Bobbi Morse || Mockingbird (
ofafeather) wrote in
spoonerisms2012-05-28 09:23 pm
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Mockingbird can't you see, little girl's got a hold on me (For
swissarmybow)
A third date was something unheard of in the life of Barbara Morse ever since she joined SHIELD. She’d had a boyfriend in college, but that fizzled out once she started working on secret government projects and had to essentially sneak around behind his back. That was years ago, now, and she’d just gotten used to the fact that work came first, and the life of a SHIELD agent was probably going to be a lonely one. After all, if she couldn’t ever get past date number two, there wasn’t much hope for her.
At least, until Agent Barton decided that a third date would be a good idea. Or maybe it was her idea. She wasn’t entirely sure. It was a little confusing, in a lot of ways, but so were the first and second dates, which were really just a continuation of each other that they decided to split into two for whatever reason. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
That’s why she was standing in front of her closet, trying to decide what exactly would be the best thing to wear on a date to a shooting range. Clint had sent her a text asking her to meet him at the range at 19:00. That was half an hour away, and she still had nothing.
But finally, with fifteen minutes to spare, she picked out some skinny jeans and a tight top (cute, without sacrificing movement), and rushed out the door to meet him there. If she’d arrived any later, she would have been late. It was only by pure luck that she wasn’t.
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"What else are you good at, Birdie?"
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"I'm pretty sure you've already experienced some of what I'm good at." Both in the ass kicking department and in non-ass kicking.
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"So, you want to learn how to shoot the right way, now? Now that that's out of your system."
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"All right, Agent Barton. Teach away."
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"Same stance, Agent Morse. If you can't do that much, I can't teach you."
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"Tell me, Agent Barton. Do you think I'm teachable?"
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He turned all business, explaining the finer points and parts of the bow, why it works, and how to best screw up with it. It gave him an excuse to stay closer to her, an excuse to touch her arms, but hopefully not to distract her. But she finally reached a satisfactory stance and seemed to grasp the concepts well enough.
Well enough not to injure an innocent bystander, at least.
"Now's the fun part."
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"The fun part, huh?" She knew what that meant. The actual shooting things part. She was pretty excited for it, actually. There was just something about shooting things, no matter what she was shooting, that was still exciting, even though it was something she did nearly every day. And her excitement probably showed, too.
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Exchanging a knowing smile with her, he pulled an arrow from his quiver. One of his custom arrows. He wouldn't let just anyone use them--they were each worth a normal week's pay--but he trusted her to be smart enough not to screw it up.
"If you don't hit the target, there's going to be a problem."
He carefully showed her how to put the arrow in place, demonstrated the pull a few times, gently but firmly correcting her errors right off the bat. He wanted her to get the first shot, and do it right.
Finally, she was ready, and he took a few steps back.
"Last chance for questions."
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She took a deep breath, and carefully aimed the bow. And another deep breath as she let the arrow loose.
It wasn't a bullseye, but it was somewhere in between the outer rings and the center. It took her a moment, but when she realized, she let out an excited noise, then turned back to Barton.
"See? Told you you're a good teacher."
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He simply handed her another arrow. Attempt two, Morse. He wanted to see it get just a little closer.
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"Well?"
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And, if she looked closely enough, she might have seen him looking just a teeny bit impressed. Or pleased. Something like that, something inscrutable.
Were it anyone else, he'd be showing them up at that moment. But it's Bobbi Morse, and he really, really wanted to stay on her good side.
Really.
So he offered her another arrow.
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"Better?"
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He gestured for her to lower the bow, walking over to retrieve his precious arrows. She'd done a hell of a job for just picking the thing up, and he'd have to make sure to tell her that later.
Maybe over a drink. Or dinner. Or just... talking.
"I usually use my recurve, but the compound is a nice break. It's more in the way you use it. You've heard about my arrows." And he twisted the tip off of one as he walked over to her. "Interchangeable tips."
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She may or may not have been referring to the arrows that last time.
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"I've lost count of the things Fury and I have come up with for these." Waving one in front of his face, between them, he gave her a very serious look. "Not conventional, but I'm good at what I do."
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Pausing, he pulled his bow and quiver from his shoulders and set them nearby where she'd deposited her own bow. Hell, he might have to get Fury to hook her up with one, just for kicks.
This created a dilemma. His intended end to this was drinks, dinner, maybe a mediocre action flick. Anything at all to keep in her company. He wasn't going to question the urge to ask her a hundred questions and listen to a thousand stories, because that was what going with his instincts was about. He had to just go with it.
"Well. Now you know how to shoot."
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The statement may have been verging on formal, but her tone of voice was anything but, and the look in her eyes was playful. She clearly didn't intend the night to end with the archery lesson. She was having too much fun.
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Still, risking looking like an idiot, he took a casual step forward. "That's really all I have."
Other than, you know, looking at her and hoping she had better ideas than another round of hamburgers.
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As she was letting that sink in, she started thinking of ideas for what to do next. More violence probably wasn't the best way to continue...unless it was in movie form. That might go work.
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