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a boy with a coin
[ there are a lot of advantages to working for SHIELD, despite the occasional discomfort with their hush hush business. they give their operatives a lot of autonomy, both in conducting missions and dealing with their downtime. do the job as you please, spend your time as you please, as long as it doesn't involve a ton of collateral damage or anything that will terribly impair function the next day. for a secret organization, they give their agents a lot of trust - probably, clint muses, because all of them know failure and betrayal tends to be looked on very harshly. kind of borders movie-villain material, if he considers it long enough. that and you've got access to some of the most high end facilities and equipment on the planet.
picking up the pieces after the fight with loki and the chitauri hasn't exactly been easy. though SHIELD itself has mostly recovered, repairing things quickly and quietly as ever and already hiring new recruits, clint's still adjusting. to his new handler, to hearing someone other than coulson talk to him over the earpiece, to the guilt that still haunts him over the things he'd done and people he'd killed while under loki's influence. natasha had told him don't do that to yourself but he'd always kind of been shit at listening to advice, to shrugging off these kinds of blows and it weighs on his mind and heart when no one's paying attention. he can't let it go. not just yet.
that's where the 'high end facilities' come in.
usually he spends his day in the firing range, keeping his aim sharp, but that's not where he wants to put his mind today. SHIELD headquarters has more than a few training grounds for its agents, and the gym it houses is expansive, full of equipment for all kinds of exercise. it's quiet today, as clint sometimes find it, empty of anyone when he steps inside. it's perfect. he doesn't exactly need an audience for what he's about to do.
he plugs his mp3 player ('starkpod', he calls it when tony's around, because the expression on his face is priceless) into the stereo system, scrolls through songs. he finds an instrumental consisting of a fast-paced acoustic guitar and chattering castanets that pick up a little while in, nods in satisfaction and rocks back on his feet as it blares through the empty gym. he stretches first, loosens up muscles and limbs as he counts beats in his head as easily as he calculates for wind force and other factors when taking aim. takes a breath in and lets it out slow before he lets himself move with the music, stomping feet on the hardwood accentuating the tempo of the guitar, eyes closed as he remembers the steps, the style. he idly thinks on antonia's words back when she'd been teaching him as a young boy, how she told him he wouldn't really master it until he was older, how he didn't know the soul and emotion the steps required just yet.
he likes to hope that if the bearded lady saw him now, she'd think he was doing her country's dance justice.
you learn a lot of unusual things when you lived in a circus for a lot of your childhood and adolescence. it's clint's story and he's going to stick to it, but hopefully it's one that won't have to be told. 'hawkeye, the world's greatest marksman and flamenco enthusiast' isn't exactly something he wants anyone knowing if it can be helped. ]
picking up the pieces after the fight with loki and the chitauri hasn't exactly been easy. though SHIELD itself has mostly recovered, repairing things quickly and quietly as ever and already hiring new recruits, clint's still adjusting. to his new handler, to hearing someone other than coulson talk to him over the earpiece, to the guilt that still haunts him over the things he'd done and people he'd killed while under loki's influence. natasha had told him don't do that to yourself but he'd always kind of been shit at listening to advice, to shrugging off these kinds of blows and it weighs on his mind and heart when no one's paying attention. he can't let it go. not just yet.
that's where the 'high end facilities' come in.
usually he spends his day in the firing range, keeping his aim sharp, but that's not where he wants to put his mind today. SHIELD headquarters has more than a few training grounds for its agents, and the gym it houses is expansive, full of equipment for all kinds of exercise. it's quiet today, as clint sometimes find it, empty of anyone when he steps inside. it's perfect. he doesn't exactly need an audience for what he's about to do.
he plugs his mp3 player ('starkpod', he calls it when tony's around, because the expression on his face is priceless) into the stereo system, scrolls through songs. he finds an instrumental consisting of a fast-paced acoustic guitar and chattering castanets that pick up a little while in, nods in satisfaction and rocks back on his feet as it blares through the empty gym. he stretches first, loosens up muscles and limbs as he counts beats in his head as easily as he calculates for wind force and other factors when taking aim. takes a breath in and lets it out slow before he lets himself move with the music, stomping feet on the hardwood accentuating the tempo of the guitar, eyes closed as he remembers the steps, the style. he idly thinks on antonia's words back when she'd been teaching him as a young boy, how she told him he wouldn't really master it until he was older, how he didn't know the soul and emotion the steps required just yet.
he likes to hope that if the bearded lady saw him now, she'd think he was doing her country's dance justice.
you learn a lot of unusual things when you lived in a circus for a lot of your childhood and adolescence. it's clint's story and he's going to stick to it, but hopefully it's one that won't have to be told. 'hawkeye, the world's greatest marksman and flamenco enthusiast' isn't exactly something he wants anyone knowing if it can be helped. ]
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Besides, since when has he ever been able to deny himself the chance to get back on that bike? The answer to that is obvious, and so there he went.
The second part of the plan, though? It never goes that easy, he should have expected. Could be why he wound up asking Tony first, then figuring out the rest of it from there. Stark had been right: you didn't look for SHIELD, they were almost always there in the first place.
Which would explain exhibit a: a Steve Rogers (1) wandering the halls in khakis and plaid, exploring where he was allowed without too many questions. Miss Romanoff (It's Natasha, Steve, she reminded him upon greeting) had been there to greet him past the door and security, catch him up on what was happening, what he wanted to know more than needed to (the agent who had taken Coulson's place had thrown him off, but he did his best to hide it, respect the decision) and then she had other duties to attend to.
Best not to ask, he was just here to check up on things, say hello, enjoy company he hardly knew outside of the battlefield, under pressure. He turns the corner, notices that he's wandered away from where the other agents were, are heading, and there's that sound, that faint hum of music. Curiosity gets him to follow it, and the door's cracked but he opens it enough to poke his head through ('hello?' says his mind, but his lips don't follow), move fully inside and wander in.
Steve's expression changes: his brows raise, his lips purse into a small 'o' and he find himself quiet, muted by the music, the scene he's walked in on. Instead, the captain leans a shoulder against the wall his hands in his pockets, watches with a small smile on his lips.
Didn't think they taught anything like this in SHIELD.]
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(drunk father, kind mother, a car accident, walking in at the wrong moment, left on the road with not even his brother at his side)
the days when he'd first taken the 'hawkeye' name that'd follow him for the rest of his life, used his skill in archery to wow a tent full of men, women and children when he wasn't up on the ropes or trapeze with clara. past and present mix, collide in an unpleasant mash of noise and color and voices, and then the song ends, halting his steps. he takes a few steadying breaths, opens his eyes.
and sees steve rogers, captain america, leaning against a wall watching him. he straightens up almost immediately. ]
- Captain! [ it's blurted out, quick and uncharacteristically awkward. he clears his throat, makes himself relax, folds his arms over his chest and tries not to think about the fact that captain america now apparently knows that he's a flamenco dancer. that's more than a little embarrassing. ] It's, uh - good to see you, sir. Wasn't informed you'd be visiting today.
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And in a matter of one word, one moment, it's all over. Barton's stopped and noticed him and in turn, almost mirroring the other, he pushes off from the wall, stands at attention. With a little bit of a smile on his face he shakes his head, waves a hand to the other across the way.]
At ease agent, this wasn't exactly something I planned. [With a roll of the shoulders he takes a step forward and looks about the room, impressed with the equipment around, some that he recognizes and others he doesn't. The music in the background has Rogers relax a little, but even with that he doesn't slump; it's not exactly in his nature to do so.] Thought I'd stop by and say hi.
[Then he shakes his head, holds guilty look.] - Sorry for uh, the interruption.
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Ah, it's fine. Better you than anyone else, honestly, least I know you aren't gonna start with the dumb nicknames. New recruits are already questioning how my bow holds up compared to their fancy guns, don't need 'em knowing that I like being Lord of the Dance sometimes too. [ he's glad to be turned away from steve when he mentions the new recruits. his voice remains steady, but he can't help the way his jaw tightens at the memories of those killed on the helicarrier. he's got it smoothed out when he turns back to the supersoldier. ] Definitely don't need Nat seeing either. ... though knowing her, she probably already knows and is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to use it against me.
[ she does that. spies. he shakes his head again, moving over to his mp3 player to shut off the music, talking over his shoulder as he crosses the floor. ]
Anyway. Anything I can do for you? I'd ask if you were here to use the place, but uh - [ he pauses, glances back at steve and the outfit he's wearing, can't help the amused look that passes over his face. the choice of outfit really shows off his old-fashioned sense of style, which is also amusing and... a little sad, when he remembers the captain's unique situation. ] your outfit says enough.
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[There's no use in helping the smile that crawls across his face at the idea of it being anyone else who happened upon the scene but at the same time, he can't help but appreciate the fact that he was that very person. He's glad for agent Barton that the case is what it is, because he's not about to start making a joke out of something that the other appears very good at - Steve isn't like that.
The idea of Miss Romanoff --Natasha, he reminds himself again-- using this against the other however, has him look up from his admiration of the room, raise a brow. His hands loosen where they are, shift around in his pockets.]
The way I see it, it's just one more thing you know how to do that the others don't - unless that's something SHIELD teaches certain students. [A sorta wry look and he shakes his head, leaves that attempt at a joke alone soon enough. With a step or two in another direction, he stops to look over to the hawk.] And it's something you know well, from what I saw. What was it, exactly?
[Because he wants to know what he almost saw just moments ago. There was color in that dance, something he hadn't known about the other and he's sure he wasn't supposed to see it in the first place, but it's happened. He smiles easy with the last comment, blue eyes looking down to his attire and once they're back up, he shrugs.]
Like I said, I'm just here to say hello and see how everyone's doing. [It comes with a nod.] So how are you, Barton?
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[ he puts the player back down, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he moves back closer to steve. he can't help but laugh at the thought of SHIELD teaching agents to dance, though the sound's a low thing and he ducks his head, like he's trying to hide it. it's a habit he's yet to break. ] Definitely not a SHIELD thing, no. That, uh - that was the flamenco, though. Dance from Spain. Learned it when I was a kid.
[ he can't help a small smile at the captain's intentions, shaking his head. it's a nice change of pace around here, though, where agents tend to mind their own business except for chance crossings and the circles of friends they've developed. it's pretty typical for SHIELD, and clint acknowledges he's not much different, with the way he's either on his own or with natasha or fury. ] Good as can be, after that insanity. Getting back to business as usual around here, we're all used to getting back on our feet quick. What about you? [ he raises a brow, tilt his head much in the manner of - well, a curious bird. it's a tic natasha's called him out on before, but hey, it adds character.
he does remember to tack on, though: ] And you can call me Clint.
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Steve leans against the nearby wall, head against it as he looks down then up. He watches the other get closer and there's a chink in that armor for a second, a moment where he doesn't understand why it happens, just that it confuses him. Why hide a laugh, for what reason? He leaves that topic for the explanation, head tilting like a child, almost - his lips quirk, the corners turning into a smile at the idea.] Yeah, how'd you get into something like that?
Glad to hear that, I expected as much from what I'd seen. [Nodding to the answer, he shifts for a moment as the question's returned, that motion going by with just a smile in turn from the captain (Hawkeye indeed, he comments to no one). There's not much to think about it, at least not much that he wants to think about - things have been good, they've been fine. He's been getting back up to speed, visiting places he used to know, just... being a kid from the 40s to being the oldest guy around. ] About the same to be honest, if you look past everything. Tony tried convincing me to get a phone the other day, when I saw him.
[His brows raise for a moment. He's sheepish, looks up with a slight laugh like he's a child being scolded.]
Ah, Miss Romano- Natasha told me the same thing.
Guess I am being a little 'old-fashioned' with it, but if that's the case then you can call me Steve. [Pause.] Captain is optional.
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Asked a bearded lady to show me one day when I was bored. [ he says it so casually, like it's a completely normal thing to tell someone. his eyes go elsewhere while he lets that hang in the air for dramatic effect. when he looks at cap again it's from the corner of his eye, and there's another grin to accompany it. ] Grew up in the circus. You learn a lot of unusual talents in that sort of crowd.
[ it's not like he has any problems with confessing to that part of his past, for how little he talks about himself - people just tend not to ask. it's everything else he'll clam up about and refuse to explain.
he shakes his head when steve mentions tony's recommendation, letting out a sigh. ] Considering the guy's a complete tech head, I'm not surprised. At all. Did he get overdramatic about how they're necessary for survival in the twenty-first century too? [ he can't help taking shots, it's all in good fun. and considering the fact that stark called him legolas, clint feels he's perfectly justified in it too. no one can convince him otherwise. ] Still, not a bad way to keep in contact either, if that's something you were interested in.
Yeah, sounds like 'Tasha all right. But hey, there's nothing wrong with being polite. [ a small shrug, and: ] To be honest, think more people could stand to remember their manners. Just saying that when you fight aliens on a half-destroyed street with a guy, you tend to earn the right to use his first name. [ the smile he gives steve for that is small, but friendly all the same. there's a nod for the rest. ] Steve, then. And occasionally Captain.
[ it's kind of surreal, being on a first-name basis with a living legend, but clint's looking around that. fanboy treatment isn't something a guy like steve needs when he's still trying to adjust to this century - no offense to coulson, rest in peace. despite not really knowing the man, he does want to help how he can. it's a tough situation; it's the least he can do, right? ]
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Definitely learned more than I did as a kid. [He remembers growing up pretty... Normally, because that's the truth. Baseball, getting into trouble with Bucky, and then the war, the attempts to sign up and drom there... It's all downhill. World War II veteran and he doesn't look a day past his age - give or take seventy years, but that detail's something he'd prefer to keep obvious and not bring up, if it can be helped.] Anything else you picked up that no one should know about?
[A brief smile and nod of the head at that.. attempt of a joke, if it can be called one. He scratches at the back of his head, brow furrowing. Once the topic shifts.] 'Tech head'? He did, but then he started talking about 'wi-fi' and 'data plans', or something. Left before he could say anymore - I didn't know that a phone could do all of that now...
I take it you've done that kind of thing more than once? [The thought's amusing for a moment, but then he's back to serious, just agreeing with the other's words.] I think I can live with that.
[Pause, then he clears his throat, makes a motion with his hand to explain himself. Awkward Steve Rogers and less Captain America time? A little.] Would it be too much to ask you to dance again?
I just - it looked real interesting, definitely not something I've ever seen before. I'd appreciate it, but only if it's okay with you, ag-- Clint.
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Oh - it's a phrase for someone who's really enthusiastic about technology. Like Stark. [ he waves a hand idly, moving on after the explanation: ] If you want I'm sure me or one of the other SHIELD agents'd be happy to help set you up with something. Despite what Stark may have led you to believe, you can still find a phone that's just a phone. Or at least doesn't have a million and one functions you don't need a phone to use built in. Don't even have to deal with data plans if you don't want to. [ SHIELD agents tend toward minute-using phones a lot, anyway. easily disposable and harder to track. that goes unsaid, though. ]
Not really. Most of my missions dealt with other humans. There was one time I almost shot Thor, though. That was exciting. [ and again, it all comes out rather casually, like he isn't talking about the demi-god of thunder that he now fights alongside. like thor wouldn't have been likely to put him through a wall for his transgression, considering his rampage in his search for mjolnir. to him, it's not those details that matter - it's the fact that coulson didn't call the shot and nothing happened. so he shrugs again, gives steve an amused look.
that last question, though, isn't something that clint's expecting to hear at all. sure, he'd accounted for steve's curiosity after seeing the dance, because that's how steve is and clint's certain you didn't see many flamenco dancers in 1940s new york, but to be asked to go again? it earns the captain a look of open surprise from the agent, one he can't help. it's a moment before he responds, brows furrowing. ] Wait - really?
[ being asked to display his archery skills is one thing. hell, being asked about his acrobats or something would be less surprising. but even as a kid he'd never been really asked to dance again unless it was antonia beckoning him to practice between shows, and that didn't count - she wasn't an audience, she was his teacher, and very serious about making sure he got the steps down. so this is... new. ]
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[Nodding as the other explains, Steve shifts a little and thinks on the idea, not sure about it still. He's used to having to wait for people to answer, not quite on the idea of pushing a few buttons and having that person there without too much effort. Still, it sounds easy enough, if it's just a phone without those strings attached. ] I'd have to think about it some more, but I'd like that. It might be easy to find me, but it is pretty hard figuring out where the rest of you are, sometimes..
You- what? [His brows raise, those eyes widen again and he's gotta think about the idea - Barton probably had Thor in his sights, arrow raised and well.. he can't imagine what the other was doing. He read the file on the Asgardian, but details like that don't stay long, only the important ones: friendly, powerful, of another world, related to the Tesseract, and so on.] Must've been a sight, mind telling me that story another time?
- Really. [He moves for a moment, wrings at his hands for a moment because he can't help but feel a little embarrassed for some reason, like he's asking something stupid but can't help it. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders drop just a little.]
Is it too much to ask? Because I understand if it is, honest.
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[ there's a nod for the words, respecting the decision. it makes sense that steve would be a bit hesitant on it all, considering his slow adjustment to the world around him and the differences he's missed. ] No rush. Besides, even with a phone there's no guarantee you could keep track of Banner or Thor. Banner's good at getting lost, and I'm pretty sure cell phones don't function in Asgard. Probably because the long-distance fees would be a nightmare. [ and speaking of the demi-god, clint's pretty sure he's never going to get tired of those reactions from steve, unable to help a small laugh. ] Sure. Big guy himself could probably spice it up a bit too.
[ he watches, listens to the sincerity in steve's words and sees it in his mannerisms, and he can't help feeling... well, pretty flattered, actually. that someone he holds in such respect would ask him something like that. a hand goes to rub the back of his neck, eyes going elsewhere, now something close to sheepish himself. a rarity these days. ] I, uh - no, it's fine. Just wasn't expecting that, is all. But... all right. You enjoyed it that much, I wouldn't mind putting on another show.
[ it's not like there's any harm in it, when he knows steve isn't going to say something about it if clint doesn't want him to. and hell, he's in the mood to do a bit of showing off he hasn't gotten the chance to do before. so he moves back to the mp3 player to put on an appropriate song, waving vaguely over his shoulder to motion steve to find somewhere to sit so he can watch. ]
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[He offers a smile at the reply, shrugs before scratching at the back of his head. That stops once Clint answers his other question, and if he's getting used to seeing a wide-eyed Cap, then the next scene that happens is predictable, up to the flash of that smile.] I think we'll be just fine without you knowing how to do that, to be honest. If we need a sword swallower though, maybe we can call him.
I know that, but it'd probably be better than nothi- Phones can go that far? [He's still not over the fact that these don't really need telephone poles or cords of any sort, so hearing the idea of calling Thor wherever he is, however far, is baffling enough. His mouth gapes as he thinks on it, then he shakes his head and decides to let go of the topic.]
I'll hold you to that then.
You- really- [wide eyes for a moment] I uh, thanks, Clint.
[For the sake of the answer to his request, he moves off from that topic, keeps it as a promise instead of something to do later, instead of now. When the yes gets said, Steve's face lights up, an easy smile finds its way there and he watches the hawk's face, his actions. His eyes don't leave the other as he moves, and he thinks about following after the other for a second, but he stops himself because of the wave. Tilting his head to think about it, there's a nod and he shuffles to the side, finds a chair to sit on in a spot where he can see the other clearly.
And well, the Cap waits. He feels like a kid with how excited he seems to be, but he passes it off as just a result of his good mood. Something like that. Dancing never really is something he got to learn (and that in itself is a sad thought) but being able to watch someone else who appeared to know how to dance, and dance well?
He couldn't help but be excited, smile still stuck to his face.]
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hey, even clint barton can get a case of nerves performing in front of someone like captain america. if it were a show of his archery skill it'd be a different story, but this is... this is dancing, something no one's really seen from him before. a private show. it's a bit different.
but he puts it all aside, letting himself focus on the music, his breathing, body beginning to move. it starts with his feet, hitting the floor in rhythm, but soon enough his whole body's going, feet keeping the time as he paces circles, twists and spins, arms and hands accentuating the movements. it all feels as natural as breathing, as hitting his target with perfect accuracy, when he gets into the right state of mind. forgets everything around him and just moves as the music inspires him to.
soon enough the song ends, and clint comes to a stop back in front of steve, letting out a quiet exhale. he opens his eyes, drops his arms and lets a half-smirk appear. ]
Might've looked better with one of those flowing dresses, but I doubt I'm the kind of man to pull that off.
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Steve watches, and he watches with full attention because he doesn't want to do otherwise. If he were just being nice, he wouldn't have seen much else than Clint stomping his feet, moving around the floor to the song but he sees more, finds the rhythm in the movements, the wonder in the dance and its nature.
And by the time the song is over, Steve's hunched over, his forearms are pressed to the top of his knees and his expression is in awe. His eyes have something unreadable in them and his head is tilted to the point where he's almost got a shoulder pressed to the side of it but he stops himself, straightens up a little once it ends, once the archer has stopped and is in front of him. Sheepish, he's shaking his head at the comment, eyes still on the other man.]
For what it's worth, I think that was just perfect, flowing dress or not. [Sitting back up fully, he claps a little for the other to convey his appreciation.] Really though, I think that was unlike anything I've ever seen before.
I'm a little jealous, to be honest. [Considering you know, he doesn't know how to dance.]