Author's Note: I don't own the characters you recognize from canon.
Chapter Two
It was two weeks before Remy saw Clint again. They never went out for drinks after that conversation, as he had been called away on a mission, and she opted out of joining some of the strike team for drinks. She was alone in the office this morning, having been told by Fury via email that Mara was returning to accounting effective immediately, and that Remy's new partner would be joining her around lunch time. However, Fury made no mention of who her new partner was. With a loud, overly dramatic sigh, she checked her watch. It was only 10am, and lunch was usually around noon. She had plenty of time to just laze around in the office until her new partner showed.
Humming some nonsense to herself, Remy pulled her hair back, messily braiding it before she checked herself over in her compact. She wasn't too concerned about looking professional in this office, given that there were never any visitors to look impressive for. Fury checked in on them via email, while Coulson and Hill were the only ones to stop by, but even that was rare. Remy was fine with being left alone for now.
Sighing, she looked herself over before buttoning her blouse back up. The damned buttons always came loose whenever she moved her arms, and Remy was tempted to decorate herself in safety pins to keep it closed. The last thing she wanted to do was buy another blouse in the next size up to accommodate her bust, but she was starting to think that it was inevitable. Since joining SHIELD five years prior, she had lost about 20 pounds, but none of that weight left her chest. She was still roughly a size 14 even after the weight loss, and while her size didn't bother her, the offhand comments from other agents did.
"Aw, fuck. I made myself sad." She mumbled to herself. Shaking her head, she picked up a form and pulled up the program, humming loudly to herself now as she began to type. Now that she had no Mara to annoy, Remy was perfectly happy to get the work done at a steady pace.
She worked for the two hours straight, only stopping when her wrists started to cramp. When she checked her watch, it was now a quarter after 12. Her new office mate should be arriving any minute now.
An angry voice outside of the room caught her attention. That must be her new partner. Remy stood up, made sure her blouse was still buttoned, and fixed her skirt before approaching the door. She was expecting another woman, or maybe a fresh faced agent who didn't know what to expect. Yet, there he stood, arm in a sling and several scratches on his face.
Clint Barton did not look happy, and he was angrily telling Coulson so.
"I can still go into the field." Clint argued as he stubbornly stayed outside the office. "I can fire a gun one handed. I don't need to be stuck at a desk!"
"The doctor won't clear you for duty, Agent Barton." Coulson informed him. There was a sort of finality to his tone. "You are to help Agent Black with entering in these forms into the SHIELD database until you are allowed to return to the field. You will listen to whatever she has to tell you in regards to the process of what's being done in here, understand?"
Remy stayed where she stood, staring at Clint, looking confused. "He's my new office mate?" She asked, turning to Coulson.
"Gee, thanks for sounding so excited." Clint snapped. Remy rolled her eyes at that.
"Yes, I'm sorry you get to put up with his childish behavior." Coulson said, smiling a bit. "He's not thrilled with being cooped up like this, so try not to kill him on the first day. I'm thinking it's just the pain from his injury, as he's normally not this moody."
Clint was sulking, staring moodily at the floor as he shuffled into the office. He passed her and immediately claimed the vacant desk behind her, grumbling to himself. Remy looked at the broken marksman for a moment before looking back at Coulson.
"Permission to swat him with a rolled up newspaper if he annoys me?" She pleaded. To her delight, Coulson nodded, a smile on his face.
"Permission granted. Just don't break him further. We will need him back in the field when he's fully healed." Coulson teased. When he turned to Clint, he was serious. "Play nice, Agent Barton. And get work done. Listen to whatever Agent Black has to tell you. She will let me know if you aren't cooperating." Without awaiting a response, he left, heading back down the hallway.
Remy snorted and looked back at Clint. The other agent was on the computer, having pulled up Minesweeper. He was focused on that, clicking away at the screen as he tried to ignored her.
"Okay, I don't know how you broke yourself, but I am gonna make you work in here." She informed him as she returned to her seat. Clint grunted in response. Rolling her eyes, Remy rolled her chair over to him, purposefully bumping her chair into his. "Okay, this is what we're doing." She reached around him and took control of the mouse, exiting the game and bringing up the data program. She walked him through the steps of entering the information in, how they were labeling the file, and which document files they were being saved too. The explanation took longer than Remy was hoping, as Clint was pretending to fall asleep halfway through.
After swatting him on the back of the head, Remy finished up the explanation and rolled back over to her desk. She was wondering if this was how Mara felt working with her and the game of 'pause every five seconds to get her to almost yell'. However, Clint had only been there 20 minutes, and Remy did like him, so she hoped it wouldn't be terrible.
She glanced back at him, making sure he was actually working before she began her own document. They worked in silence, the only sound was the typing on the keyboard. She could hear the slow typing from his computer, and she figured that the broken arm slowed him down. Remy glanced back at him again, her fingers never leaving the keyboard as she typed. He hadn't said much since he came in, and she was pretty curious about what happened.
"So, did you get attacked on a mission or something?" She asked as she returned her gaze to the computer screen. She quickly fixed a few typos as she awaited his response. "Or did a kid break your arm when you knocked their ice cream cone to the ground?"
Clint sighed heavily and leaned back from the computer, shaking his head. "I really don't want to talk about it right now."
"Wow, okay. I thought you field agents loved talking about your injuries from the field. Figured it was some sort of badge of honor type thing." She teased lightly, spinning around in her chair to face him. "I mean, when Agent Rumlow got a broken nose, he wouldn't stop telling me about it for weeks. And apparently he only got said broken nose when someone opened a door in his face." She pulled out a new form and looked it over. "It was only after I suggested he let me add a black eye to the mix that he stopped talking about it."
Clint snorted. "Bet he liked that."
"Pretty sure he did, because he offered to buy me a drink if I did it." Remy replied with a shrug. "Didn't work out, though. The guy is very, very hot, but eh."
"Wow, 'eh'? Him?" Clint asked, grinning as he turned his attention to her. "He doesn't strike me as the type to just be 'eh'."
"Well, okay." Remy spun her chair around in a full rotation before stopping. "He was amazing until he casually – and I use that term lightly, suggested that I start exercising with him every morning at 6 am. Six in the damn morning." She shuddered. "It was almost like he was proposing marriage."
"Ouch. That's early."
"Damn right." Remy said, shaking her head. "I don't mind exercising, but that's far to early for me. So I sent him to the showers and went on with my life." She glanced at Clint. "I mean, he wasn't trying to be an asshole about, y'know, my size and all, he generally wanted a work out buddy in the morning. I can't keep up with that kind of lifestyle."
Clint shook his head, grinning. "Sounded like a good decision. Early morning exercise is killer." He replied as he returned to his screen, typing slowly. "God, how many forms are there? I've done two. I feel like I've been here all week."
"There's a lot of forms we have to re-enter into electronic form." Remy told him, sighing. "All these papers date back to the early formation of SHIELD, and while they are just things like bank statements and injury reports, they are important for records, and Fury wants them to be accessible through the digital archives. Why he chose now to do it, and why this didn't start to happen during the time SHIELD was starting to rely more heavily on computers and stuff, I have no idea." She shrugged. "But we still have a lot of boxes. They keep coming from different bases, kind of like when you delivered us those 10 dozen a few weeks ago."
"Yea, I was pretty sure your partner was going to murder me for that." He said as he finished up his form. "I honestly feared for my life when I saw her glare."
"That glare is terrifying, isn't it?" She agreed, shaking her head.
Clint hummed in response and they returned to typing. He was going to be working with her for many weeks now, and he felt he was going to be driven crazy by the repetition of the process. Resisting a groan, he sank back into his chair and typed.
"So, can I ask why you chose being a desk type agent instead of a field one?" Clint asked, looking over at her. He could see her tense up at the question, as though awaiting an attack from him. When she didn't respond, he tried again. "Do you prefer typing things instead of shooting things?"
"Basically, yes." She said, her voice tight. "I don't enjoy guns. I mean, I know how to use it and I will use it if needed, but that's not my main goal. I just like the office work SHIELD has to offer, and it's always interesting to see the reports on missions that come through."
"You read those?"
"When I'm not typing up old, outdated forms that should have been shredded long ago, Fury has me type up the missions that come in from agents." She said, shrugging. "And like I said, I enjoy desk work. Decent hours, wages, and I get to keep track of my team when they play, so it's nice to be home to watch matches." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Plus, being fucked over a desk is far sexier and cleaner than being fucked against a tree outdoors."
He did not just hear that. "Wait what?"
"You heard me." She said. What was said was so casual you would have thought they were discussing the weather. Clint studied her for a moment, trying to figure her out just by staring at her. Remy turned to look at him, leaning back in her chair with her hands resting on her stomach. "I'm not repeating myself, Agent Barton."
Clint nodded slowly and looked back at his computer. Well, with that thought in his mind, how was he going to concentrate now?
"I didn't freak you out, did I?" She asked.
"No, not at all." He replied, clicking random spots on the screen with his mouse. "I just did not expect that answer, but I have to admit, it's a good one." Clint sighed and pushed his keyboard away. "This is a nightmare. My vision is going to be shot from staring at these screens for so long."
Remy shrugged. "Then take some ten minute breaks when you start to go cross eyed. I think Fury would hate for you to damage your vision from this task." She told him. "And seriously, take breaks. I'm not as hard nosed as Agent Davis was, so if you get up to stretch your legs or stop your eyes from crossing, then I'm fine with that."
"You won't hit me with a rolled up newspaper if I duck out of here for a few minutes?" He asked jokingly, looking over at her. "I mean, I wouldn't mind it under the right circumstances, but I don't think we should do it in the office."
"Agent Barton, I didn't think you were into that kind of stuff." She replied, grinning. This conversation was incredible, and she only hoped no one would walk in on them talking like this. A small part of her just wanted Barton to remain in the office with her until all of the work was done, but she knew that the moment he was cleared by a doctor, he would be back out into the field, leaving Remy alone with a new agent to work with until the job was done or the agent was replaced.
"Well, Agent Black, there's a lot you don't know about me."
