slayer snorted but didn't elaborate. Dawn refused to as well, leaving Clint wondering just what “tricks” Dawn could possibly have. ~~*~~
Stark had decided to move them to another suite. In his words, the one Clint had before weren't big enough and “no one should start a relationship by moving into someone elses space...or so I've been told.”
Dawn had had to stifle a laugh when he got a kick to the shin from Ms. Potts for that one. She wasn't the only one.
“Stark is...one of a kind,” she said as they stepped into the suite and saw where they'd be staying for the next few weeks or months (hopefully not years, she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle years).
“You mean he's a jackass,” Clint corrected with a snort. “I'm going to kill him.”
“That too,” she agreed.
Stark's idea of a set of rooms for the newlyweds was, she was pretty sure, the trashiest version of a “honeymoon” suite he could recreate in only a few hours. There was even a heart shaped mirror anchored above the bed!
“Oh no,” they heard Pepper say as they left the bedroom. “Oh, Agent Barton, I'm so sorry. I had no idea he'd done this.”
“Would you mind terribly if I shot him in the ass?” Clint asked and Pepper looked like she really wanted to say no, she wouldn't mind, but the girlfriend part of her fought it down.
“I'd rather you didn't,” she said. “In the meantime...”
“You don't like it?” Stark asked, standing in the doorway. Dawn glared at him but it had nothing on the look Pepper shot him. He held up his hands. “Alright, alright, too far?”
“Much too far,” Clint growled.
“Lucky for you, I actually do know to have a backup,” Stark said and then tossed a pair of keys at the archer. Clint caught them, of course, and Stark smirked. “Doors at the end of the hall.”
“Tony,” Pepper said, voice soft and loving, like the billionaire had just done something good.
“What?” he asked, fidgeting. “I had to get them somehow and, really, it was Steve's idea. I just made it happen.”
Dawn grabbed her bags and hightailed it out of the room, ignoring the bit about Steve in the wake of Pepper's obvious love for the genius. Clint was right after her and when she chanced a look back, she saw the two of them face to face, forehead's touching as they stood there together.
Her throat tightened at the sight and she resolutely turned back to the doors at the end of the hall. Eventually she'd get that. Eventually.
Their real rooms were much more tasteful, done in various shades of white, cream, and purple. There were no mirrors in unusual places and there was an office in addition to the master bedroom. There was only one bed though and Clint immediately offered to take the couch.
“Do you snore?” she asked and he stopped in the doorway back out to the main room.
“Then I see no reason why we can't share a king size bed,” she said simply and left it at that. Clint looked like he was about to argue and then snapped his mouth shut. Instead, he dumped his bags on the bed and started snooping in the closet and dressers, of which there were two—one was empty and the other was filled with his clothes and a note. He quickly read it, expression tightening, and then he stuffed it into his pocket. Dawn saw all this but didn't ask and for the first time she wondered if he had had a girlfriend or lady friend before this. If so, she wondered what the hell he was planning on saying to said lady friend.
“Do you feel like cooking?” Clint asked unexpectedly as Dawn separated the clothes from her luggage into two piles, one to be washed and one to be put away. Most her things went into the former. Dawn paused, question repeating in her head, before she looked at him.
“You don't want me to,” she said honestly and he frowned. “Seriously, I can bake but that's about as far as my cooking abilities go. And the only reason I know how to bake is because Willow spent a month teaching me after I set off the fire alarm for the fifth time.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, I can cook. I'm not that bad but I can't bake for the life of me...”
So that evens out, Dawn thought to herself. “So why the conversation about cooking?”
“Cause I'm too tired to,” he answered sheepishly. “We could order out?”
“As long as its not pizza, I'll be good,” she said. “I had way too much pizza these last few weeks.”
“Why'd you have so much pizza?” he asked, frowning.
“I was finishing up my thesis and then preparing to defend it,” she answered. “Pizza was easiest to eat while trying to read four different texts at once and type on my laptop.” Dawn could tell he was trying to imagine it in his head by the way his lips suddenly quirked. “Yes, it was as funny as you're probably thinking it was. I think there were pictures taken at one point cause I started using my toes to turn pages.” She fell into giggles at his expression at that bit of information.
They ended up ordering Chinese, something simple and that they both enjoyed. Dawn refrained from doing anything truly outlandish to her food when they sat down in the little kitchen, on opposite sides of the island with the cartons in between. Well, more or less. The Tabasco sauce made an appearance but besides a curious look when she dumped half of it on her fried noodles, Clint didn't gag or make any sort of remark about it.
They cleaned up silently, working side by side to load the dishwasher and wipe down the island. Clint hesitated a moment before grabbing a beer from the fridge and headed to the living room. Dawn followed, a glass of red wine in her own hands. She didn't care for any American beer, which was the only thing in their fridge, so red wine it was. She sat down on the opposite side of the couch as Clint turned on the TV.
“Anything in particular you want to watch?” Clint asked as he flipped through the channels. “Stark's got everything and anything. I'm not picky.”
“Um, history channel?” she asked and he immediately flipped back to the documentary on Athens. “Do you like history?”
“It was the only subject I actually enjoyed when I was in school,” he nodded, eyes flickering at her a moment. “That and math. Just don't tell Stark about either one.”
“Done,” she said, settling back to watch the documentary and make corrections in her head. When it ended an hour later, Dawn was itching to write a very strongly worded letter to the researchers, since she knew for a fact half of the so-called “facts” had been completely wrong.
“You look angry,” Clint said suddenly and Dawn startled, almost having forgotten she wasn't alone. He looked uneasy.
“Not at you,” she assured him after a moment. “I just hate historical documentaries with so many inaccuracies.”
“They were wrong?” he asked and he sounded...better. Less worried. Sort of amused.
“They were very
wrong,” she said. “Anyone with decent researching skills will tell you that.”
“What was wrong?” he asked and with that, she launched into a truly epic Dawn Summers Babble.