Drunk archery is just a little less dangerous than drunk science [Tony/Clint - Monday night]

[playboy_philanthropist]

To: Barton, Clint
From: Stark, Tony
Subject: Take Aim

How do you feel about drinking on Mondays? Because I seem to have wandered onto the archery range and I seem to have forgotten a bottle of booze.

Comments

[agent_barton]

To: Stark, Tony
From: Barton, Clint
Subject: RE: Take Aim

I'm on my way. Hope you like Patron.

---

Clint had no problem drinking on Mondays, particularly when he was feeling low. It wasn't as if the Yankees couldn't take the series without Jeter, but having Derek out was going to make it that much harder.

He stopped Tony on the far end, already holding a bow. "Is that yours?" he asked, approaching with his bottle and a couple shot glasses.

[playboy_philanthropist]

Once he had found his old recurve bow, Tony had gone down to the range. The how to of archery was still in his head. His brain was probably more amazing in the fact that all the drinking hadn't purged all this pointless information than in his general genius. Granted it had come in handy a little in regards to making Clint's weapons. The knowledge was great, but the feel was another matter. He'd been testing out the bow, making sure his body could follow what his brain knew. Which was a bit harder than he'd anticipated considering the bow was a bit too small for him.

Looking up when Clint came in, he shrugged. "Yeah. It isn't much though. I bought it so I wouldn't have to deal with fighting for bows with the other students and that I could modify it all I wanted." He held it out towards Clint. "Also, Patron, not my favorite, but it does in a pinch."

[agent_barton]

Clint snorted. What Stark called 'not much' was still a very nice, high-end recurve bow that he could see had been specially modified, presumably by Tony. Handing the bottle to Tony, Clint took the bow and began inspecting it carefully. He held it up, testing it for weight and balance.

"Nice," he said, ignoring Tony's comment about his tequila and putting the bow up to his arm, taking aim with an imaginary arrow. "It feels heavier than it should be. What sort of changes did you make?" Clint was ridiculously curious now to see what sort of shot Tony was, if he'd played around with something of this caliber.

[playboy_philanthropist]

Tony's brow furrowed as he pulled the stopper out with his teeth and poured out two shots into the shot glasses in his other hand. "Ai don' kno-" he started to mutter around the stopper before he rolled his eyes. Tilting his head to put the stopper back, he shrugged. "I really don't have a fucking clue. It was college. Drunken tinkering on many different things went on." He looked up at the ceiling as he tilted his head in the other direction in thought. "It might have had something to do with shooting multiple arrows at the same time. And making a better sight."

He waved the bottle of Patron dismissively. "The bow didn't hold my attention long. The pistols, rifles, and sailboat were more fun to tinker with anyways."

[agent_barton]

It made Clint laugh a little to think of some drunk teen-aged genius with unlimited resources messing around with a recurve. What would he have done with the same chance? "SHIELD's been working on the multiple arrows at the same time for years, haven't perfected it yet." If they had, Clint would be using it. "I've gotten two at once, but ultimately, its not as effective for me as just being faster and shoot more arrows."

"Just think how different my life might have been if Tony Stark had reinvented the bow and arrow. I might have turned to accounting..." Clint drank his shot of tequila, shaking his head afterward, making a noise. "Nice. Okay, so we got targets or are we being creative tonight?" he asked as he headed toward the rack where he hung his own bow.

[playboy_philanthropist]

"There are a lot of factors to deal with," Tony said absently as he took his shot. "Mhm. Also wait you're aiming to do. Sort of pointless if you have to draw them all one at a time and load them only to shoot them one at a time. Plus how often do you need to fire multiple arrows at one target? If you're a good enough shot, you'll only need one and if you're not, you're just as likely to miss with those extra arrows and waste them."

Putting his shot glass and the bottle down, he took his bow back with a chuckle. "I'd be the hero of the bow hunting world and the bane of all the Olympic committees. They'd be yelling at me for giving everyone unfair advantages." He raised an eyebrow. "You've already told me that your aim gets worse as you drink and you think it's a good idea to be creative? You might be even crazier than me."

[agent_barton]

"It would be cool to shoot at more than one person, but there are too many parameters there. I personally like the elegance of the one arrow, one kill, but yeah, it makes the bow less attractive for serious warfare."

"There's a curve somewhere," Clint began, looking around the range at things to shoot at. "It's like shooting pool. Everyone gets looser and shoots better after a few drinks, then you hit a point where its all downhill from there."

He spotted a clock on the wall about twenty yards away. "You attached to that clock?" he asked, raising his bow and aiming.

[playboy_philanthropist]

"Would work better on a crossbow. Unless you go all gangsta sideways bow all over the place," Tony said before shrugging. "Simpler to make each arrow more bang for its buck than have you wasting arrows."

He eyed the clock before a smirk quirked his lips. "Nope. It's not hooked into the system either. You have to explain to Pepper how it broke though."

[agent_barton]

Clint nodded at Tony's words. "I hate wasting arrows," he murmured, grinning at the idea of going 'gangsta'. "I've tried a crossbow before," he admitted. "Wasn't terrible, but it wasn't that automatic response that I get from my recurve."

Releasing the bowstring, he heard the arrow hit the clock, the tempered glass cracking but not shattering, then falling onto the floor. "Point to Barton," Clint said, grinning wickedly. "Drink," he said to Tony, pointing at his glass. "Now, your turn. Unless you want to challenge me."

[playboy_philanthropist]

"You're going to start having an unfair advantage if we have to drink whenever the other one gets a shot," Tony joked as he poured himself a shot and took the shot, hissing at how it burned down. He shook out his arms before raising his bow. Come on muscle memory. He aimed a moment before letting the arrow loose. He frowned when it went wide and just clipped the edge of the clock. Right, not the same as the repulsors or guided missiles.

"That counts as a point," he said as he focused down on the bow and tinkered with it absently. "Drink. So what sort of challenges? Like horse in basketball? Off the ceiling, off the wall, into the target? I don't think that works as well with arrows. At least not these arrows."

[agent_barton]

"Totally counts," Clint said, pouring himself a shot and drinking it. He looked around and frowned. The good part about being at the archery range was that it was fairly safe. The worst part was that there was only approved archery targets to shoot at. Boo.

"I'm gonna set up some targets, unless you've got a better idea." Clint waited until Tony put his bow down, and headed down range, setting up the bulls-eyes haphazardly among the various target stands. "Want me to not look at them when I shoot? I can do that. Or shoot from sitting down." Or laying down, could he do that? Maybe...

[playboy_philanthropist]

"I have ideas, but I think my insurance company and Pepper would disapprove," Tony teased as he kept fiddling with his bow. "Plus the other house mates. Natasha might go for us randomly doing target practice around, she wants to join in on the tournament and all, but the others might not. Even if Steve's shield would make for a great target."

He rolled his eyes as he looked up again. "Just shoot normal. We'll see how cocky you are once you have a few more shots in you."

[agent_barton]

Clint exhaled, acknowledging that Tony was probably right. "I guess," he said forlornly, then counted the targets on the other side of the room, and selected the one farthest from them.

He turned to Tony, grinning as he shot. "Drink. Or, double or nothing if I miss the next one you tell me to shoot. And," he added, still not looking at the targets, "I won't look at it."

[playboy_philanthropist]

"Plus, I tend to like most of the things in my house," Tony said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes before raising an eyebrow. "You got echolocation or something? If I blindfold you and spin you around a few times, will you still hit the target?"

He pulled his bow up and aimed at a target, making a face when his arrow just knicked the side. "Alright big shot. Double or nothing. Hit the target I just hit."

[agent_barton]

"If you spun me around? I honestly don't know. We should try that later," Clint said, his eyes locked on Tony as he picked up his bow, and reaching for an arrow, he moved his arm to the right, pulled the bowstring and-

Thwack! Clint didn't even turn to look. "I tell you what, I'll drink with you," he said, pouring each of them a healthy shot. "I don't know what it's called, but I can see it in my head, where the target is, even if its moving. Just something I've always been able to do."

[playboy_philanthropist]

"We need to try it," Tony said as he watched the arrow sink into the target. "Because that's impressive." He took his shot before pouring himself another one. "Does it work with all weapons? Or if you've never been in a room before?"

[agent_barton]

Clint shrugged. "Usually a glance is all I need. I remember targets, and then I can, I don't know, calculate in my head where they'll be, how fast they move, shit like that. Just something I can do." Most of the other agents were used to him by now, and Natasha always acted like he wasn't special, which he needed to keep his ego in check. "I can do it with most weapons."

He turned his head toward the targets, checking to make sure that he had shot true, and was pleased with the results. "It's what got me started shooting at things, back in the day. Nifty little trick that kept me fed." Ah, the good old days. Clint snorted again, filling both their glasses, and drinking. "Also impressed the girls."

[playboy_philanthropist]

Tony took his shots before laughing. "Yeah, girls do love that target shooting thing. Being all big and manly and wondering how that aim works with other things," he said with a smirk. "So, also very impressive with the boys. All that thinking over aim as well. I'm sure you're a star with cumshots if you're good at aim with all 'weapons'."

Stepping a bit away from Clint, he raised his bow, his aiming time shorter than it had been before due to the tequila. A wide grin spread across his face as this arrow hit the bullseye on the target. "There we go. So, agent, since we're doing this boy's night thing, ignoring all those pesky real life things like relations and repercussions and crap, top five people in the tower you'd fuck. You can throw SHIELD in too if you want a bit more variety."

[agent_barton]

"I don't know how big and manly I was. Mostly a scrawny little kid, but I could bullshit my way into or out of any situation." Then the sex talk started, and Clint grinned. It reminded him a lot of his days in the service. "I've never actually had anyone break into applause or anything," he laughed, sitting down, putting the bow on his lap. "I didn't know you could be bad with a cumshot."

Then he got quiet a moment, as if deep in thought. "Not counting people I've already fucked?"

[playboy_philanthropist]

"Bullshitting is a great skill to master, no matter what sort of kid you are," Tony said with a laugh. "Bad aim could do that. No one likes getting cum in their eyes. Ok, maybe not no one, but it isn't high up on the 'hey, that sounds like a great idea' list."

He shook his head as he nodded towards the bottle. "Shot. And of course not. How do you expect me to come up with five people if I can't include people who have already been fucked."

[agent_barton]

Clint reached for the bottle, just taking a swig straight from it. "Point," he said, nodding at Tony. "Okay, let's see. No repercussions? Okay. Right off the bat, I'm going with a Natasha/Darcy combo, because I caught them making out once, and it was fucking glorious. Just..." Clint made a sighing noise, closing his eyes. "So pretty. Just- yeah, them. So there's two right there. And the Asgardian living with Thor, have you seen her? She's got great legs. Fantastic tits, too. Good fighter. I think her name is Sif." All in all, Asgardians seemed to be an attractive people.

"Now guys..." Clint paused, as if deep in thought. "Well, yourself, of course. You're like Everest, Stark. I'd tap that, yeah," he chuckled, pointing at Tony, "just to say I did. Gotta admit, after that, its a crap shoot between Thor and Bruce. But I do like blonds, and I'm curious about deities and do not want to be crushed in the afterglow of Hulk-love, so the edge goes to Thor."

He reached for the bottle again, one more teeny sip. "And we'll round it out with Captain America. Because." Even without his feelings, it was a no-brainer. The man was gorgeous. Perfectly made all over.

"You?" he asked Tony, handing the bottle back to him.

[playboy_philanthropist]

"Oh well, if we're allowing combos to count as one person," Tony teased with a smirk. "I'll just toss in an Asgardian orgy. Haven't gotten to meet Sif. Pepper has, but I've seen pictures and that is some nice work. I think I won't be moving for a week afterwards, but it'll be a good type of not moving." Which was a more acceptable answer than singling any of the Asgardians out. Especially considering who he was talking to.

"I will also take you up on that Natasha/Darcy sandwich, although I'd do both on their own too. But a sandwich bring me up to two." He pretended to think as he held up two fingers. "And to round it out, we'll do Pepper, obviously, Bruce, and you. I mean, all this talk about aim and blindfolding. And that compliment about being Everest, because, yeah, you definitely need extra oxygen for this climb." He took the bottle and took a deep drink. "And Hulk hugs are awesome. He is a giant snuggle bug. Don't let any of that whole Hulk smash mess fool you."

[agent_barton]

Clint recounted his choices on one hand, and then laughed. "This is why I'm not a scientist," he told Tony, shaking his head. "I can't count, I guess. Well, dammit, I have six, sue me." In his heart, really only one that he wanted, but playing the game was fun.

Nodding at Tony's choices, he smirked. "So, you go for the dark and broody sexiness of our other resident scientist? Not surprised, he seems to make Tasha happy." He pretended to be excited when Tony chose him as well. "Me?" he acted surprised, clutching the imaginary pearls around his neck. "I'm honored, or at least, I would be, Tony, should our paths ever cross like that. Alas, for the time being I'm married to my job. SHIELD is a cruel mistress, and would kick my ass if she caught me cheating on her with a strumpet like you."

Looking down at his bow, Clint frowned. "Weren't we shooting at things? Give me something to shoot at."

[playboy_philanthropist]

"And I have eight. Oops," Tony said innocently. "Pfft, we have computers for math. And calculators in a pinch. But yes. Just don't be losing count when you're in battle. Don't want you over estimating your arrow count by one as well."

He took another swig before a grin spread over his face. "Natasha has good taste. And I mean, that zen thing? Bet you he could go all night long just keeping you right on the edge. Or pound your ass so hard that you pleasantly can't sit for weeks. Or just seeing him trying to keep control when you're in him. The possibilities are endless."

He snorted as he leaned over Clint and gave him a saucy leer. "Hey, baby, I can be discrete. Me and SHIELD are doing shit behind each other back's all the time. She never has to know." He tried to keep a straight face before he broke down laughing. "But strumpet? Really? Strumpet? You have been hanging out with Steve too much." He shook his head and laughed some more. "Strumpet..." Still leaning over Clint, he pointed at a target behind the archer. "Hit that one, Arrow."