A/N: Spoiler alert for various genres, characters, situations, eras, and emotions, and not always Marvel.
For each chapter, the meme that inspired it will be posted as the story pic for reference. Where possible, the owner/creator will be notated either on the pic or in the author's notes. Most were found on the internet and don't have the creator's info.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
This chapter is dedicated to Winter-Soldier-88. Happy birthday, my friend!
Namaste,
Sunny
Avengers
Meme Shorts
You Fight Like a…
The gym doors slid open at Tony's approach. Clint was in the midst of a routine on the gymnastic rings, making it look effortless, legs perfectly straight, toes pointed, his arms straight out to the side at shoulder height. He held the pose for several seconds, moving effortlessly into a handstand. From there, Clint transitioned into hanging by his hands, swinging backward and forward. The man who never missed dismounted into a double flip with a one-and-a-half twist. He landed surefooted on the mat, sticking the landing in what even the Russian judges would say was a ten.
Clint took off the ring grips and returned them to his gym bag. Tony tossed him a towel and held out a bottle of water with a nod of genuine appreciation for the man's incredible abilities. Their workout sessions always started out the same. Clint said very little unless he was taunting Tony into pushing the envelope. Today would be different.
With his hands wrapped, Tony went to the punching bags. It annoyed him that Clint didn't feel the need for wraps, and never seemed to bruise his knuckles.
Clint braced the sand-filled bag from the other side while Tony pounded it until the sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes. He called a halt to wipe off and get a drink, capped the empty bottle and tossed it the recycling bin.
Knowing how hard Clint could hit, Tony took a firm stance, shoulder braced against the opposite side, one foot back for leverage. The archer pounded the bag, causing him to scoot back a little with each impact, not once losing focus. In his head, Tony heard Clint's voice once more offering unsolicited advice.
You know your target. Let's work on how you get there. Tony had to admit, in this instance at least and only to himself, Clint's encouraging words had helped.
Time to get a little of my own back.
"C'mon, Barton. Let's rumble. You fight like a little girl," he sneered with just the right about of sarcasm and challenge.
Clint stopped in mid-swing, his eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
Delighted to have gotten a rise out of his opponent at last, he continued with his taunt. "O-oh. Touched a nerve, have we? I said you fight like a little girl!"
Taking a step back, Clint flexed his hands without looking away. "Say that again, Stark."
His voice lost all expression, as had his eyes. He wasn't smiling, and Tony knew from experience that an unsmiling Clint wasn't a good thing. Still, there had to be a way to make him lose his temper enough to lash out in anger. Then, maybe he could get in at least one good shot during the sparring before being laid out on the mat. "I take it back, Legolas. You don't fight like a girl." Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, "You fight like little girl whose dog ran away!"
Clint took a couple steps back and to the side, eyes on Tony's face, unblinking, his expression unreadable.
Ah, now he's pissed. Let's swoop in for the kill. One more ought to do it. "You're a wimp, a pansy, a wuss!" Tony put emphasis on each adjective and moved into Clint's personal space, which he privately called the kill zone, walking around him while continuing to mock the archer. "Legolas, you are a gutless, chicken-hearted, yellow-bellied scaredy-cat who's afraid to hit someone older than him!"
Frustrated, and more than a little pissed off himself that Clint continued to stare without comment, Tony entered full rant mode. "You know what, Barton? **** you, that's what!" Now for the coup de grâce, the one that would bring it on. "You haven't a shred of chutzpah in your entire body!" He poked a finger in Clint's face. "And you fight like a little bitch!"
Again, Clint squinted at him, furrows making lines between his eyes, his voice rising. "What did you s…" Then Clint did something Tony hadn't expected. He grinned sheepishly as both hands went to his ears. "Shit! Wait a sec. Forgot to turn my hearing aids on." He touched behind both ears and smiled wryly. "That's got it. Now, what the hell were you trying to…"
Throwing his hands in the air, Tony stalked from the gym, and didn't even have the satisfaction of slamming the door, further irritating him.
~~O~~
Clint watched Tony storm out, darting through the doors before they were fully open, to be replaced by Natasha, staring in the direction the billionaire had gone. She came fully into the room, poking a thumb over her shoulder. "What up with Stark?"
Shrugging, Clint went to the sink to rinse his hands then to the cabinet where he took out a katana, spinning it like a baton until it was just a blur. Natasha did the same, the two of them moving to the middle of the mat. "Dunno. He's always got a stick up his ass about something."
They saluted each other and immediately fell into the fighting stance, a lopsided smirk turning up one side of her mouth, made even more impertinent by the lift of one eyebrow. "Too much talk, not enough action, Hawkeye. Bring it on, mu'dak."
End