A Forewarning
They were gathered in the training room when Clint walked inside. Clint didn't particularly like the new agents—they were too cocky, too sure. Not at all prepared to meet their sparring teacher. But he thought they deserved to know the force of nature that they would be dealing with.
All eyes turned to him as he entered. A couple of the male agents—probably in their mid-twenties—crossed their arms smugly, waiting for Clint to speak.
"This is our sparring teacher?" one said. Clint ignored it.
His eyes scanned the room before starting.
"To put an end to your curiosity; no, I am not your sparring teacher."
A sigh of relief waved across a small part of the group. The rest of them stared at him, expressionless and cold. Tough crowd.
"Your teacher is a force to be reckoned with. She will not hesitant to pin you to the floor in seconds, and she doesn't like surprises. When she arrives, I expect you all to treat her with respect. She is a person of authority; also, she can kill a man in about eighty different ways."
He heard a scoff from his audience, and stepped forward.
"You, what's your name, agent?" Clint said.
The man stepped forward. "Byron. Agent Byron."
"Well, Agent Byron. Do you have anything to add to what I just said?"
"No, sir," he replied coldly.
"Good, I'll be on my way then. Just wanted to wish you all luck and—"
"What do you think you're doing here?" said a voice from the entrance.
Clint didn't even bother to turn. He gazed in amusement at the faces of the new agents. Some were cracking from the impassive façade, others seemed skeptic. Agent Byron—oh, Agent Byron—was busy giving Natasha a shameless once over.
Clint felt a hand on his arm. He looked at her, and grinned.
"Just giving your students a forewarning," he admitted.
"How thoughtful of you," she said in that deadly sarcastic way of hers.
"I'll just be leaving now—" Clint started, but Natasha stopped him.
"Actually, I'd like to use you as an example, so not to too badly injure any of these fresh young folks." She smirked.
"Nat…" he murmured, too low for anyone but her to hear, "C'mon…"
"Please stand in the centre, if you will, Agent Barton."
"I will not." Clint protested.
A wicked grin appeared on her face, and before he knew what had happened, he was on the floor below her, with her foot jammed between his shoulder blades. From the new agents, he heard an intake of breaths.
"Rule number one," she said loudly, enough for everyone to hear. "You will do as I say. And if you don't, I'm sure Agent Barton here can remind you of what happens next."
She released Clint and he got to his feet.
"You're kind of embarrassing. These kids will never take me seriously after that."
She reached up to peck him on the cheek.
"I'll see you this evening, Agent Barton."
Clint let out a laugh. "Does this mean you finally agree to let me take you on that date?"
She sent a punch flying at his arm. Hard enough to leave a bruise, but lighter than her usual ones.
"You mean the one you asked…three months ago? Yeah, I am."
Clint was satisfied. He left Natasha to her class then, and once he reached the doors, he glanced once more over his shoulder to see her sending Agent Byron to the floor.
Kids, he thought, they never listen.