< “What?” “Throw it,” she repeated “Let me see…” Cooper did as she asked, again, the dart just missing the bullseye. “You’re throwing >

< too hard,” she spoke softly “Don’t flick your wrist so hard” “But Dad said…” “And Dad is in the other room” Laura smiled “I had my >

< own training too back in the day, y’know” Cooper arched his eyebrow suspiciously at the dark haired woman before he scoffed “You did >

< not” Laura held out her hand indicating she wanted the lone dart still in her son’s hand. “Let me see” Cooper snorted with a laugh >

< handing the dart over, there was no way she- His thought was cut short when the dart hit the centre of the board with a small thud, >

< Laura turned to her son with a smirk. “I still got it” “How did you-?” Copper looked at his mother in shock “What?” He asked “Next >

< you’re going to tell me you can shoot too?” “How do you think your dad and I met?” Cooper’s face scrunched in disgust as he shook >

< his head “Ew…” Laura laughed lightly, a hand cupping her son’s cheek “It just takes practice sweetheart, you’ll get it, Dad wasn’t >

< always a bullseye shot.” ** Despite his mother’s constant encouragement, his father’s persistence, the more often Cooper missed the >

< bullseye than not just discouraged him further. It seemed like everyone in the Barton family had something they were /really/ good at, >

< everyone except for him…and since learning his mother was /also/ a near perfect shot, Cooper had wanted to give up even more. He had >

< spent the last week and a half straight cooped up in the house, throwing dart after dart at that stupid board and missing almost /every/ >

< time. If Laura hadn’t kicked him out of the house, told him to go for a walk and get some fresh air, he’d probably /still/ be there, >

< still missing…. Instead he sat in Central Park, people watching. Laura had said taking a break was a good idea, that it would help >

< him to be able to concentrate more when he came back later….he didn’t see /how/, but he also knew that Laura Barton was not a woman you >

< argued with; something he learned at a very young age. So here he sat in the park watching a bunch of grade schoolers play a game of >

< soccer, a couple walking their dog, and a girl about his age consoling a toddler who had dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk. >

< Another heavy sigh left his lips as he flopped back on the grass, his arm draping over his eyes to block out the sun; ten minutes more >

< and he could go home without getting yelled at for not being gone long enough. Ten minutes and he could get back to what he /really/ >

< wanted to do. Practice and focus.