Scene from my FtM!Clint Headcanon Scenes 3 and 4
Scene 3, sequel to scene 1 Also, for reference: Scene 2
When Phil returned from getting coffees, Medic Sams was just finishing the set up with the IV. Phil passed the cup of actually-not-too-horrible coffee to the medic as he walked past Phil to the door. He set the remaining two cups on the bedside table and emptied the packets of sugar and powder creamer next to them before sitting himself in the plastic chair beside the bed.
Barton was laying back, wearing the standard, loose fitting scrubs instead on the blood stained shirt and jeans he’d been brought in wearing. He was slightly leaned toward his left side, trying to keep weight off the bullet wound that Phil had given the marksman. He also had his ankle somewhat elevated as he had twisted it when he’d jumped into a dumpster while trying to out run Sitwell. And Barton was staring at Phil. “What do you want, suit?” He didn’t really sound like he cared, more like it was information in a situation where information was valuable.
“Well, for starters, you could explain how no one in the intelligence community knew that the ‘Amazing Hawkeye’ has been pulling a Mulan on everyone for as long as you’ve been on anyone’s records?” Phil ripped open a couple of the sugars and poured them into his chosen coffee. He wasn’t a fan of powder creamer, only having grabbed them in case Clint preferred his coffee some way other than black.
Clint huffed. “What exactly is that supposed to mean? I’m not out to save China or anything.”
“I mean, how has no one noticed that Clint Barton was a woman?”
“I’m not.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not a woman.”
“I don’t understand. Your blood work and the fact that you have breasts…”
“I am not a fucking girl!” Clint interrupted, “I’m a man, dammit you stupid suit. Now, what do you want, or are you just trying to piss me off enough so you can finish the job?”
Phil just sat there a moment, realizing what an ass he’d just been. He knew of transexuality, but he’d never done any research or met anyone one who felt they’d been born the wrong gender. It was something only briefly covered in the stupid work place seminars meant to reduce conflict between agents with differing views, but one slide in a two hour long course doesn’t mean he knows something when he sees it. The bindings weren’t solely meant to disguise Clint’s (Phil was doubting more and more that the name was his birth name) gender, but it was to make him(her? Phil still was feeling unsure about pronouns at the moment) feel more like he was in the right body. Phil Coulson was an ass.
After a long while, after Clint had leaned over and snagging his cooling coffee and adding the remaining ten sugar packets, Phil opened his mouth again, “SHIELD has seen your skills and how your contracts seem to be accepted only if you believe the target deserves it. We want to offer you a chance to work with the good guys. I’m sorry for stepping in it with that comment on… you know.” Phil wasn’t completely sure what was making him sheepish, that he’d offended ‘Hawkeye’ or that he felt guilty about it. “Basically, instead of moving from place to place, job to job, would you be interested in becoming an agent of SHIELD.”
Clint stared at him, unsure looking. Phil supposed that if someone had gone from accidentally insulting him to offering him a job, especially with the back ground Clint had, he’d be wary of something that seem too good.
“If I was interested, IF, what’s SHIELD think about bows?”
Scene 4
3. Clint didn't start taking T until after he was working for SHIELD, mainly because he hadn't been able to afford it most of the time. The one of the medical staff mentions that SHIELD insurance policies include hormones and even if it didn't, at his new pay grade he could afford it.
Clint loved being an agent. He got to play with awesome toys on missions, take out the same scum he had before, and he got medical (even dental) completely covered. Of course, he made sure to use the medical plenty (more like Coulson made him go whenever he got more than a paper cut, which might be a bit hyperbolized telling). The staff in medical knew him well, mainly for either being a ridiculous flirt or for constantly trying to sneak to the range when he felt that he was well enough, even if the staff didn’t agree.
This particular time, Clint didn’t have a way of escaping because he’d fracture his shins when an overzealous henchman had smashed a pipe into Clint, trying to get him to give up the other sniper’s position, the other sniper being Coulson, who’s radio tag was (to Clint’s infinite amusement after Fury had used it to check in with the teams covering the embassy) “Cheese”. Clint was considering using his time laid up to try and weasel the story behind that one out of someone. Not that Clint had room to tease; his radio tag was his old circus name. What if Coulson had been some sort of performer name Cheese?
Clint didn’t ponder this to far along the train of thought because he suddenly realized the newest medic (he thought the Mitchell had said her name was Kinsey or Kelsey or something else with a ‘K’) was staring openly at his bare chest, well, mostly bare sans the wraps. She looked super curious, but too unsure to approach the resting archer. So, Clint helped her along, “I don’t think I seen you around here before,” he winks at the medic, “Am I that perfect that you feel compelled to stare?”
The medic blushes. “Sorry, I was just thinking, don’t the bindings get uncomfortable when it’s your, you know, when you’re on your period?”
Clint wasn’t surprised that her curiousity had to do with the oddity of a male agent in a female body, but he hadn’t expected something like that. HE clears his throat. “Sometimes, usually when I am stuck on a mission at the same time. Sometimes I’ll go the week with a sports bra instead, but if I can help it, I’d rather not. Why you wondering, Medic…?”
“Kathy, Kathy Ulrich. I just got sent here from training.” She smiled. “I was just wondering if you’d ever considered taking testosterone? One of my college friends takes T, and she… sorry, he says he doesn’t get his period as often, or almost at all.”
“Yeah,” Clint sighs, “I’ve thought about it, but I could never afford to stay on it consistently.”
“Really? I thought SHIELD medical covered hormones, at the very least, with your pay grade you could probably afford it without any insurance coverage.”
“Really? But, would that throw off my abilities?”
“Not after you’d adjusted to taking them. My friend had a week or so of his system freaking out, but he was fine after some serious rest. I don’t think it would be too adverse. And, it would stop the soreness.”
Clint just stared at her like she was his fairy godmother come to tell him that he was invited to the ball after all. Before he’d responded, she had pulled up the SHIELD medical plan on her phone. “Yeah, hormones are covered. So’s a fortnight’s leave if you get surgery.”
“KATHY! I NEED HAND IN HERE! Agent Long is having some trouble breathing through his mask.”
“Sorry, Hawkeye, gotta work.” And she ran off toward the sound of the yelling voice.
If it wasn’t for the euphoria running through his mind, Clint might’ve been annoyed that the newbie already knew his call sign.