Close Range. ■ Clint & Steve.
Barney had taught Clint how to hurt. They were kids back then, living at their parents’ farm, but it had never been peaceful. Barney had taught Clint how to hurt just so maybe, the younger sibling could fight back next time their father was drunk again. Back then, he didn’t realize how it seemed like violence was passed onto him from father, to son, to brother. It was after the death of both parents, and numerous abusive foster homes that the younger Barton brother had abandoned close range combat, and easily traded it for archery, something that came much easier to him. Perhaps the appeal of the circus wasn’t that the giant circus tent felt like home, but maybe it was the fact that the bow did feel like finally coming home.
Now a seasoned Avenger, and the best marksman in the world, Clint had found that his brother may have been right— somewhat. Hand to hand combat had been unavoidable, but the practice wasn’t only supposed to snarl, he knew that now. The moment he joined the world’s mightiest heroes, was the day he met the most honest man he has ever met in all his life. Still fresh out of a criminal life at the time, he’d jokingly called the man a ‘boy scout’, but did very little to mask his admiration. Not too longer after, the man had agreed to teach him how to fight, rather than to hurt.
It had been a few months since Clint moved out of the Avengers Tower, and into an apartment in a building in Brooklyn he had recently become the landlord of; his own place away from the chaos that came with the responsibility the Avengers carried. And although he loved his new place and the people in his building, he would lie if he said he didn’t miss the regular contact with the team. This brought him to the decision to ask Steve to maybe pick that hand-to-hand combat training back up, he could use the company, and perfecting the skills he’d gotten over the years never hurt anyone— unless it was supposed to.
So here he was, back in the Avengers’ gym that he used to spend so much time in, waiting for his friend and team member to arrive. Being back here, he tried his best not to eyeball the equipment too much. If anything, this place made the set up spot for target practice in his apartment look like a DIY project ran by toddlers. It was held together by loads of duct tape, and quite the sad appearance, but it was his, and he was glad he had the opportunity. But this... This neat looking... everything. It made him feel like an Avenger. Damn materialism.
