Baby Barton

Chapter 9 Nick Fury

Who is this smart mouthed wise ass? Of course she's a Barton, same potty mouth as her damn brother. He irked me from the day I met that little punk, now I have to deal with a PMS version? Great.

"I'm Nick Fury, we've met before, when you were much, much younger" you look her up and down, if you hadn't seen her punching that bag you would have written her off as weak. Her blonde hair, the same sandy blonde as her brothers is tied up in a messy knot on-top of her head, wispy baby hairs frame her face, which is scarlet between the working out and because you startled her.
She stands looking at up at you, maybe a little shorter than her brother, around 5ft 9". She's tall, for a girl. Thats a plus. Although you can already tell she has a severe attitude problem, you can tell this by the way she is standing with her leg bent and hand resting on her hip, eyebrows raised and her lips pursed at you, waiting for you to continue.
"Why don't we go grab a coffee? This place reminds me of high school, I didn't like high school," you start to walk towards the door, you turn to see if Barton is following you, she stands smiling sarcastically, shaking her head, she's really starting to boil your blood, insolent little girl.
"Excuse me?" You shout over to her
"Why should I go for a coffee with you? I barely remember you. Nothing good ever comes out of a meeting with you." Shes got balls, you'll give her that. You watch as she tidies up her equipment, unwinds the tape from her hands rolls it into a ball and throws it into the trash, landing it perfectly. You're impressed.
"We need to talk about your brother, theres a diner across the street, please join me." You are trying not to sound irritated, usually people just do as they are told by you.
At the mention of her brother, her head snaps round. Shes just as interested in him and he is about her, though they'll never admit it. She walks towards you, hips moving from side to side, you have to remind yourself that she is only 21. She walks past you towards the swinging doors, she stops just before going through them, turns back to you throws her arms up and says "You coming?". Smart ass little punk! Just like her brother.

The diner is noisy, the waitress is sloppy and annoying. You should have picked a quieter place, you could have just talked in the gym, but muscle memory must be strong because the smell of it is still stuck in your nostrils, bringing back memories of a troubled high school past. You sit across from Chloe in an orange booth, she orders a cup of green tea which surprises you, you had pegged her for a black coffee kind of girl. She swirls the cup, staring at you.  She is young, too young, sitting there looking like butter wouldn't melt.
Regret sweeps across you for bringing her into this, she's just a kid. She hasn't even lived yet.
You clear your throat ready to get into the nitty gritty, but before you get a chance to begin the little angel opens her mouth and you remember quickly why the name Barton has always been a thorn in your side,
"I'm so sorry," she isn't sorry, shes an asshole "I'm just really confused..." she looks at you head tilted, brow furrowed as she bites her bottom lip
You spin your hand for her to continue, the lack of the speed in this conversation is frustrating
"Am I supposed to look at the patch or the eye?"
Slamming your coffee down on the table out of vexation, you lean in intimidatingly and look the little shit right in the eyes.
"Okay wise guy, listen and listen good because we are having this conversation once and once only."
She leans back, rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. You are silent for a moment taking a deep breath stopping yourself from grabbing her head and smashing it on the table.
The little annoyance imitates your hand gesture cheekily, encouraging you to continue. If you didn't need her so badly, you would shoot the little asshole in her pretty little face. The sadist in you takes a little pleasure in what you say next,
"Chloe, your brother is in jail.  He is in jail for murder." You manage to keep your stern facade, enjoying the panic and shock that flew across Chloe's face before she put back up her walls, it makes you laugh inside because you are pretty sure her stomach just fell through her ass.
"You shittin' me?" Thats pretty much what you expected her to say, she takes a large gulp of her tea and begins scratching at her arms, junkie scratch. You enjoy watching her squirm.
This situation has been drawn out, and you are not known for mincing your words, being evasive? Yes.
"No I'am not 'shittin' you. He killed your moms boyfriend, Frank I believe? Now I am down an agent." An iota of sympathy melts a small corner of your heart as you watch the colour drain from her face, her breathing shaky, as she fidgets with her hands, picking the skin around her nails. She takes a deep breath in as she tries her best to compose herself.
"That sounds like a personal problem to me." She raises her hand at the waitress, asking for a refill.  You snigger to yourself realising she is gasping for a hit, and doing her upmost not to go to a dealer and score, credit to her shes still sitting here. You wish you could give her a comforting pep talk but there isn't time for that and you are already pissed off with her smart ass remarks, its been a very difficult 24 hours and you are tired and stressed.
"Alright Jail Bird" - you are giving it to her now. No holding back - "I've had just about enough of Barton shit today. YOU are going to replace your brother."
You can sense she is agitated now, she needs a hit and she needs it bad, so she snaps back instantly, probably not even thinking clearly about what she was about to say.
"You sure you're not the one on crack?! I ain't doing shit for you, I just fucking met you an hour ago!!" You lean back smiling, watching her squirm.  The waitress places the tea in front of her, walking away quickly to avoid the tense atmosphere that is swirling around the booth like a tornado, waiting to suck someone in.
You've got to diffuse the situation, before Chloe draws any more attention to your conversation. She wraps her fingers on the table quickly, it's irritating, she is ready to explode.
"Alright, how about this... you work for me", Chloe opens her mouth to protest, you hold up your hand to shut her up, "you work for me, and I will do everything in my power to get your brother out and on house arrest."
You can see the cogs turning in Chloe's mind, trying to work out if this deal would be worth it, trying to find a smart remark to hit back at you with.
"I'm not 'agent' material, I stick out like a sore thumb." Chloe looks at you with her big blue eyes, her vulnerability peeking through, this is surprising to you.

"From what I hear you are the best archer the Bartons have to offer, and you can definitely throw a punch," high praise, but Clint is many things, a liar is not one of them.
She raises her eyebrows, acknowledging the compliment, "no denying that." She smirks at you.
That did the job.
Ready to drop the bomb, you just hope she doesn't implode.
"Anyway, you are not gonna be an 'agent'." She looks at you baffled, "you are going to join The Avengers."

Choking on her tea she sprays it everywhere, like a scene from a comedy show, so much for not drawing attention to the conversation, she composes herself quickly and shouts,
"No fucking way!!".

You shake your head, regretting this already.