Mine Would Be Him (Clint Barton x reader x Everett Ross)

Chapter 1

It was the summer after your high school graduation when the recruiter first showed up at your parents' house. An employee for a clandestine organization you'd never heard of just sitting in your living room, sipping a cup of coffee, and flipping through a file on you that you never knew existed is a hard occasion to forget.

Before you could even ask why they had a file on you in the first place, he was telling you all about how they liked keeping track of possible future recruits, and the only child of a top performing former special forces operative happened to fall into that category, especially when the child in question is female. They felt they were sorely lacking in that area. There were so many situations where a female field agent could be so much more useful and they had too few of them to go around.

He handed you and your parents stacks of papers discussing opportunities for advancement, salary, benefits, educational reimbursements, etc. They hoped you would want to continue your education after completing your training period. He explained that they preferred to get their recruits as soon as possible instead of waiting for them to complete college, and if you decided to go back part-time while working for them, they would pay for everything.

Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he packed up his briefcase, shook everyone's hand in turn, and left.

For the next few weeks, it was your family's go-to argument. Your mom, although terribly proud and supportive of her husband's former career, didn't want that type of life for her little girl. She wanted you to go to college and get the kind of normal job that would let you come home safe and sound every night. Your father, on the other hand, had spent your entire life teaching you everything he knew so that you could always take care of yourself and do what you believed to be right.

In the end, you managed to give both of them a little something. You would go to the training program, and if you completed it successfully and went to work for them, you would get a degree and try to eventually advance to a hopefully safer administrative position.

As you sat at the desk in your room, filling out the required piles of paperwork, you read the name of the people who you were signing your life away to out loud to yourself: "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division...damn they need to come up with a better name."

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Your dorm room at the training facility was....dismal, at best. It was small, and cramped, and the walls were a depressing shade of gray. At least since you were the only girl in this group of recruits you didn't have to deal with a roommate, a very comforting thought considering you'd never shared your living space with anyone in your entire life.

You hadn't had a chance to meet the others yet, but you had heard there were ten of you total. Apparently this place was super selective. For some reason, you had let yourself be dumb enough to think that the training facility was located at headquarters, but of course it wasn't. The high ups wouldn't want a bunch of green newbies hanging around, trying to stick their noses where they didn't belong.

Sick of staring at your gray walls, you decided to go take a walk and explore your temporary home. The place reminded you of an old army barracks, which it may very well have been. It was located out in the woods with lots of room for nature runs, practice maneuvers, burying bodies of pain in the ass recruits who knew too much. If this place had a class in paranoia, you'd get an A for sure.

To brighten up your outlook, you decided to study the people you came across. There were some other females, but mostly a lot of guys, ranging in age from about twenty to forty. Strangely enough, each one seemed to be better looking than the one before...the future spies of America were apparently all young James Bond's in training.

One in particular caught your attention more so than the others. He was leaner than most you had seen, while still possessing a strong, muscled build with chiseled arms. When you saw what he pulled out of his case, it all made sense.

He had definitely achieved the perfect archer's body. And from the looks of that bow, it was no wonder. It wasn't a cheap little thing that boys play with at summer camp; it was top of the line and looked like it had been modified to his specifications. This was the personal tool of choice for an obvious professional.

"That's one hell of a nice bow," you called out from where you were standing behind him.

He turned and smiled at you while loading his arrow. Well, it was more of a smirk really. Not a mischievous or mean-spirited smirk, just the look of a good-natured guy who could probably be quite the handful at times.

"Thanks," he said, before quickly turning and shooting his target, hitting it in the very center of the bullseye, "I'm fond of it anyway."

You walked closer so you could study it better. It had some kind of button close to where he was holding it in his hand.

"Is that a customized control so that you can alternate between types of arrowheads?" you asked excitedly.

"Yeah, how did you know that?" he asked, looking at you in a way that clearly said he was impressed.

"I'm more of a gun girl myself," you replied, "but my old man would be like a kid at Christmas if he could see this thing."

"Your dad's got good taste."

You watched as he quickly reloaded, aimed, and released, sending the arrow to split the previous one right down the middle, something you had ever only seen Robin Hood do in an old cartoon.

"Whew," you whistled, "you must have an eye like a hawk to shoot like that without a scope."

He chuckled and held out his hand, "the name's Clint Barton."

Looking at him now, you really began to notice his face for the first time. He was a few years older than you, but definitely not over twenty-five. He had blue eyes, a distinctive nose, and a nice smile. It was a very handsome face.

"Y/n," you replied, taking his hand and shaking it gently.

"So, y/n, you want to give her a try?" he offered, holding the bow out to you.

"Oh no, I know how boys are about their toys. You'd find a scratch on her tomorrow and blame me for eternity," you said with a laugh, causing him to smile.

"Well what we were you in the middle of doing when I distracted you with my talents?"

"I was just exploring. You're welcome to join me if you like."

"Better not be an empty offer because I'm accepting," he said as he put his bow back in its case, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and began following after you.