Author's Note: Hello! Here is the first installment of who knows how many in this collection of one-shots. These will either fit into the current story of "Try Until You Can't" or be prequel sort of one-shots as well - as in events that occurred before the timeline of the story.

This first chapter is a prequel. It's when Remy and Clint meet for the first time.

She had only been with SHIELD barely a month and she was starting to re-think this career choice. Sure, Remy Black managed to land some dates with one of the hotties from that special forces team, and she was adjusting to the type of mission reports that were coming in for her to enter into the database (most of it was ridiculous and hilarious, and she was struggling all the time not to laugh at every thing), but sitting in a chair for 8 hours a day, five days a week, was starting to really hurt her body. Her lower back and hips were sore all the time now from sitting for so long, and her knees? She only realized something was wrong when she stood up to grab a document and her legs gave out from under her.

Apparently sitting at a desk was just as bad for her health as if she was an operative. Except instead of getting shot at or blown up, her desk chair was trying to kill her.

Thankfully, the hottie was willing to help her out with this.

"First, get a new damn chair." Brock Rumlow said as they met up outside of the locker rooms. Remy braided her hair back to keep it from her face as she followed him to the mats. Several other agents were there, looking at them curiously as Brock took her to an empty section of mat. "Seriously, you can ask for that, you know. Get something with lumbar support or whatever."

"I can do that?" She asked, tugging her shirt back over her stomach. "What else?"

"How the hell should I know, I don't work at a desk." He teased as he sat back on the mat. "Get down here. I'm gonna help you with some stretches to help with the pain for now." She rolled her eyes and sat in front of him. "Get on the internet and look that other stuff up, though."

"Wow, you're so helpful. I thought you knew everything." She retorted, shaking her head. Brock grinned at her before he laid back on the mat.

"Watch me. This is the first one we're gonna do, okay?" He said as he stretched his arms out on either side of him and brought his knees to his chest. He held it for a brief moment before his knees fell to one side of him while his upper body stayed still. "And then you have to hold this for a few minutes."

"Wait, you had me in this position last night if I recall." Remy teased as she followed his movements. He sat up enough to glare at her. She just grinned, doing her best to hold the position. "It hurrrts."

"Don't force it if it hurts, Remy." Brock said, shaking his head. "You gotta take it easy. It's not going to get better after just doing a few stretches."

"Aw, but Broccccck." The younger agent pouted at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before leading her through another few stretches. They kept this up for about twenty minutes before Remy finally had to stop, rolling on her side to rub at her lower back. "Okay, okay, this is torture. I'll talk, I swear!"

He shook his head and got to his feet. "C'mon. Let's go for a walk around the track." He said, holding his hand out to her. She grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly as he helped her to her feet. "That's probably something else you should do, you know. Walk around before this shit happens."

"Well excuse me for not paying attention to my body." Remy grumbled, sticking her tongue out at him as she shook out her legs, as though trying to get feeling back into them. Brock just shook his head again. Grinning, she grabbed his hand, walking beside him as they headed to the indoor track. There were probably ten other agents there, running laps around the place. Remy and Brock kept to the outside lane, hoping to keep out of the way of the runners.

Every agent that passed them was someone Remy did not know. That was one thing that was going to irritate her with this job – not knowing like, anyone. She knew Brock, obviously, and his buddy Jack Rollins (sort of). She of course knew Coulson and May, and kind of Fury. But that was it. She really wanted to talk more to people, but being new and all, it was kind of hard. She didn't want to come off as desperate or something for making friends.

She sighed softly as she watched the agents run literal circles around them. They barely made one complete lap before several of the runners made their third pass of them. Some of them gave Remy a curious look as she leaned into Brock as they walked. Her knees were hurting just a bit from the walking – or hell, maybe it was just lingering pain from sitting at her desk. She was going to look up that stuff later, however. She didn't want her body to keep hurting.

Someone bumped into her, causing her to stumble into Brock. He managed to catch her to keep her from falling over, steadying her on her weary knees.

"What the fuck, man?! We're over as far as we can go!" Remy snapped, rubbing her shoulder where the runner hit her. "What, you need the entire fuckin' track to yourself?!" She straightened up, glaring at the assailant. Oh, well, fuck. Her gaze softened and her eyes widened when she saw the agent.

Was he allergic to wearing shirts, because Remy really hoped so. He was a few inches shorter than Brock with short dirty blonde hair and lightly tanned skin. He had a black eye and some cuts and bruises on his torso. And damn he was good looking with that toned body of his. He also looked generally confused by Remy and Brock. He had stopped running, walking toward them as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Sorry. I saw you, but I also didn't see you there." He told them, stopping in front of them. "You okay?" He was looking at Remy now.

"Uh."

Brock nudged Remy, startling her from her thoughts. "She's fine, Barton."

Remy blinked slowly, looking between Brock and this Barton agent. Then she frowned. "I don't know you."

"I... don't know you either?" The agent replied, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, are you going to scream stranger danger now? What are you, 15?"

"What? No. No! I'm 23." Remy shook her head. "I mean I don't know you as in I don't know anyone here except like, five people. I'm new here."

"Oh."

They stood there awkwardly for a few minutes until they were interrupted by a cellphone going off. Brock looked a bit sheepish as he pulled his phone from his pocket and walked away from them to answer it. Remy rolled her eyes and looked back at the agent. "I'm Remy Black. I've been here like, a month. Who are you?"

"Oh, so you're Remy Black." He said with a grin and a nod. "I'm Clint Barton."

"I think I've heard of you." She replied, frowning. "And what do you mean 'you're Remy Black'? I'm new. What the hell?"

Clint grinned. "Coulson's told me about you. Mostly the embarrassing shit, though."

"Oh, of course." Remy rolled her eyes. "I don't want to know what he told you about me."

"Only the embarrassing shit." The archer was still grinning at her.

"Yea, sure. You know, I think he's told me some things about you." Remy said, tugging down the hem of her shirt. "But usually he starts a sentence with, "That fucking Barton" because I guess you do your own shit, huh?"

"Pretty much." Clint shrugged. "Coulson's great, though. Helped recruit me."

Remy nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow. "He's good at that, isn't he."

"Suppose so."

They stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes. Remy couldn't take her eyes off him, because seriously, damn. He looked good. And even smelled good. That had to be Old Spice, which was a welcome change from Brock's awful aftershave that was starting to soak into Remy's clothes just by being close to him. Clint was looking her over, almost studying her, though his eyes were lingering a bit to long on her chest. Probably because she was wearing that bright orange sports bra under a white t-shirt.

Clint cleared his throat, taking his eyes off her to look toward Brock. The other agent had wandered off to the other side of the track, still talking on the phone. "So, you and him?"

"Yea, I guess me and him." Remy replied with a shrug. "He's just part of my plan."

"Plan?" Clint repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What plan?"

"To sleep with every SHIELD agent." She told him, her expression serious. "Starting with Brock and his guys before working my way around."

Clint looked between her and Brock again. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he kept silent, frowning a bit. Remy grinned.

"I'm kidding."

"Oh. Oh." Clint nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Okay. I mean, you do what you wanna do. And if you really were gonna do it, I'd be curious how Fury is in bed."

"Oh my God, no, don't." Remy laughed, shaking her head. "Don't bring the Director into this. I don't need rumors to start after my first month here."

"Aw, but those would be great rumors!" Clint said with a grin. "I can start them for you. I'll tell Coulson and have him spread it." His grin grew wider as he saw a horrified expression cross Remy's face. "C'mon, let's make you a legend in SHIELD."

"You are a terrible, horrible, no good man, Agent Barton." Remy scolded, crossing her arms across her front as she shook her head. "You're gonna set me up to be executed by SHIELD forces or something. Geez."

"Aw, no, I'm teasing." He insisted. "I wouldn't. Trust me."

"Uh huh." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know if I can 'cause like I said, you're the one Phil starts every sentence with, "That fucking Barton", so..."

"Aw, no, I'm good."

Before they could carry on, Brock returned, pocketing his phone. He looked at the two before putting his arm around Remy and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. He failed to see her roll her eyes at the gesture.

"I gotta go. Work stuff." He said before pulling back. "I'll see you in a few days, all right?"

"Yea, okay." Remy replied, giving him a smile. "Don't die or whatever."

Brock nodded to Clint before walking off, leaving the two there alone once again. Remy just shook her head and looked back at Clint, giving him a quick look over as she bit down on her bottom lip. Fuck. He was good looking and it was difficult not to stare. And it sounded terrible in Remy's head, but she wondered why couldn't she have met Clint before Brock?

"So, how did you two meet?" Clint asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Remy blinked slowly. "Oh, uh. He was one of the agents who trained me and the group of newbies that I started with. I sassed him a little too much and then asked him out for dinner."

"Wow." Clint nodded, looking impressed. "Must have been some level of sass."

"Oh, it was." Remy grinned. "But uh, yea. That was like... five weeks ago or something. I dunno. Something like that."

Clint nodded again. "Okay, cool. Well, uh, I should get back to my... stuff. I'll see you around, though, Agent Black."

"Yea, uh, see you, Agent Barton." Remy replied, holding out her hand. "Maybe we can go get drinks sometime, you know? Talk shop about all this super secret agent stuff. I'll tell you how I flirted shamelessly with the king of Montenegro and got him into bed with me."

Clint couldn't help but grin at that as he shook her hand. "There's no king of Montenegro, Remy. They have a president."

"Yea, no king now, because I got him into bed with me." She teased, not letting go of his hand just yet. "Stole his throne right out from under him. I keep it in my apartment for when I feel the need to smash the patriarchy. Or order pizza and argue about toppings."

"Oh my God." Clint chuckled as he dropped her hand and started to walk away. "Anyways, see you later, Agent Black."

"See you around, Agent Barton."

Closing: I hope you enjoyed this. I actually have a few more lined up to post eventually.

Like, if I ever finish them, that is.