1963-12-26 - You'll do
Summary: Bobbi challenges Barney to a spar. When he wins, she not so much offers him a mission but more recruits. He's less than honored.
Related: I'll find them.
Theme Song: None
bobbi barney 

Barney follows Bobbi through the corridors, a light whistle on his lips as he does. He does open the door for her, when and if she lets him, that is. While he had so little time with his mother, at least there are some Midwestern traits that are buried deep in that man's makeup. Doors. Please and thank you. And never, ever strike a lady.


When they get down to the sparring arena, Barney's not got sweats or anything to change in to. He simply takes his jacket off and rolls up the sleeves of his pull-over. Fingers run through his hair to get it out of his eyes; his hair is growing in from the last haircut he got, making him look a little shaggy. Doesn't help that he didn't shave this morning either.

"Okay, darlin'… you said you'd kick my ass. I'm here to get it kicked." He sounds like he's going to enjoy it?


The blonde agent shot him a look when he actually opened a door, and she let him the first two times before she made a point of opening the doors on her own. "I get that you're some country boy with some idea that ladies can't open doors, but I'm hardly what anyone would call a 'lady', Barton." She offered dryly.

Bobbi hadn't even been in anything more than her sweats before, and once they were on the training mats, all she did was pull off her sweat-shirt and comb her fingers through her hair, tying it off in a ponytail.

A stretch above her head with her arms, and she rolled her neck around once. A smirk was on her face and she didn't so much as pause before she was lunging at him, a fist swinging at his face in a deflection before she dropped to her feet to try to sweep his legs out from under him.


Barney doesn't go through any warm-up activities. It's not that he's being cocky, but he simply doesn't. There isn't any goading now from his side; though, granted, psych-outs are completely acceptable in order to win. He's not doing that either. He's put himself into a position of weakness on the onset; he doesn't hit ladies, and he's not about to start now. Even in sparring. "Aw, hell.. unless you're a guy under all that amazing work, you're a lady."

So, he stands there, waiting. It's when she makes her attack that Barney moves away at the very last minute, though not before a little bit of contact is made with his face. It's not a solid shot, but there's something there. (Maybe he's playing with her?) Barney moves with it, and by the time Bobbi is heading for a sweep, he's moved his feet just little way out. In the next moment, at the apex of her swing, he's moving in again in order to push her off balance. Not only is there a move for a shove, but also a catch and should he catch her? He'll drop her in the next breath.


It was close, so very close. She could feel the breath of air ghost of her as she rose from her half crouch. "Never been accused of that before," She grunted, as he tips her off balance and she stumbles back.

"Too good at kicking ass." He caught her scoring purchase on her arm as she tries to pull back to catch her balance.

Then she was falling backwards onto the mat with a sharp exhale of breath. He'd actually knocked her over!

Then she was kicking out at his ankle, trying to sweep him onto the floor as well, before she pushed herself back up. Her hands up and held defensively. A glitter of intent in her gaze.


"Okay, not too bad," Barney murmurs as he gets his bearings. He's not gloating at the fall; his is a game of defense, when all is said and done. Bobbi can probably recognize the motions, or at least the intent.

He reaches forward in order to help Bobbi to her feet, at least offer to give her a hand when he's swept to the floor. He lands on his stomach with a *whuff* before he's turning over and making the grand attempt to roll out of the way of any oncoming kicks. On the ground is not the best place for him to be, but he hasn't yet pushed himself up for some reason. A trap? A feint?


Bobbi paced, breathing in through her nose and out her mouth. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow and she waited for him to get to his feet, not pressing her attack. "What need a hand up?" She called, watching him.

Blue eyes watched him like a hawk, waiting for him to get up. If he did, she'd press her seeming advantage. If he didn't?

She'd finally move and offer him a hand.


There. The hand up, and Barney's taking it, pulling ever so slightly for that balance to bring himself to his feet in a very natural looking move. In the next second, however, he's overpulling and suddenly throws himself onto his back, bringing his feet up so he can dig them into her stomach and launch her across the sparring deck in a single move. Should he succeed (or even fail!), he'll be back on his feet in a heartbeat, watching, breathing deeply, drawing air before he coughs. (He's a smoker!)


A roll of her eyes follows as he makes her offer a hand by virtue of not getting up himself. But beyond that she didn't have much of a chance to contemplate what a pain in the ass the Barton was before his feet landed home and spent her flying back on the sparring mats. She landed in a roll, even if the wind was knocked out of her by the stunt. A grimace pulled at her lips and she rubbed a hand against the flat of her stomach.

"Low blow Barton." She grumbled, straightening with a grunt.


Barney watches the end of that roll, and he strolls to the side of the mat now, patting himself down for a cigarette. He'd left the pack back at the desk, and he mutters a soft curse. "You good?" He's done. "You okay?" The second question seems a little more genuine; particularly when she's rubbing her stomach.

When Bobbi complains about his tactics, he offers a good natured shrug. "I'm out there in the city every day. Sometimes I have to take fire escapes home, sometimes I have to beat someone down in order to get away." Doesn't always kill! "You just have to be a little less willing to dive into an attack. Defense is where you're strongest." At least that's how he sees it.

"Buy you a drink?"


Bobbi stops rubbing her stomach in favor for crossing her arms. "I'm fine," She muttered, rolling her shoulders before she moves to pluck up her sweatshirt and toss it on over her arms. She undid her ponytail, a grimace pulling on her lips as she shook out her hair.

"I had to charge you, to test out if you could move as quick as I need. Director won't let me take on the Winter Soldier mission without someone as back up. Not after he broke my leg last time." She made a face.

"We don't have any senior agents on staff that aren't already on mission. So, you'll do as back up if you want it." She cracked her knuckles and turned to face him again.

"A beer sounds good."


Barney pauses and stares at Bobbi for a long moment. He looks down, away, his jaw tightening, the muscles there tensing for a moment before, "Darlin'.. I have the entire fucking FBI looking for me to kill me, and I am still standing here, right in front of you. I've got a file as thick as your arm, most of it unreadable but for a few people, an' you wanna know if I'm good enough to go on a goddamned mission? You should'a just asked me."

Now, Barney shakes his head and he's ready to leave the small gym. "Talk to Clint. He's the field agent in the family. Not me. I'm the guy who pulls a trigger. You want him dead, fine. I got that. You want him in to face some sort of bullshit, feel good justice? You got the wrong man."

He nods soon after that little bit passes, and Barney takes a step forward to open the door for her. "Beer sounds fine." Even if he's not a drinker. "I'm buyin'."


Bobbi walked along side him as he starts to leave the small workout room. "I need someone as my backup. I'm not asking you to do anything other than have my back." She eyed him side long.

"Your brother is no long with Shield, and this is our mission. As far as I'm concerned, he's as unavailable as a deadman. The ghost," As they stepped out of the room. "Knows my face and isn't expecting me to be up and around. So we have surprise against him. He's fast, strong and clever. My training methods were prepared to hunt him down, and all manner of things. I'm a spy first and foremost. I need someone that can think out of the box. Outside of my training. You're the closest I've got."


Barney stops in the hall as they talk, and he keeps his voice down, but it's no less intense now. "I'm tellin' you. You don't want me. You want Clint. You want someone outside the organization. Yeah, yeah.. that's me too. I'm about as far away from this damned agency as my brother is. The moment I can figure out a way to get the goddamned collar off and stay alive, you better be sure I'll be doin' it. But until then?" He shakes his head. "Winter Soldier is a big fucking deal. People die.. and I'm not about to get my ass locked up if you go and get yourself killed. He gets one look at you and he's gonna know you're gunnin' for him. Doesn't even have to be a visual. It's technique. It's set-up. Those guys study." Barney pauses and leans against the wall, his hand rising to run fingers through his mussy hair, only to have it fall back into his eyes. "Look. What would you say if I told you there's a contract on one of their asses, and I'm the one workin' on it. Someone wants him dead.. and I don't particularly care."


A brow arched upwards as Bobbi continued to stride out of the headquarters along side him. When he stopped, she did as well, head bent toward him. "Listen, standing orders are to bring him in alive." She whispered, and jutted a finger out toward him.

"I've read a good portion of your files. You're here and working because of your brother having been a good agent. Everyone gets that. You want to get free from your chains? Then step up and do something good. Otherwise you'll end up hanging yourself on that leash. You want to talk about how dangerous that guy is? I nearly died and he wasn't even gunning for me. I'm not out on the ground looking for him because he knows my face. Do you know how worthless that makes a spy? And yet I've been pitted up against one of the worst nightmares of several intelligence agencies. And I'm not backing down."

She leaned away, eyes narrowed. "I'm going after him and I'd rather not put one of junior agents as my backup." As he spoke of a contract, however her lips pursed.

"I'd say I want a damn beer before you go into detail."


"I'm here because the Director wants to be able to send someone out in the field and have them taken out without anything ever coming back to her agents." Barney says it so matter of factly that it almost sounds believable. "That's what I do. I take out inconvenient people for a living." His voice remains low, and his eyes are dead set against her own. "And I sleep fine at night after doin' it, too." He pauses before, "Takin' people in alive just ain't my thing."

A long exhale escapes the man before he leans against the wall. A hint of a smirk rises from him before, "'Cause either they or you are gonna die if you do that. Probably both." He knows the score. "I'll watch your sweet ass.. your back, darlin'. Just don't give me a shot on him because I'll take it." There's a whole lot of money involved there.

Barney starts again along the corridor and when they make it back to the bullpen, he grabs his pack of cigarettes and matches. "Somewhere out of the way. I don't feel like gettin' in bar fights tonight."


"I don't give a shit about how you sleep at night or not. I've done things in Shield's name before that would make most people shit themselves. I'm a spy. I do jobs that make even some of the more hardened agents wince. I get the job done." She folded her arms, matching his gaze evenly.

"I won't lose sleep if he goes down. But he /is/ a source of information, if we can manage to bring him, then he might lead to more higher ups in Russia. Think of /those/ contracts."

Then she was leaning away as he started down the hall, grabbing her coat as he grabbed his smokes.

"Come over to my place, I've got a mini bar. Fully stocked. There are benefits to being on payroll."


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