Who: Clint and Wanda What: hand to hand training When: Sometime this month, after Clint rejects the Avenger Where: Stark gym Rating/Warnings: Green
It wasn’t that Wanda was uncomfortable with Stark Industries - which, actually, she hadn’t really spent much time there, come to think of it. But it was more like, weren’t there hundreds of other gyms in the city?
Questionable ones, where fighters for underground clubs trained or even MMA fighters. Gyms with puddles left by wet towels or water from the shower, loose frames, rusty equipment, maybe tetanus bacteria. She assumed that was where one trained, if they wanted to learn to fight dirty - but a gym that was shiny and new, where you could practically eat off of the floor mats, that was fine too.
She wore black yoga pants, a red workout top, and trainers - auburn hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and she lacked her usual smoky eye makeup and her jewelry. No, she’d taken off her rings especially - though if she was practicing a powerful punch that went against the rules, maybe she should have kept them on.
It was up to Clint, she supposed. “Well, how do we start?” she asked, having at least stretched her muscles some. That was an important part of training.
Clint was training to get his strength back in a place not too dissimilar than what Wanda was picturing. He paid the fee in cash and registered under a false name. He didn’t want to bring Wanda to a place like that. Clint valued the anonymity he had there and it was better to give Wanda more open space to work. Honestly, Clint had no idea if he technically was allowed to use these shared training spaces since he’d walked away from being an Avenger. His years of service had to mean something through right? And he was only here for Wanda anyway.
“Here’s the thing about you,” he told. “I don’t want you to get caught in some nonsense thinking you’re not supposed to use your powers to win. But if you have a weakness, it’s getting focused on a target and giving someone the chance to get in close and surprise you. So if you want me to teach you hand-to-hand, the goal would be to deal with that problem. What do you think? Sound okay?”
In all honesty, Wanda’s hand-to-hand combat techniques were lacking. She hadn’t received any formal training after her skills were unlocked thanks to the scepter - she was essentially just a wrecking ball, let loose, unfathomable power simmering in the veins, and bones, of a short, slender, young girl.
And when all that power was uncontrolled, when she heard the thoughts of crowds flitting in and out, it was simply noise. It was not helpful. It didn’t do her or anyone else any favors. So the focus had been to get that under control, not the correct way to kick or punch.
“Yes,” she nodded, determined to be a good student. And she wanted Clint to teach her - she trusted him, cared about him as a friend. She wished she could help him, maybe bring his family back - but that was beyond her reach. So she guessed she had to settle for helping him deal with his grief, as someone who understood the concept far too well. “Is it...knowing where the most effective place to hit is?”
“Yes,” Clint nodded. “Where and how. What do you do when someone gets in close. What if they have a gun or knife?” These were basics that anyone going into the superhero trade should be taught. Gifts like Wanda’s were no excuse for being unprepared. “What if it’s two people? What if it’s five? That kind of thing. Then because of your gifts, when you have the technique, we can pair your telekinesis with a punch so you do the maximum damage.”
Clint shrugged sheepishly at her and smiled. “Just you know, try not to kill me while we work on it.”
Wanda smiled wryly. “I won’t,” she promised. The idea of being taken out by a knife or worse, a boomstick, was incredibly unappealing - they were modern weapons that anyone could wield, though even just one bullet could do a lot of damage. The intent should be to disarm first, by whatever means necessary - and who knew, she may be in a situation where she wouldn’t even have a chance to use her telekinesis right away.
She stepped in closer, hand balled into a fist, and punched Clint in the throat. Hey there. “Is that a good place to hit?”
Clint’s had came up to block but not quite fast enough. He hadn’t been expecting the punch. That was probably on him. Too well trained to hit back on instinct, there was a subtle shift in Clint’s posture. His muscles tensed and his weight shifted.
“Yeah,” he squeaked. He coughed a couple times until his voice came back the rest of the way. “Take it easy, punchy,” he said, rubbing his throat. “We’ll go through the basics first before we turn you loose as a punching machine, okay?”
“Okay,” Wanda giggled sweetly, a rare sound from the likes of her - but she couldn’t help it, that reaction was sort of amusing. “Basics first. Show me.”
There was a punching dummy in here, hanging from a hook in the ceiling - actually, in hindsight, she probably should have started with that first for her precursor punch but Clint had been right there. And if all she could do to help was distract him for a little bit, well, wasn’t that a good distraction?
For the next hour, there was nothing else to focus but what they were doing. Clint broke the basics of hand-to-hand, starting with how to safely throw a punch with proper power and technique. Wanda was quick and smart and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be able to go into a real sparring session.
“You did good,” he told he as they wrapped up. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
It hadn’t been that long of a session, in hindsight, but Wanda was pooped. Maybe it was because she was concentrating so hard, maybe it was because she was learning something new - but either way, that ladylike sweat was definitely making her glow. Her hair in its ponytail was also a mess, so once she finished stretching her arms and legs, giving the muscles some time to cool down, she went for her gym bag and thankfully found a brush.
“You’re a good teacher,” she grinned, snarls in her hair being attacked by that brush. Then she found a bottled water and eagerly twisted off the cap, taking a log swig. “I knew you would be though.”
Her grin faded into something more thoughtful, almost sad. “I wish we could spend more time together.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Clint said. “Still have more lessons to go. And Wanda, this Avengers thing, this has nothing to do with me and you. You got that?”
“It feels like it does though,” she protested, and overall, Wanda supposed she understood. But her inner doubts just kept creeping up - they were probably silly, yet she couldn’t help it. “Because it’s not even all the way about the Avengers. It’s - I get worried when you say things like you wish Pietro hadn’t died, that it had been you instead. There’s just so much going on in here - “
She gently tapped Clint’s temple, her eyes concerned. “Things that I may understand in a way, but can’t entirely - “ Because, after all, she had never lost a child before. She’d lost her twin, but that was a different kind of loss - and not something just anyone could understand either. “But what I do know is that the pain never goes away. You just learn to live with it.”
Clint ducked his head, relaxing when there was no flash of red winding around Wanda’s fingers. She’d never done that to him before and knew the reason why. Clint trusted her but she’d been so upset about his Avenger decision the paranoid part of him couldn’t help wonder if maybe it she wouldn’t try to find out why.
“Sometimes living with it means accepting the ways things have changed,” he told her. “I know you want me to be the same guy you’ve always known. But I’m not. Some part of me will always be gone with them and that means I’m different now. I’ll always look out for you Wanda. But the Avengers?” Clint shook his head. “That’s gone now.”
Apparently, he didn’t trust her as much as she thought he did - it was disappointing, but a lot of things were. There was a lot of good Clint could do with the Avengers. With SHIELD. A lot of good in general - and she could just hear Pietro now. He would have whooped some ass. Would have told him that he wasn’t special - that millions and millions lost families, sons and daughters, sisters and brothers. Husbands and wives. That it was up to those spared to figure out a way to undo the atrocities that had occurred. No one else was telling him that, but Pietro would have.
“That is not what I want,” Wanda stated. “Do you honestly think I would believe you were the same person after losing your family?” She had changed the second she felt Pietro die - she’d lost parts of herself, felt them wrenched away from her and disintegrating just as she once had. Vision helped make her whole again, and then she’d lost him too.
Maybe this was pointless. She wasn’t a magician like Stephen - she was just a girl trying to help her friend. “If you don’t wish to join the Avengers, then don’t,” she rubbed at a knot in her shoulder, something tense. “It’s seeing you give up entirely that had me concerned. I can look out for you too, you know,” she added. “I always will.”
"Hey, c'mere." Clint slung an arm across Wanda's shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. "We're okay," he breathed, resting his cheek on the top of her head.
The hug was what she needed - Wanda flung her arms around him, tears dotting at her lashes. “Yes,” she agreed, squeezing Clint tightly. “We’re okay. You’re okay. You are who you are, Clint - you’re my friend.”
She didn’t need him to be anything but that.
And, to solidify her statement, she punched him in the stomach. “What? You did not see that coming?”
Clint reached reached out, snagging Wanda’s wrist and twisting her arm to the outside. At the same time he swept his foot under her legs, unceremoniously dumping Wanda on her ass. “Punk,” he muttered, shaking his head and smiling.
“Ooof,” was the sound Wanda made when she ended up on the floor and she lay there giggling, red-faced and tired but actually sort of happy. Hopefully it would last. She would take the little moments where she could get them, anyway. Maybe they both could.