Maria Hill and Melinda May One Shots

Too much, too weak

Maria leans against the cool wall of the gym, taking a break from her workout routine. She takes a few sips from her water bottle and watches several agents sparring together on one of the mats.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a familiar face approaching.

"Too tired to go a few rounds?" Clint asks with a teasing grin. He bumps his shoulder against the wall and crosses his arms.

"Too scared to ask the recruits to beat you up?" she retorts.

Clint laughs. "Touche."

They wait for the agents Maria was watching to finish before taking their mat. Maria stands across from Clint with a smirk.

"Want me to go easy on you?" she asks, kicking off her shoes.

Clint makes a face at her. "Just you wait, Hill. Just you wait."

"Terrifying," Maria says flatly as she knocks him off his feet easily.

Clint groans as his back smacks against the mat.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"Okay, okay, wait!" he yelps when it looked like Maria's about to jump on him. "Gimme a break."

Maria huffs out a laugh, brushing loose strands of hair. "You can get your ass beaten, or we could get Nat and go to that dive bar you found and I'll beat your ass at darts."

Clint perks up. "Doc's?"

Maria shrugs. She can't remember what is was called. "Maybe."

"I'll text Tasha, get her to meet us there," Clint says, grabbing his jacket from the edge of the mat and pulling out his phone. "She's just got back from an op over in Prague."

"Give me an hour to finish up and I'll see you out the front," Maria says.

Clint's jaw drops. "What? Maria, come on, it's like midnight!"

Maria rolls her eyes. "It's barely ten, Barton. Anyway, I have some last minute paperwork that needs finishing."

Clint mutters something under his breath but waves goodbye, making his way to the showers.

Maria meets Clint at the entrance to SHIELD HQ. She'd changed out of her workout gear and had found an old army t-shirt in the bottom of one of her desk drawers. Coupled with her black jeans and jacket, she figures she looked pretty civilian-like. Clint smirks at her as she joins him.

"Loving the shirt, Hill."

"Unless you'd like me to go naked," Maria replies dryly. 

Clint pretends to think about it, leering at her. "Well..."

Maria smacks him. "You have a wife."

"Laura likes you..." He lets the suggestion hang in the air, snickering at her eye-roll. 

"You're buying me a drink for that," she grumbles, shoving her hands in her pockets to protect them from the cold air.

"Need a way to warm up?" Clint asks, noticing. When she doesn't answer, he ploughs on. "Race you there. Loser buys first."

Maria takes off down the street, Clint on her heels. The bar is several kilometres away so by the time they arrive, quarter of an hour later, they're both out of breath.

"Make... that two drinks..., Barton," Maria laughs in between gasps of air.

Clint, bent over with his hands on his knees, just waves her away. "What... ever."