bakerstreet | they are the hunters, we are the foxes

they are the hunters, we are the foxes - and we run

the ON THE RUN meme

Sometimes, these things happen. Sometimes, you're in just the wrong place at just the right time, or you've made the wrong (or right, depending on your intentions) person mad. Sometimes it's better for everyone if you just go. Sometimes there isn't time for good-bye.

LOST
You've managed to lose yourself somewhere out there, for whatever reason it was. Maybe you took someone with you (willingly? not?), or you found someone else who needed to disappear as badly as you did. You're in your car, or a cheap hotel, or a house by the side of the road. What else can you do but watch, and wait?

FOUND
It could have been as simple as being glimpsed at the 7-11. Your phoneline wasn't as secure as you thought. You locked eyes with the wrong person across the room. Now the house of cards is collapsing, and maybe not just your life, but the lives of everyone you love could be in jeopardy now. The walls are closing in, and your arms are giving out.

RULES
- post with your character's name and canon. if you have an on-the-run AU, or scenarios you might want to play out, mention them here.
- find others. tag them.
- and then, run.

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Izumo trundled his way along to the table in question, ans sat down with his back to the wall, the better to observe the rest of the clientele. He shrugged off his worn backpack and set it by his feet, out of casual kicking range. There were things that might explode in there if it were kicked.

"I see you're doing well for yourself, koneko."

"Well enough." He replied, giving a little shrug, "Figure it's because nobody knows who I am if I'm not in uniform, fine by me." He had a feeling that some people knew, but he'd already been living in the neighborhood long enough before he even became an Avenger that people were willing to overlook it. That and he didn't figure any of them thought he was a Hydra agent, and if they did, they were keeping it to themselves.

"So what brings you to the city? Or is that classified?"

"I'm on my way home. By the long way around, but hell, I don't care. Got leave for a few weeks." Izumo cradled the coffee close and sipped at it slowly, savoring it. "Gonna find a place for a stop-over tonight, then keep going. My apartment's probably five layers deep in dust by now."

Well, maybe not. Two of his partners had keys and would probably stop by to clean every once in a while. "Haven't been home in a few months." Izumo shrugged. "Been busy."

He nodded, that was something he was familiar with, both not being home for a while and taking the long way around to get there, "You guys getting hit with any of the fallout from the whole Hydra thing?"

Only Clint would call the collapse of SHIELD and everything that had caused it 'the whole Hydra thing' in all seriousness.

"Or is it busyness unrelated to that mess?" Clint would probably offer his couch for the overnight stopover, because it wasn't like anyone else would be using it.

"A little of both. Fun and excitement always happens when a regime falls, and we of course must be in the thick of it, the shit-stirrers we are." Izumo smiled wanly and chuckled. "I admit, I'm glad you're alive and not dangling in a cell somewhere. For a little bit it seemed the most likely option."

Factions, supporters, true members, and rivals had all come swarming out of the cracks when Hydra had stumbled. It was a cut-throat business, was organized crime, on any level and perhaps especially on that of attempted world domination.

Izumo sipped his coffee and eyed the red-headed woman with half her head shaved. She was escaping full frontal nudity by the grace of some artfully-arranged leather straps masquerading as a shirt, but her abundant cleavage was not why he was looking at her. Suspicion only, her and a handful of others catalogued as potentially agents....but she was the closest.

"Got any party plans tonight, sexy?"

"I know they're not, but I'm just going to pretend that statement and that question are directly related." He shook his head, "But no, haven't got any plans besides ordering some crappy take-out and rotting my brain with some crappy reality TV."

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, following Izumo's line of sight, making a half-thoughtful, half-appreciative sound before adding: "You're welcome to join me if you haven't got other plans."

"The only cells I'd have you dangling in would involve party plans, yes," Izumo teased, though it wasn't his preferred flavor of things. He stayed far away from anything related to BDSM. It was just not his cup of tea. "I told I just got into town. Even I'm not that fast."

Except when he was city-hopping for just that reason.

"Though if I join you, I'm updating it from crappy takeout to decent takeout...."

It wasn't really Clint's style either, not generally, which was probably why he snickered into his mug, shaking his head.

He gave a shrug at the statement that followed, though, "Eh, couldn't be sure if you'd planned in advance, I mean, I know I don't, but I'm also a terrible role model. And fine, halfway-decent takeout. Pretty much all I've got near my place anyway. Hard to find crappy takeout in this town anymore."

"Not this time, I didn't plan." Izumo shrugged and eyed his coffee. "You know that point you hit about three nights short of sleep and running on caffeine and extra? That'd be me right now."

He grinned, and sipped his coffee again. "There good Korean takeout near your place? Because I could do with some bibimbap."

"Pretty close, between here and there, anyway." He shrugged, "There's pretty much anything within a few blocks of here or my place, one of those neighborhoods."

It was a big part of why Clint liked the place so much, really, he could walk to wherever he had a craving for, and was a regular at most of them.

"Oh, good." Izumo chuckled. He was gambling again: on Clint's assurance of safety, on the idea that they were not being tracked, on the trust that Clint wouldn't turn him over. That last, though, was safe a bet as any Izumo knew. The man was true, in a way Izumo admired but knew he didn't have in himself. There was strength there, in a spirit others had tried to bend to their own means. That was what they got for making him part cat, honestly!

"Did I interrupt any errands, or think we could head that way before I fall asleep in my coffee? Which is damn good, by the way." Izumo chuckled, and nudged his sneakered foot against Clint's, playfully.

"Nah, didn't interrupt anything, I was just coming here anyway." It was true, he figured that having someone else make his coffee once in a while was probably good for him, even if they made it the same way he did. Something about getting fresh air and being out where there were people so he didn't become some weird paranoid loner was really the point.

He stretched, sucking down the last of his coffee and setting the mug aside, "Ready when you are."

Izumo drank the last of his coffee as well and stood up with a huge yawn. He grinned sheepishly at Clint, nd rolled his shoulders to stretch them, before scooping up his pack. It was a well-worn bag and Clint had seen it before. Though small it held a hell of a lot more than it looked like it could, thanks to a few ninja tricks, and it was the only bag Izumo ever carried when travelling.

"Then let's go, sexy. Coffee will only hold off the crash for so long."

He tossed the woman behind the counter a salute on the way out, following it with a wave, grinning crookedly at the eye-roll he got in return.

He gave Izumo's elbow a nudge once they were outside, steering him in the right direction, "C'mon, this way. Couple blocks down and then a couple more blocks until we get to my building, can almost see it from here."

Remembering Clint's need for both hands free, being an archer, Izumo reached up and grabbed a pinch of the back of Clint's jacket, instead of linking their arms together. "Lead the way, sexy, I'll admire the view," he teased.

Then, far softer, he asked, "Have you been trailed? Feeling a little extra paranoid today, see. Made a few personal enemies this past mission."

Not that he was necessarily going to need both hands for anything soon, especially since he didn't actually have bow or arrows with him, since he'd just been going to get coffee. Granted, he wasn't unarmed, not at all, he just didn't have an easily identifiable weapon with him.

He was, however, amused all the same, smiling crookedly, "You do that. Won't hear me complain." A little head-shake followed at the quieter question, if he was being tailed he didn't know about it, and that was the kind of thing he picked up on fairly quickly.

"Oooh, keep up talking that way and you might find out I'm not too tired," Izumo teased, and snuck in a quick grope of Clint's butt. Then he grinned and simply stuck his hand in Clint's back pocket, the better to keep hold of him. Because seriously, Clint's ass was damn fine and Izumo had a lot of appreciation for it.

And other parts of Clint, too, but his butt was the most easily accessible at the moment.

"So I'm thinking we get Korean, we crash on your couch, you watch whatever awful movie you watch, and I fall asleep on top of you. This sounds like a fantastic plan."

"Works for me." He replied, smile as crooked as ever, "Probably the best plan I've heard all week, even."

He gave Izumo a nudge with his shoulder to steer him in the right direction when they got to the corner.

He hadn't been exaggerating the proximity, either. Pretty much anywhere he went was within about a six-block radius of his apartment, and it was only a few minute's walk before they reached the restaurant. Clint grumbled contentedly at the smell when he opened the door, "Yeah, best plan."

Izumo grinned and leaned comfortably on Clint as they ordered, and pleased the staff by not butchering pronunciations. The moment take takeout bags were presented, Izumo was nosing through them happily, until he could fish out some pickles and crunch of them with delight. He loved pickles.

Clint just grinned at that, amused, because Natasha did the same thing, pawed through the bags to get her favorites before they'd even left the restaurant. It was a little endearing, really, and more than a little amusing that two of the deadliest people he knew were the same way about their favorite foods.

His apartment was halfway up the building, and on the side facing the alley instead of the street, though he went in the street-side door just because it was easier. The front door wasn't booby-trapped, though the windows were, especially the one that led to the fire escape. That one was protected by a tack strip on the floor, one that he slid under the end table there as they passed.

"I would say make yourself at home." He said, setting the bags down and getting both forks and actual chopsticks out of a drawer, "But I'm actually a little afraid to find out how literally you'd take that."

"If I wasn't already heading home, very literally." Izumo took the chopsticks and shuffled back to the table. Setting his bag down beside the chair, he fished his food out of the plastic bag. "Move in for about a week and rearrange ever damn drawer and cabinet in the house."

He opened the containers with quick hands. He was hungry. "So if you're OCD about where things go, don't ever invite me to stay."

He shook his head, flopping down to sit as well, "Not really. Don't have enough in the place to worry too much about where it goes." The only thing he was really picky about was his armory, but he kept that up himself, even Natasha didn't have keys to the lock-box he kept it all in.

Granted, she had keys to almost everything else, but he wasn't too concerned about that, which was why she had them in the first place, "But I dunno, might be entertaining to watch."

"So I've been told," Izumo agreed, and started eating, which left little room for talking. At least, the way he ate didn't: bent low over his bowl, he scarfed his food down at a rate likely to cause choking in anyone else. He knew, logically, Clint wasn't going to take his food, that it was safe here, but old habits died hard and Clint wasn't going to hold this over his head. So Izumo ate as he did.

Clint was definitely not going to hold something like that over his head, mostly because sometimes, on the bad days, Clint ate the same way. One arm up on the table acting as a barrier between his dish and others, bent over close enough to it that he didn't spill anything, chewing and swallowing almost as quickly as he could get the next bite in.

He wasn't quite that bad at the moment, though he did keep his arm up around his plate, that much was an ingrained habit that he couldn't kill but could sometimes suppress, when he had to. For the time being, he was eating somewhat more slowly than Izumo, but still quickly enough to make sure he got seconds if he needed them.

Izumo finished off his food and leaned back against his chair, sipping at his tea and waiting for his stomach to catch up and realize it was full. He watched Clint eat lazily, body curled lax in his chair and eyes heavy-lidded. He was tired, all over, and starting to feel ridiculously muddle-headed and fuzzy. He needed to sleep, and here might be safe enough his paranoia would actually let him sleep deeply enough to rest.

they are the hunters, we are the foxes - and we run

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