*Warning: The main character swears- quite a lot. Hopefully not to the point where it's really annoying.
Left Field
by mynameisvaleria
I wasn't cool when I was in my teens; didn't sleep but I did have dreams.
1.
Letting the arrow fly through the air, she watched as it hit the target.
Not the centre of the target- not even close. It only hit the target at the edges, not close enough to kill, or even mortally wound- just enough to wound. Always close enough to wound.
A slow clapping sounded behind her, and she did not need to turn around to know whom it was. She rolled her eyes, throwing down her bow on the floor casually. 'You know, you can really be a fucking prick sometimes,' she commented, turning to face the blonde haired archer.
He chuckled, and picked up her bow. She watched him as he grabbed an arrow off the quiver, and then pulled the string taut, letting the arrow sail through the air and right into the bulls-eye.
She scowled and he looked self-satisfied, but as he turned to look at her, he looked shocked out of his life.
(But of course, that was an exaggeration.)
'Wow, Romana, you've... changed,' he grinned.
Rolling her eyes, she sat down on the floor of the training centre. Even for Clint Barton, this was the understatement of the year. 'Changed? I look fucking white now.'
He sat down and leaned closer to her. 'Well, it certainly is a change that I welcome,' he murmured.
She smacked the side of his head, even though her heart thumped in her chest. He laughed at her reaction and sat back up. 'Just because I look slightly like Romanoff doesn't mean you could go ahead and kiss me, Barton.'
He smirked. 'Well, Natasha would kill me for even trying. So it couldn't hurt to try.'
She raised her eyebrows, standing up with a smirk hanging off her face.
He caught onto her devilish thoughts, and quickly stood up before her fist jerked back with a well-delivered punch. Unfortunately, Clint Barton had blocked it even better, and had pushed her to the side. He prepared for his own blow, which she dodged, taking cover under his arm. He growled in frustration- he hated it when she did that.
Lifting her feet, she tried to kick him at the bottom of his spine, but he quickly turned around and grabbed her leg, pulling her down.
She wanted to jump up, but her dress restricted her movement, giving him enough time to pull both her arms back, pressing his knee against the small of her back.
He pressed himself closer to her, whispering in her ear, 'I wouldn't want to mess up the makeup director's job.'
Rolling her eyes, she adopted a deeply sarcastic tone. 'I yield.'
She was released at once.
'Like I said, it wouldn't hurt to try.'
Agent Romana Song rolled her eyes yet again. 'Clint Barton, I regret to inform you that you are an insufferable little prick.'
'You like me anyway.'
A tiny smile- yet not an amused one, showed itself on her defeated face. It told him too much- he had gone too far and he knew it. 'So what is it about the makeup and outfit anyway? Is that hair real?'
She chuckled. 'You don't know?'
He thought for a while.
'The 0-8-4 on the bottom of the Arctic. I've been called over and they want the Siren to look as close to Peggy Carter as possible. Personally, it's insensitive but who am I to dish out advice?' she shrugged.
'Are you telling me your details of a mission?'
'Oh please, Agent Barton, I'm a level five. I doubt you're not going to know the details sooner or later.'
Clint Barton was never one for rules- and he did not love SHIELD as much as his red-headed fellow agent anyway, therefore he left 'Peggy Carter' alone. Her mission was hard enough, to live up to the Captain's expectations. He did not have any desire to further make this task even more impossible.
He just shrugged. 'Well, have fun.'
'I chopped off about 8 inches of my hair and dyed it copper. This better be worth it,' she chuckled.
'This usually isn't your kind of mission. What are you doing there?' he frowned.
Her lips opened and closed. 'Well... I guess... I don't know. I'm usually an undercover. It's odd, really. I think they want me to assess his mental health? I don't know.'
He frowned again. 'Stop talking. You're revealing too much.'
Romana Song zipped her lips shut.
XXXX
Her high heels clicked upon the floor with every step she took. Deep breaths, she told herself, can't risk messing this one up or you're done- worse still, Captain America may be done.
'Siren, hurry up, he's waking up.'
'Got it,' she uttered into the earpiece, speeding up her footsteps. Her brown suit was so constricting, she wondered exactly how they used to walk in them. She gripped her notice board tightly in her hands, blood rushing to her fingertips.
She knocked four time, her conscience slipping and making Doctor Who references in her nerves. Then, she pulled the door open, plastering a smile on her face. 'Hello. You've finally woken.'
'Who are you? Where am I?'
At that moment, all Romana Song knew was how beautiful Steve Rogers was.
'I... My name is Romana Song. You're in the hospital- you remember how you crashed the plane?' she tried in a gentle voice, putting on a kindly smile as well.
He got out of bed, and Romana's heart leaped in her chest. 'I'm going to ask you again. Where am I and who are you?'
She swallowed. He was getting agitated- she could tell that he had already found out. Seeing as to the wear and tear of the radio, she guessed it was what gave them away. His muscles were tensing and there was a permanent frown in his forehead.
Romana Song made a mistake and reached for her gun.
As soon as he had seen this, he had knocked her against the dresser and made an escape through the wall- it was the last thing she saw before the edges of her vision became fluffy and black... and the rest faded into history.