Chapter Text
Clint has never been the brightest or the fastest or the strongest. He’s known from the beginning that Hawkeye has no place in the Avengers Initiative with guys like Iron Man, the Hulk, Thor and Captain goddam America. For all their differences of opinion (Budapest was a fucking gong show, but it could have ended very differently – Clint tries not to think about it) he and Nat have always known that they’re only humans fighting beside gods, monsters and legends. The Black Widow exists in a class all of her own though, a super spy who could kill a man with her little finger. That just leaves Hawkeye, stumbling along after all of them, fighting to keep up.
But here’s the thing: Clint Barton does have a super power. He wasn’t bitten by a radioactive hawk, his bow didn’t give him the power of Apollo and when he gets angry enough to smash something, it’s his hand that breaks, not the wall. And it hurts like hell. It’s just that ever since he can remember, he’s had this drive. Without a goal, he lists and falls, but when he sees that red and white bullseye floating in front of him, the world narrows down to a single point. He takes aim. And lets fly.
All he needs is a target.