"Hawkeye! Please, just listen to me!" Agent Phil Coulson cried as he aimed his gun up at the rather young looking blond haired man before him. Hawkeye, also known as Clint Barton, shook his head. He'd been trying to evade Phil and all he worked for. "I don't want to have to shoot!"

"Then don't," Clint snapped before pointedly twisting and jumping off the roof. Phil rushed toward the edge but by the time he got there, the archer was gone. The agent cussed softly. This was only the second time in nearly a year that he had gotten close enough to speak with Clint. The first time, all he had been able to get out what his name and then part of S.H.I.E.L.D's name before the kid rabbited.

"Rook, how ya doing?" newly appointed Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, Nicholas J. Fury demanded over comms. Phil sighed deeply. This wasn't their first mission together (nor was it Phil's first), though it was pretty close. The two actually knew each other since Phil was in high school. Hell, Fury had recruited Phil into working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Likely due to Phil's obsession over Captain America, the Howling Commandos, Margaret Carter and the SSR. Fury never admitted to such.

"He rabbited," Phil admitted. Fury sighed over the comms.

"You sure you can do this, Cheese?" Phil exhaled deeply. Having spent most of his training in the Academy of Communications, Phil hadn't fully been considered to be a field agent. But, then, he passed along some information for an upcoming operation that no one believed, outside of his friend and actual agent John Garret. So they both took it upon themselves to go and get it done. When they returned, Phil was given a quick run down on field status and handed off there rather than getting stuck in Intel work. Not that Phil completely avoided the paperwork involved with Intel gathering and such.

"I am sure," Phil huffed.

Meanwhile, Clint hadn't actually strayed far from the area. He had found a small hidden alcove underneath the building that the duo had been on and snuck in there. Listening carefully, he could catch part of Phil's conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. That meant it had to at least be a two man team after him. But, he had only seen Phil. Clint cursed his luck. He should just head back to Tiboldt's Circus back at Coney Island rather than being the mercenary that he currently was. But he just couldn't do it anymore.

The Hawkeye name was 'tarnished' after his run in with Black Widow nearly three years ago. Course, that didn't mean he wasn't stupid. He checked on every hit he was given. If the person was innocent, he'd reject the job. Sometimes he'd even go after the ones who tried to hire him. Amazingly, people didn't seem to care much as they still kept calling for him. And when Hawkeye's missions were running a little low, Clint sometimes switched to his newer Ronin moniker. Ronin was a bit more violent than Hawkeye and something that Clint sometimes regretted using but he needed money to survive. Considering how 'popular' both personas were in the Underworld, Clint was half surprised that he wasn't being stalked while Ronin. Maybe it was time to go Ronin full time and give up as Hawkeye.

Shaking his head, Clint twisted and packed up his quiver and bow inside the duffel bag that he had crushed into an extra pocket of his quiver. Well, technically it wasn't even a duffel bag. More like a pillow case thing that could seal up and had a strap attached. Hey, it seemed to work well. He was able to fit his weaponry and, when not on missions, clothes. No one tended to bother him about it and he'd slipped past enough cops, FBI agents, CIA agents and whatever other groups. Now he just had to hope it continued working with this new group.

Thankfully, he was able to slip out of the area without seeing that same suited up guy from before. Clint thought he remembered the name 'Loson' or something. Either way, he liked calling him 'Hot Suit.' While 'Hot Suit' had only gotten within speaking distance one other time, Clint had seen the man sniffing around some of his other hits. Well, actually. Not the site itself but more just in the area. Clint had once been half tempted to follow the guy but when he joined up with an intimidating guy that switched from wearing a suit to black clothes with a leather duster (he was more intimidating in the leather duster) Clint just knew he didn't want to mess with the guy. Clint called him 'Scary Fucker.'

Clint went on with his life, trying not to be bothered by how close 'Hot Suit' had gotten to him. If he did, all he'd do was tie himself up in knots. It's what he had done the first time he found a letter agency after him. That's why his stupid ass fell out of contact with Black Widow. She had ditched his panicking ass with only the words of 'watch yourself and don't be stupid.' Still, he simply moved on. Yeah, he was a bit more careful of his jobs and leaving traces. He sold a few safe houses as a just in case and in order to get some funds while he allowed a few jobs pass him by. Ronin kicked up a bit but Clint never stayed as him for long. Guilt always tore into him after the second job.

It'd been nearly half a year since that run in with 'Hot Suit' on that rooftop. Clint was on his third job underneath the Hawkeye moniker once again. He knew things hadn't fully calmed down. 'Hot Suit' and 'Scary Fucker' had shown up in a few placed. One thing that confused Clint though was that 'Scary Fucker' now had his right eye scratched to hell and covered over with an eye patch. Something happened but he had no idea what.

Not that any of that mattered. He had a job. He'd been hired to steal some type of file. Clint was smart enough not to really ask questions. The people who wanted the file were setting up some kind of legal case against the ones who he was to steal it from. Considering they were doing it for a good reason, Clint didn't mind taking a slight pay cut. But he wasn't stupid about it. He spent nearly two weeks watching over the building. Watching the change of guards. Who seemed to have an issue with who. And even better, where people tended to go with files. He knew what he had to do.

He chose a Monday night to go in. The guards were set on a two hour shift with the change taking only five minutes. He wouldn't have long. When the shift change hit, Clint booked it. He had to get close to the building, undo the vent covering, get in, set it back up as best as possible and then slip away within the five minutes. Somehow, he made it.

The ventilation system, according to public blueprints, was connected with every room of the place. To get to what Clint assumed was the filing room, he had to go down four rooms, take a left, head down five more rooms and then a right before making it. The room indications were set based on intersections within the vent he was currently in. This vent followed what must be a main hallway. Not that any of that research did him any good what-so-ever.

By the time he passed through the outside vent and got to the first intersection, Clint knew he was in trouble. Apparently, the vents leading toward the outside of a building were a bit larger than the rest of the system inside. He couldn't fit. Swearing lightly, Clint looked down at the only access he had out of the system that didn't bring him back out. A side vent that lead into what was likely a storage closet, judging by what was inside it. Examining the vent, he realized, it'd be an extremely tight fit. Thank god for his circus training and his natural curiosity.

When he first started at Carson's with Barney at thirteen, Clint used any bit of his free time watching the other acts and sometimes attempting to mimic their actions. The best was the magician, Olar the Zealous. Course his real name had been Neculai Tarus. His assistant one night, Isabela Mondragon, had gotten seriously sick. Well, technically she had been down for nearly a week. As, at that time, one of the smaller people in the entire trope, Clint was recommended to take her place. That meant Neculai had to teach him how to twist his body into teeny tiny spaces. He did so with help from the contortionist, Alekss Vilsons.

Big downside. He couldn't get through with a lot of the stuff on him. Growling in frustration, Clint slid his quiver off before he popped the vent cover and looked down into the room. It was a a decent drop that someone could survive. Especially someone like Clint. What likely wouldn't survive? His collection of arrows. The explosive arrow heads would possibly clack into each other from a fall like this. They didn't when on his back as he knew how to fall to save his quiver damage. Also, the bottom tended not to hit the ground in a way that they would falling from the vent.

"Fuck," Clint grumbled before shifting to his quiver. He used his bow to call up the arrow heads he needed and methodically pulled them out. He'd have to leave the explosives behind. Not that it was that big of a deal really, as he wouldn't have needed them but he always brought them as a just in case. Never knew what one might need. Once they were safely laying about the vent, Clint dropped his quiver inside the room. Then his bow was gently tossed down. Two handguns. And four knives. He quickly checked himself over to make sure he could twist and bend as needed before sneaking down himself.

He re-geared himself back up and slipped toward the door. Cracking it open just the tiniest bit, Clint looked to make sure the place was clear. He hated being on the ground for missions like this but he was going to have no god-damn choice. Carefully, he headed out. Surprisingly, no one was walking the halls he had to go down. He nearly made it the whole way to the file room before suddenly the alarms started blaring. The sound had him pause for half a second. What the hell? He hadn't been spotted! Had he?

"Fuck," he hissed once again before lunging toward the file room. He needed to get the shit and get out, now. Not even caring at this point, Clint rushed forward and bashed through the door. The file that the people wanted was pretty specific and after checking to make sure that the files were in alphabetical order, he snatched all of the 'G's. Spinning, he headed back outside to the hall and froze. Coming from down the hall he had just came from was a team of men and women in full tactical gear but the main thing Clint noticed. The god damn eagle logo that had been seen all around 'Hot Suit' and 'Scary Fucker.' "Fucking hell."

"Shoot him!" one of the people ordered even as Clint dodged toward the hall just across the way. "Hawkeye is on site! Repeat, Hawkeye is on site!"

"Oh, fuck you guys," Clint snarled as he picked up the pace. The files began slipping in his hands as he ran and when he rounded another corner to see another team, he just tossed all of them in their faces. Fuck the money. If 'Hot Suit' and his people were here, that meant his contractors would have their wish and these people would get shut down for good. He scrambled down another corridor as he took out his bow and nocked and of his taser arrows. 'Hot Suit' and his people were on the good side so he wasn't going to kill them. Or, he was going to attempt to not kill any of them. Surprisingly, tasers have been known to kill.

"There he is!" someone shouted and Clint jerked around to see a team was chasing him. They lifted their guns but Clint had already spun and shot his arrow into the lead man. The quick distraction of him falling allowed Clint to jump into the nearest room. He hardly paid attention to what was in the room as he ran through it, only knowing there was another exit on the other side and he needed to get there before the agents caught up to him. A spattering of bullets hit the wall around him. Warning shots. Thank god, they weren't trying to kill him. Didn't matter, he busted through the door (which apparently was like those swinging ones in restaurants) and froze. A woman in a lab coat was standing there, a rather large science-y looking gun in her hand.

"Woah!" Clint cried at her, raising his hands in defense. She narrowed her eyes but amazingly didn't shoot. With a sigh, Clint moved away from the door. He just about got out of the way when the door swung open. The first man stepped through and the woman fired. A loud sound wave pierced through the air making the agent and Clint cry out in pain. No wonder the damn bitch didn't fire it before. Surprisingly though, the agent dropped unconscious a moment later but Clint didn't. It took him a moment to realize that the gun was an aimed sound device. He must have been at the edge. Moving as quickly as he could, even with the sound still screaming at him and giving him a migraine, Clint rushed off. For some reason, this room had like four different exits. He took the first one he came across. And that was a bad idea. His world went black.

Clint moaned as his consciousness returned. The world seemed slightly muted and certainly dark. Shaking his head in order to get some semblance of normalcy back, Clint dislodged something off of him. Blinking at it, he noticed it was the strap to his quiver. What the hell? He reached out to touch it and saw blonde fur. Clint had nearly two seconds to panic before sound suddenly flooded his system. Sensory overload hit hard and he panicked again, taking off so quickly that he hardly noticed he was running on all fours. Doors around the area were open, people were talking, guns were being fired, the feeling of someone touching him in various areas, smells of chemicals, perfumes, body odor. Everything was just too much.

Unable to calm down, Clint ran on, trying to dodge noises of things that weren't even there. Scared out of his mind, Clint didn't even truly notice when he ran right into someone's leg. He fell back, senses still blazing out at him but now that his mind was focused on something else, he didn't notice it much.

"Well, hello there, cutie," a deep voice cooed. Clint jerked back and looked up right into a slightly familiar face of 'Scary Fucker.'

"Fuck!" Clint tried to respond but instead a frantic and pathetic noise escaped. He felt his eyes widen as 'Scary Fucker' shifted downward. Air currents slipped past Clint's face and made him jerk back as if already caressed by something even though nothing was close. 'Scary Fucker' didn't seem to mind, he just cautiously held out a hand. Petrified, Clint found himself suddenly hissing angrily at the man. Everything was wrong!

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that," 'Scary Fucker' whispered but his hand didn't move. More air currents passed by Clint and he heard the sound of clacking on the floor behind him. He jumped to the side, hissing at the new threat.

"Director Fury, sir," another familiar voice called. 'Scary Fucker' looked up toward the direction that Clint had heard and felt someone come from. Clint quickly looked that way to see 'Hot Suit' was standing there. "We've taken control. All hostiles seem to be down."

"Seem to be?" Director Fury repeated. 'Hot Suit' nodded.

"We can't find Hawkeye, who had been reported on scene. But, an agent did find what looks to be his entire outfit, quiver and bow included," 'Hot Suit' reported. Director Fury frowned at the news.

"Wait," Clint cried, finally noticing the sound he was making. It was a 'meow.' "What the-"

Director Fury and 'Hot Suit' looked down at him. It was about now that Clint was beginning to realize that things were far more worse than just getting caught by 'Hot Suit' and his people. Somehow, whatever he walked into earlier, changed him. And judging by the furry paw and hissing noises and meowing, Clint had somehow been turned into a cat!

"You found a cat?" 'Hot Suit' questioned after a moment. Director Fury's face brightened like a kid in a candy store.

"Indeed I have," Fury informed, getting back down into a crouch. The movement had Clint feel as if a gale force wind passed by his face. He jerked back, bumping his ass into the wall. Surprised, Clint jumped forward and glared at the cool area. There was a light spattering of chuckles that had Clint redraw his attention to 'Hot Suit' and Director Fury. Fury reached forward once again and Clint backed up another step, hissing once again.

"He doesn't seem friendly," 'Hot Suit' blandly mentioned. Fury hummed, slowly moving his hand. Clint glanced between them, panicking. He wasn't sure what to do other than follow instinct and hiss.

"Well, how would you feel if people came gun a blazing into your home and your only defense is your teeth and claws?" Director Fury countered. "I mean, come on, Cheese. Think it through."

"Cheese?" Clint couldn't help but attempt to mock, throwing himself out of his instinct. His body slowly relaxed and he felt things settle along his back. Something long behind him dropped down a bit. Shocked, he turned and looked to see his blonde and slowly thinning tail. "Oh my fucking, god!"

"Huh, he likes your nickname," Fury chuckled, drawing Clint's attention just in time for the man to snatch him up. Stunned, Clint found himself giving out a desperate meowing sound as he jerked about, claws out. Fury hissed in pain and softly cussed but didn't let go. "Calm down, cutie. Calm down."

"Sir, this is a strange cat from an AIM lab, are you sure you should be trying to hold him?" 'Hot Suit,' 'Cheese' questioned.

"It'll be fine," Fury grumbled as he pulled Clint tight against his body. For some reason that feeling of being crushed between Fury's hand and his body had Clint instantly calm down. "There we go."

"Director Fury, Agent Coulson!" someone greeted from down the hall. Both men and Clint looked toward the new person. "Still no signs of Hawkeye. Agents outside report no activity."

"That's cause I'm right here, asshole," Clint angrily whined.

"Understood. Keep looking," Coulson demanded, ignoring Clint. The agent nodded and turned off down the hall. Fury seemed to notice as he began twitching his fingers to pet the archer turned cat.

"You think he snuck through our guard?" Fury wondered. Coulson sighed.

"He's slippery. This would only be the third time we've gotten this close with him," Coulson reminded.

"Cause I'm good at my job," Clint snarled. Fury nodded, his thumb slowly starting to stroke Clint's head. To the archer turned cat's embarrassment, he started purring. Fury smiled down at him.

"You will be reporting the cat, right?"

"Yes, of course, of course," Fury argued. Coulson raised an eyebrow, curious. Fury rolled his eye. "I will be calling my vet as soon as we get back to have this little cutie checked out."

"Vet? Hell no!" Clint angrily meowed, struggling against Fury's grip once again. Fury huffed out a surprised noise but held tight.

"Seems he dislikes that idea," Coulson needlessly pointed out. Fury shrugged.

"Brought Goose to one too." Coulson gave the Director an incredulous look that had Clint wonder what a 'goose' was. Was it a literal goose or another animal named Goose? Either way, it shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Right? Fury then looked about a bit before smiling down at Clint. "Okay, cutie. Looks like I'm not needed here anymore. Wanna leave?"

"You are leaving here, with a strange cat, that was running from a lab full of scientists?" Coulson questioned. Fury arched an eyebrow.

"Might want to stay..." Clint lied, purring again as Fury began to stroke him.

"I am going to bring him to the vet."

"And if he has some sort of virus that has a delayed release?" Clint stilled. Was that possible? Could... What the fuck is he thinking? HE'S A FUCKING CAT! Anything is possible at this point in time.

"You do realize that all of us could have already been infected with something, correct?" Coulson pursed his lips but didn't continue to argue his point. "If you're so worried, Phil. Come check on us when you're done."

"You're going to bring him to your office?" Coulson wondered. Fury nodded.

"I'm a big security risk and... You know what, never mind," Clint huffed.

"As you said. Might have some sort of virus. Can't bring him home in that case." With that Fury turned and started to walk away. Coulson (Phil? Cheese?) waited until the Director was almost at the exit before speaking again.

"And if Goose doesn't like him?"

"Who the fuck is Goose? Actually, what the fuck is goose?" Clint mewled. Fury's exit slowed a bit as the man thought over what Phil had said. Then he sighed and turned back.

"Fine. We'll wait and then he can stay with you." Phil's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden turn of events. Clint would have snorted if this was any other time. Fury smiled. "You're right. He was running from a lab and is terrified. No use bringing him into Goose's territory."

"I didn't mean-" Phil started but stopped when Fury arched an eyebrow once again. Slowly, Phil's eyes traced down to Clint.

"Hi," Clint squeaked. There was a soft 'ooh' from above him that Clint knew came from Fury. Okay. Act cute, get attention. Huh. Though, Phil's eyes narrowed slightly. Then, heaving a great big sigh, Phil focused back on Fury.

"I'm considering this as you asking for a favor," Phil mentioned. Fury snorted but didn't fight it. Clint couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Course, that was when his little body decided it had had enough excitement for the day. Slowly, he relaxed into Fury's hands. In response, Fury began to gently stroke him. Clint fell asleep with a contented purr.

When Clint slowly began his return to consciousness, he found himself warm, comfortable, purring and getting nice scratching that started on his head and went to the base of his tail. Wait... Tail? Purrs? Clint's eyes snapped open and he looked down at himself. He was furry!

"Shit... That wasn't a dream?" Clint whimpered (which apparently cats could do). The scratching turned into a stroking motion and Clint couldn't help but purr a bit louder and close his eyes again. That felt damn good. The motions slowly relaxed him back down to a half daze.

"I'll be going through the information we gathered once we return to base," a familiar voice stated over Clint. He opened his eyes before looking up. It wasn't Fury holding him anymore. Phil was holding him.

"Good. Good," Fury hummed from nearby. Clint looked around. They were in a car now. Fury was driving. Hence why he wasn't in the Director's lap. Cautiously, Clint turned his attention back to Phil. The man seemed very calm and his relaxed state seemed to help Clint out. He slowly relaxed back into Phil's lap and closed his eyes. Fury and Phil kept talking over him. They did a mix of work conversation and conversing about Clint himself. Oh, and of Goose. But they still hadn't given any good clue as to what Goose was.

Clint dozed through the ride, not that he could seriously fight his current cat instinct. Phil was just so comfortable and safe. It wasn't long before the car stopped and the engine shut off. Curious, Clint perked up a bit. They had pulled into some sort of garage with no real indication on where they had ended up.

"Where are we?" Clint purred as Phil began shifting beneath him. He looked over to the man and watched as as he unbuckled, open the door and then shifted his grip on the archer turned cat before getting up and out.

"I still don't feel completely comfortable keeping this cat in my office. Safe from virus or not," Phil commented as they headed toward what looked like an elevator. Clint was shocked into releasing his claws when the elevator started to move. Phil let out a soft cuss but didn't release Clint. The archer turned cat twisted a little to look at the man holding.

"Sorry," he whined. Fury glanced over at them and tilted his head to the side.

"That almost seemed like he was apologizing," the Director muttered. Phil shook his head.

"You've spent too much time around Goose." Fury snorted but didn't argue. A moment later the elevator doors opened to a rather bland looking hallway. Clint was almost disappointed. Phil stepped out and looked back to Fury. "Maybe see if Goose is willing to come hang out? That way you can take this guy home too?"

"Okay, who the fuck or what the fuck is goose?" Clint hissed.

"You really don't like him that much?" Fury questioned. Phil frowned and looked down at the blonde cat. Clint looked up at him with a begging face. He really did not want to have to deal with another... Anything. Especially when they've been mentioning that it could be territorial. Phil sighed deeply and Fury reached out to pat the man on his shoulder. "I'll send down some supplies."

Phil shook his head but spun on his heel and headed off down the hall. Clint did his best to pay attention to everything. Figure out how many turns they took and how many doors. But he couldn't. He could hear the high pitch sounds of computers buzzing. His ears twisted left and right. The air bristling past his face and whiskers giving him chills. And the smells. While it was better than the first smells he had gotten at the lab, there was still the smell of body odor, papers, inks, lead (yeah, apparently that has a smell), metals, woods, and so much more. Some smells Clint couldn't even identify. Before he could really focus, Phil was opening a door and they entered a extremely bland and overly typical office. The one good thing. There was a couch. A couch that Phil promptly dumped him onto.

"HEY! Be careful!" Clint yelped. Phil didn't seem to care as he just continued on until he was behind his desk and then he sat down. The man dropped his elbows onto his desk and his head into his hands in an almost defeated way. Clint cocked his head to the side, curious. Just as Clint was about to get up and jump off the couch, Phil sucked in a deep breath and turned on his computer. The sudden whine of the object had Clint wince.

"Come in," Phil randomly called out. Clint blinked his eyes closed before he felt the air shift from over by the door. He looked over to see a short bald guy with glasses step inside.

"Hey, Phil. How was the lab?" the man asked.

"If you know I'm back already then I am certain you know how it went, Jas," Phil countered, setting something up on his computer. 'Jas' snorted and moved to the couch, not even seriously looking. Clint had to scramble out of the way when the man just dropped down right where he had been. The couch cushion shifted and nearly launched Clint into the air. His panicked cry had Phil sharply look up and 'Jas' jump off of the couch.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Jas shouted. Scared, Clint clambered off the couch and booked it to Phil. Surprised, the agent actually leaned down to pick him up of the floor. Clint slipped right out of his hands and climbed up the man's suit to stop on his shoulder before nervously tucking himself beside Phil's neck. "What the hell?"

"Fury found a cat," Phil replied as he cautiously reached up to pet Clint. The archer had to fight himself from leaning into the touch as his body slowly calmed down. "I'm... Watching him."

"Watching... You're watching Fury's cat? I thought he was bigger... And more orange," Jas hummed.

"Again. Fury found a cat. This guy came from the AIM lab," Phil described. A moment later, the door to Phil's office opened again and Fury strode in, a box, bag of what looked like sand, a bowl, and a few other odds and ends. But what really caught Clint's attention was the little collar.

"Oh, fuck no," Clint softly meowed at the sight.

"Got you some things," Fury informed before dumping it all down on Phil's couch. Phil arched an eyebrow.

"Some?" Jas echoed. Fury looked to him.

"Don't you have work to do, Sitwell?" the Director questioned.

"Jas Sitwell... That sounds stupid." Jas stiffened for a moment before nodding and all but running out the door. Fury snorted.

"One day your attitude is going to stop frighting him," Phil mentioned. Fury shook his head as he looked back to Phil and Clint. He arched an eyebrow at the sight of Clint sitting on Phil's shoulder. "Jasper scared him."

"That son of a bitch," Fury growled as Clint gave out a contented purr.

"Jasper Sitwell sounds a bit better than Jas Sitwell."

"He sat down on the couch while the cat was on it as well," Phil explained. Fury shook his head.

"No situational awareness." Phil shrugged.

"He's not a serious field agent." Fury huffed. "Give him time. He'll get better."

"Sure..." Phil sighed and got up, Clint tightening his claws on the suit just enough to stay still. Not that Phil even seemed to remember Clint was up there. "I couldn't get you food. Doubt the little cutie could handle Goose's food."

"I'm never gone learn what goose is, am I?"

"No one can handle Goose's food except Goose," Phil idly commented. Fury chuckled. "I'm half surprised you didn't bring him down."

"He took off as soon as we got to May's door." Phil looked up.

"She's like three doors away." Fury nodded. "Doesn't he normally like May?"

"Yup. I don't get it but I sure as fuck wasn't going to stop him," Fury replied as a hand came up and rubbed the side of his face that was damaged in an unconscious manner. Clint let out a small sneeze in an attempt to laugh that had all of them pause. "I might want to call Danvers..."

"Who? First goose thing and now Danvers? This place is fucked up," Clint mewled softly.

"Maybe," Phil agreed. "But, didn't she say emergencies?"

"Another Flerken might be an emergency."

"Another what-en?" Clint screeched. Phil winced at the volume and Clint hunkered down for a second before rubbing his head against Phil's face in an apology.

"Call Talos?" Phil suggested. Clint looked between the two. 'Talos?'

"He thinks all cats are a Flerken."

"What the fuck is a flur kin?" Clint tried to softly howl in anger. Phil glanced down at Clint as best he could. "Wait... Cat?"

"Maybe he's agreeing?" Fury wondered. Phil sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Great. Just what I need. My own alien cat." Clint's eyes widened at that.

"What the fuck!?" Phil again winced, jogging Clint into realizing what the archer turned cat had done.

"Hey, least they're easy to care for. Just... Don't let them scratch you anywhere important," Fury warned. Phil snorted. It took a while before Fury actually admitted to him what happened but Fury eventually did. Likely due to the fact that Phil found out that Goose was an alien species and the clear scratches on either side of his damaged eye. "Want to bring the catto Goose to check it out?"

"Uh, what? You want me to hang out with an alien cat? What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"We don't know much about Flerkens. What if they are extremely territorial?" Phil pointed out. Fury hummed. It was worth a shot. Clint sneezed in anger and shook his head.

"I'm fine. Don't need to visit this flur kin." Things were already messed up enough with being turned into a cat. He seriously didn't want to deal with an alien.

"Well, for now the little guy is your issue. I'll make a vet appointment for you tomorrow so he can get checked out. He can go to the same vet I bring Goose too," Fury chuckled. Phil gave him a bland look.

"I don't want to see a vet. Ever," Clint whined.

"Thank you so very much, Director Fury," Phil sarcastically drawled. Fury chuckled even more before turning and heading out of Phil's office. Phil sighed deeply and attempted to stare at Clint. "You better not be a Flerken. And if you are, you better not eat me."

"Ew... I doubt I'd eat someone even if I was some sort of alien cat," Clint chirruped. Phil sighed again before leaned down to check out the items Fury brought. He didn't even think about the fact that Clint was lodged on his shoulder. At the sudden motion, Clint scrambled backwards onto Phil's shoulder blade. When Phil shifted upright, Clint scrambled back onto Phil's shoulder.

"Sorry about that," Phil muttered. Clint said nothing, just settled himself back down when it seemed like Phil wasn't going to lean over again. "I'll... I'll get the litter box ready after you get down."

Clint didn't respond but it wasn't like Phil expected him to. Instead, Phil just headed back over to his desk and sat down. Clint shifted to settle a bit more before something struck him. He could type out that he was human! Inspired by the idea, Clint launched himself off Phil's shoulder but he over estimated the landing and the slickness of the desk so rather than stopping by the keyboard, Clint slid across the top of the desk and over the other side. He let out a horrified wail but like any real cat, he landed on his feet. Phil jerked into a standing motion, his chair toppling backwards as he leaned over to make sure Clint was okay. After seeing the archer turned cat was tensely standing on the floor, he snorted.

"Serves you right. Cats don't go on the desk," he informed before reaching back and righting his chair. Clint looked over to the agent.

"Fuck you, agent man," he hissed before scampering around the desk and to Phil's leg. The agent sat down and once he did, Clint jumped up his pant suit leg.

"No! No!" Phil cried, as he nabbed Clint off his pants and held him away. Clint let out a nasty yowl but Phil didn't look swayed. "You will not climb up my pant legs."

With that said, Phil put him back on the floor. Clint plopped down on his butt for a moment and waited until Phil went back to typing. Once again distracted, Clint climbed up the agent's pant suit. Phil jerked back in his seat and attempted to grab Clint but the archer turned cat just rushed upwards, jumping rather than simply climbing.

"Ow! Shit!" Phil snapped as Clint's claws went a bit deeper than he intended. But, he made it up onto Phil's lap then up the man's chest and back on to his shoulder. Phil sighed deeply. "I'm gonna need to start wearing my cheaper suits, aren't I?"

"I guess. Unless you like holes in your better outfits," Clint purred, shifting around to get a better analysis of the desk. Phil shook his head but returned to work. In his distraction, he left a perfect bridge. Clint quickly clawed over Phil's arm and onto the desk but before he could get anywhere close to the keyboard, Phil caught him.

"No desk!" he growled. Clint whined.

"I just need your computer for like half a second!" he yowled. Phil shook his head and plopped Clint down on his lap. When Clint tried to head back up to Phil's shoulder, the agent caught him and held him still.

"I will lock you in a cage," he warned. Clint stopped. Shit. That wouldn't be good. Resigned, Clint drooped down into the agent's lap. Phil pressed him down for a moment more before slowly moving his hand away. Clint stayed still until the hand was nearly at the desk and then he scampered back up onto Phil's shoulder. At least from here he could see the entire room. "No desk or cage."

"I get it... Fine. I'll figure out how to let you know later," Clint huffed, sneezing a moment after. Sure now that Clint would stay on his shoulder, Phil went back to work. Clint glanced over to the computer and realized that Phil was writing about the lab. Almost a complete play-by-play, including finding him. Well... Cat him.

They stayed like that for long enough for Clint to drift off into a doze once again. He was half woken when someone gently knocked on Phil's door. The agent called the person in. Clint opened his eyes just long enough to see that the person didn't have an weapons on them and that Phil was fine in their presence before he relaxed again and drifted off. This happened twice more before Phil grabbed the things the people brought and started sorting through them. About ten minutes later, Phil suddenly stood. Clint jerked away and tightened his claws a bit but otherwise didn't seem bothered. Phil didn't either as he stalked out of his office and headed down the hall.

There didn't seem to be anyone around but when they got to the elevator, the few people there gave Phil odd looks. Clint just barely was able to stop himself from attacking Phil when the elevator moved. It stopped a few times, letting various people on and off. Anyone who gave Phil an odd look was glared at by Clint. Hadn't they ever seen a cat riding someone's shoulder? Well... Actually... He hadn't. But still. They should mind their own business.

When Phil finally got off the elevator, he exited onto a floor that had so many strange smells that Clint sneezed a few different times. Phil paused and glanced over to Clint as if suddenly realizing he was there. Clint turned to look at Phil just before sneezing into his face. Phil scrunched up his own face before shaking his head and moving on as if nothing happened. Trying to act like that as well, Clint tried his best to stop sneezing but there was something about the smells here that had him going. Thankfully though, the longer they stayed in the area, the longer it took between sneezes until they arrived at the room Phil wanted then he stopped.

"Agent Coulson!" someone called as soon as Phil stepped into the room.

"Agent Jessup," Phil greeted, heading over to the man. "Were you given-"

"Oh my god! I need to know where you got this bow!" Jessup interrupted. Clint perked up. They had his bow here?

"My baby is here?" the archer turned cat meowed.

"We found it at the lab," Phil answered. "Is it Hawkeye's?"

"If it is I have no idea where he got this thing from," Jessup informed, spinning to grab the bow from the table. Phil arched an eyebrow at it when Clint suddenly let out the darkest and scarest growl ever. Jessup was mishandling his bow! Phil glanced over to Clint and Jessup froze.

"Let go of my bow you jackass!" Clint yowled before launching himself off Phil's shoulder. Jessup dropped the bow onto the table and backed away in shock. Clint landed on the table and stood over his bow protectively, hissing at the other agent. Phil frowned.

"No, get over here," he demanded, reaching for Clint but Clint wouldn't have it. He turned his angered cry over at him and Phil raised an eyebrow. This was the first time that the cat had gotten to look seriously violent.

"Woah, who pissed off a cat? Wait... Why is there a cat here?" a different person wondered, coming over. Their statement had more people stop what they were doing and coming to check out the pissed off cat. Clint's cry turned almost panicked as he was slowly getting surrounded by agents.

"Back off! Mine!" Clint screeched. Phil narrowed his eyes. Something was... Ah.

"Everyone back off," Phil ordered sharply when he realized Clint was basically going into distress. Stunned, the crowd of agents backed off. As they did, Clint's cry tapered off a bit. When they stopped, Phil sighed. "Can I pick you up again? Or are we going to have another issue?"

"It's my bow," Clint stressed as he hunkered down over the grip. Phil sighed.

"We need you to get off of that," Phil replied as if Clint was a child. Which, he was technically kind of acting like one.

"But, it's mine," Clint whined, attempting to give Phil a pleading look. Phil arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. They had a stare down. A stare down that Clint lost. His hackles calmed down and he started sulking over the handle. "It's my bow."

"Thank you," Phil hummed before taking the cat off of the bow. Clint twisted to get a better view of it but it didn't seem to matter. Phil didn't allow him to go back onto his shoulder. Instead, Phil tucked him close to his body and tightened his grip just enough that Clint wouldn't be able to easily escape. "Now. Agent Jessup."

"Are you..." Jessup started but stopped when Phil turned a sharp gaze on him. Nodding, Jessup headed back to his desk and people started to wander back to their jobs. Ignoring them all, Phil waited for Jessup's report. Jessup sighed and reached for the bow again. Clint let out the same growling noise from before.

"Hush you," Phil softly stated, tightening his grip on Clint for half a second.

"Don't touch my bow!" Clint hissed, ignoring the pressure as best as possible. Jessup must have gotten the general idea as he simply waved a hand over the bow.

"From cursory glance, the bow is nothing more than an elegant looking recurve," Jessup described. Clint sneezed in disgust, narrowing his gaze on the agent. Jessup swallowed tightly. "Uh... But... The grip..."

Phil moved closer to check out what Jessup was distantly pointing too. There were oddly shaped areas with what looked like possible red LED lights stuck in them. He arched an eyebrow at them. "Do you know what they do?"

"We think it goes with the quiver but we're a little too afraid of setting off an explosive like we know Hawkeye has sometimes used," Jessup replied. Phil turned, his gaze bland. Jessup gave him a sheepish look back. "Uh... We don't want to lose the quiver and arrows inside before we get a better look at them."

"And you can't take the arrows out?" Phil wondered. Jessup spun and led Phil and Clint to another desk that house Clint's quiver.

"Technically anyone can..." Clint purred, pleased that his equipment worked how he wanted it too. He hadn't really gotten a chance at checking to see if it worked. The science agent reached for the item but paused, glancing quickly at Clint before actually getting it. Sighing, Jessup pulled on one of the arrows. It came out fine. Except it didn't have a tip.

"There are some mechanics inside that must attach the tips to to the arrows and we've yet to figure out how to get to the tips themselves."

"That's cause it responds to only me," Clint sneezed not wanting to go into detail on how exactly he worked with his stuff. Phil exhaled deeply, glancing down at the cat before back up to Jessup.

"We think there is some sort of activation that works with something Hawkeye does or have," Jessup admitted. "But we can't find anything in his uniform, the bow, the recorded fingerprints or DNA."

"Interesting. Any idea who could have made this?" Phil questioned. Jessup shrugged.

"I'd like to say Stark Industries or something but... There isn't a single logo for any company, anywhere. If I didn't know any better I'd say that Hawkeye made them himself." Phil arched an eyebrow as Clint let out a dark growl like before. Jessup paled slightly.

"What makes you think Hawkeye couldn't have done this himself?" Phil asked. Jessup nervously exhaled.

"Well... By your own report, he's an uneducated circus performer," Jessup admitted. Phil's eyebrow didn't drop. "This tech... This is almost on the same level as Stark Tech."

"Almost? This is better," Clint snarled. Jessup took a step back and Phil shook his head.

"Alright. Keep working on it. I wanna know why Hawkeye would have left this all behind if it as valuable as you claim," Phil commanded.

"I didn't leave it on purpose," Clint pouted, sinking down into Phil's hands. Jessup nodded and with that, Phil turned on his heel and headed off. Phil waited until they were outside of the room before he let up his grip on Clint. Once freed, Clint scampered up to sit on Phil's shoulder.

"You do anything like that again and you'll be watching the world through bars."

"Yes, sir," Clint softly meowed.

Clint ended up staying on Phil's shoulder throughout the entirety of his work. Nearing the end of the day, Clint realized that Phil must have been going for at least twenty four hours but the guy didn't at all look tired. With a relieved exhale, Phil gathered up some papers and headed out, making sure to lock his office door as he went. Clint relaxed into a doze on Phil's shoulder, uncaring now when they got to the elevator and headed up. He had gotten used to all his new senses now. Sometimes his heightened sense of smell still bothered him and the feelings from his whiskers but he was getting there. He dozed all the way until Phil entered another room.

"Coulson," Fury greeted. Clint perked up a bit. "Didn't expect you to show up here."

"I came to drop of some paperwork," Phil informed before doing such an action. As he did, an orange tabby cat jumped up onto Fury's desk. Clint jerked to a standing position at the sudden sight. Fury reached forward and stroked the cat's back.

"Are you the cat that isn't a cat?" Clint mewled, nervous.

"Hello, my little Goosie goose," Fury cooed. Clint shifted to hid himself a bit behind Phil's head.

"No, no! Phil, I wanna go nowI" Clint yelped. Unconsciously, Phil reached up and began stroking Clint in an effort to calm him. Clint shoved the hand away. "Stop! I wanna leave!"

"I'm heading home for the evening," Phil added, otherwise ignoring the appearance of the alien cat. Goose's attention was focused on Clint and the archer turned cat began to get absolutely terrified. What was going to happen? Was Goose going to attack him for invading? Would Goose know he wasn't a cat?

"Please! Don't kill me!" Clint whined. Goose didn't move closer but still, Clint felt more and more uncomfortable.

"Okay. I got an agent to set up some stuff in your apartment and catify it," Fury stated as if it was a completely normal thing to do. Phil sighed deeply but pointedly looked down at Goose who seemed to be doing fine. Just curious. The cat on his shoulder was a different story. Poor little thing was shaking like a leaf. "You know I'd take him if I could."

"Not with devil alien cat!" Clint yelped, tightening his claws onto Phil's suit.

"I understand sir," Phil agreed before nodding his head and turning to leave. Clint let out a soft whine at the loss of visual contact with Goose.

"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON IT!" Clint wailed.

"Got some surprises for you too." Phil's gate staggered lightly for a mere second. If Clint hadn't been touching Phil and certainly hadn't been on him all day, the archer turned cat doubted he would have even noticed.

"Surprises?" Clint softly meowed, confused but now distracted from his watching of Goose.

"Thank you, sir."

Fury's surprises ended up being that nearly every single newly added cat item was Captain America themed.

"I didn't even know you could get a Captain America cat tree," Clint meowed at the sight. Well, technically it wasn't a Captain America one. It was more a Howling Commandos dedicated tree with a large section donated to Captain America. The cutest part of it all was the little toy shield that smelt like it was full of some type of amazing item that was attached to a string and plastic stick.

"Wow," Phil commented as he took it all in. He headed deeper into what was actually a two bedroom apartment with an entirely open floor kitchen, dinning room and living room. As he went, he started to strip out of his suit. When he reached for his jacket, Clint let out a yelp of surprise, gripping his claws down tight. Phil winced but shifted his walk toward the cat tree. Understanding what Phil wanted, Clint jumped off his shoulder and onto the top of the tree, which was a little above Phil's height. Once up here, Clint noted that the little area was dedicated to Bucky Barnes, the sniper of the Howling Commandos.

"Hell yeah! Bucky ROCKS!" Clint purred before twisting to get comfortable and plopping down. It was amazingly soft considering how stiff it had looked from a distance. Phil let out a snort that had Clint perk up for a moment. It was just in time to see the agent begin to unbutton his shirt. Clint watched, mesmerized. But, when Phil went to pull the bottom out of his pants, Clint realized what he was doing. He snapped his attention away. Phil snorted again, apparently having been watching Clint.

"Not into human nudity?" he joked. Clint hissed a little but didn't turn. He really wished he had fingers so that he could flip the agent off. To his surprise though, he did have something. His agitation suddenly had his tail jerk up and then slam down. Unsure what was happening, Clint spun to look. He was 'wagging' his tail. Phil chuckled this time but stopped removing his clothes. "Fine, fine. I'll got get changed in the bedroom."

Clint just silently watched as Phil actually headed off. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen. Considering how Phil had acted at the lab and even at the office, Clint had figured Phil wasn't an animal person. But, Phil was actually being extremely considerate of Clint's 'perceived feelings.' Huh.

It didn't take Phil long before he came back out of his room, a well worn tee shirt with an extremely faded design and some baggy sweatpants on. Phil glanced over at him as if to make sure he hadn't moved before heading off into the kitchen area. Sitting on the counter beside the fridge was a bag of some weird brand of cat food. Clint narrowed his eyes at it even as Phil glanced over the thing. It was clear Phil was reading the ingredients.

"What the fuck is butylated hydroxytoluene?" Phil muttered under his breath. Clint's ear closest to Phil and his tail twitched. Yeah, nope.

"I ain't eating any of that shit. Even if I'm starving," Clint vowed. Phil glanced toward Clint before sighing deeply. Without much more of a question, Phil cracked the bag open and dug a Captain America bowl into it. It came out bursting with food. "Yeah, I think that'd be too much anyways."

Phil didn't seem to care either way as he placed the bowl down onto the floor before grabbing a second Captain America bowl, this one slightly wider, and filling it with water before placing it down beside the first one. Clint sneezed at it all in disgust. Yeah, nope. He turned his back on it all. Without paying attention to Phil, Clint must have dozed off again (god cats are lazy fuckers) as the next thing he knew, Phil was sitting on his couch, TV on and some amazing food smell coming from his general area and from the kitchen. Curious, Clint got up and looked at the distance between the cat tree and the couch. The couch which was thankfully cloth. It seemed like an easy distance but then again, he wasn't in his body. Backing up half a step, Clint rushed forward and launched himself off the tree. Phil must have seen a reflection of him as the agent spun around just in time to see Clint land properly on the back of the couch.

"Oh yeah! Who's the best!?" Clint purred and if he was human, he totally would have been doing a small dance.

"Impressive," Phil commented as Clint stiffened up with pride. Honestly, the archer turned cat was kind of shocked that he made it. With the action over, Phil returned to watching his TV. Clint hopped down off the back of the couch and shifted closer to Phil's lap. The smell of the delightful... Whatever... Was getting stronger. He put his paws down on the edge of Phil's legs and looked over the lip of the plate that was on Phil's lap. Chicken cutlets of some kind.

"Damn, man. That smells fucking sweat!" Clint mentally smiled. All the way up until a hand suddenly covered his face and gently pushed back. Not that the hand needed to push as the feeling of the hand on his whiskers and the sudden darkness scared the crap out of Clint and he shuffled backwards.

"No. My food. Your food is over there." Clint didn't even attempt to look at where Phil had pointed too. He knew where Phil had dropped off the disgusting chunks. Huffing in displeasure, Clint plopped down on his butt and just stared at Phil. Phil ignored it, slowly beginning to eat while watching his show. It took time but gradually, Clint noticed that Phil was starting to get a little tense. The longer Clint stared, the tenser Phil became. By the end of his show (his hour long Supernanny episode), Phil was done.

"Fine!" he cried before cutting off a small bit of chicken and handing it over. Clint silently cheered as he rushed forward, gently pulling the piece from Phil's fingers and then chewing it to bits. "You get sick from that then you're eating your own vomit."

Clint paused. That was disgusting. "Could I actually get sick on food that I, as a human, should be able to eat?" Course, none of that meant Phil stopped feeding him bits of chicken. Phil had made some extra food for whatever reason and so there was plenty to share. By the end of the second episode, Clint was stuffed and had now laid himself flush with Phil's leg. "That was some damn good food."

He contently purred as he relaxed into a deep doze. At some random point later, Clint heard some sort of noise and he quickly perked up trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The TV had shut off at some point but the warmth that Clint had fallen asleep beside hadn't moved. Curious, Clint turned to see Phil had fallen asleep on the couch, his head tipped backwards in an extremely awkward way. Clint huffed lightly before getting up. He couldn't leave the agent like that.

He made it to Phil's lap before the agent snapped awake. The only sign that he was awake was the tensing of his muscles. Clint paused, making sure it was safe to move. After a moment, Phil must have recognized where he was as he relaxed. Clint perked up a bit. "Hey."

The meow had Phil look down at his lap. "Oh. Hello. Did I... Did I fall asleep out here?"

Clint nodded and for half a second Phil seemed stunned but then he seemed to get over it. With a still tired groan, Phil reached up and rubbed his face before shifting to sit up further. Clint moved a bit himself to stay on Phil's lap but otherwise wasn't sure what to do now. Sighing, Phil looked down at the archer turned cat on his lap. The little thing seemed so odd compared to normal cats he had ever met. But, then again. They had found it at an AIM lab and until he could go through all the information to find out what they did, he could only assume his intelligence had been increased or something.

"Well... I guess it's time to actually move into a bed," Phil idly commented. Clint nodded again and slowly stepped off the agent's lap. Phil blinked a few times at this sudden event. He honestly had expected that he'd need to pick the cat up off of him. Figuring it was best at this point to stop questioning things revolving around the cat, Phil got up and headed toward his room.

"Uh, wait," Clint whined, drawing Phil's attention back to him. He didn't want to be alone just yet. He'd gone through just a bit too much at this point. And since the change, his one constant was Phil. "Can... Can I go into your room?"

Phil blankly stared at the cat. What did it want? There were beds. He seemed comfortable on the couch. Food was in his bowl. Water in the other. The litter box hadn't been touched. Clint gave the agent a pleading look. He wouldn't give in on this one. If Phil didn't let him in, Clint would make this night a living hell. Phil shook his head and took a step toward the bedroom. This time, Clint clambered over the couch and paused on the arm rest, his pleading look turning into a beg. "Please don't leave me."

"You want to come to my room?" Phil asked. Clint nodded his head and Phil's eyebrows skyrocketed before he swallowed tightly and looked toward his room. After a moment he bit his lip and turned back to look at the archer turned cat. Phil sighed. He was such a sucker. "Okay."

Clint launched himself off the couch and right to Phil. He was seconds away from climbing the man's sweatpants before Phil shook his head and picked him up. Clint let out a soft yelp of surprise but settled in quickly as Phil turned and headed off for his room once again. The bedroom was only a few steps down the hall and completely covered in Captain America memorabilia. That explained the themed cat things. Phil was a Captain America enthusiast.

"Can't wait until I'm human again... Get to talk about your love for Captain America." Not that that was a bad thing or anything. Just... Surprising. Honestly, Clint didn't know much about the man but seeing him as an extreme fan of the Captain wasn't really something he expected.

Before he could think much more on the subject, Phil placed him on the floor. Yeah, no. Clint was not having any of that. The comforter was just low enough for Clint to be able to jump and cling onto so as Phil pulled it down to get in, Clint climbed it. Phil laid down before he noticed Clint was in the bed with him. He narrowed his eyes and Clint sat down on his butt, daring the agent to tell him to move. Phil sighed deeply after a moment and shook his head before fully laying down. Pleased, Clint headed to the head of the bed and curled himself up on the other pillow. Phil gave him a quick cursory look before sighing again and then drifted off to sleep. Clint was quick to follow.

Phil's alarm clock scared the living shit out of Clint. So much so that he jumped up, claws out and landed on poor Phil. If the alarm itself didn't wake Phil, the pain certainly did. He cried out, jerking into a seated position, knocking Clint down.

"What the hell?" Phil cried. Clint winced, suddenly realizing what had happened. Groaning, Phil reached out and turned off his alarm. The movement must have pulled at the fresh scratches as he made a small face of pain.

"Sorry," Clint mewed. Phil looked down to the cat. At first he looked angry and Clint couldn't help but cower a bit. Then Phil shook his head.

"Guess I should change the alarm so it doesn't scare you," Phil muttered. Clint winced. He hadn't meant Phil any harm but... The sound was so loud and Clint had been really deep in sleep. Phil rubbed his face with a deep groan before sliding his legs out from under the sheets and got up. Clint watched as the agent stood and headed off to where the archer assumed was the bathroom. When he didn't return for a minute, Clint carefully jumped off the bed and headed out of the room. As he got closer to the hall he began hearing the sounds of squeaking pipes. Phil must have been taking a shower. And he hadn't brought clothes in.

Making a slight face, Clint headed off to the living room and stared at the cat tree. He wanted to get back onto the top. It didn't seem all that complicated to get from shelf to shelf. So, he went for it. Halfway up, Clint got a claw trapped in the fibers of whatever coated the tree. He panicked, meowing like crazy as he attempted to pull himself free.

"No, wait, calm down!" a voice cried seconds before hands enclosed Clint. He panicked even more and started to lash out. There was a bit of cussing but the hands didn't stop and then Clint was suddenly free. The archer turned cat jumped away from the tree and the hands. Once he landed on the floor, he turned to see Phil standing there, in a towel with hands sliced.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry!" Clint screeched as Phil winced and shook his hands like the air would make things better. Phil gave him an upset look and Clint cowered. This was twice this morning that he accidentally attacked the agent. "I'm sorry."

"Fury better appreciate this," Phil grumbled before turning and heading back to his room. Clint whined lightly before slinking off toward the front door. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could convince the agent to bring him back to his office. Then he could... He could run away? But, not really run away. Maybe find someone else that would be more willing to take care of him. Five minutes later, Phil came out of the bedroom in a fresh suit. He looked to Clint briefly before sighing. "I'm not going to bring you in."

"Please," Clint whimpered. Phil frowned deeply. "I'm sorry for attacking you, just please... Don't leave me here."

"You will be fine here," Phil pressed. Clint turned on his begging face that had seemed to work last night. Phil crossed his arms over his chest in determination. Clint just continued with his begging face. "No."

"Please," Clint meowed back. Phil shook his head before walking forward and grabbing his dress shoes. Clint used that moment to run toward Phil and climb up his pant leg until he got to his shoulder like the day before. Phil jerked back slightly but not hard enough to dislodge Clint.

"No!" Phil cried, reaching up and attempting to pull Clint off. Clint dug his claws into Phil's suit, keeping himself in position. Phil grunted before he realized that he was creating holes in his outfit. He frowned. "Come on. Get off."

Clint shook his head no. He was going to go back to Phil's office come hell or high water. Phil glared at him and attempted once again to move Clint but it still didn't work. The agent growled in annoyance lightly.

"You better be on your best behavior then," he hissed. Clint nodded. Well, he hoped that Phil wouldn't get mad when he tried to go find a new 'owner.' Shaking his head, Phil finished getting himself ready with Clint on his shoulder. Once ready, Phil headed out. He was locking up his door when someone started to come by.

"Oh, Phil!" the person called. Phil looked over, surprised at being addressed.

"Michael," Phil greeted, turning just enough for Clint to catch a look at the man. Michael was a taller guy with pitch black hair and brown eyes. Clint immediately hated him.

"I didn't know you were home. Or that you owned a cat." Phil grimaced and looked to Clint quickly before back to Michael.

"He's kinda visiting for a bit and I just got home yesterday," Phil replied. Michael nodded and reached out as if to pet Clint. The archer turned cat hissed angrily at him and both men jumped. Phil sighed in an angered tone. "Sorry. He isn't all that friendly."

With that comment, Phil lifted his hands to show the damage. Michael winced in sympathy. "But you let him ride your shoulder?"

"'Let' is a strong term," Phil grumbled. Michael chuckled.

"Where's his collar?" Phil frowned.

"What?"

"Collar? The thing that goes around his neck?" Michael asked again, waving a hand toward his own neck. Phil pursed his lips.

"I know what a collar is. I just..."

"Didn't think about it?" Michael wondered. Phil nodded. He honestly hadn't thought about it. The items in his office had a collar. He could only hope there was a collar inside.

"I must have left it inside," Phil muttered before reopening his door. "I'll see you sometime later?"

"Sure. Have a good day, I guess," Michael agreed even as Phil basically closed the door in his face. Clint sneezed, drawing attention to himself. Phil sighed.

"I'm not a neighborly person," Phil excused before heading off to try and find a collar. It didn't take long. On the little end table by the couch was a little Captain America themed one.

"Really?" Clint couldn't help but mewl. The amount of Captain America themed cat items was pretty ridiculous. Phil sighed again before grabbing it.

"Please don't attack me," the agent mumbled before carefully wrapping the collar around Clint's neck. The archer turned cat stiffened at the feeling for a moment but didn't fight. Somehow the thing had been set at the proper length as once Phil clipped it closed, it sat comfortably on his neck. "That feel good?"

"Yeah," Clint purred as he suddenly began to feel centered and right. Phil pursed his lips but took it as confirmation. With that done, he headed back out.

Getting the the office building that Phil worked in wasn't a big deal. Clint actually kept himself on Phil's shoulder rather than moving to sit in the passenger seat like he had when they left the day before. Phil logged in quickly at the front desk and hardly made it a step further before being accosted by people asking for different things. Clint listened as they asked for his advice, for him to sign papers, to confirm the information they had gathered and other things. It seemed overwhelming but Phil handled it like a pro, even keeping the crowd moving as he answer every question and demand.

They made it Phil's office in nearly the same amount of time it took to get there the first time even with the extreme amount of attention. When they made it, Phil simply unlocked and opened his door while still in mid-conversation with another agent. The agent followed him into the office and Phil still spoke even as he physically ignored the man so that he could get to his desk and start up his computer.

"Agent Douglas, please. I have given you all the information I can. You should be able to devise a plan from that," Phil finally said in a dismissive tone. The agent, Douglas, nodded and spun on his heel before leaving. The man's tense frame had Clint huff.

"Asshole," he hissed. Phil said nothing, just opened up his email and got to work. Clint gave the man five minutes to get distracted before carefully climbing down. It was time to find a... New caretaker? A slight hesitation in typing was all Clint got before he was on the ground and heading off toward the open door.

"If you get lost I'll leave you here," Phil warned without even looking away from the computer. Clint would have pouted if he could but otherwise tried to act like he didn't care. Instead, he continued on out of the room with no intention of returning.

The first thing that Clint noticed after leaving Phil's office... No one seemed to notice or maybe even care about him. For the longest time, Clint just wandered the floor of Phil's office but it quickly got boring. So, Clint headed to the elevator and waited. It wasn't long before someone stopped on this floor. Clint slipped into the box before anyone even noticed.

Clint ended up exploring a few floors in their entirety before he got extremely bored. So that was when he found the gym. And the equipment that could bring Clint up toward the rafters. Clint smiled, quickly getting a fun idea.

"You should keep a better watch on him," a dark voice growled, entering Phil's office without any other indication he was coming. Phil looked up, surprised. It was John Garrett that had entered his office and Phil quickly noticed the man was holding the little blonde cat by the scruff.

"Help," Clint mewed pathetically at Phil.

"He was in the gym."

"How-" Phil started before stopping and shaking his head. "Never mind. Just, put him on the couch and close the door."

Garrett huffed but all but tossed Clint onto the couch before spinning and slamming Phil's door closed. Clint looked over to Phil, curling up into a scared little ball. Maybe if he stayed quiet and small, Phil would forget about him and not... Not hurt him.

Phil sighed, unsure how to handle what happened. How had Clint made it up seven floors and the opposite side of the building? Phil glanced at Clint before turning to his computer and started typing in the codes to pull up the security feeds of the building. It took a little bit and a quick program to track the blonde cat but he watched the video of the cat walking around, not once getting bothered. Then he watched as the cat got on the elevator and off the elevator not once but six different times on floors above and below the floor they were currently on. And then the cat made it to the gym.

Phil watched as the cat looked around and then climbed the equipment to get up to the rafters. It didn't take long before a few agents came in to train. As soon as they got close, the cat jumped down toward them. Shocked, the agents scattered. Phil snorted. Fast forwarding, Phil watched as for the next hour or so, the cat 'terrorized' any agent that came into the room to train. Smirking, he looked over to Clint. The archer turned cat was still curled in a defensive ball.

"Next time. Don't get caught."

"Seriously? That's it?" Clint mewled, uncurling just slightly but Phil had already turned back to his work. Clint waited until the next person to enter the room before he slipped out once again. He still needed to find someone else to take care of him. It... Well... Clint would rather it still be Phil watching him but he had caused the agent far to much trouble at this point. Phil just smirked at the cat, clicking open the security cams with the program to watch the cat and put it to the side so he could work and watch at the same time. Clint didn't wander like he did before. This time he headed right for the elevator and patiently waited. Phil noted Maria Hill appeared a moment later. She glanced down at Clint before shaking her head and waited for the elevator. They entered it at the same time.

"What floor?" Maria idly wondered. Clint looked up to her before meowing the number for the gym floor. Phil snorted even as Maria actually pressed the button for it. Considering most of the senior staff knew about Goose, Phil wasn't all that surprised that Maria could care less. Clint's stop was actually before Maria's so once the elevator opened, Maria didn't even have to mention it before the archer turned cat scampered off. "You're welcome."

Phil snorted but returned to his work rather than continuing to focus on the cat's antics. It wasn't until around lunch before Phil realized that he hadn't eaten any breakfast. He sighed, glancing over to the camera footage of the cat. The blonde creature was currently lazing about the rafters of the gym. Phil half wondered if the poor thing was hungry. That chicken dinner was a long time ago. And Phil wasn't sure the little guy even knew where the cafeteria was. Sighing, Phil got up and headed off for the gym.

As Phil traveled he realized that he hadn't an idea of what to call the little cat. He couldn't just keep calling him little cat or guy or anything. The little guy needed a name. But what? He quickly dismissed any of the names for the Howling Commandos. Typical cat names like Fluffy or heck even Kitty just didn't seem right. Doing 'famous' cat names like Garfield, Tom, Felix and Sylvester made Phil purse his lips. By the time he got to the gym and heard the loud screech of shock, Phil knew what he wanted to name the cat.

"Hawkeye," he snapped out as soon as he entered. The cat froze, shocked. As if 'Hawkeye' was a dog, Phil snapped his fingers. With a moments hesitation, Clint raced off the equipment, onto the floor and then up Phil's pant leg until he was on the agent's shoulder. Once certain the cat was steady, Phil turned and walked off, ignoring the surprised expressions from every agent in the gym.

"Original," Fury hummed, plopping onto the bench across from Phil. The agent looked up and half noticed that 'Hawkeye' hadn't even seemed to notice. Main reason why Clint didn't 'notice' was cause he smelt the leather of Fury's coat while the man was still in the hall.

"I thought it was good considering his love of heights," Phil replied. Clint perked up, looking between the duo. He had already figured out that Phil hadn't learned who he was. The agent had just ironically chosen his code name as a cool cat name. Fury snorted.

"He's been terrorizing agents." Phil nodded. "You've been letting him." Phil nodded again. "Good."

"You people are weird," Clint determined. "I like it."

"Glad you agree," Phil answered, returning to his food. Clint glanced between the duo before going back to his own food (some chicken and turkey think that the cafe whipped up quick).

"So, how was night one?" Phil gave the Director a bland glare before lifting one of his hands. Fury had the presence of mind to wince. Neither noticed Clint winced as well. "Not good?"

"He got trapped on the cat tree and was scared of my morning alarm. And he's put holes in two of my suits now." Fury snorted.

"You're the one letting him up on your shoulder," Fury argued. Phil sighed. Letting was a very loose term. "How's the information sorting on the lab?"

"They had a few different projects they were working on," Phil informed. Clint stopped eating again to look over. "It appears that Hawkeye had been trying to steal a file within the 'G's but tossed them at our agents in his attempt to escape. We don't know what went with what."

"Well what did you expect me to do? They fucking were aiming guns at me," Clint mewled.

"And we still aren't anywhere close to figuring out what happened with him?" Phil shook his head.

"Camera footage was destroyed by our attempts at blocking our entrance. Hawkeye's things were left in a complete pile, weapons and clothing."

"So, he ran naked?" Fury questioned. Phil sighed.

"No one saw a naked man and Hawkeye's DNA doesn't have the X-gene." Clint gave Phil an odd look.

"You have my DNA?" Clint asked.

"So, you're saying his body just vanished into thin air? Leaving all his stuff?" Fury inquired. Phil shrugged.

"I didn't vanish... I changed species," Clint meowed with a huff. Fury arched an eyebrow and looked over at him. Phil followed his gaze.

"You don't honestly think?" Phil mumbled. Fury shrugged.

"You can find out in an hour. I got his appointment set." Phil nodded as Clint tensed up. Appointment? Wait... They had talked about-

"I ain't going to the fucking VET!" Clint yowled making nearly every agent in the cafeteria turn to look at Fury, Phil and Clint. Clint backed away, intent on running but Phil snatched his hand out, catching Clint's collar. So, Clint did what cats do best. He started to scratch the fuck out of Phil's hand. Again. Phil grunted in pain but refused to let go until finally he got sick of it and forced Clint's head down against the table. Clint fought harder but now his front half was basically useless.

"STOP!" Phil snapped so harshly that Clint instantly froze, stunned. Phil continued to hold him down, making sure that Clint wasn't going to escape. The longer Clint was forced down though, the calmer he began to feel. Phil must have noticed something as he slowly let up the pressure and then began to pet Clint. The archer felt his body shudder but he otherwise didn't move.

"Wow. Didn't expect that," Fury murmured. Phil sighed, looking at his extremely injured hand.

"Well. Least now I know what to do." Clint stayed in a slightly blissed out state for the rest of the time that Phil ate his lunch. He was unconsciously petting the cat with one hand as he did. Fury and Phil chatted about this and that before it was time to leave. Phil glanced over to the cat but it almost looked like it fell asleep. "Huh."

Fury smirked. "Have fun."

Clint came back to himself when he was suddenly placed down on a strange surface. He blinked rapidly, suddenly realizing he had been placed in Phil's car. Surprised, Clint sat up. "Woke back up did you?"

Clint looked over to see Phil glancing down at him with a small smile. The archer turned cat swallowed tightly at the look the agent was giving him. "What?"

"Don't worry. The trip won't be long." Clint mentally frowned. 'Trip?' What the hell was going on? The car started and Phil headed off. Like he said, the ride wasn't that long. He attempted to sit up a bit more and look over the dash to see where they were when he heard a click by the back of his neck. Curious, he turned and looked. A leash had been attached to his collar.

"What the fuck?" Clint meowed even as Phil leaned over and picked him up. When he did so, Clint was finally able to look outside the windshield. First word he read was Veterinarian before he let out a howling yell. "NO! LET ME GO! NO GOD NO!"

Phil expected the freak out and just pulled Clint as tightly to his chest as possible, holding the cat as much as possible. The agent allowed the cat to freak out as he got out of the car and headed toward the building but once on the sidewalk, Phil squeezed just on the verge of crushing force. "Enough."

Clint found himself stilling in surprise once again. Phil held him tight for another moment or so before relaxing his grip enough that it wasn't painful but it also wasn't loose enough for Clint to escape. Not that Clint wanted to now. Once again, he just stayed there. His mind hardly focusing. It took him a moment longer before he realized he had started purring. For half a second Clint thought he should stop as it wasn't okay but then Phil's hand or finger twitched as if petting him and the thought went away.

"Hawkeye!" someone called, busting through Clint's pleased little bubble. Phil shifted and stood as he followed whoever called out. It took Clint a moment longer then he liked before he realized that Phil was carrying him into an exam room. He wanted to freak out but Phil just gently tightened his grip and Clint lost his thought of fighting. Distantly he heard a click of a door closing and then Phil's grip relaxed on him to the point that he was deposited onto a cold metal surface.

"HOLY FUCK!" Clint screeched, yanking his paws off the table so that he could grip Phil a bit better. Phil arched an eyebrow at the action as the nurse winced. "It's cold! I ain't leaving my... My paws on that!"

"Sorry, that must have been cold. I'll be right back," she informed before rushing out. Clint looked up at Phil, pleading to be removed from the area but it was clear the agent couldn't be swayed this time. The nurse returned with a blanket in hand that she stretched out along the table. "There, that should help."

Phil attempted again to put Clint down. To Clint's surprise, the blanket was warm. Almost as if fresh from a dryer. He couldn't help but purr as he relaxed down onto it. The nurse chuckled. "Is that normal?"

"First I've seen it, but each animal is different," she replied. Phil hummed as the nurse turned and set about collecting some things, one of which being a scale. "Okay, lets get this little guy weighed." She picked Clint up, blanket and all before placing him down on the scale. Clint jerked in surprise at the action but didn't try to escape. Weight was okay. She watched the scale as it settled on a number and when she spotted it, she frowned.

"What's wrong?" Phil questioned and Clint couldn't help but stiffen.

"The doctor will have to confirm of course but judging by size, I'd estimate Hawkeye to be around six months old. If that is true, he's extremely underweight." Phil winced. That didn't sound good. With that, she removed Clint from the scale. Clint perked up a bit. He'd always been on the thinner side. Even with the muscles needed for his bow he was thin. But he never expected underweight. Then the nurse pulled out a thermometer and Clint jumped toward Phil.

"Nope! Nope! Nope!" Clint cried. The nurse snorted at his reaction before pulling out a different item.

"What's that?" Phil inquired. The nurse smiled.

"It's a bit nicer to check a temperature by the ear than the rectum," she explained, waving her hand to the other thermometer. Clint relaxed a bit. "If the ear one comes out odd, that's when we check rectally."

"Oh," Phil hummed as Clint cautiously settled back onto the blanket. The nurse arched an eyebrow but reached forward to hold onto Clint's ear. He titled his head a bit, giving her better access. There was a seconds pause before she put the device in his ear and waited. It beeped and she pulled away. Clint just saw the edges of a frown and he booked it up onto Phil's shoulders, somehow shifting underneath Phil's jacket and behind his head. "What the-"

"Oh my," the nurse added. "That... That's usually the reaction we get before we take the temp."

"Odd..." Phil agreed, reaching back to try and grab Clint but he just shifted slightly to get away.

"She frowned, Phil! She frowned! That means something is wrong! I DON'T WANT ANYTHING UP MY ASS!" Clint yowled. Until the nurse admitted that she wouldn't be shoving things up his butt, he wasn't going to get down. Phil sighed deeply, trying to think why Hawkeye would flip out like this. Then it came to him. She had mentioned that if the ear was odd, she'd do rectal.

"You frowned."

"What?" Phil nodded his head to the thermometer in her hand.

"You frowned. What was the temperature?" he repeated. She furrowed her brow before glancing down.

"I mean... It's ninety nine point six which is on the low end and heading into dangerous territory," she mentioned. Clint shuddered. God damn it, he was gonna have to get that thing shoved up his ass. "I'll ask the doc but we might just check again a little later."

"Rectally?" Phil wondered. The nurse shrugged.

"Fuck you and that rectally shit. Ain't gonna happen," Clint hissed.

"We'll try the ear again first," she soothed. Clint shifted himself so that he could see over Phil's shoulder and toward her worried face. "I'm gonna go get the doc and he'll have a better look over. I won't be long."

"Thank you," Phil answered. She smiled and slipped out the door closer to the exam tables. Phil tried to look around at Clint. "Don't like the idea of a rectal?"

"Would you?" Clint grumbled, extremely put out. As the nurse said, she wasn't long.

"I'm Doctor Pool," the man introduced. "I'm assuming Hawkeye is hiding still?"

"Yeah," Phil said, point toward the area Clint had hidden himself in. "He really doesn't want to risk a rectal temperature."

Doctor Pool laughed. "No one ever does. But, if you don't mind removing your jacket so we can get a hold of him?"

Phil was hardly able to move before Clint slowly slunk out and dropped down onto the table, tail curled over his ass. Pool blinked rapidly in surprise. Even the nurse was stunned. Phil sighed. "Couldn't have done that before they showed up?"

"Sorry," Clint mewed.

"Wow. It's like he understood," the nurse commented. Pool pursed his lips but then reached out toward Clint. The archer curled up a bit tighter in fear. Concerned, Phil reached out and stroked Clint's back. He turned and looked up at Phil.

"Sorry," he mewed again before stepped closer to Pool. Phil used that moment to back away and give the vets room.

"How long have you had him?" Pool questioned, now leaning down a bit to be more at Clint's level. Phil sighed. Pool was a S.H.I.E.L.D doctor so he understood that many of the animals brought to him for attention were experiments of some kind.

"We got him yesterday from an AIM raid," Phil informed. Pool glanced over to Phil surprised. "Director Fury found him first and he's been staying with me thanks to Goose."

"Ah, yes. Goose. How is he?" Pool muttered, focusing on Clint again. The archer turned cat tried to stay still this time as Pool reached toward him. When he didn't seem likely to attack, Pool touched him and gently started his routine checks. The nurse stood by, waiting to help if needed.

"Doing good. Healthy. Happy," Phil replied. Pool nodded. Clint did his best to stay calm through the entire check up but any time Pool or the nurse reached for his ass, he flinched away. Smartly, they backed off.

"Okay. I think I'm gonna get a blood sample, I'd love a stool sample at some point and I think we're gonna recheck his temp," Pool declared. Clint stepped toward Phil at the mention of checking his temperature again. Pool's eyebrow arched again before he grabbed the ear thermometer. Clint relaxed a little and like before, allowed the vet to check his ear. It beeped and right away Pool frowned. Clint yelped, running at Phil like a bat out of hell. Phil hardly had a second to react before Clint was up and under his jacket again.

"Really?" Phil hissed even as Pool's attention snapped up to the event. Clint just hissed without words.

"Wow... Um..." the vet smartly stated. Phil sighed.

"Temperature?"

"Oh... Uh... Still ninety nine point six, so it wasn't an error. I'd like to-" Pool started but stopped when Clint began to let out a dark rumbling cry. Phil stiffened. He hadn't ever heard Clint use that tone. It wasn't even close to the one he used on Agent Jessup over the bow. "Well... I guess we can skip that till after we get the other results back."

"Thank you," Phil said and nearly right away Clint stopped with his noise.

"Alright, well. Let me go get a few things and we can get the blood sample and send you two on your way."

Phil laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as he rethought the day over. 'Hawkeye' had been acting extremely odd for a cat. Hell, he didn't even think Goose acted the way Hawkeye did. Right now the cat was curled up and asleep on the pillow beside him, exactly like the night before. He hadn't been able to stop the cat. The blood results could be back in as little as twenty four hours or forty eight. Hopefully things would end up normal. He wasn't sure what he'd do if something was seriously wrong with the cat.

"Jesus..." Phil whispered to the dark as he lifted a hand to rub at his face. "I'm getting attached."

He rolled over onto his side and tried to force himself to sleep. In the end, it didn't work and he smartly turned off the alarm before it could go off and wake Hawkeye. With a soft groan, Phil got up and headed off to the bathroom. Hopefully a shower would help. When he finished and headed back to the bedroom, Hawkeye was missing. Honestly, Phil wished that that made him nervous to some degree but it didn't. Sighing, he got dressed and headed out into the living room. He could not see Hawkeye at first glance.

Then he heard a meow. Curious, Phil looked to the kitchen. Hawkeye was on the counter by the coffee machine. Once the cat noticed Phil was looking at him, he put a paw on the top. Phil blinked a few times, unsure what to do. Hawkeye meowed again and patted his paw on the machine again.

"I'm not giving a cat coffee," Phil finally determined. Hawkeye legit rolled his eyes. "Wait... For me?"

Hawkeye nodded. For a moment longer Phil just stood there. Then he simply shook his head and headed into the kitchen to quickly set to making a single cup of coffee. Hawkeye nodded once he was sure that it was working before heading off. Phil frowned but shook his head and finished getting ready. By that time the coffee was ready. As he got a travel mug, Hawkeye climbed up the back of his pant leg and up onto his shoulder. Phil glanced to the cat.

"Marcus is going to owe me a lot of suits after this."

When they made it back to Phil's job, Clint scampered off of the agent's shoulder and headed off to explore and mess with various agents. Phil gave him a quick glance before shaking his head and continuing onto his office. Meanwhile, Clint found a loose vent cover. He gently pried it open and snuck inside. Pleased as punch, Clint ran, stirring up a crap tone of dust, dirt, danger and things of that like. It took him a decent amount of time before he began to recognize sounds and smells of areas he had passed through. The elevator shaft was the easiest transport between floors and Clint used that to his advantage. He never knew how many people actually were terrified of being in an elevator.

The elevator fun lasted until someone (a Melinda May apparently) actually decided to open the emergency panel and caught sight of him. So, he returned to the gym but from cursory glance, every agent that came in there was on extreme high alert. Well that wouldn't do. And so Clint explored. He found the range and had been half tempted to freak people out down there. But they had weapons. Not the brightest idea. And Clint knew that. He wandered until he found the smelliest passageway. Not smelliest as in it stunk but more it was filled with different scents for clearly different people.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Phil heard a familiar voice scream as he headed down the hall to the briefing rooms. He nearly stopped and turned around but then he heard a smattering of laughter and then a blonde streak raced over to him, up his leg and chest before settling on his shoulder. Sighing, he rounded the bend to see Jasper Sitwell frantically looking about.

"Agent Sitwell, is something wrong?" Phil wondered. Jasper spun to look at him before spotting Clint. If the archer could, he would smile. Instead, he happily purred.

"He's too easy to scare. But he's got the best reactions."

"That damn little creature!" Jasper shouted. Phil arched an eyebrow, waiting to see what was going to happen. Jasper stomped over to them and angrily pointed at Clint. "You should keep better watch on him."

"Oh?" Phil questioned.

"You should keep better watch on what is going around you!" Clint hissed.

"He's a menace!" Jasper called. Phil glanced over to Clint before back to Jasper. "He's been-"

"Scaring the living daylights out of you?" Maria added, walking over. Apparently she had been in the crowd. Jasper turned a little pink. "You'd think a senior agent such as yourself would be better prepared to handle that."

"But-" Jasper started but stopped when Phil nodded.

"If a cat can scare you, maybe you should go back to training." Jasper's face reddened a bit more but rather than argue his point even more, he just spun on his heel and walked away. Maria turned and watched before looking back at Phil and Clint with a snort.

"He really deserved that," she mentioned. Phil shrugged.

"Hell yeah he did," Clint mewed. Phil reached up and started to stroke Clint and the archer relaxed into the petting.

"Congratulations on your promotion," Phil responded. "Level five after only what, four years?"

"Three years," Maria corrected with a small smile before pointedly looking Phil over. "And I know a few other agents that-"

"If you are trying to hint at me then I should remind you that I mostly work in analysis, not leading people. You became a field agent and team leader within your first year, correct?" Phil interrupted. Maria rolled her eyes.

"You should work a bit more in the field. Heard you're pretty good at keeping your cool," she suggested. Phil sighed deeply.

"I'll think about it." Maria nodded before tilting her head to Clint. "This is Hawkeye. We found him at the AIM raid a few days ago."

"And you kept him?" she asked. Phil shrugged, shifting Clint out of his daze.

"Hey! That was comfy."

"Would have gone with Director Fury but he didn't care that much for Goose," Phil informed.

"Would you if you were like half the size and told that he could swallow people whole?" Clint hissed in a pouting tone. Maria arched an eyebrow at the poor excuse. There were a lot of agents that would willingly take care of a cat for a little while.

"He also keeps coming back to me." Clint winced.

"I... I could stop."

"Ah," she chuckled. Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that's it."

"Now, if you excuse me. I have to get to work," Phil told her, lifting the reports he was carrying to the briefing he was about to attend. Maria nodded but turned to walk with Phil. They made it under the vent that Clint had used to scare Jasper. It was still popped open and Phil had two seconds to look up before Clint launched himself off Phil's shoulder and up into the vents. "Well. That explains that."

"That might not be healthy for him," Maria hummed. Phil shrugged. Hopefully the cat would know his limits. Phil continued on with the rest of his day. As he went about his work he kept hearing the whispers of a ghost in the halls and some agents seeing a blonde streak. Phil couldn't help but smirk. It came as a surprise when just before he was going to head to dinner, Clint popped out of the vent above him and landed safely on his shoulder.

"Wha?" Phil began to ask when someone barged into Phil's office.

"God damn it, Phil! Get that stupid cat on a leash," John Garrett ordered. Phil arched an eyebrow. "Stupid thing nearly got himself shot on the range."

Phil glanced over at Clint who had the gall to look proud of himself for not getting shot on the range. The agent shook his head slowly and looked back to John. "So, trained agents couldn't stop themselves in time before hitting an innocent?"

"I was working with the R&D agents," John growled. Okay, that made better sense. Phil sighed deeply and gave Clint a slightly darker look of displeasure. Clint at least seemed to cower a bit at this.

"Sorry... I won't do that again," Clint meowed carefully. Phil pursed his lips but turned to look back at John.

"I don't think we have to worry about it happening again," the agent informed. John arched an eyebrow. "Now, if you'll excuse me. Hawkeye and I are planning on going to get dinner."

The week progressed in much the same manner as the other days. Clint would vanish into the vents as soon as Phil checked them in and he would terrorize whoever he could find. Most notably Jasper and John. John complained much more than Jasper about the entire issue. Maria and Fury thought the entire thing was hilarious. Melinda had gotten a few videos of Clint scaring people. Victoria Hand was 'attacked' once and never bothered again when she not only drew her gun but shot right next to the cat. A lot of complaints followed that day and Clint hid out in Phil's office for a few hours.

At Phil's apartment, Clint continued to 'steal' parts of Phil's dinner. He slept on Phil's bed/pillow. Continued to avoid looking at Phil when the man undressed and the one time he wandered about in just boxers. It took Phil longer then he'd like before he realized that Clint wasn't using the litter box. Somehow, Clint was able to climb the toilet seat, do his business and then flush the toilet. It explained how Clint could stay out of Phil's office for nearly the entire day without having to go as well.

As for Clint. When he wandered about the vents, scaring people, he did his best to avoid high class information. He avoided Fury's office period. Hearing the things the Director knew without actually being an agent would be a death sentence if he ever was changed back. He attempted to type messages out to people a few times. Some, like Phil, just removed him from their desk or office without a second look. Others didn't even glance at his message before deleting it. But the worst were the ones who read it and just laughed or assumed it was someone else and he sat there acting as if he had done it. A few even accused him of being trained in typing certain phrases.

"I swear to god, I'm gonna shoot that cat," Jasper complained as Clint passed over the vent by the man's office. Clint slowed, curious. "Things a fucking menace. I don't care if it's Coulson's at this point."

"Coulson might," an unknown voice replied. Clint snuck over to the opening a bit more to try and look inside. He could only see Jasper though, no matter what angle he tried to use. "Just let the thing have it's fun."

"It never sleeps!" Jasper cried, tossing his hands into the air. The visitor hummed at that but didn't reply. Clint allowed Jasper to complain a bit more before he let out the most horrendous cry. Jasper jumped so high that Clint was surprised he didn't hit his head on the ceiling. Then he looked up toward the vent. Mentally chuckling, Clint bolted before Jasper or his guest could make it to the opening and look inside. Though Clint did catch the echoing sounds of the agent swearing at him.

Pleased with his work, Clint headed back to Phil's office. It should be about time for lunch. Though, when he got there, Phil was missing. "Where did you go?"

He hadn't heard that Phil had a meeting today. And Phil never went to get food without him now. Mentally pouting, Clint turned and sniffed the air. After spending so much time around Phil it was easy to pick the man's scent out from everyone. He was also able to do it with John, Jasper, Maria, Fury, and Melinda as they spent the most time around Phil or Clint memorized it so he could scare the crap out of them. Though, when close enough Clint could also pick out a few more people, mainly the woman who nearly killed him. No way would he mess with her again.

Judging by Phil's scent and the strength of it... Clint knew he wasn't on this floor. That would make it just a tad bit harder to track him down. But he was up to the challenge. Rushing off toward the elevator, Clint focused. As he moved Phil's scent grew a bit stronger. Not enough to say he was there but enough to tell Clint that he was headed in the right direction. Once at the elevator Clint had to not only find the floor but hope that someone stopped on the floor below it. That took longer then he liked. Thankfully, Phil hadn't changed floors in the mean time. Judging by his scent that was.

"And you're certain that they weren't experimenting with animals?" Clint heard from a pathway to his right. Ironically it was not only Phil's voice but the scent had been leading him that way anyways.

"There is no evidence that they were caring for any animals. That's not to say they didn't just collect them and failed their tests the same day," another agent replied. Clint stilled slightly. There was no evidence on what they hit him with? "There is also a note of a possible item transfer so there may be things that aren't in the database that we have."

Phil sighed deeply and Clint simply continued on to the vent and popped it open. The agent and Phil looked up just in time for Clint to jump down onto the table and then headed to Phil. Phil held out an arm rather than allowing Clint to leap onto his chest. Happily, Clint clambered up the limb and onto Phil's shoulder.

"That's one damn smart cat," the agent muttered. Phil gave a small shrug, mindful of Clint on his shoulder. He stood and the other agent gave him a confused look.

"Lunch," Phil explained. The agent blinked rapidly in surprise even as Phil turned and left.

While things at the office had gotten into a good routine, things at the apartment were much different. One would have thought it would be easier. Not much to do other than eat, sleep and watch TV but some nights Phil came home with work. Other nights Phil would read a book rather than turn on the TV. Even more nights Clint found himself unable to sleep the entire time and had sudden bursts of cat energy that had him running all over the apartment.

"No. I don't care how loudly you meow, I am not going to watch Xena. It is my time to choose," Phil argued. Clint hissed, stepping over the remote.

"You had a turn last night," the archer turned cat attempted to remind. Phil shook his head and reached for the remote. Clint swiped his paw onto the agent's hand, keeping his claws under control as he did so. He had gotten pretty good at keeping certain cat traits from appearing. Mainly his claws coming out.

"Hawkeye, give me the remote."

"No."

"Hawkeye, now."

"No! I wanna watch Xena!" Phil sighed and attempted to get the remote again. Clint hissed, his hackles rising. "Fuck off agent man! Remote is mine!"

"Give me the damn remote," Phil snapped and something about his tone, which both Phil and Clint long realized, always made Clint back down. And like predicted, Clint's hackles dropped and he sulked down as if Phil had slapped him. Phil pursed his lips. He hated using that tone on the cat but sometimes it was the only way to get him to listen. "Remote."

Clint sulked backwards a bit so Phil could get the device. When Phil had it, Clint just looked up at him with the saddest gaze. It made Phil exhale deeply. He wasn't going to budge on the show. Tonight was supposed to be a new episode of Supernanny. Xena had a new episode the next day. It made sense for them to trade days. Though, it was clear that the archer turned cat did not agree.

"You'll be fine," Phil grumbled, turning to the TV and tuning onto the channel for his show. To Phil's consternation, Clint didn't seem to calm down from his crouch. Instead, for each minute that passed, Clint seemed to be getting worse. Confused, Phil looked over to him. "Hawkeye?"

Clint legit flinched. Frowning, Phil reached out and stroked the cat. It took a little bit before Clint started to relax again. Something about the whole interaction struck Phil as highly unusual for an animal. But it did twinge something in Phil's mind. He just couldn't place it. Turning back to the TV, Phil let up his petting of Clint and the more time that passed, the worse off Clint seemed to get. By the time Supernanny had finished introducing the family she was going to be working with, Clint had sulked off the couch but Phil wasn't really concerned.

The day after their fight with the remote, Clint didn't seem interested in going to work with Phil. In fact, it took Phil a minute before he realized, Clint had never joined him in bed. Getting ready in a slight daze, Phil wondered what happened. Normally Clint wasn't petty over not getting his way. It took Phil longer than he wanted to admit before he found Clint hanging out at the top of the cat tree, his back to the rest of the room.

"Hawkeye?" Phil called out. The cat didn't move. Slightly concerned, Phil reached up and picked Clint off the tree. Clint hardly seemed to respond. He pulled the cat close and once he held Clint tightly against him, the cat let out a small shudder. "What's wrong, bud?"

Clint didn't answer. Concerned, Phil adjusted his outfit a bit and stuck Clint between his suit and chest. Phil made it all the way to work with Clint being mostly unresponsive in his jacket. It wasn't until he checked in that the agent realized how much Clint had become instilled in his life.

"Where's Little Hawkeye?" an agent asked. The archer turned cat's name had changed over to that by one of the senior agents on the main Hawkeye case. They kept getting confused between the suddenly missing archer and the cat that hung out in the vents. Phil didn't answer though, lost in his own confusion and worry. That wasn't the only agent that asked for Hawkeye either. But Phil didn't answer any one of them. The agent made it all the way to his office and sat down at his desk before he realized he had been followed.

"Melinda," he stuttered. The woman gave him a once over before stepping in and closing the door.

"What happened?" she demanded. Phil sighed and shifted his jacket to show the still unresponsive cat. She arched and eyebrow before walking closer to check him out. "He looks depressed."

"We... As stupid as this sounds, we had a fight over watching TV last night," Phil admitted. She arched an eyebrow and Phil shrugged. "I don't know. I keep finding myself treating him like a human and he tends to respond as such."

"I don't spend a lot of time around him, but... I can take better watch," Melinda suggested. Phil pursed his lips and looked down at Clint. "I mean once he-"

"I'm gonna call the vet."

"Wow," Pool muttered when he caught sight of Clint's state. "I don't think..."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was sub drop," the nurse, who introduced herself as Brenda, mentioned. Pool and Phil looked to her, surprised. "Well. I mean, I've never seen it in animals but by your description of what happened, it was a small scene with you as the Dominant and him the Submissive."

"But..." Phil grumbled, looking down at Clint. The cat had finally started to show some interest in what was going on around him in the past hour or so. Two hours after they first left for the office. Pool sighed.

"Well. Sub drop or not, the cat is depressed. Animals can indeed get depressed and it is just as dangerous to their mental health as it is with humans," Pool explained. Phil pursed his lips, reaching forward and petting Clint. Brenda arched an eyebrow at the action but otherwise didn't comment. "My treatment would likely be what you have been doing already. Keep him close, let him know you are there and care."

"That follows with what could work for a sub drop," Brenda whispered but Phil heard it and sighed. As Pool said, sub drop or not Hawkeye needed to be cuddled. Phil nodded, picking Clint up and returning the cat to the same spot he had been in. When Phil returned to HQ, a lot of agents gave him upset looks but no one asked about Hawkeye. Halfway to his office, Phil was joined by Melinda and Maria. They waited until they arrived at Phil's office.

"So, how is he?" Melinda demanded. Phil sighed as he sat down behind his desk.

"Depressed." Melinda and Maria traded looks.

"That's the official diagnosis?" Maria questioned. Phil nodded.

"Until we get the results from the blood test-"

"Wasn't that like a week ago? It should have been back by now," Melinda interrupted. Phil pursed his lips. He wasn't that ignorant. The tests should have come back to some form or another.

"Well, he was found in an AIM lab," Maria relented.

"Fuck AIM," Clint mewed from inside Phil's jacket. He wasn't feeling good. To be honest, depression was a pretty apt description. He didn't know what sub drop was supposed to be so he couldn't say if that was what was bothering him.

"He speaks," Melinda softly joked. Clint twisted in Phil's jacket to look out at her a bit. Phil place his hand underneath the archer turned cat so that Clint wouldn't tumble out. "Wow. He really does look depressed."

"I'm hoping it won't be long lasting." Clint winced, pulling himself back into Phil's jacket and completely missing Phil's look moments later. The archer could feel the guilt pile down on him. He was causing Phil issues. First with all the attacks on the poor agent. Then getting into trouble, as much as Phil and Fury seemed okay with it all. And now this. He was such a waste of space. "Hawkeye?"

"Come on Mel. Lets leave them be," Maria whispered before the two women turned and left. Phil sighed even as he cautiously shifted his jacket. Clint scuttled deeper and more onto Phil's side. Understanding that Clint just wanted to be left alone, Phil pulled his hand back.

"For what it's worth. I'm sorry," Phil mumbled before getting back to work. By lunch time, Clint had returned to the front of Phil's body. Phil looked down. "You ready to go get some food?"

"Not really," Clint mewled, emphasizing it with a shake of his head. Phil frowned. "You can go."

"I'm sorry," Phil said under his breath. Clint looked up at him for a moment before sliding himself out of the jacket. Phil, eager to see if Clint was feeling better, helped the archer turned cat. Once free of the jacket, Clint launched himself off Phil and before the agent could even realize what was happening, Clint rushed out the open office door. "HAWKEYE!"

Phil scrambled to get to his feet but by the time he made it out to the hall, Clint was gone.

No one heard anything from Clint for the rest of the day. Phil anxiously checked security footage nearly every ten minutes and just about every thirty he ventured around the building. It was distracting for everyone and it was clear that the agent was not getting a single thing done even when he was in his office. By the time Phil would normally leave, Clint still hadn't appeared. Biting his lip, Phil debated what to do. Should he just leave? Should he wait? Should he look for Hawkeye?

In the end the choice was made for him when Clint dropped out of the nearest vent right onto Phil's shoulder. The agent sighed in relief and looked to the archer turned cat. Clint looked a lot messier than he had any of the other days. Phil was half tempted to say something on it all but figured now was not the best time to get nitpicky.

Clint was half surprised when Phil didn't question him. The agent just sighed, gave him a small smile and turned toward the garage like they normally would when leaving. When Clint went to jump into the passenger seat, Phil caught him and instead placed him on his lap. Confused, Clint looked up at the agent.

"What are you-" Clint started to meow but stopped when he saw Phil's face. The agent looked upset. Like he felt guilty over something. Clint looked away. The drive was quiet which was odd. Normally Phil had the radio playing. Clint had preferred the quiet as his ears kept hurting as the higher notes of many of the songs. Upon returning to the apartment, Phil headed to the kitchen rather than changing clothes, even though Clint had jumped off him in preparation. Confused, Clint slowly toddled after.

"I'm thinking of making salmon tonight," Phil informed even as he got out the ingredients. They had learned early on, when Phil ordered some one night, that Clint loved salmon. Clint used the smallish cat tree that Phil had gotten a few days prior to climb up onto the counter. For once, Phil didn't attempt to push him back onto the top of the tree like he normally did.

"What is going on?" Clint curiously chittered. Phil looked to him with a small nervous smile.

"Do you want anything special with it? Rice? Chicken? Broccoli? Carrots? Eggs?" Clint gave him an extremely curious and distrustful look. Something was going on. Something Clint wasn't entirely sure he liked. Phil's smile turned a little pinched. "I'm thinking rice and eggs with maybe some carrots, peas and cucumbers."

All of which were foods that Clint found he was enjoying as a cat. He doubted that he'd like a lot of this when human but then again, he was never picky over what he ate. If it was food, and it filled him up, it was fair game. Though, he had always leaned toward pizza to some degree. "Phil?"

"Want to have a small glass of apple juice? I think I read that that might be okay," Phil added. Clint backed away a bit and sat down on his haunches. As Phil bustled about the kitchen getting things set up, even avoiding pushing Clint aside when it was clear that he was in the way, Clint began to realize what was happening.

"You feel guilty over what happened? But... It..." Clint stuttered, unsure how to explain that it likely wasn't Phil's fault.

"Ah, not juice. Cider," Phil suddenly announced and Clint perked up to see Phil had his phone out. He was using it to find a good recipe for salmon. Clint's mouth dropped open in surprise about the whole thing. Phil was making him an apology meal. A flush of happiness filled his tiny body so much that he just had to speak.

"Oh god... I love you," Clint purred. As soon as it was out, Clint paused. Even though Phil wouldn't understand what Clint had just said, the archer did. Panicked about it, Clint bolted. Phil twisted, shocked at the sudden change in Clint's attitude but he couldn't follow. If he did then the sauce he was making would burn.

Clint had been half tempted to climb up the cat tree and sit up there, watching over everything but he was too panicked. He had just told Phil Coulson, the man watching him as an animal, that he loved him! Clint disappeared into the bedroom and underneath the bed. For the next forty five minutes or something, Clint curled himself up into the smallest ball possible in the back recesses of the bed.

"Hawkeye?" Phil called out. Judging by the volume, Phil must have still been in the living room. Clint curled up a bit tighter. Phil continued to call out for him, his voice getting louder until he was finally in the bedroom. "Hawkeye, come on. Please come out."

Clint said nothing. He did peek up above his tail and watched Phil's feet as the man began to go through the motions of finally changing his clothes. When the agent finished, he walked out of the bedroom and started calling out for him again. Clint refused to budge. It took Phil maybe another fifteen minutes before Clint watched him kneel on the floor and then lay down so he could look under the bed. "Go away."

"There you are," Phil said with a sigh of relief. "You keep hiding from me."

"Yeah. I know," Clint whined. Phil reached a hand out under the bed to help as if Clint was stuck. Clint shuffled further away. A pang of hurt flashed over Phil's face. "Please. Just leave me alone."

"Hawkeye... I'm sorry, please come out," Phil basically begged. Guilt flashed through Clint's small frame. "You're show is gonna be on soon."

Clint winced. That was what had started this whole thing. Phil seemed to get it as he quickly apologized for mentioning it. They stayed like that for a while. Time slipping past. "Your food is going to get cold."

"You ready to come out?" Phil hopefully asked. Clint shook his head no. The action had Phil wince and look away. Clint perked up a bit as Phil pushed himself away from the bed and got to his knees. "I'll leave you alone."

And with that, Phil actually got up and walked away. Clint waited. And waited. And waited but Phil didn't return. Cautiously, Clint crawled toward the edge of the bed frame but still stayed under. Phil wasn't in the room. People always waited. They always waited so that they could catch him. So, where was Phil? Curious, Clint finished climbing out and padded off. When he got to the living room, Clint was stunned to see the place was dark. What happened to Phil?

"Phil?" Clint mewed. He got no response. Had Phil abandoned him? He went further into the room and a scent of salmon wafted toward him. Looking toward the kitchen Clint saw a plate of the dinner that Phil had made was sitting on the floor by Clint's water dish. And the water dish was clearly mixed slightly with apple cider. Confused and scared, Clint headed toward the couch. "Phil?"

Still no response. Clint began to feel panic race through his frame. Where was Phil? He rushed around the end of the couch and stilled. Phil was stretched out on the couch asleep. Clint's mouth dropped in shock. A quick examination showed that this was intentional. Phil had actually chosen this. Rather than bother Clint again in the bedroom, Phil had decided to sleep out here? Love flushed through his system again but this time he didn't panic. Instead, he inched closer before climbing the blanket. Walking across Phil's stomach, Clint was half surprised the agent didn't wake. But it didn't matter. In the end, Clint curled up on Phil's chest and drifted off to sleep.

"Let's go out."

"Excuse me?" Phil questioned, surprised at the sudden interruption of his work. Fury snorted even as Clint perked up from the agent's lap. Since their fight over Supernanny and Xena, neither one of them seriously felt comfortable being separated.

"Go out to get better dinner then the cafe," he reiterated. Phil couldn't help but sigh in relief. The statement had sounded like something more important and Phil certainly did not care for Fury that much. "Why Cheese. Did you think I was asking you out on a date?"

"Sir," Phil muttered in embarrassment even as Fury laughed over any response the agent could have given. Clint felt his hackles rise as the need to defend Phil overcame him.

"Don't make fun of him," Clint hissed. Fury continued chuckling but didn't push it any further as if he knew what Clint was upset about.

"Do you even know of any pet friendly place?"

Fury did know of a pet friendly restaurant. It wasn't even that far away from Headquarters. The opposite direction from Phil's apartment, but it was good. Clint was even able to get some food. Likely not really good food for a cat but like Goose, it was made clear, Clint would not eat cat food of any kind. Being outside of the building, the duo couldn't really talk about work so instead they talked gossip. Most of which revolved around Clint's antics.

"At least he comes back out," Phil mumbled, looking to Clint with a small bit of pride. Fury chuckled. He knew that Phil had needed someone in his life. Never expected it to be a cat from a lab, but still.

"Yeah. He's a pretty smart guy," Fury said before holding a hand out to pet Clint. "Aren't you?" he cooed. Clint stared at the fingers for a moment before slowly stepping forward and allowing Fury to pet him.

"Hell yeah I'm a smart kitty," Clint purred and Fury couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, you are."

"I still can't get over how you turn to jelly around a cat," Phil commented with a snort. Clint looked over to Phil and legit stuck his tongue out at him. That had both men pause before Fury started laughing once again. "I didn't know cats could do that."

"Well, their tongues do stretch out to take a drink. Like a dog, they can extend it quite a distance," Fury mentioned, resuming his petting of the archer turned cat. Clint purred. "Though, that seriously seemed to work well with our conversation."

"Yeah, not like anyone cares," Clint plaintively mewled. "Nope. They all just think I'm a cute little cat."

"That was a lot of meows," Fury chuckled. Phil sighed. He hadn't really spoken to Fury about Clint in a long time. So, he wasn't sure what the Director knew or didn't know. Then again, it was Fury. Likely the man already knew.

"He seems to be trying to talk but I can't understand half of it. I just guess."

"Someone mentioned that he might be trained to type," Fury pointed out. Phil arched an eyebrow and looked to Clint more curiously. Clint looked to him, tilting his head to the side in question. "What?"

"The first day we got back... He tried to use my computer but I forced him off the desk." Now Fury arched an eyebrow and Clint just looked up at Phil, begging him to bring a computer in front of him. Before any more could be said on the subject, Phil's phone rang. He sighed and pulled it out. It was Doctor Pool. "Hello?"

"Hi, Coulson, right?" Pool greeted. Phil hummed in agreement as Fury mouthed 'speaker.' Rolling his eyes, Phil thumbed the speaker button and held out of the phone. "So, I finally got the test results back."

"And?" Phil wondered even as he sighed a bit in relief. It had been closed to two weeks now. Clint walked over, placing his paws on Phil's hands as if the phone was a video call. Smirking, Phil switched the phone to his other hand and curled the hand Clint was on to pet the archer turned cat's stomach. Clint immediately began purring.

"Well... As we possibly assumed due to the cat being found in a lab, the test results came back abnormal." Fury rolled his eye. Of course it would. Phil pursed his lips as well. It had been obvious that it was a high likely hood. "But, the abnormality is what I found extremely strange."

Clint perked up. Could they have found out what happened? "Human DNA?"

"What did you find?" Fury pressed after everyone paused at Clint's meowing. The archer turned cat was now shaking with excitement. Phil chuckled.

"I'm not that kind of doctor but... I think Human DNA." Phil nearly dropped his phone as he turned and stared at Clint, surprised. Even Fury glanced over to the archer turned cat. Clint looked between the duo, his eyes bright. "I'd like to get another sample and certainly a human doctor check everything out."

"Sounds good. When would you like to do this?" Fury wondered.

"I think we should do it in medical, here," Phil interrupted before anyone could speak. Fury arched an eyebrow. "If the DNA really is human, we have records that we can compare to figure out who it might be."

"I'm not sure you'll get a good enough trace of DNA for that," Pool argued and something about the way he said it had the archer get a bad feeling. Clint mentally frowned.

"I don't trust you," Clint mewed darkly. Phil changed began stroking Clint's back. The archer relaxed like he always did.

"I agree with Agent Coulson. If you could come to our headquarters-" Fury started.

"Sirs, I'm not sure I can get away from my work here. I'd appreciate it if you all came to me," Pool informed. Clint perked up again, pulling away from Phil even as the agent frowned at his phone. Even Fury produced a deep frown. "We can meet just after closing so that way no one could bother all of us and we'd have more time to analyze in house."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Clint chittered. Phil reached out to pet him again but he dodged, not wanting to get distracted.

"I'm not so-" Fury began once again.

"Please, sir. I think this might be best," Pool interrupted. Phil looked to Fury and they had a silent conversation that had Clint droop.

"You're planning on going and using me as bait for something," he translated. Phil again reached out and pet him. This time Clint allowed it.

"Okay. We'll meet you, ten minutes after closing?" Phil suggested. Pool let out an affirmative before they said their good-byes and hung up. Clint drifted under Phil's touch. It wasn't much longer after that before Phil picked him up. Carefully, Clint curled himself up into Phil's jacket. One of his newer safe places.

"You want me to take a blood sample... From a cat?" Dr. Streiten repeated in disbelief. Phil and Fury nodded. "You realize-"

"We already have a blood test from an outside source that has indicated a possibility of human DNA," Phil interrupted. Streiten visibly startled before blinking rapidly in surprise. "We will be seeing this outside source a little later today but I wanted to get a head start on checking records."

"I... I guess I can do it. Just... I've never drawn from an animal."

Clint was still glaring at Phil nearly two hours after Streiten had attempted to draw blood from him. In the end, an up and coming bio-chemist took the draw. Poor Clint had been stuck nearly thirteen times in the attempts and it was clear that he wouldn't be forgiving Phil anytime soon.

"I'm sorry. But we needed to get a sample," Phil argued and Fury couldn't help but look over.

"I get that. Doesn't help with the fucking pain," Clint hissed. Phil sighed deeply.

"I know. I wouldn't want to get stuck that many times either."

"You didn't even think to ask anyone else if they could draw blood from an animal," Clint stressed, nearly spitting in his rage. "It's such a simple thing! 'Hey, can anyone draw blood from a cat?' I WOULDN'T HAVE EVEN MOVED!"

"Hawkeye, I'm sorry. But, it shouldn't happen like that again," Phil attempted to sooth. Clint sneezed in disgust before turning his back on Phil. The agent sighed again.

"Did you seriously just argue with a cat?" Fury wondered when neither Phil or Clint added more to their conversation. Phil looked over to Fury with a bland expression. Wasn't the first time they had fought.

"He might not just be an animal," Phil pointed out. Fury snorted. "And besides. We've all been saying that he doesn't act like a real cat."

"That doesn't... You know what, never mind. After this year I shouldn't be surprised," Fury dismissed with a shake of his head. Phil snorted.

"You think me talking to a possibly human-cat odd when you own an alien cat," Phil muttered. Fury growled lightly and Clint turned to glare at the Director. Thankfully, before more could be said on the subject, they arrived at the vet's office. Clint stiffened at the sight.

"Can we just go back to stupid doctor?" Clint whimpered, looking up at Phil with a pleading expression. Phil stroked him.

"It won't take long."

"I'm gonna need to bring him into the back," Pool mentioned, looking Clint over a bit more curiously than before. Phil stiffened, really not liking this part even as Clint turned to give him a pleading look.

"You can't do what you need to do out here?" Phil wondered, exactly according to the script that Fury and him had agreed upon. The one downside that Phil thought of this plan was that Clint didn't know and it was clear before that he had abandonment issues. Pool shook his head, standing a bit straighter but not releasing Clint.

"No, please. Phil, don't let him take me," Clint whined, scrambling against the slick table a bit in an effort to get away from Pool. Phil glanced down at him and got a quick pinched expression before it soothed out to the same curiousness as before.

"I have some equipment in the back that can't be moved," Pool informed. Phil pursed his lips now. He almost couldn't believe that Pool was falling for this whole thing. But, Pool wasn't a spy. Hopefully. Phil 'sighed.'

"Okay, I guess. But, don't be long. I have an appointment for him back at HQ," Phil replied, pointedly stating that this might be Pool's last time with Clint.

"PHIL! PLEASE! LET'S JUST GO BACK! I'LL GO THROUGH WHATEVER TESTING YOU WANT!" Clint yowled, scrambling a bit harder and twisting to scratch the shit out of Pool as much as possible. Issue with that was that Pool was used to being scratched so he hardly reacted. Phil though, he winced. Pool smiled.

"Okay, I'll just be a bit," Pool stated as he picked Clint up off the table. Clint let out a yowl of displeasure that didn't translate into any word.

"Hawkeye, I promise, I won't leave without you," Phil called, stressing the fact that he wouldn't abandon the archer turned cat. Clint still howled, begging Phil to get him. The noise made Phil wince and he felt nearly as guilty as the day they had fought and Clint dropped into a depression. Pained, Phil tightened his hands into fists in order to stop himself from chasing them. So, of course, that was when he phone rang. It was Fury.

"I'm assuming all that noise was Little Hawkeye?" Fury questioned. Phil hummed. "I'm sorry we had to do it this way."

"We don't even know who he is," Phil whispered. Fury sighed.

"I know. Our people are working as fast as they can but there is only so much we can do to speed up the process." Phil sighed, using his free hand to rub his face when suddenly the noise cut off.

"Marcus."

"I heard. Agents, move in," Fury ordered. Phil headed to the door Pool and Clint had vanished down as he drew the gun he had in a shoulder holster. He kicked it open, raising the gun to defend himself if need be. The hall was dark. Phil stepped through, cautious. He was admittedly startled when something started barking at him. Looking over, he realized. This was still a veterinarians office. Of course there would be actual animals in the back waiting for treatment or receiving treatment. The noise suddenly appeared on the other side of the place and Phil aimed his gun that way just in time to see Melinda step forward, full tac gear, aiming a gun at him.

"Did you see him?" Phil demanded. Melinda shook her head and they both looked around. Where had he gone?

Clint woke, disoriented and confused. His body hurt and it was clear that he had been drugged at some point. But, what happened? An image flash of Phil giving him a promising look as he was escorted out of a room. That jerked him up onto all fours. Shit. He was still a cat.

"Ah, awake I see," a strange voice cooed. Clint jerked over to look. A guy dressed in a yellow hazmat suit stood before him. A head covering making it that Clint didn't know who was there. But he did know one thing... Only AIM wore outfits as stupid as this. "Pleasure to meet you."

Clint said nothing, not wanting to give this guy any ammunition. He was half tempted to meow and act like a real cat, try to demand attention and all that shit but, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Phil said that he wouldn't leave him. And he hadn't lied to Clint before. All Clint could do was trust that the agent would come. If not for him then for the information as to how AIM turned a person into a cat.

"It was interesting to learn that one of our shelved projects actually was successful to some degree." Clint narrowed his eyes. 'Some degree?' What were they trying to do? "Oh, we've tested it before. But, the subjects tended to... Well, explode."

"What?" Clint help but squeak. The man chuckled.

"I knew that would get a response." Clint's eyes narrowed once again and this time he added in a low growl. "Oh, it wasn't a lie! They did explode. Some even simply just passed away."

Clint swallowed tightly. This wasn't looking good for him in any capacity. The man began spouting away like any typical villain in a monologue. But Clint wasn't sure he'd have back up swoop in and help get him out. In the end, the monologue lasted so long that Clint actually fell asleep again. Only reason he knew that... He was rather rudely interrupted when he was roughly nabbed but the scruff of his neck.

"LET ME GO!" Clint hissed and spat, swinging about as best he could to try and scratch whoever was holding him. It didn't work. Seconds later though, he was dropped into a glass cage with a bowl of water and a bowl of cat food. He snarled, growling at anyone and anything that moved around him.

"We should get rid of that god awful collar," someone informed. Clint panicked. NO! He didn't want Phil's collar removed!

"NO! FUCK OFF!" Clint howled when hands reached in to grab him. Considering he hadn't really wanted it in the first place, loosing it now felt... Well, it almost felt like someone was cutting a finger off or something. He couldn't stop them and when he heard the snip and saw a flash of it pass by his face, Clint felt defeat and he dropped, limp.

"What the hell?" someone called but Clint didn't care anymore. He lost his last link of someone possibly caring about him. His last hope that Phil might come help him. Clint's mind faded into darkness. He knew people were touching him, hurting him but he stayed unresponsive. Time passed. Tests were done, he was sure. Some times it hurt. Some times it didn't. Then, finally, a voice broke through.

"Clint! Clint, come on kid," the voice cried. Clint blinked a bit, trying to come back to awareness even as his body felt like the entire thing had pins and needles in it. He knew that voice. Knew that he wanted to follow it. But it was just so hard. His world faded to black.

"Barton!"

Clint jerked to attention at the dominate sounding voice, stunned as his eyes snapped open to see Phil Coulson was looked down at him. The man sighed in relief before reaching forward. Clint closed his eyes, pressing his skin against Phil's hand. Wait. His eyes snapped open again and this time, Phil chuckled.

"They fixed you. You're human," Phil soothed. Clint smiled and mouthed 'yay,' his vocal cords refusing to work properly. The thing bothered him a bit more than he'd like to admit. Did they not do it correctly? Was he still part cat in some way? Phil sighed, placing a hand on Clint's shoulder. "You just spent nearly a month as a cat. The doctors think you may need to relearn a few things like talking and walking."

'Boo,' Clint mouthed, a soft little squeak accompanying it. Phil snorted. 'You came.'

"What?" Phil asked, confused at the change of topic. Clint sighed.

'You came.' It took Phil a moment before he realized what Clint was saying. Since they learned that Little Hawkeye was the actual Hawkeye, Phil's read Clint's file over and over. He knew a lot of it but when he had been taken off the case to deal with apparently the archer turned cat, he missed out on some of the new information gathered. Most of which revolved around Clint's past.

"I told you that I would," Phil mumbled. Clint gave him a small smile as exhaustion took over. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Smiling a little himself, Phil placed a hand on the archer's shoulder. "Don't worry. You're safe here. No one else can get you."

Clint opened his mouth to say something but he couldn't do it. His eyes closed and he drifted off. "You hardly know him."

"Marcus," Phil huffed, turning to see Fury standing in the doorway to Clint's room. Fury furrowed his brow for a moment before sighing deeply.

"You want to keep him?" Phil looked back to Clint and then back to Fury before nodding. "He's gonna be a pain in the ass."

"I know. Though, I have apparently spent nearly a month with him." Fury snorted as Phil turned back to look at the sleeping archer. "This explains so much about his behavior."

"And the missing archer from the lab," Fury added. Phil nodded. "I'll leave you to your vigil. But, I will return to give you a break."

"I figured."

When Clint came too again, he knew someone was at the side of his bed. But it wasn't Phil. A pang of hurt flashed through him even as he opened his eyes to see Director Fury was sitting there. The man glanced up at Clint's attention. "Clint Barton. Aka Hawkeye."

Clint winced. Of course they already knew who he was. And he had heard enough about the mission to find him that he knew what was likely to come next. 'How long?'

"How long, what?" Fury wondered, a little shocked at the archer's response. Clint rolled his eyes.

'How long till you kill me?' Clint mouthed, his voice cracking as he actually attempted to speak. If he was going to have his last words soon, he wanted them to be actual fucking words. Fury sighed.

"We never were to start with." Clint furrowed his brow. That's not what he heard before. "I'd like to offer you a job."

Clint saw little of Phil after Fury offered the job. The agent had attempted to visit once but was denied based on the fact that Fury wanted Clint to make his decision to stay without Phil being involved. Making a contract with the Director over what he could and couldn't do was simple in the long run. Clint refused to do any mission without complete and detailed reasons as to why. He would also get at least two days to watch the mark before making the shot. Guard dog duty was not to be a close up event but Clint didn't outfight refuse to ever do it. Honey pot (seduction missions) were to be limited and if needed, he'd prefer men. (That shocked the crap out of the person helping make the contract.)

And the most important of all. Clint didn't want to work with Phil until he had worked with at least one other person. Fury tried to argue this bit. He knew that Phil and Clint would be a force to be reckoned with and Phil had already stated his interest. But Clint argued it was much like why Fury didn't want Phil around before the writing of the entire contract. He needed to see how Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division worked without Phil being around.

After the contract was written out, Clint expected to see Phil again. But the agent didn't show. Clint tried to hide his disappointment. He spent the rest of the week in medical, working on getting rid of the guttural and unnatural way he spoke. Nearly having to relearn how to walk and eat. And overall get used to the lack of general senses he had gotten used to. It was surprising to Clint that he had adjusted to the new senses faster than getting them removed. Though, one thing was mentioned in his chart that no one assumed Clint knew about. The archer kept reaching for his neck as if the ghost of a feeling was on it.

Clint's first handler after being released from medical was nothing like the archer expected. The man seemed to have gotten some sort of judgement over him prior to meeting him. He didn't know exactly what the judgement was but whatever it was meant that the man tried to enforce dominance over him. With each moment, Clint not only fought and disagreed with the order, he also unconsciously rubbed his neck.

His next two handlers weren't much better. It was on one of his latest missions that Clint learned over the BDSM world. Their mark was a Dom that tortured women under the guise of them being a Sub. But the thing that intrigued Clint the most was the collar that wrapped around many of the men and women that entered into the BDSM club that the mark was part of. The archer's neck was a nice red by the time they returned from that mission.

"Enter," Phil called when he heard the knock on his door. He didn't even look up as the agent stepped into the room.

"Collar me." Phil paused in his work, shocked.

"What?" he asked, slowly looking up to see Clint staring at him. They hadn't seen each other since that first day in Medical when Clint woke. It wasn't that they avoided each other, they just never took the time out to find each other. But, even though he hadn't seen Clint in a while or even as a human, Phil could see that the archer's eyes were showing a hint of panic. Clint swallowed tightly.

"Collar me," he repeated. Phil tilted his head to the side. So, he had hear the archer correctly. Phil didn't think he ever had someone ask that, even for a mission. "I... I think I need it."

"Think?" Phil wondered. Clint nodded. "Why?"

"Damn it... I spent a fucking month or so with a damn collar around my throat as a cat. I just got back from a mission where Medical told me to stop touching my neck. I tried on my own to put something there but it wasn't the same," Clint snapped before tossing something onto Phil's desk. It was a simple leather collar with red, clear and blue gems designed into a circle positioned an equal distance apart. The circle design and color was reminiscent to Captain America's shield. Phil stared at it, shocked. "Please."

Phil's attention snapped to Clint. The day after Fury refused him to enter Clint's room had been a tough one for Phil. So much so that the next day, Melinda tossed a book at him. BSDM For Dummies. Phil hadn't been sure if he was insulted by the title or not but reading it, the agent learned he had gone through something like a 'top drop.' It had only lasted the day and the rest had just been simple depression from now being alone. He had gotten so used to Little Hawkeye coming home with him. So used to it that Phil was still accidentally preparing two meals rather than one. Phil swallowed.

"Will this just be a collar only or-" Phil started before dropping off with a small blush. Clint swallowed, understand what Phil was asking. Did they want to take their relationship into actual BDSM events other than just a collar.

"I... I don't know, sir," Clint stuttered but strongly said 'sir.' Phil and Fury were the only ones he really said that too. But saying it now had a shiver run up his spine. Phil's eyes dilated just slightly. "It is something I could consider if... If we need it."

"There is a high chance that I may need more. Does that bother you?" Phil wondered. After learning he had gone through 'top drop,' he had gone to a nearby club and... Well, he got lessons. He was taught the basics of being a Dom. Even of being a Sub. Taught (not that he needed it) how to make pain but not cut if his Sub liked that sort of thing. Taught what to look for in drops for either side. Taught how to control the scene. Basically taught everything and anything that might arise. After going through all that, Phil seriously learned that being a Dom was something he rather enjoyed and helped relax him. To both of their surprise, a shiver ran down Clint's body that visibly shook him. Phil smirked and stood. "Do you know what you are getting into?"

"Not..." Clint began before pausing to breath and then swallow. The agent took a few steps around his desk, getting closer to Clint. "Not really."

"I'm not sure I can collar you until you know," Phil muttered, pausing in his walk. That was a main thing Phil had been told about. Make sure your partner understood what you were each promising the other. Phil didn't feel comfortable with the idea that Clint didn't know what was coming.

"I mean... I get the whole principal of the thing but... I've never..."

"Personally gone through it?" Phil finished. Clint nodded. "We may have accidentally done it a few times when you were a cat."

"What?" Clint questioned, surprised.

"When I would give you sharp orders," Phil reminded. Clint swallowed.

"It relaxed me," the archer softly admitted. Phil's lip twitched the tiniest amount.

"Meet me at the garage tonight. When we used to normally leave." Clint's eyes dilated at the tone Phil used but nodded. Phil nodded back and turned his back on the archer and sat down at his desk. Clint furrowed his brow, his eyes twitching to the collar he had brought. Phil arched an eyebrow. "I will collar you if you'd like... After you understand."

Phil collared Clint a week later and the archer was right. It calmed him down immediately. That started the beginning of their epic carrier together.