barton (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} awcoffee) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} valarlogs,@ 2019-10-24 10:51:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Entry tags: | !complete, clint barton (hawkeye), yondu udonta |
Who: Yondu and Clint
When: Sometime in July
Where: At Yondu’s range in the desert
What: Shooting arrows, talking dreams, Yondu reveals he’s an alien by accident. You know, normal stuff.
Rating/Warnings: Some light swears.
Status: Complete
Yondu squinted in the morning sunlight. The target was a hundred feet away, the closest one in the range he had set up. The circular targets with their classic colored rings stood out starkly against the desert backdrop. It wasn’t exactly a legal range, per se, but like anyone ever travelled out here. He was glad he’d replaced the targets the other day, getting rid of the old ones that were so torn up with holes from his Yaka arrow practice they had barely been recognizable. Plus he had company this time, and he didn’t want Clint to try out his skills on ratty old targets. That just wasn’t right.
“Well, let’s see what you got.” he drawled, nodding to the younger man. It was weird being out here with someone, let alone in his human form. Any chance he got Yondu turned off the image inducer so he could just be his big, blue, beautiful self. But Clint wasn’t in on his dream induced secret, and he had never been quite sure if or when he could let him know; they’d known each other for years, from way back when they were both in Missouri - Yondu a cantankerous cop and Clint a young man with a penchant for trouble. But even with that history they weren’t particularly close.
Dream gifts were, to put it mildly, weird.
Clint had never picked up a bow in his life, never thought about archery, never really been all that bothered with it at all. And then the dreams happened and boom, circus upbringing and suddenly he thinks ‘hey, it’d be cool’. That was really all it had been, it wasn’t like he’d gone out to get lessons or even thought about buying a bow.
The Dreams seemed to have other ideas though, and without warning he’d nearly tripped over the bow from his dreams and the quiver turned up not a few days later. Which was, well. Weird.
Figuring out if he could actually use it, that was something else. Yondu having a space to try stuff out shouldn’t really be surprising, but Clint was a little surprised, even as he fished the recurve bow out of the case and pulled out an arrow. He’d bought those, rather than bring any from the quiver. He didn’t want to accidentally putty arrow all over the place and make a mess. Or worse, use one of the explosive tips.
“I want to stress that I am good at this in my dreams.” He’d never even used a bow and arrow in real life, “That might not transfer over.”
"Heh," Yondu smirked. "That's what the range is for. Ain't no one out here gonna make fun if you miss. 'Cept me maybe." He wouldn't though. "Go on." He gestured, curious as to if the skills had transferred over. He remembered when the dreams had given him the fin in his head and then the Yaka arrow. It'd taken time to learn how to use them - the skills hadn't transferred over until much later. Dang dreams.
He supposed there was something to that. Out here, it wasn’t like Clint was going to accidentally impale someone on an arrow. It was a clear space and rather than the ballistics targets, something that might actually stand up to an arrow fired at high speed.
The plus side was that even if the Dreams didn’t afford Clint the skills he had there, he had the knowledge, since people couldn’t just pick up a bow and just know they were doing it right. He knew how to square his shoulders, how to position his arms, making sure his elbow was turned out, even if he didn’t have his wrist and finger guards right now.
Lining up the shot, Clint drew back on the bow, releasing the arrow with his breath and letting it sail through the air with a slight arc. It hit the target, which was something, although not actually where Clint had aimed it. “Okay, so… I’m not terrible.” Which was something, at least when it came to Clint.
“Not bad at all.” Yondu clapped him on the back. “Try again, see if you can hit that bullseye.” It was interesting watching Clint use a bow and arrow of all things, which made him curious about the dreams. “What exactly are your dreams about again?”
There was a moment where parts of his dream childhood flashed back at him; Trickshot laughing, calling him a natural, prodding him into going again and again and again until his fingers were raw and he’d split arrow after arrow on the bullseye.
“Superhero shit, weird stuff like that.” Clint shrugged one shoulder, still not entirely comfortable with the whole ‘hero’ label that came along with what he was doing in the dreams. “Grew up in the circus though, learned a bunch of neat things there.” He drew back another arrow, taking a slightly longer pause to work out the wind velocity a bit better, letting the calculation of where to aim come through from what he knew from the dreams before loosing it again.
This time, it was just a tiny bit off the centre mass of the target. “Like archery.”
“Right, superhero shit.” Yondu echoed almost abstractly, looking at the near dead center arrow. Then his expression melted into that of amusement, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Wait a minute...the circus?” He burst into laughter. “You mean like clowns and shit?” That sounded less believable than superheroing.
“Yup,” Clint didn’t mind the questions, he was starting to get a feel for the bow, the tension in the string, the best positioning, how to brace his shoulders. “Learned a bunch of shit there about weapons and some fucked up things about breaking into places.” Not that Clint needed too much help there, he’d already been well on his way in reality.
“But there was some acrobatic stuff too, bit of balancing and coordination. I can juggle like a fucking pro man.” And it was kind of cool figuring out that he could do that after he’d dreamed about it, it just took him a while to figure it out. “I’m a walking cliche,” Clint pulled back on the bow, releasing this third one and getting it dead centre on the target. “I actually ran away to join the circus.”
Yondu whistled. "Nice one, Clint." He walked up to the target, poking at the bullseye where it was lodged. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This trouble maker from the Midwest in this life, a guy he'd known on and off since Clint was a teen, had dreams of having run off and joined the circus. A circus that…"Wait...what in th'hell does a circus need with weapons an' breakin' into things?"
Feeling a little bit cocky, and like he’d figured this out, Clint smirked slightly as Yondu approached the target, “Well, y’know, when we gotta break in places,” Clint shrugged, loosening up a shoulder, “Still a criminal, even if I turn it around.” Which he supposed what what he was trying to do now, right? Go from what Barney had easily led him into, take a different turn.
Aiming a little right of Yondu’s head, still smirking to himself, Clint loosed the training arrow to hit just a few inches away from Yondu, smacking into the middle of the outer ring. “Weapons training was probably just to keep us outta trouble though.”
The whiz and thunk of the arrow as it sunk into the target mere inches from his head made Yondu jerk back with a "Jesus!" before turning to look at Clint with a wild eyed glare. "Watch it!" He pointed. But the scowl quickly melted into a smirk. "Wiseass." He walked back to where Clint was, shoving him playfully in the shoulder while also pushing him out of the way. "Dreams mighta made you a good shot an' all, but this is how you get it done." He pursed his lips and whistled while simultaneously brushing aside the end of his open button down shirt to reveal the Yaka arrow. It gracefully lifted out of its holster at his waist, spun and hovered, waiting for the next command. Yondu grinned over at Clint before whistling a series of notes, not even bothering to look at the targets. He wanted to see Clint's expression. The arrow shot off, an electrified looking red trail emanating behind it as it streaked through target after target in milliseconds- including obliterating Clint's dead center arrow. Another whistle and Yondu's hand shot up as he caught the arrow mid-return flight. Twirling it between his fingers he said. "Ain't the only one with arrow skills, boy."
“I dunno if I’d call that arrow skills,” Clint’s head was at an angle as he considered it, eyebrow raised and honestly, he probably looked a lot like Lucky when Clint tried to explain things like meal times. But it called for working out how sound moved an arrow, particularly, that sound.
“More like mouth skills,” didn’t it hurt to purse your lips that long? Did other sound waves interrupt the arrow’s projectory? Was Clint hanging around with Stark in the dreams way too much to be wondering these things -the answer there was yes, but Stark made trick arrows and that was why they were bros in the dreams, for sure. “I’m sure that makes your lady friends very happy though.”
Because obviously Clint would go there.
Yondu’s brow furrowed for a second, almost wounded Clint wasn’t impressed, because really everyone who had seen him use it had been impressed. But then the joke registered and he burst into a roaring laugh. He clapped Clint on the back heartily. “Good one! That was a good one.” Mouth skills. Lady friends. It was something Peter would have said too. Some days Yondu wondered if the two weren’t half brothers.
“Listen here, though.” he pointed the business end of the arrow at Clint as he held it. “You think this is easy? You got yourself a bow that helps direct that arrow. I gotta use my mind and my…” he stopped himself short, realizing much too late that his bragging rights relied on what he truly looked like and his dream history. Clint knew none of it, save whatever Peter might have mentioned. Yondu got serious and muttered a “Shit.” He sighed and paced away from Clint a few strides. Turning partway he looked at Clint sidelong. “Kid, I gotta be honest with ya’. The dreams for me? Well, I ain’t just a space pirate. This,” he gestured at himself, “It ain’t what I look like no more. Haven’t for a while now. The dreams, they gave me this here arrow, and uh...changed me so that I could use it.”
There’d been a few times that Clint had seen Yondu agitated -one time had been when he’d been close to catching Clint actually breaking the law when he was an actual kid in Missouri and Yondu was trying to pull the ‘I’m a serious person and this is serious shit’ thing.
This seemed to be up there with that, the pacing was worrying Clint a little bit too. “Um… okay?” There were a few times that Clint had fallen asleep on the couch with the tv on and woken up to some god awful sci-fi disaster playing out, so there were a lot of things running through his head right then.
“You don’t like… have tentacles or something do you?” It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing. It would just be a little weird, hella creepy and hard to get used to honestly. “I mean, no judgement, I’m sure they’re useful for space pirating, but… y’know. Tentacles.”
He hoped Yondu wasn’t about to turn into some wild space creature.
Yondu’s brow furrowed a little and his head cocked to be one side. “Tentacles? No. Nothin’ like that. More like a...color change." And then some. "Just uh, do me a favor and set the bow down ‘fore I do this. Don’t exactly need to get stuck with an arrow over it.” Having seen Clints aim he knew the odds were even they'd stick each other dead on with their arrows - Clint in panic, Yondu in self defense - and no one wanted that.
Reaching for the image inducer on his wrist Yondu glanced up and said, "Ready?"
Clint rolled his eyes but did as asked, putting the bow down, so that Yondu could at least relax.
“Okay, there, it’s down, c’mon, hit me with it.” The suspense was pretty much killing him right then, wanting to know just what this big thing was. “I mean, I’m expecting a full blown coming out party right now.”
Yondu shook his head with a smirk and hit the switch on the image inducer. The hologram vanished, replaced with a bald headed alien who for the most part still looked human, but with bright blue - almost cyan - colored skin and a large red fin arcing out of the middle of his head. Yondu's eyes, a sparkling blue in human form, were a devilish red, and his teeth were a mangled mess of menacing angles. He spread his arms and said, "S'prise."
Had this been a few months ago, Clint could see why there’d be a need to put down the bow, because what the actual fuck? Now, well, he’d started dreaming. And things like Hulk and Tigra and Silver Surfer (dude was so naked all the time) were a thing. So blue. That was… That was fine. Yondu was just blue. Like really blue.
Like Blue Man Group blue.
“You um…. You have a fin… on your head. Like a mohawk but really not.” Was that thing not a height restriction nightmare? “When um, when did you… turn blue?”
Well he wasn't trying to stick him with arrows or cussing up a storm and backpedaling so Yondu considered that a win.
"Uh…" he had to actually think about it, it'd been so long. "'Bout two years now? And yeah, fin took some gettin' used to. I got another one from the dreams, shorter an' such. But I think this baby's more badass." And he tapped it with a grin. "It's what's moves the arrow."
Blue. For two years. With a giant red fin on his head. What the actual… “Okay, so you’re blue, with that thing, and you use it to shoot the arrow you whistled?” Clint was trying to get past the blue thing. And it was… Okay so, dream wise, it wasn’t that odd. He worked with a woman that was basically a tiger in humanoid form, and Tigra was pretty awesome. But he’d sort of assumed that’d all stay in the dreams.
That was silly of him really.
"Yep." And just to drive the point home he pursed his lips and whistled. The arrow flew up and spun slowly, its trademark red trail gracefully illuminating its path. Yondu stopped whistling and the arrow hung there, waiting for the next command. He walked over to Clint.
"See, it ain't just the fin and the whistle. I gotta use my mind." He tapped his bald blue head. "Think of where I want it t'go." And he also used his heart, as he'd told Peter in the dreams but that was a harder thing to describe.
Suddenly he emitted a high whistle that almost sounded like a cattle call and the red mohawk on his head lit up along its futuristic circuitry. The arrow suddenly zipped through the air, tearing through a target. Another whistle and it returned, Yondu catching it mid flight.
“And here I am having to aim and pull back.” Clint rolled his eyes a little, “Okay but, where did that come from?” Because the fin was what was really throwing Clint off. Because that was like a mohawk that looked like it was fitted right into Yondu’s skull, and frankly that was a body mod you had to really commit to.
“Or is that part of the whole ‘alien thing’ you’ve got going on?” Alien. Seriously, why was this shit even the least bit surprising anymore? Orange County was just a massive LSD trip, so obviously aliens and mind controlled arrows and stuff.
Why not?
"Bit of both." Yondu replied. "My people have red fins but the Kree made mine mechanical an' such. They liked experimentin' on other races to see how to make 'em better soldiers. The Kree like takin' over planets you see." He frowned at the dream memories, pushed them aside, and an amused expression crossed his features. He huffed. "My people. Look at me talkin' like aliens are real in this universe."
“I mean… you’re one. So they kinda are.” At least in Orange County there were. Hopefully no one on the forums caught wind of that and Area 51 pickets hit California. That’d just be unfortunate. “Dreams do that I guess.” Clint rubbed at the back of his neck, considering the mix up that tended to happen from dream upbringing to real life.
Considering so many people from his real life made appearances in his dreams it was hard not to get confused by things. “Least that looks cool?” Probably not the point.
A smirk crossed the older man's face. "Suppose you're right." He twirled the arrow between his fingers. "Dreams have done a helluva lot. More good than bad, thankfully." So long as none of his nemeses showed up here he was fine with that.
"Oh, so now I'm cool?" he gave Clint a toothy grin. "Never thought I'd see the day I'd hear those words. Oughta buy lotto."
“I said you looked cool, keep up old man.” Although the humour was evident in Clint’s voice, a light and gentle ribbing as was the standard by their nature. “Don’t think your luck will stick with you to the lottery though,” Clint just shrugged lightly, arms crossing behind his head as he stretched out his spine.
“You still got Peter to bring you down man, that’ll keep your head from getting too big from compliments, I’ll just shoot better an’ keep the ego in check.” It was a weird dynamic, for sure, but it worked.
Yondu just stared at Clint a moment before a huff came out of him accompanied by a smirk. These boys of his had a set on them, that was for sure.
"You're gonna need more practice if you're expectin' to be better than me." He tilted his chin at Clint. "Let's give it a couple more rounds. Then we'll break for a cold one. Whaddya say?"
“I have youth and good eyesight on my side,” because when didn’t they rib Yondu about his age, “it’s hardly going to take much to be better.” But a couple more rounds and some beer wasn’t a bad idea, “Sounds good, but you’re buying the booze.” Seemed fair in Clint’s opinion.