Avengers Imagines

Who's That?- Clint Barton

(Gender Neutral Reader)

Calling you competitive would be an understatement. It was just in your DNA; you had to win. You had to be the best, but you were still humble about it. This helped a lot when you wanted to become a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent. You were only there for about three weeks, but you were the best rookie they'd ever had. Even better than some higher ups. Your specialty was knife throwing, along with other necessities like combat training and hand gun shooting.

You were down in the shooting range, every shot hitting the center, when someone came into the station next to you. You didn't take much interest in it, it's not like you were interested in making many friends here, until they started shooting. All of his, or her, bullets were hitting dead center of the target. Both yours and the strangers guns went off simultaneously, the sounds of bullets hitting the bulls eye at the same time. You were only getting more intrigued with this stranger who could obviously match your talent. Who is this person?

The target sheet to your right was full of holes in the center of it, and no more were being fired. The marksmen had stopped firing and seemed to be disarming. You did the same, interested in who this mystery person was, but they were ahead of you. A man turned from the stall just as you were taking off your headphones. He pushed the door open like it was nothing, but you couldn't get a look at his face. You practically sprinted after him, aiming to congratulate him, but was interrupted by a redhead who looked sort of familiar.

"Hey, I've seen what you could do, greenie. I don't think even I was that good when I started," the stranger smirked, but held out her hand. "Natasha Romanoff."

"Y/N Y/L/N," you shook her hand, watching as the talented stranger got further away. "Hey, can I ask you something?" Natasha nodded. "Do you know who that is?" you asked, pointing to the man walking farther down the hallway.

Suddenly a smile appeared on Natasha's face. "That's Clint. He came here a few months ago, before me. Nice guy, pretty secretive though." You made a noise that related a sigh and an "oh", as a result of your lingering eyes at Clint. Natasha looked from you to him, then back to you. "Oh, I see. Someone has a little crush."

"I don't think so," you laughed awkwardly. "You don't know me well enough but I...that's not...there is nothing there, alright? He's a good shot I wanted to congratulate him."

"Well," she looked down the hallway at Clint, "Looks like he's going into the Specialized Weapons Range, you could catch him there." You waited a few seconds before giving Natasha the satisfaction.

Walking down the same hallway that Clint just did, you cracked your knuckles and wrists to loosen up a bit. For some reason, this guy was making you nervous, which was a rarity. Pushing open the door, it only got worse. There was no one else in there except for Clint. You shakily walked over to an array of throwing knives, trying to shake the unsteadiness from your hands. He walked over and grabbed a bow and a few arrows. Hmm, that's how he's so good.

You took a place in front of a target, and so did he. You did your best to focus on throwing, to make sure you didn't make a fool of yourself in front of someone who was clearly talented. And the fact he had some pretty gorgeous eyes wasn't helping the matter.

With a tight grip on the handle of the blade, you swung your arm forward in a fluid notion. The knife stuck into the target with a satisfying sound and the familiar sense of accomplishment set in again. You could feel Clint watching you, and threw another. Again, dead bulls eye. It sounded like he scoffed, then an arrow landed in the target next to yours. You smiled at the notion, and before you knew it, there were knives and arrows landing in the targets repeatedly.

This went on for a good twenty minutes until Clint finally spoke. "Alright, alright, I concede. You're pretty good you know," he said and the both of you finally faced each other. He was a good bit taller than you, and quite a bit more muscular.

"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself," you reply as he set down his bow.

"I feel like I would've remembered you, are you new?" he asked, but you avoid eye contact. You knew if you looked into his blue-gray eyes, your train of thought would derail.

"Uh, yeah I came a few weeks ago. You're a pretty good shot, by the way. And I don't give out compliments very often," you smiled, scratching the back of your neck of. You didn't realize how sweaty you were until now, and honestly, you didn't know if it was the throwing or the nerves.

Suddenly, Clint took a few steps closer to you. His thumb ran over your forehead, pushing away a strand of hair sticking to your forehead. You finally looked up at him and felt weak in your knees. He gave a smile that was sweet, but also mysterious. You didn't realize you were gnawing on your lip until it started to hurt. This was definitely not what you expected S.H.I.E.L.D to be.

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