The first arrow shot forward and landed only inches from the center of the target; after working with Clint for the past two months, you were finally getting the hang of it. Your progress wasn't as fast as you had hoped, given how quickly you could adapt to any other weapon in your grasp. He tried to reassure you that working with a bow was a delicate skill that required this much practice, but you still couldn't help but feel a certain amount of frustration.

"You're doing great, (Y/N). Why is that so hard to believe? If anyone should know, don't you think it would be me?"

"I just feel like I should've hit the center by now," you sighed as you packed away your gear for the day. "I usually catch on to things faster than this, that's all. I'm used to being more towards the front of the class, I guess you could say."

Clint smiled and reached out to put a supportive hand on your arm, but you reflexively pulled back and continued to pack without missing a beat; it was almost so natural to you that you didn't even realize you did it anymore. His smile turned sad as he turned to leave, rather giving you a small wave instead.

"See you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure, tomorrow."

~~~

"Hey, (Y/N), how'd training go with Barton today?" When you entered the locker room next to the gym, Natasha was finishing getting dressed after her daily workout, just about to exit so you could take the shower.

"Good, overall." You shook your head slightly and sighed, still upset with yourself, "I'll do better tomorrow."

"You put too much pressure on yourself, you know that? With everything." She threw her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the door, but paused just before opening it to turn back to you. "You should take a minute to figure out where that comes from."

You nodded silently as she exited, but you knew exactly where it came from, and so did she; she just didn't realize that you knew and that you shared the experiences of the Red Room. You remembered her very clearly as the vibrant red head who always mastered every skill easily, and you vowed to match her talents one day. It didn't bother you that she didn't remember you; it was a long time ago and you had done your best back then to stay in the shadows and just survive. As you undressed for the shower, your mind was wandering and you didn't notice that she had returned.

"Sorry, (Y/N), I just forgot-"

Natasha gasped slightly when she saw you, and stepped forward quickly to your side. You pulled up your shirt and turned away, embarrassed that she had seen so much of the scars that you carried with you. You didn't want her to realize who you were, but now it was inevitable.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were, (Y/N)?" She tried to look at your face but you kept yourself turned away. She grabbed your arm and spun you towards her, studying your face, "I remember you. I knew you."

"That was a long time ago, Nat. I didn't expect you to, honestly." You pulled your arm away from her grasp and backed away towards the shower, hoping it would cue her to leave. "Really, I'm okay. Just let it go, alright?"

~~~

The next day Clint was late to practice. You tried to text, call, and even have FRIDAY look for him, but to no avail. You took the time to practice on your own, finding yourself thankful for the opportunity to work without him watching you. You felt more relaxed, shooting until the moment came when the arrow pierced through the red circle at the center of the target.

"Yes! Finally!"

"I knew you had it in you."

You spun around to see Clint leaning against the far wall of the room, smiling and clapping as he began to walk towards you. "I figured it might be worth a shot to let you work through it on your own. You don't need me breathing down your neck. Probably just made it worse anyway, right?"

"No! No, Clint come on, why would you think that?"

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you work better on your own, (Y/N)." He laughed to himself, grabbing his own bow and quiver from the rack on the wall next to you. "Apparently I'm no genius, because I saw it straight away." He stood next to you and pulled back on the arrow with the most tension he could hold; his head turned towards you, and with a wink he released his grip, sending the arrow directly through the center of yours.

"Showoff," you scoffed.

"Yeah? Your point?"

You put your own equipment away and stayed to watch Clint practice his own shots, even though he really didn't need to. "I know what you're doing, you know."

He turned back with a confused look on his face, but it wasn't genuine. You were intuitive and could read peoples emotions by the smallest change in their body language or expression. No one could lie around you, and he knew it; he was arrogant enough to think he could still try, however. "I don't know what you could possibly mean, (Y/N)."

"She told you, and now you're checking up on me, right?"

Turning back towards the target, he pulled back on another arrow and released, this time barely hitting the edge and nearly missing altogether. "Shit."

You stood up and walked over to stand next to him, your mouth agape and unbelieving in what you just witnessed. How could Hawkeye have missed such an easy hit? You looked at him and saw the exact same question crossing his face as well. "Hey, what the hell just happened? I've never seen you miss anything."

Angrily, he pulled another arrow from his quiver and drew back fully, releasing the arrow quickly. This time it hit the dead center and exploded on impact, blowing the target into pieces. You ducked slightly and shielded your face, suddenly feeling nervous being around him for the first time.

"Alright, Barton. Talk to me." You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back towards the bench, throwing him down roughly to sit and explain what was going on before you would let him attempt to leave. "Tell me what's going on. We've worked close enough for long enough that you should be able to trust me."

"You would think so, huh?" He stood up to stand toe-to-toe with you, his eyes angry and dark as they locked with yours. "It's funny that you say that, (Y/N), because that's exactly what I thought until a few hours ago." He reached up and pointed his finger, poking you in the shoulder, "you don't trust me. You don't think I need to know something so important when we are working this close together? If Nat trusts me with it, why can't you?"

"Hey," you grabbed his hand and held it firmly and away from you, "it's not about trust, Clint. It's not something I want to discuss, alright?" You released his hand and he immediately reached out to grab your arm. Once again, you reflexively pulled back to avoid his touch. This only made him angrier, grabbing both of your arms and pushing you against the wall.

"Look, I'm touching you," he whispered, but with a harsh tone behind it. "I'm touching you, and it's not bothering me, it doesn't gross me out, and it doesn't make me think any less of you to know what's there, alright? If anything, it makes me appreciate how strong you are. Don't you realize that?"

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes, but you weren't about to let them spill. "Let go of me, Clint." He didn't comply right away, and you could feel your anxiety begin to rise. "Clint, let go."

He sighed and released you, stepping back and looking at the floor. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I just...I just wanted you to know that I care about you, and this doesn't change that."

"Okay," you murmured, nodding and accepting that he was only trying to make a point, and that he would never do anything to hurt you. Grabbing his bow and an arrow from the floor you stepped up in line with a new target and looked back at him. "Show me how you split my shot."

"Really?" His eyes brightened filled with hope, a smile now crossing his face.

"Really. Can't have you being the only showoff around here."

He stood and moved to you hurriedly, as if he were worried that you would change your mind before he got there. Clint positioned himself at your side, raising his arms to help you take position, but was purposefully careful to not actually touch you.

"It's okay," you said, "grab on. It's the only way for me to learn, right? I trust you."

He thoughtfully put one hand on your back and the other on your arm, straightening your posture and aiming towards the target. You pulled back and held the arrow in position, somehow reluctant to release it and see it fail to hit the target again.

"You waiting for an invitation, or what? Shoot the damn thing already."

Just as he had done only moments before, you turned your head towards him, and with a wink you released your grip.