Old friends
A/N Hey everyone! I said it wouldn't be long, didn't I? Anyways, here's the first chapter. Basically this is before Lena joins the Avengers and stuff, so here it is.
Clint catches the subway, fourth carriage from the end of the 7:45 train. It is what he does every morning to get to work( which, by the way, is completely secret, and totally not the massive building in the middle of New York), and catching the train sort of normalises the extreme oddity of his day to day life and job.
As always, he buys his breakfast, a sesame seed bagel and a cup of liquid that could almost be described as coffee at the small stall just last the ticket booth, then hops on the train, sipping from the cup.
He nods awkwardly to the other daily commuters like he does every morning. In his hand he holds his black case containing his bow, which he still takes with him everywhere despite Stark's insistence that he could leave it at the tower. He doesn't carry it in his rucksack either.
Anyone looking for Clint Barton, despite their good or bad intentions, will know what it is, and know to stay away, and that's enough to stop him getting bothered. The black case still earns him strange looks from new passengers, but the regulars are used to the man wearing tight black leather everything, carrying the black case and bagel( the bagel spoils the badass look a bit).
He looks a little out of place, to say the least. More than once he's been stopped by security, noted by anxious passengers. If security are shocked by the bow, then they are even more shocked by his legitimate licence to carry it. The looks on their faces makes Clint smiles even now.
The train rolls slowly away from the platform, and Clint sighs with exasperation just like he does every morning. He knows more than one way he could make this train go faster. The only thing is, he's not exactly sure if they are legal.
Clint looks at the unfamiliar members of the carriage, assessing them like he does every morning.
There's a small pale man hunched over his newspaper, eyes flitting worriedly from headline to headline.
A tall woman, holding the hand of her small child, who looks like nothing could be more exciting than a train.
Clint's looking for any potential threat, like he does every morning, but there never is any.
But this morning, someone catches his eye.
A small woman, around his age, standing at the other end of the compartment. She leans against the yellow pole she's holding, her green eyes staring at the grubby floor. She has a red rucksack slung over one shoulder, and one hand is on the strap. Her long brown hair is tied on the ponytail, but some bits are escaping, falling in wisps over her shoulders.
It's been two years, but she still looks the same. Maybe not as on her toes, but the same.
Clint smiles. He's found her.
A/N What did you think? Please review and let me know!