Party Tricks

1

Clint did not want to be here.

Parties weren't his thing. Groups weren't his thing. Social interaction wasn't his thing.

But Tony, damn him, had said that he was too much of a loner, that they needed to bond as a team. Clint blocked the rest of the bullshit that spouted from Tony's mouth but he was pretty sure there was a jab at his social skills in there somewhere.

It had taken a sharp look from Steve and a redirection from Natasha to keep Clint's knife tucked safely away and out of the playboy's face.

That hadn't stopped Steve from politely -always politely- suggesting that he come.

Upon later inspection - like while he was leaning against the wall at said party - Clint would decide that he'd come in a moment of insanity. There was really no other explanation.

Because he was the guy that hid in the shadows, on the rooftop. Alone. And he was okay with that.

They were all here celebrating the Avenger's victory anyway. Clint didn't feel much like being involved. He hadn't felt like a part of the team since the Chitauri invasion.

And where had he been when they were all saving the world this last time? On a shitty surveillance mission that a green agent couldn't fuck up if they tried.

No one would ever know but him and the team. No one would notice that Hawkeye was missing. He was always helping from the shadows, protecting from a perch. Never to be noticed, never to be missed.

He locked his scorn away in that part of his brain reserved for pain. It had gotten so very large over the years.

Pulling himself to now and here, he scanned the room again from his vantage point in the corner. Ever watchful. His gaze settled on Agent Romanov who was conversing with a young agent. A young male agent.

Everyone assumes Natasha and Clint have a thing. And maybe they let them think that. But the truth is, they're too alike in the wrong ways and not alike enough in the right ones.

Clint's a smart guy but it took him longer than it should've to figure that out.

But he's let those thoughts go, cut em loose, compartmentalised. He's not really looking now, but the dating pool for a SHIELD employee is devastatingly small, especially when fellow assassins are out.

So dating isn't at the top of his list, it's more around the middle. Somewhere above "don't die" and somewhere below "own a dog someday."

He averted his gaze and decided to watch the Cap trying to ward off a very adamant fanboy.

He found it equal parts amusing and annoying to watch Captain America try to exist in the present day and age. The guy was level headed and straight laced - qualities that Clint simultaneously admired, hated, and envied - but so very easy to get one over on.

"You look like you're happy to be here." An unfamiliar voice interrupted his thoughts.

It wasn't that he hadn't seen her walking his way. He just never expected it was to talk to him.

Darcy had been pretty excited when Stark had extended an invitation to her for one of his infamous parties. Okay, technically Pepper Potts had extended the invitation, but she wasn't going to split hairs.

The fact was she was kind of a nobody in SHIELD. She wasn't a genius, she wasn't an agent, and she damn well wasn't a superhero. She was a glorified paper pusher, there only because she knew too much, and the glory was mostly in her own head.

But attending a Tony Stark party... That was the kind of thing she considered a perk of the job. Of course it was probably more by association that she was invited. She knew Jane, who knew Thor, who knew Stark, who knew Jane, who knew her... And Pepper was in there somewhere. Anyway, she worked for SHIELD, she knew people, she wasn't bragging.

Seriously, there was nothing to brag about. All the cool things that had happened to her were a complete accident. She didn't honestly think she had done something really awesome in a past life like save starving kittens, or rescue a drowning kid, or help a drowning kid with a basket full of starving kittens. If she had, she'd be a freakin superhero genius SHIELD agent and not a paper pusher.

Digressing... She took another gulp of her drink, scrunched her face up as it slid down her throat. This certainly wasn't what she expected out of a Stark party. There was no awesome music, there were no wild displays of Iron man's stupidity, and there were no super famous people.

There were superheroes who were kind of famous but that wasn't the same.

Instead, there were a lot of idiots like the one currently talking to her about God knows what. She certainly didn't. She let her gaze wander around the room, the asshat talking to her would never notice. He wasn't exactly looking at her eyes.

She saw Jane gossiping with Pepper, Bruce talking animatedly with Tony, and a hell of a lot of people she didn't know. Everyone seemed relatively engaged, except one person. She zeroed in on the Avenger called Hawkeye. His stance was stiff and his eyes flickered toward the exit occasionally like he was thinking about darting for it any minute. Probably in some crazy-awesome acrobatic move. He looked as out of place and uncomfortable as she felt.

Why, she didn't know. He was an Avenger. He'd just helped save the freakin Earth. That was why they were here at this lame-ass party, right?

She didn't really know the guy, but in her opinion, the archer got the short stick when it came to the Avengers. He didn't have superpowers, wasn't genetically engineered, didn't have a suit of awesomeness, he just had skills. And yet he seemed somewhat undervalued from her perspective. People were off getting Stark shaped goatees, painting their faces green, buying spangly clothes. But no one was taking up archery or... However they'd show their love of the Hawk.

Yet he didn't seem to mind. Maybe he didn't know how badass he was? Maybe he just didn't care.

Without so much as an, "Excuse me," she abruptly walked away from the guy talking to her and over toward Clint.

"You look like you're happy to be here." It wasn't an introduction, but it just kind of popped out of her mouth when she neared the archer.

He turned to her, still generally surveying the room. His face betrayed no emotion, but he said, "I saw you making faces while Matthews was talking to you. You're in the same boat."

Wow, he really lived up to the name Hawkeye, she never even noticed him looking her way. "If the boat is the S.S. Get Me The Fuck Outta Here," she quipped.

"That's the one."

Darcy smirked. Her insides were excited at the prospect of someone she could stand to have a conversation with. "And that guy... Matthews or whatever... He thinks he's the freakin king of aerowhatever design and blah blah blah. Like I care."

Clint seemed vaguely amused. He turned his full attention on her. "Stark seems to think he's pretty bright."

She snorted. "Not bright enough to look at my face when he's talking to me."

Clint almost smiled.

Encouraged, she continued. "Speaking of Stark, I thought his parties were supposed to be fun and... Ya know, not boring."

His eyes shot toward Tony's "not-girlfriend" - according to the man himself anyway. "He let Pepper handle this one."

"Ah well," she swirled the ice around in her drink, "At least there's alcohol." And Darcy had been enjoying it. Not only because it was expensive and damn good, but because with all the jackasses chatting her up, she needed every drop.

She continued. "Half the people here scare the shit out of me, anyway." Her gaze might have drifted toward Natasha. "The other half were sick the day God gave out social skills and a sense of humor."

His face tightened slightly and Darcy wondered if she had said something wrong. Was he offended that she insulted his coworkers? Or maybe he thought she was insulting him.

"You're neither though," she sipped her drink, trying to look cool, or at least less of a fool - he was a superhero! - and waited for his response.

"I'm not scary?" He smirked and the tightness was gone.

"Nope. Not since Tony showed everyone that picture where you're holding a pink sparkly bow."

He raised an eyebrow. Damn it, Darcy. Stop insulting him.

"It was photoshopped," she added.

"You're kidding," he said flatly.

She giggled at the look on his face, or maybe it was the alcohol. "You can't tell me you're surprised. It's Tony. He did one of the Cap too. His shield was colored like a German flag. He wasn't amused."

She realized she was bordering on babbling and wondered if he was getting annoyed.

"I'm Darcy," she thrust her hand out at him, still grinning.

"Clint," he took her hand and she watched his bicep flex as she shook it a bit too vigorously.

"I know," she said distractedly. Did anyone else realize this man had really yummy arms?

"You're Jane Foster's intern, correct?"

"Was. I work for SHIELD now, kind of. And Jane. It's boring as hell but pays nicely. I can actually buy songs for my iPod now instead of downloading them from- Shit... I didn't say... Can I get fired for that?" She glanced around, but no one else seemed tuned in to their conversation.

Clint shrugged, "Probably," but his slightly upturned lips told her he was joking.

She sat her empty glass down on a nearby table, crossed her arms over her chest. She had arrived at a monumental decision and several alcoholic drinks were telling her she should share. "You seem like a cool guy. I'm not saying I'd play darts with you cause that would really hurt my ego, but I suspect that everyone else here is really a robot. Even Jane. Especially Jane. But not you. You're... Your..." She picked her glass back up and held it out, "Can you hold this?"

He looked at her in mild confusion.

"Nevermind, what the hell... Can you just... flex for me?"

He actually smiled then and she thought that maybe it was his version of a laugh. God, it was beautiful. Seriously, was anyone else seeing this?

For some ridiculous reason, he obliged and flexed his left arm. Darcy valiantly contained her drool but her traitorous arm reached out. Just one little touch...

And then it hit her like a ton of sobering bricks: She was acting like an idiot.

"I'm... Sorry," she stuttered out, yanking her hand back before it touched his glorious muscle. She wanted to go hide in that janitorial closet she frequented whenever she needed to listen to her iPod.

"For what? This is the most entertaining conversation I've had all evening. Maybe all week."

More words tumbled out of her mouth, "That's what I'm afraid of. That you're laughing at me. I'm like a one woman circus attraction." Was she always this sharey? Christ, she needed to stop opening her mouth.

Clint's face lost all traces of amusement and he stared at her in a way that made her wonder if she had sprouted another head. She delicately reached up to feel for one but all was well. Okay, maybe her hair was getting a little frizzy but that seemed relatively unimportant at the time.

"I'm sorry, did I say something? I'm over sharing aren't I? I really need another drink."

Clint had decided somewhere in the last several seconds that he'd had quite enough social interaction for what probably amounted to the year. Darcy had managed to remind him that he didn't really play well with others. He had gained a great deal of respect over the past few years as Hawkeye, but it was too easy to remember being the butt of everyone's jokes.

Of course, she had no idea what was going on in the archer's head.

"I wouldn't." He spoke at last and Darcy took a moment to realize what he was talking about. Drinks, another drink.

She shrugged. He was probably right. She should probably go home and google videos of the Chitauri invasion. Maybe there were some good shots of Clint's arms. If past experience held true, she was never going to see them up close again. This - admittedly gorgeous - man was going to run very far away from her and never look back.

She counted it a success that she hadn't mentioned Loki in her apparent word vomit, however. And... Crap, now she was thinking about it. She needed to get away before she said something damaging.

"Well Clint," she placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's been real."

He stiffened noticeably and Darcy thought for a second he was going to body slam her into the wall and hold her at knife point for touching him. She would never admit to not completely hating the idea.

But then he took her hand from his shoulder and squeezed it gently, "I would never laugh at you, Darcy."

She blinked in astonishment. He looked sincere and serious and look at those eyes and... He was talking.

"... A cab?"

"Huh?" She said stupidly.

"Do you need me to call you a cab?" He repeated. He was still holding her hand between his and it was hard to concentrate and...

"Is it hot in here?" Shit. Did she say that out loud?

His lips twitched slightly and she suspected she was making it mighty difficult for him to make good on his promise of not laughing at her.

She yanked her hand from his and smoothed her hair down. "No... Never mind. It's good... I'm good."

She turned on her heel and exited the building as fast as her foggy brain would allow. She made a wrong turn twice before making it outside to the cool night air. Then the full force of her mortification hit her.

She just made a big-ass fool of herself in front of a super-freakin-hero.

She really needed some ice cream. Cause let's face it, she was still googling Hawkeye vids.

I've almost completed this fic so it will be updated weekly.

Cheers!