Hello Readers! Here is the next chapter. This one shows Agent Meyer's skills, well just a little. Also, everything about this is about our darling favorite archer.

I hope you like it and please do Review. Happy Reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...

The Magpie

Chapter Three

Clint had an assignment for the next few days that led him to Brazil. In short, it was hot, humid and a very easy job. Usually he could have stayed there for a day or two and relaxed, but he had another assignment lined up so he rushed back to the headquarters.

He made his reports and was waiting on Agent Hill for a meeting and perhaps his next assignment file; that was when his ears picked up a loud wolf whistle. He grunted in disgust these new recruits had no sense of decorum; also he was willing to bet it was one of those SHIELD pilots. They really were cocky SOBs. They thought they were god's gifts to women and SHIELD. They must have seen one of the female agents in their uniforms and just had to go out of their ways to make complete asses out of themselves and make the poor woman feel harassed. He hoped darkly that it was Natasha or better yet Hill, they always took care of these idiots swiftly and painfully. He smirked as he remembered Natasha walking by nonchalantly and sucker punching an agent who had made a crass comment about her hair and if the drapes matched the carpets, the guy went down in barely a second and Natasha walked away coolly and as if nothing had happened.

All he could hear then were the whispers, awed exclamations, compliments and hoots about the hottie in the backless dress who caught a big fish for SHIELD. With slight irritation and patience only acquired by his long time experience as a sniper, did he ignore it all and went back to thinking about the many things on his mind, one of them being where his own red-headed partner was and said partner's good friend, the petty thief.

His attention was very much occupied, that is until he heard a very familiar voice that poured cold water all over him and made him jump out of his chair, "Really boys, if nothing else, then for SHIELD's hardcore reputation of having bad-ass agents and stop acting like pubescent boys who have acne all over their oily faces, get their hair cut by their mothers, get stuffed into lockers by the jocks, have imaginary elf girlfriends via online games and have never seen a real pair of tits let alone have had sex. All of this makes Director Fury look bad and we all know how much of a bad-ass he is. Oh and Agent Johnson, do wipe that drool off your chin."

Clint blinked and couldn't help but smile; he could recognize the combination of that musical voice, arrogance, dripping venom and downright creative insults anywhere. But his smile fell away instantly as he realized why Agent Meyer was actually speaking. The hottie in the backless dress and the crude remarks about said hottie, hell the wolf whistle, it was all directed at Meyer.

He gritted his teeth and stalked out to see to those pathetic agents, just because he didn't trust the woman did not mean he would tolerate such disrespect towards her. This was borderline sexual harassment and for fuck's sake, she was his partner's good friend and his co-worker. She was a senior agent and one of Fury's best, she deserved the respect of having those positions.

His arms were tensed and his pace was brisk, he really was ready to tear some unlucky bastard a new one, that is until he saw her. His pace faltered and he kind of stopped right in his track. It was Meyer, alright, but he had never seen her like that before. He had seen Natasha like that before, it was a part of the job after all, undercover and all that or dressing up, but Natasha did not even compare to her.

She stood there, looking like a goddess, a bored goddess but a goddess nonetheless. She was wearing one of those flow-y gowns. He watched with a parched throat and hungry eyes, the pale yellow fabric that made her skin glow and fell down her body in the most sinful way possible, tracing her hips and long legs like a lover's caress. Fuck, there was also a long slit on one side and a shapely leg almost indecently exposed from mid-thigh to foot leaned out and on her dainty foot was in a strappy golden dangerously high and thin heel; that had to be the sexiest leg he had ever seen, Clint told himself.

He slowly and with a hell of lot of dark intent traced his eyes upwards, and he smirked. The top of her dress was held up by thin straps and it showed a perfect view of her pale neck, that perfect collarbone and just the top of her breasts, not exposing much of her fabulous cleavage, but with her rack, she didn't need to show anything. She had a lot, after all and any hot blooded man would not waste a second not imagining or fantasizing about it. She wore a simple necklace, and Clint could bet his entire year's salary that the pendent on her neck was a yellow diamond, the real deal. Her pale arms were bare and Clint suddenly had the strongest urge to nibble from all the way up on her neck and down to the curve of her shoulder. Her dark hair was piled upwards in a fancy hair-do and her lips looked the color of raspberries, he really wanted to taste them and see if they tasted like raspberries as well.

He told himself disappointingly, she might be a petty thief, but there couldn't be a woman sexier than her right then. His opinion was reinforced by ten times as soon as she turned around to talk to Coulson. He literally growled out a little and to his utter embarrassment, he felt all kinds of hot and his pants felt suspiciously tighter than usual. The dress tied behind her neck and there was a very, very thin string around the middle of her back, other than that, all he could see was pale, creamy skin. Lots and lots of skin. The dress, well it did not have a back at all. From her neck till just above the curve of her ass, it was all bare. Fuck, he had to use all his self-restraint to stop from touching her. He stared and he had to admit he loved how back curved out sharply to that perfect ass. He wanted to trace that curve with his hands, hell he just knew that that curve was perfect for him to keep his hand on. Oh fucking hell, he groaned, did she just have to stick out her ass like that? He was hit with a powerful vision of him licking up from that dip in her waist all the way up her back to the back of her neck, tracing her spine. He needed to see, hear and feel her reaction to that.

Suddenly it occurred to him, she wore that at a mission and caught a big fish and still managed to look like a million bucks? What did she do?

He stared at her; she looked like how she always looked after completing a mission arrogant and exhilarated. There was no way in hell he was going to go up to her and ask, what's up?

So he stood there, very discreetly and with great stealth that only assassins of great caliber like him possess, did he overhear most of what happened on Meyer's mission. Meyer was assigned to get this business tycoon who was suspected to have links with a huge crime syndicate. Now the tricky part of the mission was to break the ties between the syndicate and the tycoon and turn the tycoon against the syndicate and start working for the government. At first the job sounded like it was meant for Natasha not Meyer. Then he got the hang of it. Meyer's task was to retrieve the tycoon.

The guy had all sorts of juicy info on the syndicate that he guarded with his life and kept in places unknown. They were supposed to be his line of defense against the syndicate if thing ever went wrong. Meyer first stole all those info, and spread around the word that the tycoon was robbed, of what the syndicate did not know but were suspicious of.

The guy was sweating bullets and knew he would be killed any day now by the syndicate since he firmly believed that someone from syndicate knew that he had sold the syndicate out. The truth was that the syndicate knew nothing of this. After that the paranoid tycoon was constantly looking over his shoulder, an attack on him by a hired mercenary made him believe even more firmly about how the syndicate was after him now. Meyer swooped in like a heroine, saved his ass from the hired mercenary who was hired by a contact of SHIELD's and the attack was very real, after that she brought in the tycoon. He was with certain government officials right now signing away for his new mission in exchange for protection and amnesty. The funny thing was that he was going undercover for no reason at all, his life was very much safe from the syndicate now and he was free to continue on his life as before. From what Coulson was going on and on about, it was Meyer who planned the entire thing, before this it was simply supposed to be a simple task of her stealing just the info, but now she did that and planted a very good double agent within the syndicate.

Clint could not help but smirk smugly at that. It had nothing to do with Meyer herself, but the simple fact that it was one of SHIELD's agents who had scored once again. He really didn't like her at all, but he couldn't help but admit she had a unique way of completing her missions, also this one would only reinforce her status as Fury's favorite, and he grimaced at the thought of that.

He looked at her once more, there wasn't even a single wrinkle on that scrap of fabric she called a dress, let alone a scratch on her. Did she really fight a mercenary and drag back a paranoid tycoon back? If she did, then how did she do it exactly? He made a mental note to get the mission report of this mission some time later.

He continued observing her and that's when he came up to her. Some cocky pilot, Clint just knew he was with his stupid bleach blonde hair and blue eyes, also that strut was something that all the SHIELD pilots seemed to have, stood beside her and leered at her, "Hi. I am Hunt, Caleb Hunt."

Clint gritted his teeth, the smarmy bastard had his eyes glued to her breasts while he introduced himself. His fist was aching to connect with that guy's large chin and knock him out cold. What, did the chain of command stopped working or were mere pilots these days not aware of proper protocols, hell boot-lickers like them were supposed to be scared shitless of the superior agents. He wasn't even supposed to look her in the eyes let alone ogle her breasts and use crappy pickup lines on her. Meyer might be a petty thief but she had the same clearance and authority as Clint himself. That demanded respect from pilots like them. Everyone knew pilots always came way below field agents in the animal kingdom that was SHIELD.

He seethed as he watched them. To his surprise, Meyer did not react as Hill or Natasha would have reacted. Natasha would have glared at the stupid bastard and then dislocated his arm or something. She was mean like that, also the reason why the cocky pilots steered clear of the dangerous spy. Meyer did not even notice him. Well, that made Clint's lips twist into a little wicked smirk; clearly the bastard had no game at all. As if someone like him could even catch the eye of someone like her. She was way out of his league.

The bastard cleared his throat loudly and repeated again, this time a little louder, "I am Hunt, Caleb Hunt."

She did not even look up from the file she had in her hand, instead she turned around and stated coldly, "Lost, Get Lost."

Clint snorted, that was a good answer. To add injury to the insult, she walked right by him, making sure to step on his foot very hardly with her very pointed heel. What happened to the cocky pilot? Well, he was too busy gathering what was left of his ego from the floor as he yelped girlishly and was jumping around the floor. Clint had enjoyed that view, but when the pilot loudly insulted, "Frigid bitch!" Clint stood up to take care of the insolent bastard.

To his shock, before he could even move a muscle, Meyer, not bothered or perturbed, did not even look behind as she called out sharply, "Good and that is what you will tell Agent Jameson when you report to him for your reprimand."

Clint barely held in the hiss that was an automatic reflex when it came to the word reprimand to the name Jameson. Agent Jameson was basically the reincarnated form of Adolf Hitler or at least a long lost descendant who loved torturing recruits and fresh agents by what he called training and grooming, but that wasn't nearly as frightening as to when you were sent to him for reprimands. That was hell and Clint himself was one of the lucky ones who had not been to him for any form of reprimand in his years with SHIELD. Natasha had been subjected to a few reprimands with Agent Jameson in the beginning of her career with SHIELD; also she was later trained by Jameson and was currently one of his favorites. That was just the perfect explanation for Natasha's own sadistic tendencies.

Clint was grinning widely at how quickly the smarmy pilot had paled and everyone around him had suddenly gone quiet and suddenly walked far, far away from him. Especially his little posse of pilots who thought he was their leader.

He was a little too much lost in his thoughts, and what broke him out of it was the sharp clicks of heels on the floor and the even sharper slap of a file on the table before him. He blinked once and breathed in, the heady scent of vanilla and lavender and he looked down on the file and the dainty white hand on the table. Her fingers were painted a bright gold this time. He didn't even touch the file, he looked up at her with a raised eye-brow. God, she really did glow in that dress. She stared at him for a few seconds, her poker face was good, Clint admitted. Finally she leaned down and told him stoically, "Your mine tomorrow, Hawk."

He choked a little at that bold statement and he thanked whatever deities there were for making her not hear that. She had walked away briskly right after those four words, her yellow dress flipping around her long legs and that perfect ass swaying seductively.

Fuck, what was wrong with her and what did she mean he was her's tomorrow? His mind was once more drowning in all sorts of x-rated images starring her. Her straddling his lap, grinding against him, moaning against his shoulder, his hands gripping onto that thin waist of her's pulling her towards him, god he wanted to see her in those sky-high gold heels of her's and just wearing those and nothing else.

What Clint Barton felt next was the perfect alternative of being shoved into an iced lake and it was just as effective. Agent Hill's cold and slightly nasal voice called him out sharply, "Agent Barton."

He blinked into attention and looked at her sharply. Oh yes, the perfect alternative. She frowned at him and then informed him briskly and coldly, "Your new mission starts tomorrow and you will be…Wait, you already know."

He asked her gruffly and absolutely confused, "Know what?"

Agent Hill pointed at the file in front of him and sneered, "I see your Team Leader has already given you your mission file. It is exactly like her to not follow the proper protocol and do things however she wishes. She should have at least logged on and informed me that she has already informed you of your mission."

Before he could even react, Maria Hill turned around and stalked away, clearly a little furious. Wait, Team Leader and mission file. He with utter dread etched across his face looked down at the file before him and with a heavy stomach he opened the file.

Fuck it all. He was going on a retrieval mission, simple enough, to retrieve a fellow captured agent in Italy and he was the look-out guy slash sniper. His team consisted of four other agents. Two field agents whom he knew, a security and tech support guy he actually liked and the retrieval specialist who was the leader of this team. Fuck, fuckity, fuck. He really was Meyer's tomorrow, just not in the way he thought he was. Agent Estella Meyer was his team leader for tomorrow's mission. Someone really hated him up there.

A wicked small whisper in his head informed him gleefully, at least now you can find out exactly how she managed to kill that mercenary, drag that tycoon to SHIELD's negotiators and come out looking like a super-model walking out of the page from a magazine. Another whisper told him to take the opportunity to dig at her for all the secrets he wanted to know about her. But the loudest of whispers was the one which reminded him how much he loved a woman on top and who ordered him around.

He shook his head hard and looked back at the data before him. Someone really hated him up there, either that or Fury had it out for him. How the fuck was he going to survive being ordered around by Meyer of all people?