Marvel Oneshots

Back in the fight (Clint Barton)

"Not now, Romanoff." You didn't even glance up from your tablet as you rounded the corner, hoping Natasha would take the hint and let you get back to your paperwork. The fluorescent lights of the hallways flickered above, casting a sterile glow as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

"(Y/N), we need you in the field," Natasha said, her tone firm but not aggressive. She was good at this—at pushing the right buttons, especially when she needed something. "You're one of the best field agents SHIELD's ever had, and we can't afford to lose you."

You kept walking, your eyes fixed on the tablet, though your fingers stilled. "I'm not interested, Nat. Not anymore."

The words felt heavy, even as they slipped out. You'd said them before—to other people, to yourself—but they never sounded right. Once, the field had been your life. But that was a long time ago, in a different world. Now, the office and the paperwork? That was your life. It was safer. Cleaner. No risks, no mistakes that could get someone killed.

Natasha's footsteps echoed beside you, her presence impossible to ignore. "People are dying," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "I need you out there. They need you."

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to stay calm, even as her words stirred something deep inside. Guilt. Anger. Regret. "I'm not a field agent anymore," you said, your voice dropping to a low, controlled growl. "I haven't been for a long time."

Natasha didn't falter, her strides matching yours as she walked beside you. "That's not who you are. You don't just give up because things got hard."

You stopped dead in your tracks, the tablet falling to your side as you turned to face her. Natasha's hand instinctively shot out, grabbing your shoulder before you could turn away.

"Civilians are dying, Y/N. Agents are dying. And you're just walking around doing paperwork?" she demanded, her green eyes burning with frustration. "You could make a difference out there, and you know it."

"I'm making a difference here!" you snapped, your voice louder than you intended. Your breath came quick, and you stepped back, shrugging off her hand. "You think I don't care? That I don't want to help? I left that life for a reason, Romanoff. You know that."

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "What I know is that you were one of the best. And you still are. Whatever you're running from, it's not going to disappear just because you buried yourself in paperwork."

You shook your head, trying to keep the memories from rushing in, but Natasha had already seen through your walls. She always did. "I'm not running. I'm doing my job. The job that doesn't get people killed."

Her expression softened, just slightly. "You know that's not true. You can't control everything. Not in the field, and not here. But you've always had the guts to face it head-on, Y/N. Don't let the past decide your future."

The words stung because they were true. The failures haunted you—the one mission where everything went wrong, the lives lost because of a decision you made in a split second. You had walked away from it all after that, convincing yourself it was for the best. That the desk job, the reports, the endless stream of bureaucratic nonsense, were better than the blood on your hands.

"I can't go back," you muttered, but the fight in your voice was fading.

Natasha stepped closer, her voice low, almost gentle. "You're not the only one who's lost people. You're not the only one who's messed up. But hiding behind paperwork? That's not you. And it's not going to change what happened."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Everything alright here?"

Clint Barton stood at the end of the hallway, his bow slung casually over his shoulder. He wasn't exactly subtle, nor did he try to be. He was watching the exchange with that keen, perceptive look you'd seen a thousand times before, back when you were partners in the field.

Your heart clenched a little at the sight of him. You hadn't seen Clint much since stepping out of the field, but the connection between the two of you was still there, lingering just under the surface.

"Just a little motivational talk," Natasha said dryly, stepping aside to let Clint approach.

"Looked like more of a standoff from where I'm standing," Clint quipped, though his eyes flickered with concern as they landed on you. "You good?"

You gave a noncommittal shrug. "Depends on your definition of 'good.'"

Clint's eyes stayed on you, unyielding but not unkind. He had a way of seeing through the tough exterior you tried to maintain. "Nat's right, you know. We could use you out there."

"I'm not cut out for that anymore," you muttered, the familiar sense of guilt tightening in your chest. "Not like I used to be."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "That's bullshit, and you know it. You're still one of the best agents I've ever worked with. And that hasn't changed."

You swallowed hard, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise to the surface. "I don't know if I can do it again. Not after last time."

Clint stepped closer, his voice lowering so only you could hear. "Everyone makes mistakes, Y/N. You can either let them control you, or you can learn from them and move forward. You know which one you should choose."

You stared at him for a moment, his words sinking in. He had made his fair share of mistakes too, but he never let them stop him from getting back up. And deep down, you knew he was right. You had been running—running from the fear of failure, from the ghosts of your past, from the part of yourself that wanted to be out there again, making a difference.

"You wouldn't have to do it alone," Clint added softly. "I'll be with you. Like old times."

His words hit you harder than you expected. There was something comforting in the idea of being back in the field with Clint, with someone who had your back no matter what. And for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope.

"Alright," you said quietly, finally meeting his gaze. "One mission. But I'm not making any promises."

Clint's grin widened, and Natasha let out a small sigh of relief. "That's all we're asking for," Clint replied, giving you a gentle nudge. "Now, let's go save the day."