Avengers: Preferences and Imagines

First Date (Clint, Bruce, Pietro, Bucky)

(F/F/T)= Favorite Flower Type
(F/I/C/F)= Favorite Ice Cream Flavor
(F/B/F/N)= Female Best Friend Name
(F/M/G)= Favorite Movie Genre
(F/D/M)= Favorite Deli Meat

~Clint~

Okay, (Y/N). You're going on a date with Hawkeye, the greatest archer in the world. Nothing to be worried about, just smile, act confident, and don't say anything stupid.

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, giving yourself a pep talk in your mind. You weren't exactly sure what exactly Clint had planned, but you were excited none the less. Your best friend, and fellow Olympian, (F/B/F/N) helped you pick out your outfit.

You were wearing a pair of white denim pants, a (F/C) three quarter sleeve shirt, and wedges. You also had on a necklace with an arrow pendant, and your hair was up in a messy bun, because you couldn't be bothered to do anything more complicated.

You then heard a knock on the door and, despite your wedges, went jogging over to the door. You opened it, and there stood Clint, grinning at you.

"Hi!" You said, returning the grin.

"Hi. Are you ready to go?"

"Yep. Just let me grab my purse and we can leave." You grabbed your purse, that was buried beneath a pile of workout clothes, and went back to Clint.

"Alright, let's roll."

"Alright." Clint placed an arm around your shoulder, and lead you outside to a fancy sports car.

"This is yours?" You asked, pointing to the gleaming red sports car.

Clint laughed. "I wish. Tony, Iron Man, let me borrow it after I told him I had a date."

"Ah. Well, he's definitely got great taste in cars." You opened the front door of the car, and sat down in the passenger's seat running your hand along the leather interior. Clint got in the driver's seat, and started up the car and you were driving along, listening to some rock music that exited the speakers.

"What is it you have planned?" You asked Clint.

"Nothing. I just thought we could drive around stop anywhere that looks interesting."

"Sounds good to me. Ooh! Look! Go carts! Let's go try that! Quick, turn right!"

He does and you hop out of the car, dragging Clint along with you. The track is quite busy, and you can see several families and a few other couples already on the track.

"Come on!" You exclaimed, taking Clint's hand and continuing to drag him towards the cars. He laughed at your childish excitment, and shook his head.

You picked a (F/C) cart, and Clint picked the silver one right next to you.

"Are you ready to get your ass kicked?" You taunted him.

He rolled his eyes. "Please. If anyone's ass is getting kicked, it's yours." And with that the light turned green, and you were off, joining the other racing couples and families on the track.

Soon enough, you and Clint had passed everyone, and you were neck and neck, shooting down the last length of the track towards the finish line.

"Eat my dust, Barton!" You shouted, and gunned the engine. You shot forward, only to be passed by a little kid in a red cart, who stuck out his tongue at you. You stuck yours out right back, and finished behind him.

After exiting the track, Clint smiled smugly at you.

"You got beat by a six year old."

"No way! That kid was easily a short eight year old, and technically you got beat by him too slow poke!" You jabbed a finger playfully into his chest before getting into the car.