Complicated -- An Avengers Fanfic

Chapter One

A/N: So, here's the first chapter of my new story, and it's the first Avengers story I have written, so forgive me if it's not very good. Let me know what you guys think :D

!#$%^

Normal.

What exactly is normal? It could be many things, but I suppose the definition would vary depending on the person asked to describe it. But I know that whatever it was, whatever definition you lived by, I was never a part of it. I didn't really grow up in a 'normal' environment, what with my childhood having been spent in a SHIELD facility, and my brother being, well, my brother. The Agents around me tell me that I should be grateful to have Clint as a brother, but honestly? There's something pretty damn wrong with their heads.

That's right; my older brother was Clint Barton, the great and mighty 'Hawkeye'. And I was Samantha Barton, useless younger sister. Believe it or not, we had actually been close as kids. Then SHIELD got a hold of him. Now, he had been a good brother and made sure they gave me a spot with them as well, but my job was nowhere near as glamorous as his own. He went on missions all over the world to take out national threats, and I was stuck here getting the important people their morning coffee.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am grateful for them taking us in, because we had nowhere else to go at the time. They had given us an option we hadn't thought possible, but that didn't mean that I have to like the position they gave me. And I suppose there was more to be grateful for.

I may have only been a coffee girl, but my combat skills had been honed by my many years of working for SHIELD, as well as being trained privately by Clint.

Clint did his best as an older brother during that time. He taught me all that he knew about archery, but I was never as good as him. Sure, I was probably a whole heck of a lot better than your average person, but I came nowhere near the skill that Clint possessed with his bow.

Martial arts, however, was another matter entirely.

After a few years of constant training and sparring, he didn't have any more time to teach me, so he left it to one of his best friends: Natasha Romanoff, otherwise known as the Black Widow. Now at first I was absolutely terrified of her, and just the mere sight of her made me shake. But after a few lessons with her (and after I had my ass handed to me more times than I cared to admit), I learned to live with her intimidating atmosphere.

It kind of grows on you. After a while, that is. I pride myself on being a quick learner, and I got the hang of the moves she taught me fairly quickly; there were a few times when I was almost able to beat her in our sparring lessons. Well, maybe a little less than almost. But just a little.

Now, Natasha and I didn't like each other, exactly, but we had grown to respect each other for the skill and dedication that we each possessed. In some ways, (though I would never admit this to her) she had grown to be my role model. The calm and collected fierceness she exhibited, the way that she knew exactly who she was and what she needed to do... it all appealed to me. Then again, I didn't really have anyone else to look up to.

A fellow SHIELD member once told me that I was becoming a mini 'Widow', and I had to resist the very prominent urge to punch them in the face. I looked up to Natasha, sure, but I was nothing like her.

I was young and stupid and unprepared for life in general, whereas she was knew how to take the world by the balls and get stuff done. I hated to be even a small part of SHIELD, while Natasha was their top Agent and knew it. She dedicated everything she had to her work. Even the little things were different. I had brown hair and blue eyes; she had red hair and hazel eyes with looks that could kill just as well as her guns. Clint looked up to her, all while he glared down at me. Her life meant something, and mine was about as important as the last Fox News' shitty opinion piece.