Author's Note: Whooo boy. This is my first Avenger fic ever that I'm publishing ever. And I'm nervous! Anyways. This is MCU based for the most part, as that is what I know most about. I wrote another story for another fandom a few years ago and one thing I was told was that I made the story go by too fast, so with this one, I tried to keep it slow. I actually have 10 chapters written, and I tried to keep it at a steady pace for the most part.

This takes place about three months before the first Avengers film. It's Clint/OFC and even Natasha/OFC. And while writing this, I watched a lot of Parks and Recreation, so some of the humor might follow that, I'm not sure. I hope y'all like it for the most part, and I'd love comments or even nicely put constructive criticism.

Anyways. Here we go.

~

Try Until You Can't

Chapter One

Agent Remy Black slowly typed away at her computer, glancing every so often at the piece of paper she was copying. Whenever she paused, her office mate, Agent Mara Davis, would also stop typing, to which Remy would start back up again, a grin on her face. She knew Mara would yell at her if she even stopped to crack her knuckles or sip her coffee, so Remy enjoyed this game of pausing for a few seconds before starting back up again. It drove her office mate absolutely crazy, but it was one of the only ways Remy could get entertainment in this windowless room.

After two hours of Remy pausing every five or more seconds, Mara huffed angrily and spun around in her chair to face the younger agent. "Agent Black, if you don't st-"

"Hm? I can't hear you over my typing, Agent Davis." Remy teased as she typed away. She could hear Mara huff angrily again as she returned to her work. Grinning, Remy work for over 20 minutes without pauses until she finished the form. After saving the document, she picked up another form and did a quick survey of the room. There was still several dozen boxes to go through. Why Fury decided now was a good time to start electronically archiving old documents and not back when SHIELD started to fully use computers, Remy wasn't sure, but she was pretty happy to do it. This was the kind of work Remy enjoyed – repetitive, data entry type work.

Mara, however, was not happy. She fussed about it to the director, to Agent Hill, and to any one who listened. She didn't understand why she was stuck in the office working with Remy when she could be doing other things. Remy didn't complain, as she enjoyed data entry work like this. Mara was pretty sure her office mate was crazy.

As Remy typed up the new form, she began her game again. This time, her pauses would be longer than a few seconds, often going onto 10 seconds or more. Every time she heard the chair swivel, Remy would start typing again.

Finally after another hour of this, Mara finally stood up from her desk and marched over to her. "Young lady, if you do not stop this-"

"Stop what? Working?" Remy asked, looking innocent as she finished entering another form. She didn't dare look at the older agent due to the fear that Remy would burst into laughter from the whole thing. Mara glared at her and returned to her desk. Remy sighed loudly and pulled her phone out, taking a quick break to check something before she returned to her work.

They had been at this only for a week. Remy could sense the other agent was getting to her breaking point of working in close quarters with her. She couldn't help it. Remy enjoyed putting a little bit of fun into her work life at SHIELD. Before being marooned to this office, she was often swapping terrible jokes with Coulson whenever he was around, or asking Clint Barton to hit targets with rubber bands (she owed him about $20 in winnings at this point). And now that she had an office mate, she couldn't resist having a bit of fun, even though Mara was pretty close to murdering her.

Remy finished another form and set it aside. She stretched out and spun around in her chair to face Mara, who was doing her best to ignore Remy. "So. We still got like, four dozen boxes to go through. How many sheets of paper do you think that is?"

"I have nightmares thinking about it." Mara grumbled as she finished one form. "If we stop talking and keep working, we will be done before the date the director gave us." It was a hint, that much Remy could tell, but it wasn't threatening or anything for once. "So put your phone away or whatever it is that keeps distracting you and get back to work. I don't want to be here forever doing this."

"Yea, true." Remy sighed as she spun back to face her computer. "I mean, we could keep working. We only have four dozen boxes. God, think of how many trees were destroyed for these forms."

"Make it 10 dozen." A voice said. Both women looked up, faces expressionless as Agent Clint Barton walked in with a hand truck holding six boxes. When they saw the boxes, Mara looked murderous while Remy grinned. "Boxes, that is. Not 10 dozen trees."

"More boxes?" She asked excitedly, bouncing a bit in her seat. Clint rolled his eyes at her excitement. "This is as good as a marriage proposal, Agent Barton."

"Try to contain your excitement, you nerd." He replied, his tone teasing as he began to unload the six he had. "There's more agents with more hand trucks that have more boxes. These were discovered in another location's basement in New York, so Fury wanted them sent straight to you so you both could start entering in the data."

"When does he expect this to be completed then? By next year?!" Mara demanded, glaring at Clint. He felt a little intimidated by her glare and made sure to keep a stack of boxes between them. "And why does he want all of this entered now? This is ridiculous – he needs to realize this is not the way to go about this type of work!"

"I don't know, I'm assuming in the next few months?" Clint replied as he took a step back towards the door. "Try asking Fury. I'm just here to help deliver the goods, not give answers." He turned his attention to Remy. "Hey, you still owe me twenty bucks."

Remy sighed dramatically. "I knowwww. I just lost twenty betting on my team winning a match last Saturday. We lost, so I lost the twenty I would have given you."

"I mean, if you wanna throw another twenty in, I'll let you watch me fire rubber bands at Hill next time we have a meeting..." Clint said with a shrug. Remy grinned. "That is, if you're free during that time. She seems to like you, so she would welcome having you in the meeting. Me? She keeps her eyes on me because she knows I'm up to no good."

"Well, you are always fun to watch in action. And Agent Hill is always enjoyable during meetings." She replied, leaning back into her seat. "Though you lose that twenty if she notices you and puts you on desk duty. Oh, and you throw in buying me a drink next time we go out."

Clint mulled it over for a moment before nodding. "Sounds good to me. Another twenty if I win, and if I fail, I give you back the twenty and buy you a drink." He repeated as he grabbed hold of the hand truck. "I'll let the rest of the guys in. Ladies, I will see you later." And with that, he bowed out and left, leaving the two alone.

And he was right about the boxes. Hand truck after hand truck came in, agents delivering boxes upon boxes. It wasn't long until there was a fortress of them, which Remy was certain would crumble and cover them both in papers. The boxes were stacked eight high and were pushed against the walls, barely leaving any room for them to escape the office if needed. It was ridiculous how many were now in there, and Remy was starting to wonder if Fury had some devious plan to barricade them in there.

"This doesn't seem safe." Remy grumbled as she took to re-stacking all the boxes. Mara kept to her seat, watching the younger agent work. "God, it's like that Poe story, The Cask of Amontillado." Remy started making a new stack of boxes, trying to lessen the chance of death by falling boxes. "'Thethousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.' Seriously, we are Fortunato in this scenerio and Fury is the one hiding us behind the wall."

"Well, that was fun to watch." The older woman said, eyebrow raised as she surveyed Remy, who turned to look at the older agent. "The tension between you and Agent Barton, not the creepy quoting of Poe."

"Tension?" Remy repeated, frowning as she made sure the boxes wouldn't fall. "Agent Barton and I are on good terms, there was no tension." She paused. "But yes, Poe is creepy. Especially The Cask of Amontillado. Ever read it? It's bizarre."

"Oh, honey, stop talking about Poe and talk about Barton." Replied Mara as she got up to help her. "There was so much sexual tension between you two and it was so thick I thought I was going to be crushed by it."

Remy's cheeks reddened as she hastily tried to stop a box from falling on them. "Oh, well, I don't know what you're talking about. We just get along really well, that's all."

"Mm. Sexual. Tension." Mara said, emphasizing each word as she returned to her desk after moving only three boxes. "Incredibly thick. I thought I was going to suffocate. The flirting was enough to make me sick."

"Still don't know what you mean." Remy grumbled as she returned to her desk. "I don't think I want any more office romances. They get awkward really, really fast." She retrieved a new form and looked it over. "I'll stick to watching a lot of soccer and having imaginary relationships with the attractive players." Remy started to type again, not realizing she was rambling so much. "Besides, I don't think I'm his type, so sorry, I won't flirt with him in front of you."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Fine. But I hope you learn to flirt by the time he stops by again. Otherwise I'll do the flirting for you."

Remy tried not to be horrified at the thought as she continued her work.

~

Clint showed up again the next day with a few more boxes. Mara huffed angrily, but she kept any comments she had to herself. Remy looked up from her desk when he arrived, a pen in her mouth as she typed away on her computer.

"Can you really type without looking?" He asked as he dropped the boxes on the floor next to her desk. He leaned over her shoulder, watching her type. "How are you not screwing up?"

"Oh, I got skills." Remy dropped the pen from her mouth before replying, still looking at him as she typed. "Also a really good memory, and so I know what the form says so when I'm typing, I don't have to look at it so much."

Clint nodded slowly as he moved to lean onto her desk instead of her chair. "So, a photographic memory or something?"

"Something, yea. I don't think it's photographic..."

"Oh, it is." Mara jumped in, smirking. "She really has a photographic memory, Clint. Just watch." Remy eyed her office mate suspiciously. "Agent Black, the first time you met Agent Barton, what was he wearing?"

Clint raised an eyebrow and looked at Remy, who was red in the face. Mara was still smirking at her, and Remy had to wonder what the other agent was trying to get out of this. Straightening up in her seat, Remy closed her eyes for a moment before she looked back at Mara.

"Track pants and running shoes, but no shirt." She recited. "I was in the gym with Agent Rumlow, who was trying to help me with some stretches to alleviate some back pain. We ran into Agent Barton, who was finishing up a run on the indoor track, and I didn't know who he was so Rumlow introduced us."

"Wow. That was, what, five years ago, wasn't it? Didn't you just start with SHIELD?" Clint said, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm. You had just come back from some mission and you had a black eye." Remy added with a nod. "You told me some old lady sucker punched you after you bumped into her on the street while you were pursuing your target."

Mara laughed. "See? There's more crazy details she remembers. Like, what did he smell like?"

"Ew, sweat, obviously." Remy said, wrinkling her nose. Mara raised an eyebrow and Remy sighed. "And Old Spice."

"Okay, but isn't it just common for folks to remember that sort of thing when they first meet someone?" Clint asked, looking skeptical. "I mean, I remember what you were wearing. You had a bright orange sports bra on under that white t-shirt you were wearing." He looked her over for a moment. "Besides, isn't that photographic memory thing sort of just a weird pop culture obsession?"

"Okay, fine." Remy now felt a challenge, and she wasn't about to back down. "I can recall every form I've entered since starting this project last week. Want to test me? Grab a random form and just give me the entry number. I'll even close my eyes."

Clint shook his head. "Nah, I don't have the time. I gotta be somewhere in a few minutes."

"Understandable." Remy grumbled as she returned to her work.

"Anyways, I may need to take you up on that memory thing, though. Maybe when we go out for drinks with everyone later this week?" He suggested.

Remy shrugged. "Yea, don't see why not."

"Sounds like a plan then." And with that, Clint headed out.