Oneshots... Assemble!

Seagull Souvenir

Inspired by the above picture. Pre-Avengers.

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"Phil, Phil, Phil!"

"Clint, Clint, Clint!" Coulson responded, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He already had a feeling of what Clint would ask him, it wasn't really rocket science to read him. This was also the reason why Fury had to help keep Coulson on top of his work; a certain birdbrain archer and a redheaded spy kept him on his toes.

Clint slammed his hands down on his handlers nicely polished desk. Then, he took a few long strides over to the couch in the corner of his office. Usually Clint only laid on Coulson's couch for one of two reasons: take a nap or have a therapy session. Coulson sighed.

Today, it fell into the second category, even though it wouldn't necessarily be considered 'therapy'. "So Nat and I were thinking about going to the beach today. Do you want to come?"

Coulson laughed a little when he finally looked up from his mountain of paperwork, noticing Clint's best attempt at puppy eyes. "I think the question you should be asking is, 'do we have permission to go, Agent Coulson?'"

Clint yawned rather loudly before stretching and imitating Coulson, "'Do we have permission to go, Agent Coulson?'" The archer smiled, already content in knowing he had won the case. "And before you complain about more papers to fill out, I'll do it when we come back."

"You," Coulson snorted, "Clinton Francis Barton, are willing to do paperwork? Who are you and what have you done with Agent Barton?"

"Haha, am I that predictable?" Clint stood up and went to the door. He opened it and stepped out; before closing it however, he turned to face Coulson again. "I'm going to take that as a 'yes', by the way. So, you wanna go or not, Philly?"

"What's wrong with Agent Coulson, or uh- just Coulson?"

"Nothin', but that's too boring for my style. Which I do have! Ignore Natasha, cause she's obviously wrong." Clint shrugged one shoulder.

"I think I'll pass, but maybe bring back something, yeah?" Clint mock saluted as he finally left Coulson's office. Seconds later, he pulled out his phone and searched his contacts for his best friend.

"Nat, he said yes!" Clint's scream came from the speaker of Natasha's phone. She had been at the SHIELD base's shooting range, but now she headed for the lockers. "Meet you in 5."

"Copy that, seagull," She quickly hung up to avoid listening to Clint rant about how he was a mighty hawk and not anything but a hawk. The trained spy grabbed a large towel, knowing that said hawk would forget his like usual. Then, she picked up other supplies that he'd bought the other day when they first started discussing the idea.

Minutes later and they met at the same old SHIELD issued jeep, having already changed into some swim gear. "Beach day, motherfuckers!"

"Are you high on something?" Natasha blurted out while warily watching Clint drive the vehicle. Lots of people die in car crashes, she thought, what a great world we live in...

Clint grinned manically. Shrugging, he said lazily, "Don't know, am I?" Then, he made weird noises and continued to casually drive to the beach like this was a normal thing to do. Which it was, at least in his case.

When they finally arrived and found a parking spot (after many swears from Clint because he was impatient), Natasha went to the bar and ordered a few drinks and burgers. Clint, on the other hand, laid out the towel and dropped a heavy bag on it. Now, there was no way the wind could abduct it. He smiled at his triumphant feat.

"Stop smiling at nothing. People will think you're more weird than you already are," Natasha exclaimed.

"How. About...no."

With their stuff dropped on the towel, they started to eat their burgers and drink their adult beverages. "How American, Nat, and I thought you were Russian!"

Then, they threw away the trash from their meals, intending to head down to the water. What they didn't realize however, was the fact that a piece of bread had fallen out and was sitting on the towel. The waves went pretty high up already, so of course the two spies made a bet on who can go further.

"INTO THE UNKNOWN-" Clint sang at the top of his lungs. The other civilians stared at him before declaring that this was a normal everyday thing that occured at the beach. That was also before he felt something slimy beneath is toes and fell down.

The water had been at waist level, so Clint's whole head was covered by the bright blue water. He could still here Natasha's laughter though. "I think I win, mockingbird."

The archer's head resurfaced after his 'near death experience' and he held up a finger to his best friend. Later, on the safety of the beach, he begrudgingly handed over 10 dollars. Natasha smirked.

Her phone beeped, solo mission alert, report to base. "I have to go, Clint."

They started packing up everything, much to Clint's sadness. But then, he realized something, "Ohmygosh! Tasha, help me find something for Coulson!"

"What, like that seagull?" Her words dripped with sarcasm as she pointed out the small bird trying to eat the bread crumbs on the sand.

"Exactly!" Clint yelled out, but then repeated it in a whisper to not startle his new friend. "Here little birdie..."

Clint charged at the bird, falling to his stomach, and put his hands around it. The seagull flapped his wings wildly, trying to escape his grasp. "Aha! I got ya now, what are you going to do 'bout it?"

"You're an idiot."

"You're driving."

***

"Agent Barton, is that a seagull?" Jasper Sitwell watched as Clint continued to wrestle the poor bird.

"Uh-huh, he has a name, by the way. This is Allen," he replied, not even breaking his stride to Coulson's office. Sitwell muttered something under his breath, but Clint didn't stick around to hear it.

"Phil, Phil, Phil!"

"Clint, Clint, Clint- what is that?" Coulson looked up from the current papers he was writing up, only to see a seagull.

"Our new friend, Allen," Clint exclaimed while holding back a chuckle at his handler's face. It was an equal mix of surprise and horror.

"When I said bring back something from the beach, I meant a seashell or something," an exasperated Coulson replied while rubbing his furrowed brow.

"Well, you didn't fucking say that!"

Silence passed over them as Clint looked from Coulson to Allen and back to Coulson.

"Can I keep him?"