Clint POV
Sitwell's car was nice. I glanced at the older man and shifted in my seat.
"So, I'm guessing we aren't going back to the base just yet?"
"We can if you want. I figured since you did so well, I could take you out for dinner and ice cream without Phil knowing. That diet recruits have sucks."
"I've never had ice cream before," I admitted, "At least, I can't remember ever having it."
Sitwell shot me an incredulous look and reached into his dashboard, pulling a notebook and pen out. He passed it over and I frowned at him.
"Find a blank page and write everything you haven't tried that you want to."
"I don't- Agent Coulson's going to be mad if-"
"Phil is actually a big softy, kid. Take advantage of the fact. Start writing."
I hesitated but flipped the notebook open. I ignored the pages with writing on them, not wanting to get a headache. I started writing down a list of foods that I've always wanted to try. Even when I was in other countries, I never really ate much food. I always had to get out of the city before the police could find me. I placed the pen back where he had it and passed the notebook over.
"You've never had pizza?"
I blushed and looked out the window. Sitwell cleared his throat and I shot him a quick glance.
"Didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just surprising. Alright. I know a great pizza place that we can go to if you want."
"Pizza sounds great."
"Pizza and ice cream. Anything else?"
"Why're you being nice? No one- no one is nice without wanting something in return, Agent Sitwell."
Sitwell's eyes sparked with amusement when I looked over at him.
"You're going to be a damn fine agent, Clint Barton. I just want to make sure you're on the right side."
"Side?" I frowned.
"Of the law."
"Oh."
I couldn't help but grin excitedly as we stopped outside a pizzeria. I stepped inside and Sitwell led the way over to a table. He smiled thinly at me as I glanced around.
"Thank you," I told him once we got our pizza.
"Hold on, let me get my camera for this, Clint. This place has the best pizza in almost all of New York," Sitwell said as I picked up a piece.
"Don't take my picture."
"Alright."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I tuned Agent Sitwell out on the ride back to base. I watched the people on the sidewalks as we drove past. What if Barney was out here somewhere? If he was here though, Jacques would be too. I glanced over at Sitwell when I felt him looking at me.
"What?" I demanded.
Sitwell didn't reply, so I turned back to look out the window. I frowned when I recognized one of the street names. My apartment was just a few blocks from here. I glanced over at Sitwell and reached for the door handle. Without even glancing at me, Sitwell locked the doors.
"Surprised you didn't try that earlier."
"I was hungry," I shrugged.
We pulled into the parking garage around midnight. Sitwell unlocked the doors and I reluctantly followed him inside the building. He led the way to the baracks and I slipped inside quietly after Sitwell gave me a pointed look. None of the other recruits were awake, so I climbed on top of my bed and used the blade of my pocket knife to unscrew the vents. I hauled myself up silently and felt around for my flashlight. Once it was in my hand, I started crawling.
Unsurprisingly Agent Coulson was still in his office. The man was writing something in the notebook that had my name on the first page. The pen paused and Coulson glanced upwards. I froze, keeping my breathing as quiet as I could.
"Barton?"
I ignored him and folded my arms under my head, resting my chin on top of my forearm. Coulson sighed and I watched as he continued writing. I closed my eyes after a moment and just listened.
"Barton. I know you're up there. Come down."
The pen started scratching on the paper again and I kept my eyes shut. Whatever he was writing about me couldn't be good if it was taking this long. A few more minutes of the pen scratching against the paper passed before Coulson spoke again.
"We should talk."
"We can either talk now, or you can go to the barracks and we'll talk about it in a few hours. But we are going to talk, Barton."
I hesitated before pulling the vent up sharply. It gave way without any hard pulling and I frowned at the lack of screws. Coulson must not have put them back. I grabbed the edge of the vent on lowered myself down slowly. Coulson looked up after a moment and I sat down on the end of the couch farthest away from him. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them, staring at the man.
"Clint-"
"It's Barton, sir," I interrupted.
I smirked slightly at the surprised look that flashed across his face. Coulson cleared his throat and I looked away.
"Barton, I didn't mean to offend you-"
"Right, of course you didn't. At least Agent Sitwell thought I was worth picking."
Coulson paused and I shifted my gaze back to the older man. It was a low blow, and I knew it. It still felt good to see the brief look of hurt and guilt flash across his face though.
"Would you just listen to me? I'm trying to apologize, Clint."
"Don't call me that, sir. And I am listening."
"I didn't want to seem like I was playing favorites, Clint. Trust me, if I hadn't brought you in myself, you would have been my first pick."
"Whatever, sir. Can I go now?"
"No, you can sit there and listen to me. I honestly am proud of you, Clint. So, this weekend I'm willing to let you leave the base for a few hours."
I stared at him, fighting to keep the disbelief off my face.
"Why?"
"You've earned it."
I couldn't help the shudder at the words. Jacques said them everytime before... I clenched my hands into fists and shook my head. Now's not the time for another flashback. I haven't had one in a month now.
"Clint?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine," I replied, closing my eyes tightly.
I bit the inside of my cheek and opened my eyes again. Coulson was leaning forward, studying me.
"Can I- Am I allowed to be off base by myself?"
Coulson hesitated and frowned at me.
"I don't think it's wise for you to go without someone else, but you are allowed to according to the rules," he replied.
"Can I go tomorrow?"
"After you get finished with lessons."
I nodded and uncurled my legs from my chest. Coulson looked back at his desk and pulled some files out of his drawer. He didn't seem to notice that I was still here, so I cleared my throat.
"Could I- could I stay in here tonight?" I asked him.
"You're always welcome to, Clint. Just don't touch anything. There's a blanket in that closet on the top shelf," Coulson replied absently, pointing at the door behind his desk with a pen.
I got up and walked around him and pulled it open. I smiled slightly at the old blanket and curled up on the couch again. Coulson's pen continued scratching on the paper and I let myself fall asleep after a while.
