And yet again, thank you to HeroInTraining for betaing this piece.
Prompt: Relaxation
From: avengers-tables .livejournal under 50-word prompt (yes, I do intent to use all 50 words)
Pairings: Clint/Darcy
The first time Clint sees her at the shooting range, he's working off some steam. Not at Darcy of course, but at everything and everyone else. Especially Coulson, who had been particularly difficult recently.
Darcy comes stalking into the range and he can practically see the anger coming off her in waves. Clearly, someone has pushed the wrong buttons because he's never seen her this mad before. Or something is really, really wrong.
He starts to step towards her, his aisle being on the tail-end of the range, but stops when he sees the gun she has holstered at her hip. Its a standard issue piece (9 mm with a double tap trigger rather than a safety you can accidentally engage at the most inconvenient of times) and one Clint knows he's seen before. Coulson's weapon looks almost identical to the ones carried by everyone else in S.H.I.E.L.D except for one detail: the back edge of the slide is decorated with a penguin.
Just like the one that decorates the weapon Darcy is now holding in her hands as she loads it with the skill of someone who's used to being around fire arms. When she raises the gun and fires multipled times in rapid succession into a target twenty feet down the lane, Clint knows she's hit at least close to the center of the target every time. Its hot in a way he didn't expect and only the pissed look on her face has him not approaching her. Or, you know, pinning her to the wall of the range.
She goes through all three of the clips she'd set in front of her before clearing the weapon and setting it down with a heavy breath. Her shoulders are less tense and her eyes no longer say 'I'm going to kill you', but the image of her firing angrily into the sheet of paper hanging down is still impressed enough in Clint's mind that he doesn't say anything when she leaves. Or make any moves to leave for almost half an hour more. Least he be caught staring (and possibly stalking, though he's not sure it counts when you simply choose not to approach the person).
Later, when he gets called to Coulson's office, a surreptitious glance at the gun resting at the older mans hip confirms Clint's previous memory of the weapon. Complete with penguin.
Three days later, Clint is again in Coulson's office only this time he's visibly angry. Upset. Pissed. And with good reason. S.H.I.E.L.D. released a mandate that requires all staff of a certain level obtain fire-arms training, which is reasonable. What Clint finds unreasonable is that he is required to teach one of the fire-arms courses.
"Phil, this is ridiculous and you know it!" Clint's pretty sure his voice is a little loud but he really doesn't want to do this. Attempting to train a bunch of low-level number crunchers and secretarial personnel how to fire a weapon is a pain in the ass. Plus, he's an Avenger. This shouldn't even be on his list of potential jobs. "I don't even use a gun unless I have to."
Coulson starts to open his mouth but the door to his office is shoved open rather violently and without preamble. Clint reaches for one of the knives hidden on his person and spins to great the potential threat. Coulson doesn't make a move, or really give any indication this is an abnormal occurrence, even though Clint's pretty sure you have to be suicidal to just burst into the office of a high-level S.H.I.E.L.D representative.
A scowling and potentially murderous Darcy storms into the office silently, the look from the other day back in place. She waves mildly at Clint, ignoring the knife in his hand, and slams a piece of paper down on Coulson's desk. Her arms cross under her chest as she straightens back up and the way she's standing with her hip cocked slightly to one side belays just how POed she is.
"What the hell is this?" Her tone is a touch whiny, but mostly its indigent.
Coulson raises an eyebrow at her and glances at the paper. "It appears to be a piece of paper, Miss. Lewis."
"Haha," growls Darcy as she gestures at the letter. "I don't need to take a fire-arms proficiency course. I'm plenty proficient."
"I agree, Miss Lewis. Is there a reason this matter is coming up?" asks Coulson with a cocked eyebrow. Darcy doesn't reply, just gestures at the paper she set on his desk. As he picks up the piece of paper and begins carefully examining its text, Coulson simultaneously removes his holster and weapon from the drawer he locks them in. Without pause he slides both across the desk at Darcy while keeping his eyes on the letter. "I see." Setting down the letter, he glances up at both individuals in his office. "I will call Director Fury at once with both of your complaints. However, that requires you both to leave my office. Go attempt to relax. The range should be empty right now."
Darcy nods and takes the weapon, securing the holster at her hip like its second nature. "Alright, but if Fury won't relent then I want to test out of this bull."
"Of course." Coulson gives them both a pointed look as he reaches for his phone. "Now, out."
She doesn't say anything else as one of her hands latches onto Clints wrist, pulling him out the door. When they're outside, she shuts the door and maneuvers them towards the elevators leading into the basement. Clint will never admit it, but he's feeling a bit shell shocked. Not only has his girlfriend just burst into his boss's office unannounced, but she managed to wordlessly procure said boss's weapon. And gotten them a small amount of time off.
Once the doors are shut, Darcy turns to face him while leaning against one wall of the elevator. "He'll get us out of this." Her words are so certain, its hard not to believe her. Even if she still looks angry.
"Yeah, I'm sure he will," mutters Clint uncertainly, eyes darting to the piece at her side. "Uh, so, his weapon?"
Darcy shrugs lightly as she turns her eyes towards the counter in the elevator's corner. "Fury won't issue me a weapon because I'm a civilian. And I can't carry my own 9 mm in here for the same reason. So, when I want to shoot something, Coulson lets me borrow his."
The elevator dings and opens before Clint can ask anything more (like why Coulson would let his beloved side-arm out of his sight, much less allow Darcy to carry it around). Darcy doesn't pause as she exits, stopping by the armory for a moment. They don't say anything as the man who runs it slides three clips of 9 mm ammo at her. She nods in thanks and proceeds into the range.
Clint follows a little behind, watching with interest as she takes up a position at the first aisle again, pins up a paper target, and slides it out twenty feet. Then proceeds to fill said paper with lead. His eyes watch the way each shot seems to relax her shoulders and loosen her tensed muscles. The furious glint in her eye subsides to something more akin to focus than anger. Like she's seeing everything a little differently.
When the sheet is riddled with holes and looking incomplete in multiple areas, Darcy clears the weapon and summons the paper back to her hands. She's shaking a little when she takes it down and her eyes are blinking rapidly as if they can't focus, but she doesn't look as angry. He takes that as a good thing.
Finally, her eyes lift and she blinks at him, staring like he's a little hard to see. It doesn't seem to bother her though, and she motions to another aisle. "Aren't you gonna take a few shots?"
"I don't have my bow." He feels a little silly when he says that, but his previous comment to Coulson was true. He doesn't carry a gun. Or really prefer to use one. Knives and a bow are his preference, especially if he's working off steam.
Darcy starts to reply when her phone goes off, playing 'secret agent man'. She doesn't even glance at the screen when she answers and hits the speaker button. "So what's the verdict?"
"What have I said about putting me on speaker, Miss Lewis?" Coulson's familiar tone of annoyance filters out of the speaker.
"Not to do it unless I'm alone or only with another individual directly involved in the conversation," replies Darcy immediately. "Which is the case. Mick always vacates the armory when I come down to shoot. Something about scary accuracy and looks of murder. Anyway, its just me and Clint. So what's going down?"
Coulson sighs but continues regardless. "You've been cleared already, Miss Lewis. Apparently the memo was never supposed to be sent to you, so you may disregard it. As for Agent Barton, Director Fury informed me that this task is punishment for showing off to the younger agents and making them nervous. He gets to undo his own damage."
Clint groans. "That was once!"
Darcy snickers. "Serves your right." Her lips connect with his temple quickly, an attempt at sympathy. "Thanks Phil."
"It's Agent Coulson, Miss. Lewis." There's a touch of amusement in Coulson's tone even as the click of the phone disconnecting echos through the range. It's quickly silenced by a swipe of Darcy's finger over the disconnect button.
"Well, I'm clear," comments Darcy mildly as she slides the weapon back into its holster.
"Lucky you," mutters Clint with a pout. "I still have to go."
Smirking slightly, she slides up and wraps her arms around his neck, drawing his head close to her own. "Well, if your good I might reward you."
"Good how?" mumbles Clint as he draws her close.
"Teach them and don't scare anyone," explains Darcy. "Or intimidate them."
"Done," growls Clint, pulling her close. "Now, how about we do a little more 'relaxing' before someone, a.k.a Coulson, comes hunting for us?"
"Sounds good," agrees Darcy, her hands sliding into his hair. "But first, I need to return his weapon."
Clint shakes his head but steps back none the less. "On one condition: you put your own on before coming by."
Darcy chuckles softly. "Gun fetish?"
"I like a girl who knows her way around firearms," admits Clint with a shit eating grin. "Though a bow would be hotter." The 'really?' look Darcy gives him is frighteningly familiar. Apparently, Coulson has been teaching her tricks. "Alright, no archery lessons. But can you still put on the holster?" He throws her the puppy dog eyes for good measure. It never really seems to do much, but he'll claim it does for as long as he can.
"Alright," relents Darcy with a heavy sigh as she heads back towards the elevator. "Lucky for you, I like relaxing with a gun."
Clint's eyes fell on her hips and the holster stored there. Somehow seeing his civilian girlfriend packing is hot on many different levels. He has a firearms fetish apparently, sue him. "Yeah, lucky me indeed."