Duyên || Clint Barton

019 || knock

•••

"Are you sure about this?"
Clint was leant against the door frame, running his left hand through his hair.
"Yep, I want it gone"
"All gone?"
"The sides probably"
"Okay"
Our voices cracked from misuse, having lived in amicable silence for the past 2 weeks. I picked up the scissors and shaver we had stolen from a gang raid earlier that day and winced, the gunshot wound in my leg screaming in pain. Clint just looked at me sympathetically, sitting on the stool in front of the mirror so I could get started.
"Disclaimer: I'm not a hairdresser"
Clint let out a small smile, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror as I started to cut his hair, a smile prominent on my face as I thought of how much he was trusting me.

After 15 minutes I stood back to admire my handy work, looking at Clint expectantly.
'I love it' he signed. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I limped out of the room and back over the medical kit, deciding to finish dressing my leg. As I got to work, the events of that morning crossed my mind.

As soon as we entered the warehouse we were met with a rainstorm of bullets, Clint and I diving out of the way. With a nod, we separated and made our way around the sides of the massive room, cloaking ourselves in the shadows. My blade gripped tightly in my hand, I jumped on the two men, slitting one's throat whilst strangling the other with my thighs. It was quiet. I made sure of it.
I carried on, spotting another group, this time of 5 men. It seemed to me that it was the group that had shot at us, a small smirk settling on my lips. I snuck around the back, stabbing a man through the chest, attracting their attention. With a small wave, I began my attack, gracefully dodging bullets as I decorated their bodies with slashes. When I had gotten rid of 3, the two last men glared at me, cocking their guns. Accepting their challenge, I charged, cutting the left man's arm clean off with a grunt. A shout of rage was heard behind me as a bullet fired, embedding it's self into my flesh. I was sloppy.
A low growl was heard from behind me, Clint throwing both blades into the chest of the men, giving me a quick once-over before extracting the swords from the bodies. I followed him in silence, only stopping briefly to tie a tourniquet around the wound as blood poured down my leg as Clint paused to pick up the memory stick. Without turning around, he gestured for me to carry on walking, his eyes still wide open for any potential threat as we made our way out of the building.

A tap on my shoulder brought me back to the present, Clint looking down at me with concern dancing on his features. I flashed him a quick smile, before finishing up the touches on my leg. His finger pulled my chin up to face him, his hand moving to cup my cheek as he stared into my eyes. It was an unspoken check-up, one that I had grown used to in the past few weeks.

I had noticed Clint had drawn back into himself, escaping every mention of anything pre-snap, and no matter what I did I couldn't bring him out of it. He hardly showed me affection anymore, but the constant concern for me was obvious. It was just us, travelling around America and erasing the bad that was left behind.

It was at that very moment a knock sounded at the door.
'Shit'
'Get down' Clint signed, and I copied him as we silently dropped to the ground, away from any eye-lines for possible snipers.
The knock sounded again.
'What's the plan?'
'Run'
I rolled my eyes, Clint sending me a cheeky wink before army crawling to the nearest window. Peaking over the top hesitantly he scanned the surroundings for any snipers. Once he gave me the all clear, I ran to get our permanently-packed bags and threw his backpack to him.
Another knock. And this time a kick.
Exchanging a determined glance, Clint opened the window and started to scale down the side of the building until he reached the fire escape, before running down that as well. Following him as best as I could with my injury, I climbed gracefully out of the window and proceeded to fall (in a significantly less graceful manner) on to the fire escape.
I could still hear the knocking at the door as I reached the bottom, Clint offering me his hand, wrapping my arm around his shoulders to help me run faster when I accepted it.

On the run again.