Tip #3: Don't offer to expose Steve Rogers to the 21st century.
Do not offer to "Expose" Captain Rogers to the 21stCentury
"Excuse me, Agent Le Fey?"
Rowen paused halfway down the hallway, glancing behind her with a raised eyebrow. No one was ever that polite to her unless they were afraid, which was, admittedly, a lot of people. This, however, wasn't one of them. "Captain Rogers, can I help you?"
Captain Steve Rogers offered her a smile and rubbed the back of his head a little. "I'm hoping so, ma'am. Agent Hill informed me that you were heading up a support team that would work with the Avengers."
"That's correct," confirmed Rowen. "If you're concerned, you can speak with Director Fury. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."
The alarm that crossed Steve's face would have been amusing if it wasn't directed at her. "Are you concerned about this team, Agent Le Fey?"
Rowen rolled her eyes. "Just call me Rowen, Captain Rogers. We aren't in a meeting and I abhor unnecessary formality. We're all warriors here and out in the field, ranks don't mean squat."
"You sound like someone who lived through the war," remarked Steve with a shake of his head. "Most people don't think like that."
"I'm a non-traditionalist," explained Rowen with a shrug. "Plus, I've seen my fair share of fights and the accompanying chaos."
Nodding, Steve offered her one of the boyish grins that he was infamous for. The sad part was that the smile was completely genuine, not an attempt to trick or wheedle favors from anyone; bloody hell, the man really was perfect. Even she would have issues resisting him.
One of his hands extended towards her, the gin still in place. "If I'm gonna call you Rowen, then please call me Steve."
"I can do that," agreed Rowen, carefully taking his hand. "So what can I do for you, Steven? Er, Steve."
Both of Steve's eyebrows rose. "Steven? I haven't been called that since the war."
"I'm sorry for the slip," apologized Rowen. "Steven rolls off the tongue easier."
"It's fine," assured Steve. "You can call me Steven if it's easier." His brow furrowed a little, as if he was considering something. "Do you have a bit of an accent or was I hearing things?"
Rowen smiled a little. She'd read the file on Steve's war-time British lover. Well, almost lover. It wasn't a surprise the man could pick up even a faint accent. "My mum is British. I lost a lot of the accent when I moved out here, but it still comes out every now and then. Mostly when I'm angry."
"So if I hear someone yelling with a British accent, it's probably you?" asked Steve, grin widening.
"Probably," confirmed Rowen, her own easy smile matching his. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself," answered Steve, a bit sheepishly. "I wanted to at least meet the man- er, woman in charge of leading the support team."
Watching Steve stumble nervously was actually kind of cute, in a 'embarrassed puppy' sort of way. It made Rowen smile. "Well, you've met me now."
"So I have," agreed Steve. He paused for a second, seeming to consider something, before offering Rowen another of his boyish smiles. "Would it be too forward for me to ask yo-"
"Hey Witchy!" shouted a voice form the down the hall. Rowen groaned, recognizing Tom's voice immediately. "Guess what?"
"You've finally grown up enough to know that calling me 'Witchy' is a good way to get your ass kicked?" tried Rowen hopefully. She pretty much knew Tom wouldn't stop at this point; he found it too entertaining.
"Nope," replied Tom, grin still in place as he threw an arm around her shoulders. "Try again."
"I don't know Tom, you won the lottery," guessed Rowen, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I really don't have the patience for this right now and I have to go train a bunch of children how to shoot various types of guns they're completely unfamiliar with in ten minutes."
"They've got you on gun training? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen." Barton's voice was unmistakable and coming from the ceiling. Which wasn't a surprise. What was a surprise was the sound of a female 'oomph' coming from the same place.
Tom glanced up at the ceiling in concern. "You know Barton, ceiling sex sounds a lot more entertaining than it actually is."
"Ha, ha, ha," countered Barton's voice. A moment later, one of the tiles above their head was lifted away to reveal Barton's face, along with Angela's. "I was just trying to find Agent Le Fey so I could return one of her little goslings."
"And you decided to do this by crawling around the ceiling because..." started Rowen, watching as Angela carefully lowered herself out of the ceiling.
"Because it's faster," replied Barton with a grin. "Plus A) I was already up here and B) I've decided she's cool enough to learn the passageways."
"Wonderful, you're turning my students into ceiling rats like yourself," muttered Rowen, pinching the bridge of her nose.
A sudden squeak from Angela caught Rowen's attention, just as the girl lost her grip on the ceiling and tumbled down. Thankfully, Steve's reflexes were fast enough to catch her before she could hit the ground. She ended up more or less cradled in his arms, to her apparent pleasure.
"Oh, wow, thank you," stated Angela. Her voice was a touch breathy, which made Rowen want to bang her head against the wall. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents weren't supposed to swoon. Well, except for Coulson. He could swoon over Steve all he liked because he was Coulson, but no one on her team was going to swoon over anyone. Apparently, she'd be teaching Angela that.
"No problem," assured Steve, easily setting her on the ground. "Always happy to help."
"I've heard," replied Angela as she brushed the dust from her uniform. Glancing at Steve, she offered him a coy smile. "So Captain Rogers, last I heard you were still trying to adapt to modern life. Has anyone started educating you on modern culture, technology, or current affairs?"
"A little," confirmed Steve, brow furrowing. "Tony and Darcy try to teach me when they can, but I've got a lot to catch up on."
"Hmm," hummed Angela, voice completely innocent. A fact that, paired with the smile, was worrying Rowen deeply. "Well, I could always step in and fill any gaps they might not cover. I've been told I'm very good at exposing people to new things."
"By the gods," muttered Rowen, pressing one hand over her eyes. She didn't not just hear that. Please, please let that have been an auditory hallucination.
"Uh, well, um, that's very nice of you to offer?" tried Steve, stumbling over his words like a school boy facing his first crush. He looked somewhere between embarrassed and completely confused when Rowen dared to look over the edge of her hands. Both Tom and Barton started cracking up like hyenas.
Bloody hell. She hadn't misheard. This was worse than she could have imagined. "Agent Kaswaski!"
"What?" asked Angela innocently. "My specialty is computers and technology, but I've also spent a fair amount of time on history and current events. I'd be the perfect person to further his education." Rowen just groaned; she knew exactly what Angela had been suggesting, and it wasn't to teach Steve about computers.
And of course, Barton had to make it worse. "I'm pretty sure Witchy would be ideal to teach him about what you're suggesting. She at least matches his preference: British women who are likely to shoot at him if they get pissed."
Fuck you, Barton. Let's see how you like this. Mentally afflicting her heaviest accent, Rowen focused her attention on Tom. "Tom, how angry do you think Agent Romanov would be if I were to beat the crap out of her partner?"
"Have at it," replied Tom with a grin. "Romanov likes you, she won't care. Plus, she'll assume Barton deserved it."
Barton, who had actually frozen as soon as Rowen had started talking, glanced at Tom like he was a traitor before ducking back into the ceiling and replacing the tile. They could hear the rapid sound of someone scrambling over the tiles for a moment before it disappeared.
Tom watched Barton go, a slight smirk on his features. "He isn't going to sleep tonight."
"Good," growled Rowen as she glared in the direction Barton's feet had disappeared to. "He needs to learn to restrain himself."
Shaking his head, Tom grabbed Angela's arm to lead her away. "Just remember, don't get caught."
"Noted," replied Rowen, focusing on the ceiling tiles above. "Hey Tom, where's Barton's newest nest by the way?"
The next morning when the students gathered in Room 357, Rowen had a white board set up in the front of the room. On it, one thing was written: "Tip #3: Don't offer to 'expose' Captain Rogers to the 21st Century. Especially if Barton is in the room." Beside it, a photograph of Barton standing nearly naked with hot-pink hair was pinned to the board. An arrow pointed to the photograph with a caption underneath: 'You will face worse if you do'.