Snippet #1B
Three days later and Adams was still avoiding the Science Wing like the plague. The nurse that had dressed the burns on his right hand had only laughed hysterically for two full minutes before explaining that it was best to avoid Tony Stark at all costs. Jeff managed to keep the "no shit Sherlock" comment to himself as he'd slunk out of the medical ward.
Unfortunately, detouring around the Science Wing meant he ended up walking through the armory a lot, and today was no exception. Luckily for him there only happened to be one other person in the armory. He'd admired Agent Barton ever since the man had taught surveillance in his recruit training; all S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits received the same training regime before they were vectored into the best career path. The man never missed a shot and definitely had the coolest head in the game. He knew a lot of the other recruits thought the use of bow and arrows was ridiculous in light of all the innovative technology S.H.I.E.L.D. had access to, but he secretly thought it was awesome. Seriously, the bow took significantly more skill than any gun especially at the distances Agent Barton shot from.
Today it looked like Barton was just finishing testing some new arrowheads. Jeff watched in awe as Hawkeye released three arrows in quick succession, each one hitting the target in the exact middle of the bullseye. Two seconds latter all three of the targets had completely disintegrated.
"Wow."
Barton turned to face his audience with a small smile and self-deprecating shrug, "Not much to it." He wandered over to the workbench where he had various types of arrowheads laid out. "Hey, you got a minute?"
"Sure." The word was out of his mouth before he even had a chance to consider the ramifications of the last time he'd agreed to help one of the Avengers. But this was Agent Barton, there's no way this could turn out as badly as the time he'd spent with Stark, right?
"Great. Real easy, just need 17 of each arrowhead from the group while I load them into the quiver. Just, you know, be gentle," he gestured vaguely to the pile of newer arrowheads he'd just been testing.
Adams's common sense was screaming at him to run away as fast as possible, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and stand his ground. Agent Barton ran around jumping off of buildings with these on his back, how volatile could they really be?
"Jeff Adams, right?"
Adams looked up in surprise, "yeah, good memory."
"Kinda comes with the job," he shrugged, loading another arrowhead into the quiver. "Careful with that pile; they're-
"BARTON!"
Adams nearly jumped out of his skin at the very unlady-like bellow the echoed down the hall; he did reflexively tighten his fist around the arrowhead in his hand accidently depressing the small red button.
Hearing his name roared in anger was nothing new to Clint, so thankfully he had the presence of mind to realize that Adams had just armed the rather powerful explosive in the arrowhead he'd been holding leaving them less than two seconds to clear the room. Barton immediately launched himself at the younger man, knocking the arrowhead from Jeff's hand and taking them both to the ground. His momentum carried them to the far wall and partially behind a workbench just as the entire room erupted in flames.
The smoke hung thick in the air as Barton shook his head trying to rid it of the cobwebs; he loved explosions just not when they were that up close and personal. He looked down at the body beneath him, not surprised to find the younger man only half conscious.
The archer patted his cheek none to gently, "hey, you with me?"
"Ow."
"Yeah, that about covers it," Clint gave him a small smile. "Let's get you sitting up."
All color drained from Adams's face as Barton hauled him into an upright position. "I think I'm gunna be sick."
Clint almost missed the quite mumble over the ringing in his own ears, "right, do that over there."
"Clint?"
"Over here Tasha. We're fine-" he was interrupted by the sound of Adams retching next to him. "- for the most part anyway."