The Uncle From America

Chapter 6

Clint pov

"Do you exercise often?" he asked once they got home. Natasha was still sleeping, the bedroom door closed, but an empty cup lay in the sink. The wrapping of the coffee was left abandoned on the table though, which probably meant she had noticed the absence of her favorite brewage. This was an obvious passive-aggressive warning. He was so glad he had bought some extra: an upset Natasha meant unpleasant repercussions –for him anyway.

"Not really, we don't have ordinary sports at school." Hermione replied, picking up said wrapping and throwing it in the garbage, oblivious to the message. "I thought you wanted to teach me how to defend myself."

"I actually said 'fight'," he corrected, "But it's good to know when to run away too." He hesitated and evaluated his options. What kind of program could he make her follow? She wasn't a junior agent, he wasn't preparing her for a mission. "Y'know what, I'll think about what to teach you." And talk to Natasha about it. She helped Maria plan trainees' sessions sometimes. "Wanna shoot couple bullets first?"

She nodded in agreement and quickly went to her bedroom to check on Crookshanks while Clint left Natasha a note. They headed to a shooting range right in the corner of the street; a detail that had been included in the localization of his apartment. That, along with a gym they'd certainly hit later in the morning. Hermione followed his lead with narrowed eyes, taking in everything she was seeing. A couple of shooters where aiming here and there, a few he recognized from habit and greeted with a nod. Clint picked up one of the most basic gun with bullets and both headed to the far end of the range, where they'd be unbothered. He didn't miss the way she slightly flinched at the sounds as he tested it a first time.

"Ever shot a gun before?" Hermione replied negative. "You're not afraid of weapons, right?"

"Not much, except when they're pointed at me." She replied.

"Smart girl. Okay, take this," He gave her the gun, showed her how to put the bullets and explained the basics. Hermione followed his instructions to the letter. "Now in position." He directed her into the right pose. "Keep your gun straight. Eyes going along the canon." Hermione raised the weapon. "Close an eye." She did. "Breathe slowly and whenever you feel ready, shoot."

The girl took exhaled a couple times before pressing the trigger. Her arms jerked slightly under the impact and she dropped a surprised 'ah', much to the few other shooters' amusement (those that had deemed the girl accompanying the guy who never missed worth watching anyway). Clint bit back his smile. She had missed the target entirely.

"Keep your arms straight and firm –don't move them as you pull –that's it. Try again."

She did. This time the bullet edged the corner of the target. It was very far from what he had hoped, but better than before. A few repositioning later, she had managed to center her shootings, but was still far from the bullseye.

"It's frustrating," she grumbled, annoyed after a full fifteen minutes of shooting and missing. She was progressing, slowly but surely, but her frustration was entertaining. Clint smirked and resisted the urge to ruffle her hair. He wasn't sure she'd want any kind of physical contact from him.

"You're a beginner, it'll come gradually." He reassured her. She gave him an even stare.

"I always succeed at what I do," she retorted hotly, and Clint had to bite back another smile. While they hadn't talked much so far, he had cheated a bit and checked her school records and everything pointed to a very smart girl. He didn't doubt a second she was used to being the best. That shooting didn't enter the frame of her skillsets fast must be annoying.

"What's your eyesight?" he asked eventually. Hermione gave him a suspicious glance.

"10/10 on both. Why?"