Fic: Five times Hawkeye fell from his perch, and the one time he jumped.
Title: Five times Hawkeye fell from his perch, and the one time he jumped.
Fandom: Avengers
Rating: Pg-13 (Language only)
Characters: Avengers, centers around Hawkeye
Disclaimer: I don’t own any rights to anything Marvel or Avengers. I just wanted to have some
A/N Summary: I saw a prompt over on avengerkink and this jumped into my head. I know I didn’t fill it but it still inspired me to do my own (and first) 5+1 about winged!Clint
5) “Hawkeye, south end. There are stragglers. Don’t let them get away,” Hawkeye automatically responded and rushed from his position to try to make it to a better angle. He got three shots in before he was suddenly blindsided by a missile hitting the corner of the building.
The building gave, he couldn’t keep his footing. “Nat, I’m down,” he tried to grab what he could, even letting a grapple arrow fly but there was too much debris coming down with him.
“Clint,” he heard over the com before he gave up on trying to get footing and started tearing at his quiver straps. He had to get it off before he struck the ground.
“Clint, copy? BARTON?!”
Clint smiled, feeling the wind brushing his face, “I’m alright Tasha, just a scare. You done in there?”
“I’m on my way out, you got my back?”
Clint smiled, feathers dusted with the same markings as his namesake fluttered into his vision as he started lifting higher into the air, going back to a better perch to assist Black Widow should she need it. “Always.”
4) Solo-missions, Clint hated them. Yeah, there was less worry of your partner/backup screwing up and dragging you down with them (or you having to save their ass) but there was also- NO. BACKUP- if shit went sideways. Kind of like now. All alone, middle of the woods, no fucking arrows. AAaaand the damn terrorist group that had quote, no official known ties to military equipment, end quote was trying to blow his ass up with heat seeking missiles. Thank you, technology! Only you could render a trained assassin’s skills useless by just blowing up a 10 foot radius of anything remotely close to 98 degrees Fahrenheit!
Eyes wide, he realized they weren’t just setting off the one that he’d (barely) been able to avoid, “Shit!” Scrambling for purchase on the slick grass he turned and ran as fast as he could. He had to somehow get the damn thing to detonate far enough away to survive the blast. Trying to scramble over uneven/wet ground and fumble the explosives arrowheads from his quiver had to be one hell of a sight but he did somehow. The rest of the quiver got chucked in an attempt to lighten his load as he A flick of the wrist sent nearly a dozen into nearby trees as he tried to make it outside the blast zone before the weapons ignited. Three feet, he could like with three more feet. He’d probably end up with a concussion and broken ribs but he’d still live. His suit tore as a last ditch effort to make the distance unfolded behind him. He got the distance in a single flap but the shockwave a lot more than it should have been. He was temporarily knocked cold, only to wake up moments later to realize he had been flung off the cliff that had been in the distance when he’d closed his eyes. Instead of lifting himself up he slowed his decent enough so that it wouldn’t cause damage to his already sore back.
That was the last solo-mission he’d go on for shield.
3) The moment he went up against Loki, he knew he wouldn’t win. The moment that damn spear touched his chest… It was the worse fall he’d ever had.
When Natasha had acted as if nothing had even happened once he’d finally found his footing again, it was the first time he could breathe without feeling like a failure since that megalomaniac came to Earth.
2) The instant Clint’s hand reached back for another arrow to the empty quiver, he knew he was fucked. He turned back to his attacker, intending to strike a cheap blow to get out of the encroaching circle, he smirked instead. He grabbed the arrow that had been protruding from the creature’s body and stuffed it back into the quiver for a new head. A blast rocked the building, the old stones were giving way and he turned to let the fall carry him as far away from the rubble as it could. This time when he let the grapple arrow fly it arched wide and struck solid ground, giving him a moment to stiffen up when the line went taught and started lowering him toward the ground.
1) Clint had laughed when the Avengers were gathered around the demigod now imbedded in Stark’s floor. He still had a total “Wtfjusthappened?” look on his face as Hulk leered down and growled at the now twitching megalomaniac. Stark and Rogers had to both help lift Loki out of the miniature crater, knowing full well Hulk might want to play another round of beat the puny god to a bloody pulp if he were to help.
“What did we learn?” Stark couldn’t help but rub dirt in the wounds by leading Loki close enough to Hulk that the green giant made a slightly less playful than usual, swing at him.
“Oof!” Clint got backhanded, wincing when he felt fragile glass break against his weight. How had there been any glass left on that floor?! Clint’s equilibrium went out the window for the count of three when he tumbled over the edge of the tower. “Shit!” Battle sore and victory slow he tore the empty quiver from his back and righted himself just in time to miss hitting the ground. He let out a shaky sigh as his feathers shivered in a true life of death adrenaline rush.
“Barton, you alright?!” Rogers’ voice sounded over the coms, along with a roar in the background.
“Yeah, tell Hulk I’m okay, he sounds heartbroken about smacking me through the window.” Clint chuckled, flapping until he could catch a gust to lift him up to a nearby rooftop. “I’m next door, on the roof.”
“How the hell did you get there?”
“Uh, I’ll explain later. Tell Banner I’m okay. Hulk meant to hit Loki.” Clint smirked at the doctor stumbling around like a newborn kitten trying to find out what happened. “And tell Stark that unless he’s an exhibitionist, he needs some damn good blinds.”
0) Tony was looking up from his landing pad at Clint’s shadowed form precariously perched on the very top of Stark, scratch that Avenger tower. “Okay, Cupid, off you go.”
Clint rolled his eyes, shifting to get the feel for the new quiver and its odd placement on his back. “Tony, you realize that if this goes sideways I’m royally fucked right? I’m use to the old straps, I don’t think I could get these off quick enough,” Clint still couldn’t believe he had actually told them, but then again it wasn’t like he had any other choice. Acting solo was one thing, even partnered it was easy to hide, but a team? No way in hell would that go for long without someone noticing. After all, the day after he’d explained and even shown them he’d walked into the kitchen trailing feathers from a fitful night in a new/unknown bed when Stark had demanded that the team move into the tower. Tony couldn’t stop with the molting jokes and Clint, for the first time, couldn’t help but smile at the lack of judgment that went with the playful banter.
“Legolas, we haven’t got all night, the sun’s gonna be up soon and I know how sensitive you are about flaunting those things around…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Clint sighed, shifting his shoulders to let his wings move just enough to feel where they were still being restrained. It wasn’t perfect, but it would be a lot easier and quicker on the draw than what he had before. “Here we go,” Clint made a run for the edge and jumped…
Sequel: Past Lives