AN: So I tried to create a multi-chapter fic about Clint's first few weeks/months at SHIELD that would follow on from my storey Looking For Hawkeye. I had plenty of ideas but they just didn't seem to gel well together. So I decided to go a different route with them and create multiple one-shots that showed brief snapshots of Clint's training days.
Readers do not need to have read Looking For Hawkeye to understand this tale, though please feel free to have a browse. Enjoy people.
.
.
.
"What's the problem, Barton?" Asked Coulson looking down at the timetable that Barton had just thrust at him.
Barton brushed his hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was. Which in all honestly Coulson didn't think was actually possible, yet he had just witnessed the event.
"Wednesday," Barton mumbled.
Coulson looked down at the timetable running through the list of activities on the Wednesday, not seeing what the problem was. "What about Wednesday?"
Barton mumbled something as he looked down at the floor, refusing to make eye-contact with Coulson.
"Sorry, I don't speak mumble. English, Russian, French, Pashtu, a few others, but not mumble."
Barton looked up at that and gave Coulson the most scathing look he'd ever seen on a young face. "Swimming," he said through gritted teeth.
"Swimming?" asked Coulson in confusion, still not quite understanding what the problem was.
Barton nodded in affirmative.
"All agents have to do a swim test, its standard operating procedure."
Barton let out a long over dramatic sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair again while simultaneously turning away from Coulson and facing the office door.
"I can't swim. Well, I mean I can swim. Kind of," Barton stumbled over his words before turning round to face Coulson again and shrugging his shoulders. "Sort of."
Coulson leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow in question as he looked up at the younger man who was practically tearing his hair out. It was a different side to Barton that Coulson hadn't seen before. He was actually acting like a normal twenty-two year old and not the overly confident cocky assassin that Coulson had picked up from Baltimore a mere two weeks ago.
"Barton, be honest how well can you swim?"
"I can swim if the occasion calls for," shrugged Barton becoming defensive. Coulson raised an eyebrow at that response. He was becoming increasingly concerned with how evasive Barton was being. If Barton really couldn't swim then that negated everything else. It didn't matter how good the kid was at shooting targets. Agents had to be able to swim and be able to swim well.
Barton sighed over dramatically before throwing his arms up in the air. "Well it's not like we had a pool behind the big top."
Barton sank down in the chair in front of Coulson's desk, leaning his head back and looking up at the ceiling, once again refusing to look at Coulson.
"Come on," Coulson said standing up.
"Where are we going?" Groaned Barton.
"To the pool."
"Errr... I just told you I couldn't swim and you want me to go to the pool?"
"Yes. I'm going to see how well you really can swim, then teach you how to be better," Coulson said firmly, no room for debate in his tone of voice. He'd worked too damn hard to get Barton into SHIELD he'd be damned if the kid failed the entry tests just because he couldn't swim.
"If I'm rubbish, which I will be, will you get me out of going to the Wednesday session?" Barton asked hopefully.
Coulson smirked as he left the office. "We'll see."
.
.
AN: And that's a wrap, for now. I've got a few more 'training days' kicking around my computer. Your thoughts on this fic are much appreciated and any other ideas you throw at me will be used to feed the ever growing number of plot bunnies. Thank
