Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Robin Hood (Barton x reader)

It wasn't new for Clint to get a little teasing from the gang each time he put on his mission gear, more so lately now that he was trying a new one-armed top to allow him more freedom to move with the bow.  He had been accused of trying to look like Bucky so many times that he had lost count, going so far as to switch which side of the top was sleeveless, only to switch it back when the feel wasn't right and an arrow came within inches of Steve's head during practice. 

This getup, however, was nothing like his Avengers uniform, and he could only imagine the crap the team would give him if they could see him now.  The sleek black of his suit was replaced with ridiculous bright red tights, for lack of a better word, with a blaring green and gold top that made him feel like an overstuffed bird.  No ordinary undercover mission would ever be worth this, but after his first performance at the small travelling circus they were investigating, he met you, and he suddenly didn't care so much about what anyone thought.

"I think I should be hanging out with Batman," he laughed, turning to you to help him secure the cheap quiver he was given by the circus owners to use during the show.  It was clearly second-hand, if not already handed down to someone even four or five times.  The leather strap to hold it in place was worn and frayed, with a few patches that were worn so thin that he wasn't sure how it was staying together in the first place.  "I'm totally changing my stage name to Robin."

"Wrong universe."

"What?"

"Huh?" you startled when you realized that you had said the words aloud.  "Nothing...uh...anyway...I think it's a good look for you," you lied politely, trying to change the subject, "even if your plumage is a little puffy and frazzled around the edges.  It suits the attitude, if you ask me."

"Don't recall that I did."

"Well, still."

Clint smirked and turned to grab the rest of his costume, shaking his head in disgust at the low quality of arrows that he was given to work with, knowing that the were the same ones that he had used the night before, and the night before that, and so on.  The show owners were so tight with their earnings that they had just removed them from his target and snuck them back into his trailer as if he wouldn't notice.  He had wanted to bring his own gear but Steve wouldn't let him, worrying that it could give his identity away and ruin his mission here before it had a chance to start.  He had gone so far as to grow a beard to disguise himself more, as a compromise to keep his bow, but he still didn't get his way.

"So, are you actually going on stage tonight?" he asked.  "I haven't seen a single performance out of you since I got here."

"Of course I am.  Hold on, didn't you hear?  We have some special guests in the audience tonight!  I'm so excited!"

Clint's attention was focused intently now, wondering who the guests would be and why they were there.  Over the last several months, this circus had reports of audience members mysteriously going missing after the show, and if these people held any significance, they would most definitely be targets. 

"I'm almost afraid to ask who they are," he replied cautiously.  Now more than ever, he was cursing Rogers for denying him the chance to really defend himself and leave him with dollar store grade arrows to get by with if a fight broke out.

"It's Captain America and Iron Man!"

"Oh, god..."

"What, is that bad?"

"No," he quickly covered, but it was hard to force a smile as he looked down at his atrocious costume again, "not bad.  Just...unexpected.  Actually," he stopped, shaking his head, "I suppose it's not.  Maybe they got wind of how amazing I am and are here to recruit me."