Hawkeye is hanging upside down from the rafters again. She probably bought the flat solely because it let her do that.
Phil tilts her head back and is met by a blinding grin. "Good morning. Please get down from there."
Hawkeye sighs, but does as requested, by dropping straight down and flipping in the air like a cat before landing on all fours in front of Phil. By all rights she should end up with her brains all over the floor when she does this, but it hasn't happened yet. She grins up at Phil, remaining crouched down. She'll avoid meeting Phil head on if she has the opportunity to do so.
Phil hasn't asked, and possibly Barton doesn't know why she does this. Or that she does it. But Phil notices things.
Phil gestures for her to get up, and turns away. Barton falls into step behind her. "We have a situation."
"I haven't even had coffee yet," Barton complains.
"Unless you're a bat and that's how you sleep, I think you're awake enough for this," Phil says drily.
Barton tugs at her braid, and Phil can see the sulky pout from the corner of her eye. "It's the principle of the thing. I shouldn't have to start my day with-" She makes hooks in the air with her fingers. "Situations, instead of a nice long breakfast with pancakes and coffee, or!" She gives Phil a sly sideways look. "A nice long fuck in bed, and then coffee, but in either case--"
"This is because we sent you to make nice with the Nordics, isn't it?"
"It's not my fault you sent me there in January."
"You were supposed to be practicing your ski shooting skills, not develop a crippling caffeine addiction," Phil points out as she opens the door.
Barton shrugs and exits ahead of Phil. "I'm a multitasker. I'm talented like that."
Phil maintains a skeptical silence while they walk to the car, but Barton isn't fooled. She never has been. Everybody else sees Phil's stern/friendly/placid expressions and believe them, but Barton doesn't. Phil might have a fondness for her which isn't stricktly speaking professional, Phil isn't admitting anything. But if she did, it would have started with the way Barton didn't buy any of her bullshit, even as she sprouted enough of it herself.
"Hey!" Barton says, delighted, as she slides into the car. "Coffee!"
"That's my--!" Phil starts to protest, but gives in.
Soft. She's getting soft. Phil shakes her head and puts the car into drive. Next to her Barton is making obscene happy noises as she drinks Phil's coffee.