Imagine If You Assembled the Avengers: Volume 1

Shades of Red (Clint Barton x reader)

"No! No, Clint come on, why would you think that?"

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you work better on your own, (Y/N)." He laughed to himself, grabbing his own bow and quiver from the rack on the wall next to you. "Apparently I'm no genius, because I saw it straight away." He stood next to you and pulled back on the arrow with the most tension he could hold; his head turned towards you, and with a wink he released his grip, sending the arrow directly through the center of yours.

"Showoff," you scoffed.

"Yeah? Your point?"

You put your own equipment away and stayed to watch Clint practice his own shots, even though he really didn't need to. "I know what you're doing, you know."

He turned back with a confused look on his face, but it wasn't genuine. You were intuitive and could read peoples emotions by the smallest change in their body language or expression. No one could lie around you, and he knew it; he was arrogant enough to think he could still try, however. "I don't know what you could possibly mean, (Y/N)."

"She told you, and now you're checking up on me, right?"

Turning back towards the target, he pulled back on another arrow and released, this time barely hitting the edge and nearly missing altogether. "Shit."

You stood up and walked over to stand next to him, your mouth agape and unbelieving in what you just witnessed. How could Hawkeye have missed such an easy hit? You looked at him and saw the exact same question crossing his face as well. "Hey, what the hell just happened? I've never seen you miss anything."

Angrily, he pulled another arrow from his quiver and drew back fully, releasing the arrow quickly. This time it hit the dead center and exploded on impact, blowing the target into pieces. You ducked slightly and shielded your face, suddenly feeling nervous being around him for the first time.

"Alright, Barton. Talk to me." You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back towards the bench, throwing him down roughly to sit and explain what was going on before you would let him attempt to leave. "Tell me what's going on. We've worked close enough for long enough that you should be able to trust me."

"You would think so, huh?" He stood up to stand toe-to-toe with you, his eyes angry and dark as they locked with yours. "It's funny that you say that, (Y/N), because that's exactly what I thought until a few hours ago." He reached up and pointed his finger, poking you in the shoulder, "you don't trust me. You don't think I need to know something so important when we are working this close together? If Nat trusts me with it, why can't you?"

"Hey," you grabbed his hand and held it firmly and away from you, "it's not about trust, Clint. It's not something I want to discuss, alright?" You released his hand and he immediately reached out to grab your arm. Once again, you reflexively pulled back to avoid his touch. This only made him angrier, grabbing both of your arms and pushing you against the wall.

"Look, I'm touching you," he whispered, but with a harsh tone behind it. "I'm touching you, and it's not bothering me, it doesn't gross me out, and it doesn't make me think any less of you to know what's there, alright? If anything, it makes me appreciate how strong you are. Don't you realize that?"

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes, but you weren't about to let them spill. "Let go of me, Clint." He didn't comply right away, and you could feel your anxiety begin to rise. "Clint, let go."

He sighed and released you, stepping back and looking at the floor. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I just...I just wanted you to know that I care about you, and this doesn't change that."

"Okay," you murmured, nodding and accepting that he was only trying to make a point, and that he would never do anything to hurt you. Grabbing his bow and an arrow from the floor you stepped up in line with a new target and looked back at him. "Show me how you split my shot."

"Really?" His eyes brightened filled with hope, a smile now crossing his face.

"Really. Can't have you being the only showoff around here."

He stood and moved to you hurriedly, as if he were worried that you would change your mind before he got there. Clint positioned himself at your side, raising his arms to help you take position, but was purposefully careful to not actually touch you.

"It's okay," you said, "grab on. It's the only way for me to learn, right? I trust you."

He thoughtfully put one hand on your back and the other on your arm, straightening your posture and aiming towards the target. You pulled back and held the arrow in position, somehow reluctant to release it and see it fail to hit the target again.

"You waiting for an invitation, or what? Shoot the damn thing already."

Just as he had done only moments before, you turned your head towards him, and with a wink you released your grip.