Day One
I had always eaten my lunch up above. It was peaceful, to hear the hum of machines and talk of the scientists but to be removed at the same time. On the ground, I was expected to have some semblance of knowledge to what they were talking about. And while I knew the basics, I wasn't quite the genius my mother was. I was mostly here to do silly jobs—inputting and saving data, delivering lunch, answering the stray phone call. But when I came up here, I could just observe everything in the bluish light and almost make pretend like I wasn't wasting my time here.
And then he showed up.
I was sitting against the wall, the tips of my shoes reaching the edge of the platform without quite dangling over. I took a bite of my sandwich—turkey, slightly hard on the corners, because I'd been too lazy to get groceries. The bread was a little wet but I ate the soggy crusts anyway.
I heard him before I saw him. Of course, I had seen him climb up before, after my mother had told me an agent would be watching over us. She waved me off before I could ask who he was.
"You got something against the ground?" he asked, frowning at me.
"Do you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I hadn't seen his foot touch the floor since yesterday, albeit I wasn't here as often as my mother was.
"It's my job. You're using my space as a cafeteria."
I was normally very polite around here, but his attitude was rubbing me the wrong way. Plus, I had been here first.
"I wasn't aware you owned these rafters," I said, thinking of how Selvig called him 'The Hawk. "Please send my apologies to your bird overlords."
"Don't you have any...friends you can eat lunch with?" he asked, shifting his weight to his left leg.
"I don't like what you're implying, agent." I narrowed my eyes.
"Listen Rapunzel," he said, smirking, "I don't care who you eat lunch with. But please find another tower."
Day Two
I was back, because after a day of brooding and a whole lot of wondering who does he think he is I decided that I would eat my lunch where I pleased and he could just stay away if he didn't want to be near me.
But before I got halfway through my sandwich, his voice loomed above me.
"Rapunzel's back," he drawled, appearing from the shadows.
"I couldn't stay away, Agent Barton."
"Well that's flattering," he said, grinning at me. "But I really can't have distractions."
"Distractions from what exactly?" I asked, looking at the people on the ground. Most of them were just scientists, milling about. "I don't think any of these people will give you any problems."
"No...most of them have boring pasts," he said, sitting beside me but keeping his eyes on the floor below. "But why exactly does a person with a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice, three years out of school, work as an intern for a project with absolutely nothing to do with their field?"
"I lost my passion for it," I lied glumly, looking away. Every time I thought of my previous job, the one where I actually felt important and threw it all away, I tended to feel pretty pessimistic.
"And gained a passion for filing?"
I glared at him. He smirked back. He was so irritating I denied to myself that he was handsome in any sense.
"Beats your passion for stalking in high places."
His smirk fell, and I smiled innocently.
"I think your lunch break is over, princess."
Unfortunately, he was probably right. I checked my watch—five minutes to go, but I'd just run to the bathroom. I was done with the Hawk for today.
"My name is Taylor," I corrected, dusting off my jeans and rising to my feet.
"See you tomorrow, Rapunzel."
Day Three
"Do you know any good jokes?" I asked, looking up as Clint walked over to me. "I'm dying for a good joke."
With a glare he was intimidating, but when he was confused he lost that power.
"Are you trying to bother me?"
"I'm trying to make the time fly."
"Time would fly faster if I wasn't answering stupid questions."
I pretended to think.
"I just don't think that's true."
He spun on his heel. I'd won for today, at least. I took a congratulatory bite of my yogurt.
"You're getting stranger and stranger," Clint said, his voice echoing as he walked away.
Day Four
"Turkey again? How boring. You've really got to get to a grocery store."
Day Five
"I saw you talking a man today," Clint said, grinning. "Doesn't he ever ask you to eat lunch with him?"
"I saw you talking to no one today...don't they ever ask you...oh shut up," I sputtered.
He just laughed.
Day Six
"I'm going to start getting the wrong impression, Rapunzel."
"Trust me, Barton, this is a gesture of truce," I said, smiling at him and outstretching my extra sandwich.
"For me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Turkey," I grinned. "I remembered how much you liked it."
After that, we fell into a strange groove. Some days I would bring extra sandwiches, some days extra drinks or crackers. We usually talked about the scientist's strange habits.
"Ever notice your mother will only scratch her nose with her left hand?" Clint asked. "And that short one over there—he counts his steps."
"And Selvig's socks never match," I said, pointing to the space above his pants which flashed blue and dark green. "And that intern girl with the red hair over there is stupid."
Clint fixed me with a look.
"Okay, it's not observant, but I really don't like her."
Clint always noticed more than me, but in my defense, he watched them all day and I only had a half hour lunch.
He remained sarcastic and difficult, and I always returned it with a smile. He even stopped asking me to go away eventually. On some level I grew to like our lunches. It sure beat all the monotonous tasks laid out for me.
...And then I got the flu. It was the worst I'd ever had it—an ache all the way to my bones. I could barely stand up and shuffle to the bathroom, let alone go to work. After drowning in tissues and DayQuil for a week, my mother came to my apartment with frantic cries.
"It's gone...the building, the Tesseract, Doctor Selvig has been taken over..."
Turns out I missed one hell of a week at work. And the time that followed was pretty action packed too.
I watched New York crumble on TV. I watched the Avengers save it. I talked to Dr. Selvig on the phone after he'd returned, a little worse for wear but still the brilliant man I knew. I waved to my mother each day as she set off to her new project. And while I looked for work, I ate lunch at home alone, not quite missing but wondering where Agent Barton was these days.
I was mostly happy to be out of there. My mother had ties to S.H.I.E.L.D. but I did not, and if they were messing around with aliens and destruction, I was better off moving on to something else.
Or so I thought.
Yes, I have a problem...look out for my Fury story next. Just kidding, but really I couldn't help myself. Should I continue? The sarcasm I could do with Clint seems too much to resist. :)