Recruitment pt 6/7
Title: Recruitment
Author: slynn6776
Rating: T for language/theme/implied abuse in later parts
Fandom: Avengers Movieverse
Character(s): Clint Barton, Ensemble
Spoilers: Takes place after the movie
Beta: tripp3235
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. I'm only borrowing them.
Summary: Tony decides that before he can move forward with his plans, first he'll need some answers, whether Clint wants to provide them or not.
It was half-past three when they arrived back at the Tower and, as Tony had promised, Clint was completely plastered. It was so bad that, at one point, he was fairly certain Thor had carried him up some stairs, but the recollection was so fuzzy he wasn't sure if it had actually happened or not. Either way, the idea of it happening was hilarious to his tequila addled brain.
Clint hadn't been exactly cheered up by their little outing, but it had let him forget his problems and relax for awhile. A very short while as it turned out since, once back at the Tower and safely, maybe even literally, dropped off at his room, Clint found Natasha waiting for him, as she had apparently been doing for most of the night.
Clint had opened his bedroom door, flipped on the light, and froze as soon as his eyes met hers.
Natasha took one look at him, shook her head and declared, "You're drunk."
"Yeah."
"So that's where you've been?" she asked as she headed to the bathroom.
"Not all night," Clint answered, as he propped himself up in the doorway and attempted to kick off his boots.
Natasha reentered the room with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, which she immediately handed off to him before sitting down on the bed and fixing him with a glare. "You didn't have to tell them anything."
"How do you know I did?" he asked after swallowing the pills and downing the glass in one shot. He'd given up on the boots. They'd have to stay on. He was in no shape to work shoelaces.
"I know you."
Clint sighed and put the glass on the nightstand before sitting down beside her, just close enough that their legs touched.
"They didn't have any right to ask," Natasha said, tilting her head towards his. "They didn't need to know."
"They did have a right," Clint countered, trying hard not to slur his words too much. "And... I wanted to tell them. It felt good just... I hated not... I don't know what I'm saying," he finished with a laugh.
"You know what you're saying."
"I do?" he asked, smiling at her and relieved to see her smile in return, even if it was just for a moment.
"You were always a horrible spy," Natasha said, still looking in his eyes. "But you were a great partner."
"I'm still your partner," Clint said, sobering some from her words, by the seriousness of her tone, as he leaned in and brushed the hair back from her neck, his hand lingering longer than strictly necessary.
"You're done," she whispered after staring at him for what could have been an eternity. It felt that way when she looked at him. "I know it. You've been... you've been trying to tell me, but you won't just say it because you feel obligated. So instead, you keep fighting it. Fighting how you feel. You brought me in and you don't want to leave without me. I'm right, aren't I?"
Clint sat there, staring at her and unsure of how to proceed. Maybe it took her saying it for him to see the truth of it all. Maybe he really hadn't known it himself. But now he did. Clint saw it pretty clearly. That's how it had always been with them. She knew him better than he knew himself.
"You could come with me."
"I could... but I'm not done. I still have things to do."
"And you can still get them done, just... just not with SHIELD. Don't you get that this is our chance to call the shots? To help plan and decide and not just to be used like... like that's all we're for. We can actually do something good."
"We are doing something good."
"We can do better," Clint argued, feeling half the battle was already lost. Fighting with her, reasoning with her, was like fighting the wind.
"And that's the only reason why?" she pushed, and he knew it was because she could.
In her mind, the conversation was over and there was nothing left to really say on the subject. She'd been pushing him for years because he always relented. This was her game, the same game they'd been playing now for years.
Clint thought about just leaning in and kissing her as an answer. It would be easy. They'd even done it before, several times in fact, but never like this. Never alone and never without some mission as a pretext. But, he didn't because it would be what she'd expect him to do if he ever was to challenge her. And he didn't because it wasn't the right answer. Either way, Natasha didn't want an answer, she wanted him to abandon the topic altogether.
Clint may have finally understood himself, and Natasha might know how firmly she stood, but this wasn't something they discussed. It wasn't something they could discuss and Clint was certain, with how he felt, that it wasn't anything he could ever find words for.
Still, if he was going to try, it had to be now. Now was the time for words. They were each decided and it couldn't hurt more than it already did.
"No."
Natasha looked surprised. She couldn't hide that reaction from him. Clint had called her bluff and for a moment she didn't know how to respond.
"It's not it," he continued, gaining confidence from her silence. "You know it isn't. As long as we're with SHIELD, there's no chance for us. Not together. Not --"
"Stop it," she said sharply, getting up and crossing the room to put as much distance between them as possible. Natasha didn't like that answer, or this game, purposely missing the point that, to Clint, it wasn't a game and never had been. "You're drunk."
Clint stared at her for a moment before sighing, "You're right." Not waiting for a reply, he flopped back on the bed and continued to gaze up at the ceiling as he shook his head. "I'm drunk... I am, but... I know what I'm saying. I know what I'm about. We could have normal."
"We're not normal."
"Okay," he laughed. "We could have normal-ish."
"What exactly is normal-ish?" she asked, and without seeing her face, Clint could still picture her smile. Without looking he could tell she'd come back to his side of the room.
It was like hitting a mental reset button. Natasha could do that. Shut it down, turn it off, start again. She could easily change from angry or indifferent to flirtatious and happy. Whatever she needed to be. Clint never got the hang of it. He'd always only been capable of being himself.
"I don't know," he said, waving a hand through the air and relieved to feel the bed shift as Natasha sat down on the edge of it. It wasn't how he wanted to have this conversation, but he'd take it. "We could start with a kiss. I could kiss you whenever I wanted. Or you could kiss me. Not just when our lives depend on it or we need a distraction or to blend in with all the other happy, real couples around us."
"What else?" she asked, laying down beside him, head propped on her hand as she met his eyes with her own. Perhaps playing along because she could. Clint hoped it was because she wanted to.
"We could share a bed without building a pillow fort between us," he said with a smile. "Without being afraid we'd be breaking some stupid, unwritten rule, that said we were somehow betraying ourselves if we occasionally woke up in each other's arms." His eyes momentarily darted towards hers to try and determine how she was taking this. If she was as serious as he was. With her, he never quite knew. "We could wake up in each other's arms. That's normal. God," he muttered, his voice low and intense, "I want that."
"If that's all you want you could have just picked up some girl at whatever bar you spent your night in," she said, trying to pass it off as a joke.
"That's harder to do when sitting between a demi-god and a billionaire," he returned with ease, but wouldn't be deterred for long. Clint was determined to speak his mind for once. "And that's not it. I don't want some girl. I want you."
"I'm not a prize."
"Good, because I haven't earned one," Clint answered, reaching up and tucking her hair back behind her ear. "But I have earned some happiness. So have you. We both deserve something and if you don't want me, say it. I've heard no before. Hasn't killed me yet."
Natasha hesitated for only a moment before leaning down and pressing her lips to his. It was slow and deliberate. She already knew the contours of his mouth, the way he tasted, but this time was different. This time there was no doubting the meaning. It was no act. It was just them.
Natasha pulled back, slowly, because there was no rush. She lingered because she wanted to and because she was in hurry for what had to happen next.
In her mind, this really could go no further. In her mind, it had already gone too far.
"You're drunk," she repeated for the third time.
Clint shut his eyes and shook his head. "You can't use that excuse forever."
"But I can tonight."
"Fine," he said, eyes still shut, "but I won't be the next time."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Barton," Natasha said, sliding off the bed. Her tone light and playful, the way it always was between them, but he knew better. And so did she.
"No games," Clint said, still serious as he sat up and looked her in the eyes.
"I'm not playing," she smiled, hand already on the door.
"Neither am I."
"We'll talk later," she insisted, brushing off the seriousness of his tone. "When whatever it is that has gotten into you is gone."
"You always say that but we never do. There's no later for us. There's now, Nat."
"Get some sleep," she said, heading out of the room without a single look back.
"Just leave then," he yelled after her, too tired to get up and go after her. "That's fine. That's what you do."
Her reply was the slam of the front door.
"Everyone does."
"That's right," Phil said, with a crisp nod as he continued to stack up the notebooks from the meeting. "Everyone does think that because you've given them no reason to assume otherwise."
"Why are they assuming anything in the first place?" Clint spat back at him. "We're partners. We work together. Hell, you and I work together and no one assumes we're fucking."
Phil paused long enough to give him a stern look.
"Do they?" Clint asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"You and Agent Romanoff have worked closely together for well over four years now. People talk."
"People should mind their own business."
"It's not just that and you know it, Barton."
Clint started to say something in his defense, but stopped. Partially because of the look on Phil's face. Partially because he already knew what was coming next.
"Geneva," Phil said. "You broke that informant's nose."
"He hit her."
"And you had to be restrained."
"I'm not sorry about that," Clint said, shaking his head adamantly. "You were just as angry as I was. I just got there first."
"Tasha can handle herself," Phil answered, finishing up and exiting the conference room with Clint right at his heels.
"That isn't the point."
"It is actually," Phil returned. "She doesn't need your protection. Not that way. I stand by my decision. You both need a break from each other."
"So you're just going to reassign her?"
"Not her, Clint," Phil said, dropping his voice and looking genuinely sorry.
"Me?" he asked, shaking his head in frustration. "That's... that's great, Agent Coulson. Thanks for the heads up."
"Don't start Agent Coulson'ing me," Phil said as he opened the door to his office and Clint burst in ahead of him.
"Well, I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea."
"To be fair, you earned that reputation," Phil said with a hint of a smile as he sat down.
Clint kicked the door shut and slid into the chair opposite Phil's desk, his whole face changing as it all sunk in.
"I know there's nothing inappropriate going on," Phil assured him, "but my hands are tied."
"So untie them."
"Clint," Phil sighed. "Natasha asked for a solo mission. And as it happens, I had something new come up and she'd be of use."
"That Adventurers thing?"
"You know what it's called. The Avengers Initiative," Phil corrected, shaking his head. "That's right."
"And while you two are off saving the world... where am I going to be?"
"How's your Portuguese?"
"Shitty."
"You might want to brush up on it then."
Phil sat behind his desk, working, as Clint continued to stew a little longer. Silence was always comfortable between them and Clint had a lot on his mind.
"Is this permanent?" Clint finally asked.
"It doesn't have to be."
"But right now it is."
"The perception is that I can no longer handle you," Phil said, eyes down on his work, which made it next to impossible for Clint to get a good read on him. "That you are borderline out of control, irresponsible, reckless, careless, and prone to snap judgments."
"That's crap."
"I didn't say I agreed with them."
"But you didn't defend me."
"That's how you're seen..." Phil sighed as he stopped long enough to throw him a pitying glance. "And, with your record..."
"So what do I do?"
"Be serious," Phil answered, without looking up from his computer. "Clint, you're great at what you do, but your attitude is off-putting. You get too close and you make it too personal."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"No," Phil said, looking up with complete sincerity. "I don't think it is at all."
"But that's why I'm being shipped off to nowhere. That's why Natasha doesn't want me around. That's why you think I'm a liability. That's why I got rejected for your little Introverts Association. Isn't it?"
"I can't speak for Tasha, you two have to work that out on your own. But I do not think you're a liability, Clint. I think of you as an asset. And as a friend. And, as your friend, I have to tell you truthfully that you'll never be on the Avengers team if you don't make some changes."
"Cameron's never letting me on that team, no matter how serious I am. We both know that. He hates me."
"You slept with his girlfriend."
"I didn't know she was his girlfriend."
"Really?" Phil asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief.
"Does it matter? He hated me before that anyway."
"Well, Cameron may not be in charge of it for much longer," Phil said.
"Says..."
"Director Fury."
"As of..."
"Two weeks from tomorrow."
"Congratulation, Phil," Clint said, smiling and meaning it. Clint couldn't think of a better person for the job.
"It's not official yet," Phil answered, never one to get ahead of himself. "And, it won't be until we actually get some momentum going. But when we do, Clint, I'd like to bring you back."
"Really?"
"But I can't have you acting the way you have been acting," Phil said, turning on his most serious voice. "Do you know why I wanted you in SHIELD?"
"Because you didn't want to track me down again and put a bullet in my head," Clint answered.
"No, I didn't," Phil admitted. "But that's not why. I wanted you in SHIELD because of your humanity. You're not a cold blooded killer. You don't enjoy this and you shouldn't. What we do is serious work, and I know that all of this attitude and bluster is a defense, Clint. But it's working too well. Other people are seeing you in the wrong light. You have to correct that. You have to correct it now."
Clint didn't want to believe him, but knew Phil was right. Phil was always right, which is why Clint always listened to him.
"Okay," he said simply, glad to see he still had the power to surprise Phil, who looked as if he'd expected an argument.
"That was easy."
"Well, I'm not promising much," Clint corrected. "But, I'll try. I'll change."
"Don't change," Phil said, shaking his head. "Just... become a better you."
"A better me?" Clint laughed. "What is this, an infomercial? Are you going to start a new career as a motivational speaker?"
"You know what I mean."
"I thought I did but now..."
"Try to act more professional, okay? That's it."
"I'm not wearing a suit," Clint said, as he got to his feet.
"No one expects you to," Phil returned, and as was his custom, he stood up as well. Even though Clint came and went from his office so much people thought they shared it, Phil always stood when anyone came or left the room.
"You really think they'll let me do it? That they'll let me join the Avengers Initiative?"
"Show them you want it and they'll have to. Prove them wrong, you're good at that, and I'll make it happen if I have to."
"You promise?" he asked, dropping his guard momentarily and letting on exactly how much he did want this. He could do that with Phil. They'd always understood one another.
"I do," Phil said as Clint nodded, determined not to let Phil down. Not to let himself down either.
"Thanks, Phil," Clint muttered, still staring up at the ceiling just before shutting his eyes and falling to sleep.
Author: slynn6776
Rating: T for language/theme/implied abuse in later parts
Fandom: Avengers Movieverse
Character(s): Clint Barton, Ensemble
Spoilers: Takes place after the movie
Beta: tripp3235
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. I'm only borrowing them.
Summary: Tony decides that before he can move forward with his plans, first he'll need some answers, whether Clint wants to provide them or not.
It was half-past three when they arrived back at the Tower and, as Tony had promised, Clint was completely plastered. It was so bad that, at one point, he was fairly certain Thor had carried him up some stairs, but the recollection was so fuzzy he wasn't sure if it had actually happened or not. Either way, the idea of it happening was hilarious to his tequila addled brain.
Clint hadn't been exactly cheered up by their little outing, but it had let him forget his problems and relax for awhile. A very short while as it turned out since, once back at the Tower and safely, maybe even literally, dropped off at his room, Clint found Natasha waiting for him, as she had apparently been doing for most of the night.
Clint had opened his bedroom door, flipped on the light, and froze as soon as his eyes met hers.
Natasha took one look at him, shook her head and declared, "You're drunk."
"Yeah."
"So that's where you've been?" she asked as she headed to the bathroom.
"Not all night," Clint answered, as he propped himself up in the doorway and attempted to kick off his boots.
Natasha reentered the room with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, which she immediately handed off to him before sitting down on the bed and fixing him with a glare. "You didn't have to tell them anything."
"How do you know I did?" he asked after swallowing the pills and downing the glass in one shot. He'd given up on the boots. They'd have to stay on. He was in no shape to work shoelaces.
"I know you."
Clint sighed and put the glass on the nightstand before sitting down beside her, just close enough that their legs touched.
"They didn't have any right to ask," Natasha said, tilting her head towards his. "They didn't need to know."
"They did have a right," Clint countered, trying hard not to slur his words too much. "And... I wanted to tell them. It felt good just... I hated not... I don't know what I'm saying," he finished with a laugh.
"You know what you're saying."
"I do?" he asked, smiling at her and relieved to see her smile in return, even if it was just for a moment.
"You were always a horrible spy," Natasha said, still looking in his eyes. "But you were a great partner."
"I'm still your partner," Clint said, sobering some from her words, by the seriousness of her tone, as he leaned in and brushed the hair back from her neck, his hand lingering longer than strictly necessary.
"You're done," she whispered after staring at him for what could have been an eternity. It felt that way when she looked at him. "I know it. You've been... you've been trying to tell me, but you won't just say it because you feel obligated. So instead, you keep fighting it. Fighting how you feel. You brought me in and you don't want to leave without me. I'm right, aren't I?"
Clint sat there, staring at her and unsure of how to proceed. Maybe it took her saying it for him to see the truth of it all. Maybe he really hadn't known it himself. But now he did. Clint saw it pretty clearly. That's how it had always been with them. She knew him better than he knew himself.
"You could come with me."
"I could... but I'm not done. I still have things to do."
"And you can still get them done, just... just not with SHIELD. Don't you get that this is our chance to call the shots? To help plan and decide and not just to be used like... like that's all we're for. We can actually do something good."
"We are doing something good."
"We can do better," Clint argued, feeling half the battle was already lost. Fighting with her, reasoning with her, was like fighting the wind.
"And that's the only reason why?" she pushed, and he knew it was because she could.
In her mind, the conversation was over and there was nothing left to really say on the subject. She'd been pushing him for years because he always relented. This was her game, the same game they'd been playing now for years.
Clint thought about just leaning in and kissing her as an answer. It would be easy. They'd even done it before, several times in fact, but never like this. Never alone and never without some mission as a pretext. But, he didn't because it would be what she'd expect him to do if he ever was to challenge her. And he didn't because it wasn't the right answer. Either way, Natasha didn't want an answer, she wanted him to abandon the topic altogether.
Clint may have finally understood himself, and Natasha might know how firmly she stood, but this wasn't something they discussed. It wasn't something they could discuss and Clint was certain, with how he felt, that it wasn't anything he could ever find words for.
Still, if he was going to try, it had to be now. Now was the time for words. They were each decided and it couldn't hurt more than it already did.
"No."
Natasha looked surprised. She couldn't hide that reaction from him. Clint had called her bluff and for a moment she didn't know how to respond.
"It's not it," he continued, gaining confidence from her silence. "You know it isn't. As long as we're with SHIELD, there's no chance for us. Not together. Not --"
"Stop it," she said sharply, getting up and crossing the room to put as much distance between them as possible. Natasha didn't like that answer, or this game, purposely missing the point that, to Clint, it wasn't a game and never had been. "You're drunk."
Clint stared at her for a moment before sighing, "You're right." Not waiting for a reply, he flopped back on the bed and continued to gaze up at the ceiling as he shook his head. "I'm drunk... I am, but... I know what I'm saying. I know what I'm about. We could have normal."
"We're not normal."
"Okay," he laughed. "We could have normal-ish."
"What exactly is normal-ish?" she asked, and without seeing her face, Clint could still picture her smile. Without looking he could tell she'd come back to his side of the room.
It was like hitting a mental reset button. Natasha could do that. Shut it down, turn it off, start again. She could easily change from angry or indifferent to flirtatious and happy. Whatever she needed to be. Clint never got the hang of it. He'd always only been capable of being himself.
"I don't know," he said, waving a hand through the air and relieved to feel the bed shift as Natasha sat down on the edge of it. It wasn't how he wanted to have this conversation, but he'd take it. "We could start with a kiss. I could kiss you whenever I wanted. Or you could kiss me. Not just when our lives depend on it or we need a distraction or to blend in with all the other happy, real couples around us."
"What else?" she asked, laying down beside him, head propped on her hand as she met his eyes with her own. Perhaps playing along because she could. Clint hoped it was because she wanted to.
"We could share a bed without building a pillow fort between us," he said with a smile. "Without being afraid we'd be breaking some stupid, unwritten rule, that said we were somehow betraying ourselves if we occasionally woke up in each other's arms." His eyes momentarily darted towards hers to try and determine how she was taking this. If she was as serious as he was. With her, he never quite knew. "We could wake up in each other's arms. That's normal. God," he muttered, his voice low and intense, "I want that."
"If that's all you want you could have just picked up some girl at whatever bar you spent your night in," she said, trying to pass it off as a joke.
"That's harder to do when sitting between a demi-god and a billionaire," he returned with ease, but wouldn't be deterred for long. Clint was determined to speak his mind for once. "And that's not it. I don't want some girl. I want you."
"I'm not a prize."
"Good, because I haven't earned one," Clint answered, reaching up and tucking her hair back behind her ear. "But I have earned some happiness. So have you. We both deserve something and if you don't want me, say it. I've heard no before. Hasn't killed me yet."
Natasha hesitated for only a moment before leaning down and pressing her lips to his. It was slow and deliberate. She already knew the contours of his mouth, the way he tasted, but this time was different. This time there was no doubting the meaning. It was no act. It was just them.
Natasha pulled back, slowly, because there was no rush. She lingered because she wanted to and because she was in hurry for what had to happen next.
In her mind, this really could go no further. In her mind, it had already gone too far.
"You're drunk," she repeated for the third time.
Clint shut his eyes and shook his head. "You can't use that excuse forever."
"But I can tonight."
"Fine," he said, eyes still shut, "but I won't be the next time."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Barton," Natasha said, sliding off the bed. Her tone light and playful, the way it always was between them, but he knew better. And so did she.
"No games," Clint said, still serious as he sat up and looked her in the eyes.
"I'm not playing," she smiled, hand already on the door.
"Neither am I."
"We'll talk later," she insisted, brushing off the seriousness of his tone. "When whatever it is that has gotten into you is gone."
"You always say that but we never do. There's no later for us. There's now, Nat."
"Get some sleep," she said, heading out of the room without a single look back.
"Just leave then," he yelled after her, too tired to get up and go after her. "That's fine. That's what you do."
Her reply was the slam of the front door.
"Everyone does."
"That's right," Phil said, with a crisp nod as he continued to stack up the notebooks from the meeting. "Everyone does think that because you've given them no reason to assume otherwise."
"Why are they assuming anything in the first place?" Clint spat back at him. "We're partners. We work together. Hell, you and I work together and no one assumes we're fucking."
Phil paused long enough to give him a stern look.
"Do they?" Clint asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"You and Agent Romanoff have worked closely together for well over four years now. People talk."
"People should mind their own business."
"It's not just that and you know it, Barton."
Clint started to say something in his defense, but stopped. Partially because of the look on Phil's face. Partially because he already knew what was coming next.
"Geneva," Phil said. "You broke that informant's nose."
"He hit her."
"And you had to be restrained."
"I'm not sorry about that," Clint said, shaking his head adamantly. "You were just as angry as I was. I just got there first."
"Tasha can handle herself," Phil answered, finishing up and exiting the conference room with Clint right at his heels.
"That isn't the point."
"It is actually," Phil returned. "She doesn't need your protection. Not that way. I stand by my decision. You both need a break from each other."
"So you're just going to reassign her?"
"Not her, Clint," Phil said, dropping his voice and looking genuinely sorry.
"Me?" he asked, shaking his head in frustration. "That's... that's great, Agent Coulson. Thanks for the heads up."
"Don't start Agent Coulson'ing me," Phil said as he opened the door to his office and Clint burst in ahead of him.
"Well, I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea."
"To be fair, you earned that reputation," Phil said with a hint of a smile as he sat down.
Clint kicked the door shut and slid into the chair opposite Phil's desk, his whole face changing as it all sunk in.
"I know there's nothing inappropriate going on," Phil assured him, "but my hands are tied."
"So untie them."
"Clint," Phil sighed. "Natasha asked for a solo mission. And as it happens, I had something new come up and she'd be of use."
"That Adventurers thing?"
"You know what it's called. The Avengers Initiative," Phil corrected, shaking his head. "That's right."
"And while you two are off saving the world... where am I going to be?"
"How's your Portuguese?"
"Shitty."
"You might want to brush up on it then."
Phil sat behind his desk, working, as Clint continued to stew a little longer. Silence was always comfortable between them and Clint had a lot on his mind.
"Is this permanent?" Clint finally asked.
"It doesn't have to be."
"But right now it is."
"The perception is that I can no longer handle you," Phil said, eyes down on his work, which made it next to impossible for Clint to get a good read on him. "That you are borderline out of control, irresponsible, reckless, careless, and prone to snap judgments."
"That's crap."
"I didn't say I agreed with them."
"But you didn't defend me."
"That's how you're seen..." Phil sighed as he stopped long enough to throw him a pitying glance. "And, with your record..."
"So what do I do?"
"Be serious," Phil answered, without looking up from his computer. "Clint, you're great at what you do, but your attitude is off-putting. You get too close and you make it too personal."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"No," Phil said, looking up with complete sincerity. "I don't think it is at all."
"But that's why I'm being shipped off to nowhere. That's why Natasha doesn't want me around. That's why you think I'm a liability. That's why I got rejected for your little Introverts Association. Isn't it?"
"I can't speak for Tasha, you two have to work that out on your own. But I do not think you're a liability, Clint. I think of you as an asset. And as a friend. And, as your friend, I have to tell you truthfully that you'll never be on the Avengers team if you don't make some changes."
"Cameron's never letting me on that team, no matter how serious I am. We both know that. He hates me."
"You slept with his girlfriend."
"I didn't know she was his girlfriend."
"Really?" Phil asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief.
"Does it matter? He hated me before that anyway."
"Well, Cameron may not be in charge of it for much longer," Phil said.
"Says..."
"Director Fury."
"As of..."
"Two weeks from tomorrow."
"Congratulation, Phil," Clint said, smiling and meaning it. Clint couldn't think of a better person for the job.
"It's not official yet," Phil answered, never one to get ahead of himself. "And, it won't be until we actually get some momentum going. But when we do, Clint, I'd like to bring you back."
"Really?"
"But I can't have you acting the way you have been acting," Phil said, turning on his most serious voice. "Do you know why I wanted you in SHIELD?"
"Because you didn't want to track me down again and put a bullet in my head," Clint answered.
"No, I didn't," Phil admitted. "But that's not why. I wanted you in SHIELD because of your humanity. You're not a cold blooded killer. You don't enjoy this and you shouldn't. What we do is serious work, and I know that all of this attitude and bluster is a defense, Clint. But it's working too well. Other people are seeing you in the wrong light. You have to correct that. You have to correct it now."
Clint didn't want to believe him, but knew Phil was right. Phil was always right, which is why Clint always listened to him.
"Okay," he said simply, glad to see he still had the power to surprise Phil, who looked as if he'd expected an argument.
"That was easy."
"Well, I'm not promising much," Clint corrected. "But, I'll try. I'll change."
"Don't change," Phil said, shaking his head. "Just... become a better you."
"A better me?" Clint laughed. "What is this, an infomercial? Are you going to start a new career as a motivational speaker?"
"You know what I mean."
"I thought I did but now..."
"Try to act more professional, okay? That's it."
"I'm not wearing a suit," Clint said, as he got to his feet.
"No one expects you to," Phil returned, and as was his custom, he stood up as well. Even though Clint came and went from his office so much people thought they shared it, Phil always stood when anyone came or left the room.
"You really think they'll let me do it? That they'll let me join the Avengers Initiative?"
"Show them you want it and they'll have to. Prove them wrong, you're good at that, and I'll make it happen if I have to."
"You promise?" he asked, dropping his guard momentarily and letting on exactly how much he did want this. He could do that with Phil. They'd always understood one another.
"I do," Phil said as Clint nodded, determined not to let Phil down. Not to let himself down either.
"Thanks, Phil," Clint muttered, still staring up at the ceiling just before shutting his eyes and falling to sleep.