Yay! More Agent Coulson. He's a lot of fun to write. And introducing another new hero! By the way, I had fun with the AU aspect of this story, so the formation of the Avengers is pulled from a wide variety of sources and my own imagination, so let me know if something really does not make sense, but for the most part, just wait and I'll eventually explain everything. Enjoy!
Chapter 22-SHIELD Take Two
Just a few weeks after Logan dropped the bombshell that he was leaving Clint with SHIELD, the two of them drove into a compound hidden outside Atlanta. Clint was still unhappy with the arrangements but he was doing his best to avoid souring his relationship with Logan. It wasn't easy. The trip down here had been particularly tense and Clint more than half expected Logan to just wipe his hands of anything to do with Clint and his attitude.
This SHIELD base was very different then the one in Oklahoma. It was obviously a military base with armed guards at the gate and clearly marked buildings. They even passed a Sargent leading a group of men in formation as they drove up to the main office. Clint didn't like it. Too many people, too many unknowns.
"Are you sure I can't come with you?" The teenager asked, trying not to whine. He wanted to come off as bored, not scared. "This place looks lame."
"I'm sure," Logan rumbled as he parked. "You've come a long way, but you ain't ready to go on an X-Men mission. The guy we're hunting is bad news, even Kitty will be staying home for this one."
Clint glared out the window. The building looked pretty bland, with white stucco and army green trim. They had rocks and no plants for landscaping around the outside and all the windows had closed blinds. Looked like fun, he thought sarcastically. "And you're trying to bait another bad guy. I get it but seriously? I thought the whole reason I was with you was to avoid SHIELD."
"Things change, get used to it," Logan said and got out before Clint could retort.
Now Clint had to get out too if he wanted to keep arguing. He gently banged his head against the window for a second before deciding to bite the bullet and face the music and all those other cliches. He opened the door and hopped out, grabbing his bow case before closing the door gently. If he slammed it, Logan might guess how freaked out he was. Then he turned to his mentor who just raised an eyebrow. Oh, right. Super senses, he already knew everything Clint was feeling.
"This is going to be better than you think, Clint. Phil is in charge and Agent Reynolds is here. They'll help you with your lessons and probably teach you stuff I haven't gotten to yet," the older man said sympathetically before Clint said anything. "And even if you're bored to death, it's only for a few weeks."
Clint sighed and swung his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Let's get this over with, then."
They went through the unassuming glass doors and a man at the desk pointed them down the hall and to the left. There they found Agent Coulson at a desk, typing away at a sleek looking computer and grumbling about it under his breath.
"Careful, Agent Coulson. You might break it, using language like that," Logan teased as he claimed one of the chairs along the wall.
Clint decided to stay standing while he took it all in. The SHIELD agent looked as bland as the first time they met, though now Clint knew there was more to the man than just a nice suit. Coulson's desk was cluttered with different files, most of them labeled "Classified", a jar of pens, and a name plate. Behind him was a wall of bookshelves full of unlabeled binders and military books with one shelf devoted to knick-knacks, with a Captain America trading card in a sealed case standing proudly at the front. The wall to Clint's left had a vintage Captain America recruitment poster hanging above the two comfortable looking chairs. The right wall was devoted to filing cabinets. A sad looking ficus tree stood in one corner.
"Trust me, anything coming out of Stark's labs has heard worse. I just wish that his 'intuitive design' made sense to normal people," Agent Coulson sighed before turning his attention to his visitors. "So, you're really doing this?" He looked at Clint and asked, "Are you okay with this plan? I'm not taking you in if you're not 100% on board."
Logan's lips thinned in annoyance. "I'm not turning him over to you or anything like that so don't get any ideas. You're keeping him safe while I deal with X-Men business. I'll be back and I'll hold you personally responsible if something happens to him."
Clint blinked at that, his mind whiting out for a moment. No one since his brother had stood up for him like that. He knew Logan had his back but hearing him threaten an agent over his safety was kind of a rush. All these new, positive experiences were getting to his head. He might even get used to the idea that he was worth all the attention.
He missed part of the conversation, checking back in as Coulson turned to him expectantly. The agent shook his head at Clint's wandering attention and repeated himself, "Are you comfortable staying at a SHIELD base, considering your previous experience?"
Clint nodded and Logan just huffed a laugh. "He'll have the run of the place by the time I get back, Coulson. Don't underestimate him." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Now, I have to leave if I'm going to meet the team. Clint, call me if you have any problems and keep up with your studies. Storm and Beast are going to want to quiz you when they see you again." He tipped his hat at Coulson and ruffled Clint's hair before walking out without a backwards glance.
Clint watched his mentor and guardian leave with a growing queasiness but resolutely turned to glare at the agent behind the desk. He was damned if he showed that kind of weakness now.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Coulson broke the heavy silence. "Well, that went better than I expected. What about you?"
"What about me?" Clint snapped.
"What did you expect? I was dreading the threats to my life and person. He was almost civil with me."
"Logan is a good guy," Clint defended his friend.
"Never said he wasn't," Coulson replied without blinking an eye. "Now, let me show you around and get you settled in. Reynolds will be here tomorrow. He'll be your primary caretaker, but I'll break keeping an eye on you too. I am a notorious workaholic, but I promise to share at least one meal a day with you. You'll be staying with me as well. Many of the officers and specialists have their own quarters apart from the barracks. They are small, most are smaller than an apartment in the city, but it's private and secure. Come on, I'll show you."
Agent Coulson waved Clint out of his office and down the hall. The whirlwind tour surprised Clint. It was interesting, concise, and helpful. They started by driving Logan's truck to Coulson's little house and dropping off Clint's gear. Then Coulson commandeered a golf cart and drove Clint all over, explaining what each building was and which ones he had permission for, which was not many. He strongly suggested that Clint not try to break into classified areas at this base. Which Clint took as a challenge but he wouldn't let his guard down enough to say so just yet. He was still suspicious of SHIELD, for good reason.
After the tour they had dinner in the mess hall and retired to the house. Coulson insisted on going over Clint's lesson plans and interests so he could plant Clint's schedule. Seriously, the guy got out a handful of highlighters and started a color coded schedule. If Clint rolled his eyes much harder they were going to stick in the back of his head.
Finally, Coulson declared them prepared and sent the teenager to bed with a smile. Clint had to admit that this whole thing might not be too terrible, but he really wished he could stay with Logan. Learning how to shoot a gun was not as much fun as a sword and he knew the uptight agent wouldn't let him slack on his English lessons. Add Clint's anxiety about being abandoned and paranoia about Hydra and it was no wonder he had trouble falling asleep that night. It was going to be a long few weeks.
One week in, Clint wished it was over. He was bored, tired and grumpy. His nightmare had come back with a vengeance so he rarely got more than four hours of sleep a night. The rest of his waking hours were filled with studying, practice, and making a nuisance of himself. His favorite prank was shooting spitballs from a hiding place in the vents or rafters. His aim had improved and now he could hit a fly from across the room. He was in the process of convincing one of the mess cooks to give him a bag of frozen peas.
Agent Coulson, or Phil when he was off duty, seemed unaffected by the chaos. It was quickly becoming Clint's goal in life to ruffle the man's feathers. Even the complaints about the spitballs only earned a raised eyebrow. Apparently he thought it was good training for the new recruits. And when Clint refused to do his English homework, Coulson offered to teach him to shoot a rifle if and only if he did all his homework. It worked. Clint finished his homework and with continued good behavior was learning every projectile weapon on the base up to and including a grenade launcher.
Those lessons and access to a sweet range were the only bright spots of the base. The rest of his time was spent alone or under the distracted observation of different agents, mostly Agent Reynolds. He tried to not be bitter, but when he had to wait a half hour for a meeting to finish before he could ask a simple question in his math book he felt lonely. He missed Logan. The mutant had devoted most of his time to Clint since they teamed up and the attention was heady. Now he was back to being an afterthought and it hurt a little.
Clint glanced at the clock in his room. 2:30. Coulson would be busy until after seven and Renolds had a meeting until 4, so Clint was supposed to stay in the house until then. But he was done with the pages of his workbook that Coulson assigned and he finished Treasure Island last night and he didn't want to start a new book yet. He banged his head against the desk and groaned loudly. He was so bored. His fingers itched for his bow.
Screw his curfew. He wasn't going to wait to go to the range. He shoved away from the desk hard enough to knock his chair over and went to grab his bow out of the closet before stomping out the door. He promised no spitballs or pranks today because of some hotshot visitor that had Phil wound up, but Clint saw no reason to stay away from the range.
The range safety officer laughed when Clint walked through the door. The guy was as old as dirt, with an impressive handlebar mustache, but knew every weapon in the armory and always had some historical fact about weapons.
"If it isn't our little toxophilite," the agent said, alreading reaching for Clint's quiver.
"Toxo-what now?" Clint asked, accepting the quiver and double checking it. He trusted the Agent, who's name he still couldn't remember, it was started with a "G", he thought, but he always double checked.
The older man smiled as Clint counted his arrows. "Toxophilite, it means a lover of archery," he explained.
"Huh, I'll have to remember that one. Toxophilite. Thanks, Agent G."
The man laughed, shaking his head as he filled out the sign in form for Clint. "It's Agent Longley. You'll get it one of these days."
Clint blushed, avoiding the old man's clear grey eyes. He waved and retreated through the door into the shooting gallery, the old man's laughter following him.
The range was by far Clint's favorite place on base. The front desk area, where Agent Longley presided was a long narrow room. On one side had the counter where Longley passed over the weapons and ammo that people could check out. The room behind was a treasure trove of weapons that Lonely guarded like a dragon of his hoard. The rest of that side of the room had a long counter where, after checking in any unused ammo, the agents were expected to clean their weapons before returning them. The padded stools we're pretty comfy and Clint enjoyed hanging around after practice to talk with Longley and watch other shooters. This was possible through the windows that lined the other side of the room, creating a kind of observation area. Coulson explained it so senior agents could come and scout out the talent, but Clint figured that they liked to spy on each other and show off. The glass was super thick and bullet proof, and cleaning it had been one of Clint's punishments. It hadn't exactly been a hardship. But it was on the other side of the glass, through the heavy door, where Clint really felt at home. At the end of a long row of booths was Clint's spot, where qAgent Langley and Coulson set up the targets for archery, just for him.
Here he could shoot for as long as he wanted and no one would bother him.
It didn't take long for Clint to relax into the repetition of shooting. Here, he could forget about all his supid petty feelings and just enjoy something he was good at. It was peaceful.
He hadn't been at it long when he saw Agent Longley greeting someone else coming in, but didn't pay it any mind. Lots of agents came to practice and the range was big enough for everyone. But when he finished his current set and went to retrieve his arrows, he noticed that no one was shooting. He looked around to meet the eyes of a man, watching him with an arrogant smirk on his face.
"Can I help you?" Clint asked.
The man shrugged, sliding off the stool he had been perched on and approached Clint. "Maybe, maybe not," he said. He leaned against the wall behind where Clint had been shooting and the Archer turned to keep him in sight. "Honestly I was bored and wandered in here to talk to Wild Bill and saw you. Got me curious."
Clint crossed his arms, holding his bow loosely in his right hand. He took a long look at the stranger who seemed to preen under the attention. He was shorter than average but taller than Logan, slightly built but not weak. His hair was perfectly styled and his facial hair was trimmed with precision. He dressed in a very fancy suit that Clint would bet was very, very expensive. The man's watch certainly was. Over all the man looked like a rich mark. Clint sneered. "Curious about what?"
The man smirked. "You, of course." Clint rolled his eyes, expecting to be questioned about his age, but the man surprised him. "Why in the world are you using such outdated technology? They must have something more exciting for you."
Clint scoffed. "Nothing is better than my bow."
"Oh, come on. It's a stick with a string shooting pointy sticks. Most kids your age prefer explosions."
Clint laughed and shrugged, letting himself relax a little. He still kept his bow between them. "Agent Coulson showed me how to use a grenade launcher the other day. It was cool, but archery is still better. More of a challenge."
It was the man's turn to laugh. He waved at the perfect bullseye down the range. "Doesn't look too hard to me."
Clint bristled. Who was this guy to doubt his skill? He opened his mouth to give the guy a piece of his mind when Agent Renolds came rushing into the range.
"Mr. Stark, Agent Coulson is looking for you. He's in conference room C. Please hurry, sir," the young agent panted, obviously out of breath. He glanced and Clint and his eyes widened for a second before focusing back on the stranger.
"Please, I'm not even late yet. There is no reason for Agent to have his bureaucratic panties in a twist," the rich guy said dismissively. "I'm much more interested in you, Mini-Robin Hood."
Clint glared at the man and Reynolds groaned. "Please, Mr. Stark,"Reynolds tried again. "Agent Coulson told me to come find you. Everyone else is already assembled."
Stark looked from one young man to the other before signing and waving his arms around dramatically. "Fine, lead the way, Agent Jr. But don't think we're through, Mini-Hood. I want to know more about this hobby of yours." He turned on his heel and left, leaving Reynolds to just shrug apologetically to Clint before running after the strange man.
Clint was left reeling from the encounter. Honestly he had no idea how to process it, so he shook it off and returned to his practice.
That night, Coulson was in a mood. He kept mumbling under his breath and pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. Clint decided not to press the issue and just helped the agent throw together a meal of spaghetti. It wasn't fancy but it was hot and very filling. Coulson was trying to teach Clint the skills to be self-sufficient, with mixed results. Clint could cook a little, but the finer details of spices and nutrition didn't come as easily. The cinnamon chicken in particular was awful.
"Tell me about your day," Phil said as he drained the noodles.
Clint looked up from the carrots he was chopping for the salad and shrugged. "Not much to tell, I finished my homework and went to the range."
Coulson nodded. He didn't say anything as he directed Clint to bring everything to the table. Clint felt the weight of the agent's regard as he waited for Clint to talk. He was good at that, the waiting, better even than Logan. The mutant waited for Clint to talk without any pressure, like it was Clint's choice. Coulson had a way of asking without asking, just leaving the discussion open ended so Clint wanted to say something.
Finally, as they say down to eat, Clint gave in. "There was a man at the range. He was a wackjob who kept asking why I liked archery."
Coulson nodded. "Did he say anything insulting?"
"He questioned my skill, said it didn't look that hard. Agent Renyolds came before I really got mad."
"I'm sorry to say that will likely not be the last you see of him. Tony Stark is, well, he acts like a spoiled child. He does what he wants and avoids his responsibilities by taking on random projects," Phil tried to explain, shaking his head. "And since Agent Renyolds mentioned that I was in charge of you, Stark will bother you just to irk me. It's his hobby."
Clint took his time replying to all of that. He honestly wasn't sure how to take it and wondered if he should worry. He focused on his food for several minutes before looking up. "When you say 'bother', should I be worried?" He asked.
Phil sighed. "No, not really. He is a good man underneath it all. He'll probably try to bribe you somehow. Just don't leave with him or let him get you in trouble." The agent grinned as a thought occurred to him. "You could swindle him. If he makes a crack about your shooting again, make a bet and take him to town. He can afford it, and it might teach him some humility."
Clint nodded thoughtfully. He already had some ideas on that score. Still, he doubted that he was interesting enough for the rich guy to come back to. So he changed the subject and started talking about Treasure Island, which he finished, and Robinson Crusoe which was the next book on his list. It seemed Hank had a knack for finding books that were actually really interesting for Clint to read, better than some of the little kids books he had tried to read in school. It was an easy topic that Phil eagerly focused on. And no more was said about Tony Stark for the rest of the night.