Psychology is a horrible class. Don't ever take it. /procrastinating
Clint was almost as much of a trickster as Loki.
He laughed his way through life. He had to, really, since there was not much to laugh about in his life.
Well that was before Fury, and SHIELD, and Natasha.
Natasha changed everything. He had a partner, for one, and everything that entails. One of which meaning that they spent much of their time together, and they knew what made each other tick.
Clint was fully aware of her "problem" and went out of his way to make her remember she had one.
He would place fake spiders around her apartment, set up impossibly small bowthreads she would walk through, like webs, he would drop light hairs on her to make her squirm, and in the event of an actual spider, he would do nothing.
Natasha is scary.
Natasha is the Black Widow, a spider who kills her partners.
Clint would push her, but never too far, and she was always vocal when one was around, expecting him to assassinate it.
Lest, you know, she kill him.
They were in the training center, a vast complex built by Tony himself. Every weapon SHIELD had to offer, was there.
Including, not limited to, Coulson's final weapon.
It was cased in glass and seen by every one who enters or exits.
At present, Clint and Nat were in the shooting range, both testing out new types of ammo.
They shot in silence, only moving or stopping when they had to go down range to change the target.
Natasha was walking back after replacing hers, when her trained eye saw it. A speck, barely larger than her thumb nail was just above the elevator button at the far end of the range. She stopped.
"Do you see that."
"Yes you did."
"I didn't." He was trying to remain composed.
"So much for those extra cones in your eyes, Hawkeye." He rolled his eyes and turned around. He was proud of those extra cones.
"It isn't even close to you, you're being irrational." He was getting whiny.
"It has too many legs. Now that's irrational."
"You need an intervention." She huffed.
"Just do it."
He rolled his eyes and drew his arrow. She only relaxed after it pierced the metal right above the button.
"You explain that to Stark." The arrow was in too deep, there would be no way to pull it out.
She smiled and walked over to him, clapping his shoulder.
"Good eye. Thanks." She smiled and got back to ripping perfect bulls-eyes with her bullets.
Once I drew and shot an arrow into my wall, and no one was home but I had a damn arrow in my wall, so I pulled it out and there was a hole so I filled it with white gun and painted over it. We have since moved and I was never found out. 0_o