[right]The Far, Far Past
S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ; Washington D.C.[/right]"Barton!"

Clint barely kept from flinching at the sound of Fury's voice. The Director still intimidated him, even if he would never admit it. The archer turned and gave a sloppy salute.

"[color=bc8dbf]Hey. Nice day right?[/color]" Clint casually leaned against the nearest wall, watching Fury's good eye twitch. 

"Agent Barton!" Fury still practically roared. "Come with me."

"[color=bc8dbf]Righty-o.[/color]" Clint drawled as he lazily peeled himself off the wall. He couldn't say no. Not to Fury. After all the man had personally recruited Clint after he came onto S.H.I.E.L.D's radar. And not in a good way. He was just lucky he didn't end up in jail like Barney. While Clint tried to be a good person, Barn, well he didn't really ever try. It had all started to look up when they ran away to join the circus, but after meeting Jacques and Buck, things had spiraled back down hill. Fury had pulled him out of that and Clint wasn't sure if he ever thanked the man. Or if he even forgave him yet.

Clint followed Fury and couldn't help but smile broadly when people gave him pitying looks. It was no secret Clint was a handful and caused all sorts of problems. His new nickname was 'trouble' and he lived up to it. The only one who seemed to respect or even like him was this pretty slip of a woman. Bobby Morse. Man, was she a looker. 

Some of that must have been on Clint's face when Fury turned back to him. If anything eye-patch's expression became more sour. "In." He grunted opening a door.

It was dark, but Clint stepped boldly through, as if he owned the place. Fake it until you make it. That was one of the few lessons he learned from his father that was actually worth something.

"[color=bc8dbf]Ooo.[/color]" Clint sing-songed. "[color=bc8dbf]What a dark and scary room.[/color]"

Obviously Fury didn't reply, but Clint imagined him holding back a snicker, or even a snort. When light flooded the room, Clint had to resist shielding his eyes. Fury walked around Clint to a metal desk and dropped a file on it.

"[color=bc8dbf]Am I getting the boot? The six foot nap?[/color]" Clint asked, still in that same tone from earlier. "[color=bc8dbf]This is so exciting![/color]"

Clint liked to believe he really could see the vein's in Fury's head was actually throbbing. Fury would make a good anime character. If only Clint could make steam come out his ears. Than everything would be so worth it. Clint could feel the smile on his face that refused to leave even under the force of Fury's glare.

Fortunately for Fury, before Clint could continue the door opened again and another agent stepped into the room.

"Coulson." Fury greeted him. Was that relief in the man's voice. God, Clint hoped so.

"Director." Coulson said taking a seat next to Clint.

Ooookay. This was weird. Clint looked this new agent over and wondered what this stick-up-his-ass agent could have done to have received Fury's ire.

"Barton, this is your new handler. Congratulations." The dry, dead pan delivery took away from the horror of Fury's words. Ever since Clint had set foot in SHIELD as an agent he had driven everyone away.

"[color=bc8dbf]I don't need a handler.[/color]" Clint snarled at Fury. 

There was a small snort from Coulson. As if that was somehow funny. So Clint's head snapped around and his eyes bore into Coulson's. "[color=bc8dbf]How old are you anyways? Fourteen, Twelve?[/color]"

"Old enough." Coulson tossed back unruffled.

"And the only one who's still willing to work with you." Fury added.

Clint leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. "[color=bc8dbf]Is this what this is? Clean up your act or we'll really give you a dirt nap? Jesus, you are like a villain in a B movie.[/color]"

Fury sighed and pushed the file toward Clint. "This is your next mission."

Clint eyed the file like it was poisonous. Were they fucking serious? It had only been two years and they were thinking they were going to get rid of him? Clint raised an eyebrow and waited and waited. He wasn't going to move if they really were going to [i]retire[/i] him. Eventually Fury had enough, stood up and left, leaving Coulson to handle Clint.

This was ridiculous. [hr][right]The Present
A dirty motel; Libson, Portugal[/right]Clint opened one eye to look at Nat. Then he closed it with a sigh. "[color=bc8dbf]Goons are never the answer. Seriously. Who really goes the whole evil villain lair surrounded by Goons anymore? Is this the nineteen eighties?[/color]" 

Clint took another sip of the coffee and grimaced. It had cooled down enough he could actually taste the flavor. "[color=bc8dbf]Blerg.[/color]" He placed the offending drink on the coffee table. "[color=bc8dbf]Remind me to hit up Stark for more coffee. He can afford it. Too bad I cant get him to overnight some right now.[/color]"

Clint paused, his face looking thoughtful as he mulled over the idea. Would he believe it if he said it was SHIELD or some other mission and he couldn't disclose the location. But that they were in a dreadful pinch and really needed decent coffee? Doubtful. Stark never did anything by halves. "[color=bc8dbf]Life sucks.[/color]" He proclaimed mulishly. In the light of more hours sitting here, life really did suck. He could barely muster up the ability to make jokes.

"[color=bc8dbf]Are we really just going to sit here? We're in Portugal. We should go sight seeing. Maybe by a few souvenirs for the kiddos.[/color]" When Clint said kiddos he didn't just mean his kids. Though that was the major insinuation. The others he spoke of were the new team. Wanda, Rhodey, Sam and Vision. They'd all get a kick out of souvenirs wouldn't they? Of course it would probably raise awkward questions. But Nat would just glare at them, and viola! Problem solved.