Disclaimer: Well. I'm not Joss Whedon or Marvels comics. They are the lucky bastards that own all of this stuff so no, I don't own any of this nor am I paid for it.

Being around people who could decimate other people with nothing but their bare hands wasn't anything new for Grant Ward. He worked as a field agent for a top secret government organization, practically everyone he worked with had been trained to take people down by any means necessary.

However, working with agents Barton and Romanov was nothing short of impressive. One or other of the two assassins would be formidable by themselves, but the two of them together were lethal. They acted like two people who were sharing one mind. Each of them covered for all of the less developed aspects of the other. Barton saw the big picture while agent Romanov looked at the details. They were the definition of a good Strike Team.

Though from the way the two agents had passed out on the couch, Grant guessed that there was a little more to the relationship than that. Of course S.H.I.E.L.D had rules about inter-agent relationships, but Coulson had apparently decided that in this case the rules were more like guide lines. Ward glanced at Skye, maybe those "guide lines" could be bent just a little bit further.


"Is this really necessary?" Barton asked. He had been reluctantly dragged in to the med lab by Coulson. He had made rather loud verbal protests, but ultimately had shut up when Natasha glared at him. Apparently he was slightly over due for a physical.

"You have skipped your physical appointments for the last four years," Coulson said. "And now that I have you here, it's perfect timing to make one of those up."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, trapped on a plane over the ocean at a height of at least fifteen thousand feet."

"Oh please Barton," Coulson scoffed. "We both know you could find at least one viable way of getting out of here if you wanted to. You probably worked out a plan as soon as you stepped on board." He stepped back and crossed his arms. "So? Do you feel like sharing so I can assess the security flaws?"

Barton sighed and leaned back, rolling his neck to pop the joint there. "Well, if I really wanted to, I would disable your team as I made my way through the plane to the parachutes. Then I would disengage the air lock and jump. We're over the ocean at the moment so I'd have a bit of a swim, but I'm sure a deep sea fishing boat would show up eventually."

Coulson hmmed neutrally. "Remind me to make the airlock control panel more difficult to access," he said as the door opened and Simmons walked in. "I'll be seeing you both later."

"You don't want to do that Coulson," Clint called. "It's a security hazard!" He turned to Simmons, "So what exactly do you need to check?"

"Um..." Simmons perused the chart she was clutching. "Blood pressure?" Barton looked at her skeptically. "Though maybe that can wait," Simmons said, backtracking quickly. "I need to check your blood for a vitamin, blood cell, and platelet count." Barton nodded and rolled up his sleeve. "I take it you're not trypanophobic?"

Clint frowned. "In English."

"It's a fear of needles," Simmons explained quickly. "I'll just.. okay." She quickly prepared the needle and extracted the correct amount of blood for a blood test. "So," Simmons said to try to break the silence. "Not trypanophobic then?"

"Apparently not," Barton said neutrally.

"Were you not given the standard vaccinations as a child?" Simmons pursued, storing Barton's blood in a vile for testing.

Clint shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. I've never had the measles or anything. I don't really get the company shots unless it's absolutely necessary. But, in the interest of ending this line of questioning, no. I'm not overly afraid of needles. My blood type is O negative in case that matters."

Simmons nodded and made a quick addition to her notes. The rest of the physical continued in relative silence on Barton's part. Simmons kept up a stream of chatter throughout which Barton paid attention to until it became clear that he wasn't going to learn anything very important about the team dynamic from her speech. "All right then. The only thing left is the optic exam."

Clint looked at her skeptically. "Are you actually serious about that?"

Jemma Simmons clicked into her best possible scientist mode. "It is in the paperwork agent Barton. So yes, I am actually serious. Now track the light with your eyes." She focused her pen light and had to stifle a gasp as she watched Hawkeyes pupils hit full dilation in nearly two seconds flat. "Amazing," she said to herself. "The rods and cones in your eye seem to be ratioed at quite an unusual level. Are there any colors you have difficulty perceiving?"

Clint shrugged. "Reds and blues are a bit faded. Greens and purples stand out. I don't really question it."

"What is the farthest range at which you can still claim accurate and detailed focus?" SImmons questioned.

Barton shrugged again. "I haven't tested it. I do what I need to do to get my job done. It just is what it is like everything else." This statement was met with absolute silence. "Can I go now?"

A/N: So? Was it worth the wait? I realized that we hadn't had any interaction between Simmons and Barton and I thought I could put it in. This story might not be too much longer, but I think I've figured out a good ending. Let me know what you thought. Reviews are amazing! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo