I don't know. This idea slipped into my mind while editing the next Natasha story chapter and I can't edit or write while an idea is swimming in my head.
So, yeah, enjoy!
Disclaimer; As usual, I disclaim!
March, 1943. 2254 hrs. London, England.
"What do you think, Barton?"
He downed the glass of whisky in front of him, ignoring his S.O. for a moment longer to signal to the bar keep for another. Only when he downed that glass and had a lit cigarette between his lips did he acknowledge his existence.
"With all due respect, sir.. It's bullshit."
He could hear Coulson give a small chuckle and when he looked to his side he saw his handler – for lack of a better or more appropriate term – slide onto the stool next to him. He held up two fingers to the bar keep.
Clint took a drag of his cig and looked away once more. Handler wasn't really the military term for what he was nor was it the personal term that would sum up what Phil Coulson was to Clint Barton.
Father would fit that more. But that's a story for another day.
It was only when a pint was in front of each of them and he was near the end of his smoke that Phil broke the silence between them.
"Tell me; how long have you been an agent for us?"
"Too long." He replied dryly. He loosened his tie a little when it got too warm in the pub for him. He seriously hated the dress uniform, but that meeting – as disastrous as it was – called for it.
"And a sharpshooting genius?" He continued.
Clint knew without even looking that he was smirking.
He shrugged, took a swig of his pint, and finally looked to Phil. How could he wear that uniform all day every day without exploding?
"Longer again." Clint finally replied when Phil stared at him for an answer.
Agent, spy, assassin, merc, criminal, orphan. Clint had been all of them and Phil knew for exactly how long each.
To the U.S military though he was one simple word; weapon.
He just hoped to change that with the meeting today and was a little bummed that it didn't work in his favour.
A hand was on his shoulder to draw him out of his thoughts, but he looked away from the smiling Phil and to the pint in his hands instead.
"Why do you think we'd give you up then?"
Clint shrugged. He was expendable – the council told him that plenty of times. So why not give him up? Why not send him off and hopefully never hear from him again? They hated him. Always have and always will. Not Phil though. Never Phil.
"Besides – I have it on good authority that Erskine already has his mind made up. Some kid from Brooklyn he ran in to. Even before camp starts he knows who he wants as the man. So, why would we send you when that would take you from more important work for two weeks?"
"Men are dying over there, Phil." He kept his voice low just like his gaze was. He downed the last of his drink and reached for his hat. He knew Phil was looking at him but didn't return the favour as he stood. "I just wanted a chance to do the same. To help. I wanted to be more than a bow and arrow, a rifle. I wanted to be more than just Hawkeye – the deadly shadow that even the allies fear."
He left the money for his tab on the bar as he spoke, but turned to leave before Phil could even respond. "You guys stole that from me."
He ignored the call of his name, ignored it once more when he stepped out to the cold London air. He loved his job, he loved knowing that in some small way he was making a difference. Being a spy meant he got information that sometimes changed the way a battle would end or that would set up the next mission to stop a battle before it even began. He loved taking out the bad guys before they had a chance to kill or capture or any negative outcome from war that could happen to his allies. He loved seeing men return to their wives, loved seeing the look on people's faces when they realised they were saved from certain death.
He loved it.
But he wasn't a soldier. He didn't feel like a soldier. He didn't deserve to wear this uniform, and right now, he didn't even want to.
The only time he stopped was halfway down the pretty much empty street when a different voice reached his ears.
"Barton! A word please!"
He sighed and halted. He straightened his tie so he wouldn't get his ass handed to him before turning to walk the way he just came.
He locked eyes with Phil for just a moment before the older soldier shrugged and looked to the lady next to him. Coulson set him up in the worst possible way!
Clint knew the lady well. She was the one who told him about the project in the first place, the one who thought that he'd be perfect for it. She was his partner for a while before she got brought up to the bigger leagues.
She was also – suddenly – the reason why he didn't get a chance to prove himself like he wanted.
"Agent Carter." He nodded politely as he stood to attention in front of her.
The look she gave him was a mix he only saw once – when he was holed up in a safe house with her and a poison running through his system that made even blinking agonisingly painful.
"Since when are you the respectful subordinate?" She asked with an eyebrow delicately raised and he just shrugged.
"Since you threw your best friend under the bus after getting his hopes up."
The sigh she gave made him think maybe she didn't actually realise what she did. But come on, how could she not? She glanced at Phil and he handed across a file. Had he always had that with him? Clint couldn't recall.
"Things change, Clint.."
"Yeah; Erskine finds a new toy boy so all of you back the hell off in case he pulls out." He cut her off with a frown, and her gaze shifted back to Phil.
Coulson shrugged apologetically. Guess Clint wasn't supposed to be told that little fact.
"That was a setback.." She replied slowly. She looked to Clint once more and waited for a young couple to pass before she went on. "We're sending some soldiers who need to be taken down a peg or two after passing out of training on top. Cocky little SOB's who need to lose once in their lives. Yes, we're sure that Mr. Rogers will be chosen by Erskine anyway, but we're not prepared to lose you for a number of weeks knowing this."
"So what's the point in the camp if you already have your man?" He asked with an eyebrow raised. Phil just waved his hand in dismissal though before Peggy spoke again.
"None of your concern, Corporal. This, however, is." She waved the folder in front of him with a smirk. Her way of saying that it's a mission for him and him alone.
He didn't play their usual chase game with it though – in no mood for it today – so he just swiped it from her hands and opened it. Too dark in the street to fully see anything written. But it gave him something other than his two traitorous friends to look at.
"There's a unit- the 107th – being deployed tomorrow." Phil started before Peggy continued.
"Already has a sniper in its ranks – a sergeant. He'll be given your file and you'll be placed under his care."
"He not good enough for you, sweetheart?" He asked with a teasing grin. He was a little happier knowing he's being deployed to an actual army base! That's all he wanted really!
"He's just fine really." She simply replied. "But we worry if we gave him this that he would lack the experience to do the hit cleanly – if he accepted it at all."
A hit.. He wasn't being deployed to play soldier at all..
"A mission?" Clint asked with a frown, looking up from the file to look at the pair in front of him in turn. "That's why you ruined my chances at being something great? To act junior recruit to some second-rate-sniper and take out some low grade Nazi under radar? Really?"
"Will you ever get it through your head that you're already something great?" Peggy asked through a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose – he knew it as the 'For the love of all bloody hell Barton!' annoyed tell of hers.
He just pointed to the lack of medals – even a service one – above his heart before looking back at the file in his hands. "Officially I'm nothing."
"Official means bloody nothing, Clint. Don't let them asses get you thinking that!" Carter snapped and it gave him a smirk.
Coulson gave a low chuckle by her side too. She was way too protective of him and the council hated it! He loved winding her up with their words!
There was no way he'd turn down a mission though, no matter how pissed he was at them.
"Come on you idiot." She chuckled a moment later, linking her arm with his before pulling him down the street. "Howard has a while list of fun toys to keep you safe. Better than losing you to some experiment accident."
"Awh, would you miss me Peg?" He smirked, teasing.
She laughed out; "You wish, soldier."