So it's been ages. I don't even remember the last time I updated and I feel pretty shitty about it. This time I am not even going to lie and say that there will be another update coming soon, I have no fucking idea when another update will come. I got a lot of requests for this one so I updated it. So I guess the more reviews, the more possible sporadic updates you'll get. Anyway I am not exactly sure about this chapter. I wrote it when I had no wifi and no access to what I had written before so even though nothing major really happens some stuff might be out of place or something.

Anyway please review because it is really awesome to actually hear something. If you want anything to happen in this fanfic, let me know.

Clint didn't want to be here; he would rather be sent to Nigeria again then be forced to do this. And all of SHIELD new how much Clint hated Nigeria. Then again, this time it actually was slightly his fault, not that he would admit it of course. Natasha sat next to him, casually flipping one of her knife in her hands.

They watched as the rest of the SHEILD trainees piled into the training room. Clint had gotten some shit from Fury when he met him the day before and he had seen fit to punish him by making him deal with the fucking useless trainees. Natasha, attempted to stick up for him as it was supposed to be their day off, and it resulted in them both being stuck in this hellhole of a punishment.

The archer tilted his head towards the group, and then back at Natasha. The gesture would be unnoticeable unless somebody was staring unwaveringly at them, but Natasha understood fully what he meant by it.

Clint stood up. As soon as he did so, the group fell silent. It was no secret the kind of agent he was and frankly, it scared them.

"Four groups. Six times around the track we're timing," he said simply, and then sat down again. The group visibly moaned internally. A group of guys spoke up. Clint had them written down inside his head as dicks. He looked at them carefully. These were the full of themselves recruits who might have bested everyone in the preliminary training, but would get themselves or someone else killed by their mere ego in the field. He actually couldn't wait to knock them down a peg. Maybe something interesting would happen today.

"What the hell man, why the fuck do you want us to run six times? Kingston only ever makes us do three," one of the dicks replied. Clint mentally put a name to the face as he recalled reading everybody's file earlier that day. Erik McGregor, thought Clint. Deciding that he liked the name dick better, he stuck to it.

"Is Kingston here today?" Clint asked slowly, staring directly into his eyes, but remained seated. His passive aggressive attitude seemed to bother the dick immensely.

"Well, obviously not, otherwise we wouldn't have you," dick replied. Clint decided he liked this one the least.

"Then get in a goddamn group," Clint said, evenly.

Despite his obvious annoyance, dick did as he was told.

Clint walked back to where Natasha was seated.

"You have a way with the idiots, you know," she told him.

After the group had finished the run, Clint looked at the times that had been recorded. Not to Clint's, Dick (Bill) had the fasted time. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Target next, you are being evaluated on your accuracy and difficulty. You know the rules," Natasha addressed the trainees.

Clint narrowed his eyes on his new prey, Dick. Natasha saw him scrutinizing him and Clint thought that she would tell him off, but instead, she whispered to him in Russian.

"Go ahead," she told him. Clint smirked, but didn't look away from Dick who was now shooting moving targets. He hadn't missed a single one, but his stance was off and once the targets started moving faster, he wasn't going to make it. Apparently, the dick didn't think so.

"I bet that the 'never miss a shot' thing is a joke. I mean come on, I could out shoot the guy," dick said to another one of his fellow dicks. This was just what Clint was waiting for.

"Moving targets with accelerating speed. Two minute max. Dark," Clint stated. Dick was nervous, but didn't let Clint see.

"Done," he said.

Clint smirked again. Not in a friendly way either, but in more of an 'I can and will kill you without breaking a sweat' way. "Wait, you're using a fucking bow and arrow?" Dick questioned, stupidly. "Giving yourself even more of a disadvantage." Even Natasha had to subtly roll her eyes at this guy.

Clint didn't bother responding and another trainee pressed the button that activated the 'blackout' shooting. In the dark like this, the targets would appear as little more than faintly glowing objects. The rest of the trainees filed along the side of the ranges that Clint and Dick were using to watch.

A light flashed three times to signify the start. As it was a race, whoever finishes first, finishes the game.

Within 45 seconds, Clint had hit all of the targets head on the lights turned back on signifying game over.

Natasha walked over to them, crowds parted as she made her way through the group.

"You should have checked who held the record," she simply said to Dick before turning to the rest of the group.

"Sparring tournament, I want to leave so whoever loses is out," she ordered. "Again, you all should know the rules, if you don't, that's too bad. Any foul play and you lose."

Dick, still reeling from his loss, finally took this moment to speak up.

"Winner would go against one of you," he taunted.

Clint and Natasha had a small and silent conversation. Natasha agreed to let Clint burst his bubble.

"Fine," Barton replied. "Underwood and Macintyre, you're up."

The fights were generally pretty normal. Nobody was completely annihilated by another. Natasha found herself getting bored and went back to flipping her knife between her hands.

It was no surprise when Dick, the name had completely stuck, won.

Clint walked up unceremoniously to spar against him. He ducked under the ropes and made the first move before anyone, aside from Natasha of course, even realized the match had started.

Clint had him on the floor unconscious in less than three seconds. He walked casually out of the ropes before returning to where Natasha was, her face still not showing any emotion to people outside of Clint.

"You shouldn't have knocked him unconscious. Fury's gonna have a fit," she said, half-heartedly.

"Don't be a spoil-sport, Nat," Clint retorted, playfully. "I guess we should call medical." Dick still hadn't gotten up from the floor and he didn't look like he was planning on anytime soon.

They arrived at the tower late after completing training sessions with six more groups of trainee shield agents. In each group Clint had found one to three people who he knew wouldn't make it in the field, and tormented them. Natasha, was completely onboard with him and even stepped in with his childlike antics when a dick pissed her off a little too much. Overall they send 23 trainees to medical and were sure that while there would be getting an earful from Fury and maybe even Coulson, they probably wouldn't be forced to do this again.

Clint walked into the shower and let the steam hit his body. Despite having a little ounce of fun with the trainees today, he really didn't want to spend one day off with them. Suddenly, he felt someone behind him. His body tensed and he mentally cursed himself for not paying more attention what was going on.

"It's just me," Natasha whispered into his ear.

"Don't you have your own shower?" He joked light-heartedly, and she knew it. They rarely ever spent time in separate rooms.

"I could go if you want," Natasha replied with a smile.

He turned around to face her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand continued to trace to scars along her body as she washed her hair, scars that his hands new simply by muscle memory. It was something that when they were close was so intimate; he still couldn't believe that the Black Widow would ever let him do it. But then again, the persona behind the Black Widow was different. Natasha Romanoff was a completely different person than what her codename portrayed her as.

"You know," Clint said, with a smirk on his face. "We still have about one and a half hours of our day off…"

Natasha leaned in against him.

"Hmm, I have an idea of what we could do in those two hours," Natasha teased as she got out of the shower and grabbed two towels.

Clint turned the faucet off and grabbed the towel from her outreached hands. Both of the towels were quickly discarded onto the floor as they became preoccupied with each other.

Needless to say, they didn't make it to Clint's bed before they began.

Thank you for reading :)

Please review and follow and shit because it will persuade me to write more.

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