Baby Barton

Chapter 8 Chloe

The sun shines through your bedroom
window, soothing as it lays upon your face.  Keeping your eyes closed you enjoy its warmth, a sea of calm floating through your body, finally. You take nice slow deep breaths savouring the quiet, you could lie here all day if you wanted. You can do what ever you want, you settle for getting up and making your bed, tucking in every corner, smoothing the sheets, and plumping the pillows. Having such a chaotic mind, and way of living, keeping your personal area in order is one of the few things in life you can control.

After showering, you get dressed into your workout gear, black nike leggings and a dark plum coloured sports bra that makes your breasts look incredible if you do say so yourself. You sit on the floor tying your shoe laces. Smiling to yourself for a moment thinking about how the fog of guilt has been lifted, but only temporarily, and it doesn't take long before the fog begins to descend and the visions of your past begin to take over. It was nice while it lasted, and you haven't had a moment of calm since you were 15, if you can have a morning this good, every day then you'll count yourself lucky.
Skipping breakfast you make your way down to the training area,
"Good morning J.A.R.V.I.S," you say as you enter the elevator. Sometimes you feel like the computer dude is the only person who understands you, and yes you realise how completely fucked up that is.
"Good morning Miss Barton" he replies uniformly
You laugh, shaking your head,
"What have I told you, call me Chloe."
"Mr Stark wants you to know that he is out of town for the weekend, however Mr Rogers has returned" he informs you.
Mr Rogers, why does that name ring a bell?  Mr Rogers...
Can't quite put your finger on it.  You are in the foyer of Avengers tower, you look outside at the rain lashing sideways, jesus.  Where did the sun go? Unpredictable New York weather.
"Hey Happy!" You wave at Tonys assistant, suspicious that he wasn't off galavanting with Tony, poor Happy. He always looks inconvenienced .

With a spring in your step you walk down the staircase to the training room which is located in the basement, it amuses you that the elevator doesn't go there, but also that the training area itself is so old worldly, a tired old boxing ring takes precedence in the middle of the large room, old fashioned punching bags lined up, even the floor is old hardwood, like a school gym hall from the 40's, it smells like it too. You swing open the double doors, buzzing for your workout.

Mr Rogers, now you remember why the name rang a bell, DING DING DING. 240lbs, 6ft 2 inches, Mr Rogers aka Captain FUCKING America was laying punches into a bag hanging from a hook on the ceiling.
You stand staring, the man is a legend, and in his own right. His blonde hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, with each punch you take a step forward without even realising.
His arms tense, veins throbbing, sweat dripping down the contours of his muscles. His white, skin tight t-shirt almost transparent. Did I mention the sweat? 

Your stomach is doing somersaults, you've never felt this way about anyone before. Never been so attracted to a stranger. Wondering if this is the feeling you have read about in all those novels, for all those years. Experiencing it for the first time, its exhilarating but at the same time it's daunting. Your entire body is vibrating.  You think about leaving, but you cannot tear your eyes away from him. He is beautiful.
You start to wonder if you have stood staring long enough, should you leave and come back later? You don't want to leave, but you are nervous, and apparently now you are neurotic. Fuck. What do you do?
He bounces slightly on his tiptoes as he continues to spar with the bag, your body tingles and to stop yourself from screaming in absolute sexually motivated frustration, you bite your fist. You decide there and then that you have to leave, you literally cannot take another moment, if you stay here you will end up in a puddle on the floor.
Quickly, get out before he sees you, you spin on your heel to leave quietly, but the floor has other plans and makes an embarrassingly HUGE creak.
The panting and punching stops, you turn back around, Steve Rogers is looking at you, catching his breath whilst wiping his brow.
"Chloe Barton, right?" He points to you, his chest moving deep and fast with each breath.

He knows your name. Oh the tingles.
You do a half wave awkwardly at him "yeah, Chloe is me. Chloe I am. Barton, I mean."
What are you? Fucking Yoda?! — you think to yourself as you panic with embarrassment starting to sweat profusely.
He looks at you and smiles again, what a beautiful smile. He must think you are an idiot.
He continues to punch the bag, but turns his head to talk to you,
"I am Steve Rogers, I'll be done in a minute, then its all yours Chloe." They way he said your name almost made you squeal, but you are trying to recover from your yoda moment so you hold back.
You watch as he continues to lay super soldier punches into the bag, clearly working out some deep issues. Something inside you wants to walk up, grab him and kiss him, almost tasting the salty sweat on his lips. You snap out of the mini day dream and decide you need to be cool now, you cant have Captain America thinking you are a total fucking loser. Walking towards him you glance down at your sports bra, thankful that you chose today of all days to wear it.
"Thanks dude." You nod at him as you start to stretch, you are not posing, definitely not.
Steve goes into a fit of punching, continuously hammering the bag until one final blow sends it flying across the room.  You jump as the loud slap on the gym floor startles you.  Steve walks over grabs a new bag and hangs it up,
"All yours Miss Barton," the butterflies start again. When he called you Miss Barton, ohh you felt that deep in your core. What is this feeling?
You tape your hands up and begin laying punches into the bag, you are remembering your fight with Clint, and it motivates you to go harder. You remember what Natasha said about not letting you bad deal define you, you start fighting with the bag instead of sparring. Unaware of the grunting and panting noises coming deep from within you.

"Jeez, Bartons sister can fight!" Steve admits surprised by your technique.

"Yeah well, they don't teach French in jail," you reply sarcastically as you continue to punch the bag. 
You are in the zone now. You go hard and fast with the bag, angry with Clint and your mom. Mostly your mom. Remembering Franks face as you kicked the shit out of him, the final blow to his face that knocked him out and put him in the coma. Before you even realise, you are screaming as you punch with ever bit of strength you have left in you.
You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, and you snap out of your rage, sweat dripping into your eyes you turn and look up at Steve, who offers you a towel.
"You look like you could use a friend Chloe."
You wipe your face and neck which are dripping wet,
"Is that a question?" You can't help but give a cheeky reply. Sometimes the words come before you think about them. That is typical of you, blunt.

"No," he replies quickly "it was an offer." He is sweet, but you aren't ready for anyone to be sweet to you, you don't deserve it.
You close your eyes as you stretch out your neck, moving it from side to side, you open them to catch Steve staring at you, as though waiting for an answer,
"I'm not the kind of girl you be friends with, Steve" you answer honestly. You've never really had a friend before and you don't imagine you'll be any good at it.
He continues to stare at you, your heart is pounding he makes you nervous. You have to stop yourself, literally hold yourself back from grabbing him, and kissing him. Why is he so gorgeous?
He bends over to tie his converse, you try to do anything but stare at his ass, obviously failing, its Captain Americas ass! Your mouth is bone dry, and you fumble about remembering you forgot to bring your water bottle. Fuck!
Steve straightens back up and catches you searching, he looks at you confused,
You turn to him "forgot my fucking water, didn't I?" You are irritated.
"Here," he offers his bottle to you.
Holy shit, sharing his saliva, his mouth touched this and now its touching you. Snap out of it! What are you 14?!
Taking a small sip you return it to him, thanking him politely. His big ocean blue eyes crinkle at the sides while a warm smile settles across his face, for a second you aren't nervous, you are safe as you feel your guard drop, just an slightly, and a smile spreads across your face. Everything is silent, as you both stand smiling at each other, but it isn't awkward, for some reason it is easy, settling, almost peaceful.

"Excuse me, Chloe Barton?" A booming voice comes from behind, you jump out of your skin and turn to see a tall, dark man with an eye patch, you know him right away, his commanding presence isn't one you'd forget, not in a lifetime. You vaguely remember him visiting your home when he recruited your brother. Before you have a chance to think about what you're going to say the word vomit takes over,
"Holy fucking crap!! You scared the absolute shit out of me!" Clutching your hearth dramatically.

Steve lets out a humongous laugh as he shakes his head at your reaction.  He slaps the man on the shoulder before walking away "Fury." he acknowledges him before walking out of the training room, throwing a wink your way.

Fury, thats right. Nick Fury. What the fuck does he want?