Yo peeps. Vlad here to deliver another story from Rumpy. Xe's very excited about this one. And also using it to making me write my schnizz. v-v I am having issues. My brain is dry. I hate it.

Annnnnnnnnnnnywho, enjoy the story! It's awesome, yo. Awesome.

*DISCLAIMER* RV makes no claim to own The Winter Soldier and M*A*S*H or their characters. They are the property of Marvel and Larry Gelbert. No profit is made from this writing.

"I'm getting way too old for this," an elderly, snow-white haired man mumbled under his breath as he sat himself slowly on a bench. The seat was situated near a wall in a large mall, across from a set of escalators where he trained his eyes. "No ninety-year-old man should be trekking out this far from home for any reason. I should have stayed in Crab Apple Cove," he half-grumbled. However, he stopped, chuckling at himself. Boy, he had gotten grumpy in his old age.

He turned his full attention back to the down escalator, scanning the faces of its riders for some time. Minutes passed before he caught the one he was looking for. It was obscured by glasses, a ball cap, and a hood, but he would recognize family anywhere.

The man came towards him at a steady pace, seating himself next to the much older man. "Hey, Hawk," he greeted simply as he did so.

"It's nice for you to finally take some time out to visit your grandpa, kid," he responded with a big, teasing grin.

"Hm," was the only unamused reply he got as the hooded man swept his eyes around suspiciously. "You're sure you weren't followed? No one knows you're here?"

"Absolutely," 'Hawk' answered. "It's not like I've never gone through this with you before. What else can I expect with a grandson in SHIELD?" A warning glance at the use of the secret agency's name had him offering a, "Sorry, right, we want to keep that quiet now."

He sighed. "Damn right we do. We should get out of here. I'm taking a big enough risk coming to you, but I don't think the US government would expect Clint Barton to actively seek assistance from his disapproving granddad." He shook his head. "I've gotta be crazy." Barton stood, offering Hawk a hand, but was brushed off.

Hawk stood. "It runs in the family," he said with that same, 'aren't I hilarious?' smile on his face. He searched over his relative's frame.

"What're you looking at?" Clint asked.

"Trying to figure out where all your weapons are stashed," he replied, almost clinically. "You have to have an arrow on you somewhere. I don't think you've ever been without one since you were ten."

That got a smirk out of Clint, who looked around quickly before pulling up a sleeve to reveal an extendable arrow attached to his arm.

"Yeah, well, don't plan on using that back home," Hawk quirked an eyebrow at him. "I can't speak for the rest of the world, but everyone there knows you guys aren't the enemy."

"I know, Hawkeye," Barton nodded, starting towards the mall's exit. "Everyone in Crab Apple trusts the wisdom of ol' Dr. Pierce."

Pierce stood straight as he walked beside Barton, putting on a faux-arrogant expression. "Of course, who wouldn't?"

Clint rolled his eyes a bit. "Just promise me, no more of your war stories on the drive back, okay? I've heard all of them."