Holla! Chapter 3 is up! Hope you'll like it!

And... ACTION!

"So, how are you handling the new guys?" Natasha asked Clint, seated opposite her, picking at his food.

"Fine," he simply answered, eyes locked on the potato in his plate. "How are you handling Stark?" he asked, looking at her.

She looked taken aback, she surely wasn't expecting that question. "Er- fine!" she imitated Clint who looked at her, unconvinced.

"That's not what I heard."

"What did you hear?" she asked, somewhat hurt.

"I heard he's been giving you a hell of a hard time these last few months."

"I-" she started, but she found herself unable to contradict that gossip. After all, Stark was a pain in the ass. Instead, she simply chose to attack Clint back. The best defense was always a good offense. "And I heard Coulson didn't seem that thrilled with your ways regarding the rookies' training."

Clint chuckled. It didn't surprise him one bit that Tasha was reacting offensively. After all, wasn't it one of the reasons he liked her so much? "Hey! I've been meaning to tell you!" he said, lowering his voice and bending his head forward. She did the same to listen, intrigued. "There's this girl in the group of recruits... She fourteen!"

Natasha frowned her eyebrows.

"I know, right?" he said, sitting back in his chair.

"How the hell did she manage to even get selected for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Natasha asked, mused.

"I have no idea! And that, my dear, is exactly what I'm about to discover!" he said, getting up, grabbing his apple and biting in it.

"And how are you planning on doing that?" she asked, dubious.

He smiled. "If I told ya, it'd spoil a part of the fun." Her puppy dog look made him reconsider. "But I can tell you that agent Coulson's gonna help me," he said, winking.

Her jaw dropped open. "Don't tell me you're going to steal Coulson's ID?" she whispered, excited, as she got up to join him.

"Oh, come on, Tasha. It's not as if I hadn't done it before. Besides, I'm not going to steal it, I'm only going to borrow it."

"Clint, you're hopeless..." she said, exasperated, which only made him laugh.

"Oh, and you're so not coming!" he added. "Don't want you screwing the whole operation up."

"You're lucky I have to meet up with Stark. Otherwise you would have been stuck with me, partner."

He instantly stopped walking and turned around to face her. "Meet him? What for?"

"It's about his debriefing, nothing huge, but Fury wants me there," she explained, before starting wondering why Clint was even interested in the thing. "Why?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering. Alright, then see ya, Tasha!" he said, walking away.

"Bye, Clint!" she answered, absent-minded, and turned around to start walking in the opposite direction, towards the elevators. On the way, she started wondering the meaning of Clint's sudden interest in Anthony Stark. Barton had always showed little to no interest in the billionaire. So why was he so intrigued now? Did it have anything to do with her being involved with Stark? In fact, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the reason for this. Succumbing to emotion wasn't conceivable, as far as she or Clint were concerned. They were spies, and that was it. Only love they were allowed to have was love for their country. Patriotism was highly recommended. Love was not. And then, of course, there was Budapest. That was something she wasn't going to forget. But what about Clint? She wondered. Had he forgotten all about it? Budapest wasn't a subject they brought up often. Actually, they had never spoken of it ever since it happened, two years ago, and still, each detail was still fresh in her mind. She would never forget it -and found herself hoping Clint wouldn't either.

Clint Barton was walking towards the staircase, knowing there were cameras in the elevators and he wasn't thrilled about being filmed right before stealing -no borrowing- Coulson's ID. That holly card was an all-access pass to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most secret files: Coulson had a level clearance of 10 -while Barton only had an 8. Although Clint had already done this in the past, it remained a tricky operation because Coulson never let his ID lying around and rarely removed his jacket. He would simply have to distract the man -if that was even possible, for Coulson was ever watchful, always on guard. But after all, wasn't it part of the fun -the difficulty?

Clint Barton finally arrived at the 6th floor and headed towards Coulson's office, taking another bite of his apple. On the way, he met fellow agent Maria Hill who smiled at him.

"Agent Barton!" she said.

"Agent Hill."

"Wait- aren't you supposed to be training..."

"Nope," he interrupted her, tired of hearing about the recruits. "Have you seen Coulson? Need to talk to him."

"Er, yeah, he's in his office."

"Thanks, take care!" he said with a crooked smile as he headed towards the office number C24, one he had often visited. Of course, Clint also could have tried to steal Nick Fury's ID: the man was, after all, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s big boss. But he had granted Coulson full clearance access and it was way easier to get Coulson's -at least he was actually present, whereas Fury never was, he was always on the move, never to be found.

Clint knocked on the C24 office door on which the name Phil Coulson was engraved, followed by Agent. "Come in!" he heard and opened the door to find a Phil, pen in the hand, buried deep under piles of files and paperworks. Clint couldn't restrain a chuckle and frowned. "Oh, boy! You're deep in it, boss!"

"Well, these things need to be done, Barton. Just as doing what you're told, such as training the recruits."

Clint pretended he didn't hear that and simply sat in front of Phil, across the desk.

"Why aren't you with them?" Coulson asked, imperturbable.

"They're grown ups. They can take care of themselves," he answered, grabbing a file, much to Phil's dismay who unsuccessfully tried to take it back. "Actually," he corrected himself. "There is one that isn't! Any informations on her?"

Coulson smiled. "I knew you'd come rummage through top secret files, Barton, but you do not have access to everything."

"Oh, come on, Coulson, how am I supposed to train the girl if I don't know a thing about her?"

"What's written in the file you've been handed is quite enough to satisfy your curiosity. In six days, you won't have to deal with her anymore, anyway."

"So that means she's here temporally, then. Because if she wasn't, then I'd still see her in the building or might even have to work with her on a mission."

"Alright, enough with your questions and investigations, Barton, off you go, down to the second floor. Go play with your newfound friends and let the grown ups do the hard work," he said, gesturing to the door with a soft smile.

Barton exited and closed the door behind him. He looked at his watch. It was 2:30. It was common knowledge that Phil Coulson had his habits. On the Tuesday, at 2:45, the man would go down to the 4th floor's rec room and watch his favorite TV show for 30 minutes. What was that show, again? Something with a nanny in it... Anyway, Clint would have 30 minutes to get Coulson's ID. What he had just heard in the office was far from enough to "satisfy his curiosity," as his superior had put it.

Going down the stairs to the 4th floor, Clint took out his cell and called John Gibson, one of his closest friends who also happened to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "Hey, Johnny! If you're not too busy, meet me at the rec room, alright? Got a special mission for you."

When Barton arrived at the rec room, Gibson was already there, waiting for him. "I was around," he explained, noticing Clint's surprise. "So, what's it all about?"

"I'm going to need you to distract Coulson while I take his ID."

"Again?" Johnny let out.

"This time I really need to. It's important."

"You sure? Because remember how he reacted last time he found out..."

"I remember. But this time it's different. Let's say it's for a good cause."

"Well, if you're so sure, that's fine by me. When is he coming down here, already?"

"In ten minutes. I'm not supposed to be here, so you get in and keep him distracted and watch that show of his with him, but whatever happens, he mustn't know I'm in there as well."

"Alright. And after, what are you going to do with his ID?"

"It's easy. I get to the 10th floor with his pass and search for my answers."

"Which are...?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be looking for them, Gibs."

"Right, stop playing with words, Barton, just tell me what you want his ID for. And don't call me Gibs. It's too much NCIS."

"No, there's only one B in Gibs. And it suits you, and I'm getting used to it."

"I'm not. I never will."

"Whatever, man! Look, just help me. Besides, you owe me one, remember?"

"No I don't! I paid my debt back when we were in France, stupid!"

"Uh-uh! I thought we agreed that didn't count."

"Yes it-"

"Good job, Natasha, I'll talk to you later," they heard from a close distance and instantly realized it was Coulson on the phone, on his way to the rec room. They panicked and Gibs entered the rec room while Barton ran away in the opposite direction to avoid being seen. This op wasn't starting so great, Clint regretted.

From his hiding place, the Hawk heard the rec room's door close. Coulson was in. Just give it a few more minutes for him to be comfortably settled in on the couch and hypnotized by the nanny. Then, Clint would silently enter and take the ID. Simple as that.

Five minutes later, he was quietly working on opening the doorknob. It was a success: Clint was trained to be quiet when required. Inside the room, he found Gibs and Coulson, sitting on the couch, facing the TV, their backs facing him. For one second, his attention was drawn to the TV's british accent. He had never watched an episode of Supernanny and, judging from the few seconds he did watch it, he considered he didn't miss anything. He started wondering what Coulson could find interesting in this and humorously imagined Coulson as the supernanny taking care of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. After all, wasn't it part of his task -supervising?

Clint blinked his eyes to refocus on his mission. He didn't have time to lose in speculations. Thankfully, Coulson had removed his jacket and had set it, folded, on the back of the couch. Retrieving the ID would be a piece of cake. As quietly as possible, he searched the pockets. The front ones... the breast ones... the hip ones... the pass was nowhere to be found! He put the jacket back in its place and bent down behind the couch, and started texting Gibs to explain the tricky situation.

After reading the text, Gibs turned to Phil and politely engaged a conversation about the show, all the while frisking him with his eyes...which finally landed on the breast pocket of Coulson's shirt which seemed to contain a card -his ID, no doubt. He texted the info back to Barton who, in turn, asked him to keep talking to Coulson to distract him. When the highest ranked agent had his head turned to the left, to look at Gibs, Barton made his move towards the pocket and carefully took the ID out. Coulson hadn't felt a thing. With a grateful nod of the head towards Gibs, Barton left the room as quietly as he had entered.

When he was finally in the stairways, heading towards the 10th floor, Barton took a good look at the card he was holding, his prize. He had kind of fought hard to get it and he made sure he would make the most of it.

Nick Fury's note: Agent, I will be the one to come and see for this chapter's debriefing, because it seems agent Phil Coulson's ID has been missing and he is too busy trying to find it back at the present. Anyway, once you've read this, please, come tell me what you thought of it!

Author's note: Here we go, Chapter 3 is officially over (only to be replaced by a chapter 4 ASAP). I'd love to know what you thought and if you have any comments on it, address to Nick Fury in the Review Department. Poor Coulson, I sincerely hope he'll retrieve his ID soon! Then again, I love when Barton drives him crazy! =D