spoonerisms | Mockingbird can't you see, little girl's got a hold on me (For swissarmybow)

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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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"The best part."

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."

She thought for a second before she answered. "I don't have any. You're a good teacher, Agent Barton." She grinned. Aiming wasn't too different from any other kind of weapon that she didn't think she'd have a problem hitting the target. Luckily for her, considering the value of the arrow.

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."

"I saw your wrist shake."

He simply handed her another arrow. Attempt two, Morse. He wanted to see it get just a little closer.

Still grinning, she took the arrow, nocked it, and aimed again. She remembered what he told her about adjusting her aim, and tried it, making sure she was steady this time. Another deep breath, and she let the arrow go. She'd made it closer this time. Still not center, but closer.

"Well?"

"Good."

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.

This time, when she shoots, she almost gets gets a bullseye. It's just barely off of the mark. Apparently Clint really is a good teacher, if she's already doing that well. That, and the fact that she always hits her mark with a gun probably helps. Aiming is aiming, no matter what.

"Better?"

"Good enough."

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."

"I have heard about your arrows." She laughs, because it's cute, for lack of a better word, to hear him talk about archery. It's something he's passionate about, and it shows. She puts the bow down on the shelf in front of her, and watches him come back. "They're very nice."

She may or may not have been referring to the arrows that last time.

He hoped she was talking about the arrows. He liked the arrows, dammit. They were sexy. Of course, he'd ignore the laughter altogether.

"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."

"I've noticed." And she has. "You managed to shoot me, didn't you Sport? Not many people can say that." It was true, too. She was impressed by him the first time he shot at her and managed to hit her, even if it was a graze. Of hourse, he never missed, so it wasn't too surprising once she figured out who he was.

"I don't think anyone could say it."

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."

"Now I know how to shoot." She agreed with a nod. "Thank you, Agent Barton, for that amazing archery lesson. Maybe someday I can return the favor by teaching you a thing or two about a bo staff."

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.

"I'm sure you'd get your hits in on me. Sounds like a date... Maybe the sixth or seventh one, if you don't mind." He rolled one of his shoulders in an exaggerated manner. "Still reeling from the first few punches."

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.

"Sixth of seventh date, huh?" She raised an eyebrow again. Because saying that took a lot of guts. Even though she had a feeling that there were going to be way more than six or seven dates between the two of them.

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.

"No offense, Agent Morse, but I'm planning on going on more than three dates with you."

Because when he aims, he never misses.

He pondered picking up his bow again, letting her go, getting in a few more hours of practice, but... It seemed like she would probably object to that. And probably object to him putting her through a few more rounds of archery practice, herself. Maybe drinks and dinner was too much for him; he wasn't the drinks and dinner type. Hell, he wasn't the dating type. Hanging out and talking, or not talking... More his style to quietly sit, or to be alone.

What was he thinking?

"I don't know why that would offend me."

Actually, it kind of made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. In a weird, happy good way. Probably the exact opposite of offend. She grins at him, and decides exactly what's going to happen.

She's going to take him home.

"So, Agent Barton. How would you feel about coming back to my apartment, digging through my fridge, and watching a movie?"

It tightened a knot in his stomach. He wasn't going home with just anyone. He was going home with one of the elite spies of SHIELD, someone he ought to be learning from and training with instead of hitting on, but...

But screw that.

"I won't say no."

He was enchanted. It couldn't be helped. He wanted to get to know her better, and he wanted it to happen now. It was a calm, weighty feeling that kept him from leaping at the chance, but no, he wouldn't say no. And he had no idea why, other than that from the moment she hit him, he was more interested than he'd been in anything since archery.

"Well then, Sport. Let's put the toys away, and get going." She starts picking things up, and handing them to him, because she wasn't sure where everything went. It was his territory, so she let him take the lead.

She was excited. More excited than she should be, probably. But getting Clint Barton alone? That sounded like a great follow up to shooting things.

Nodding over toward the bow cases, he carefully stashed each one, leaving his own by the wall as he went to lock the other in his personal storage. He had plenty of goodies in here, plenty that other people would never see unless they fought beside him. His favorite bows, though, went with him, and they'd just have the be the third wheel on this date.

Everything set as it should be, he grabbed his case and headed for the door.

"After you."

...Maybe he just liked women who could kick his ass. That had to be it. The thought made him laugh.

She didn't mind having an inanimate third wheel on the date. It wasn't like it was really going to get in the way of anything, unless they ended up having to fight. And that wouldn't be horrible, as far as nights went in her world.

She looped her arm through his, and led the way to her apartment. "What kind of movies do you like?"

Oh. Well. Okay. Looped arms. He couldn't help smiling just a bit. How teenager did they just get? It wasn't half bad for a guy like him, having a beautiful woman on one arm and high technology in the other.

"Dramas, comedies. I think I see enough action on a daily basis."

"Lucky for you, I have a decent collection of both of those things." She gives him a bright smile, and doesn't bother keeping the bounce out of her step. "I'll let you pick. And maybe I should have warned you before, but I really only have snack food. And leftover Chinese."

It's been a while since she's been shopping. And she loves Chinese takeout.

And a bounce in her step? She was something else. He resisted the urge to stop her right there and try to calm her down. There wasn't much that was usual about Bobbi Morse, it turned out.

"We can order something, but I'm not that hungry. Up to you."

...And as for the movie. He doubted they'd be watching much of it, the way she was acting. Not that he'd complain.

The bounce in her step was something he was going to have to get used to, if he was going to stick around in her life. It was just something she did when she was happy about things, no matter how obnoxious it was. The exception, of course, being on missions. She never bounced while working. Unless the job called for it.

"I'm fine eating leftover noodles." If it came down to eating. She wasn't particularly hungry, either.

"I'll just eat after I leave, then."

He pulled her just a little closer, content to walk in silence, or at least to let her lead the conversation. It was a beautiful evening, after all, and he had no complaints. Still...

"Fury set us up."

Mockingbird can't you see, little girl's got a hold on me (For swissarmybow)

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