Coulson skimmed through the report that Fury had sent over to him. God, what has Stark done now? he thought rubbing his hand over his head. He grabbed his pen, fully intending to respond to the report when a sound above his head caught his attention.
Clang.
"Tasha!" a voice hissed. Coulson rolled his eyes. How many times have we told Barton that the air vents are not a viable form of transportation? If Coulson listened just close enough he could barely hear the sound of his two favorite assassins sneaking around above his head. The slight shuffling was moving in the opposite direction from Coulson's office in the direction of...Oh they are so dead! Coulson threw his pen down and rushed off in the direction of the recruit's training room.
The aforementioned assassins were indeed crawling through the air vents, but contrary to Coulson's belief, Barton wasn't the instigator this time.
"Natasha," Clint whispered, "this is a terrible idea." His partner shot her trademark glare over her shoulder at him.
"C'mon Barton, learn to live a little." He stuck his tongue out at her and gave her a little shove. Without hesitation she flicked her leg out and kicked him lightly in the shoulder.
"Ow!" he cried softly, "Tasha!" He could practically hear her rolling her eyes in the darkness. They finally reached their-or rather Natasha's-intended destination. She grinned as she shifted the air vent cover just enough to give her a view of the room below. She put her hand out in Barton's direction and, sighing, he placed a bag into it.
"You can get out now if you're scared of Coulson," she told him, her tone and face daring him to stay. It was Clint's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't move an inch. Smirking, Natasha pulled one of the objects out of the bag and dropped it through the open air vent.
Coulson burst into the training room, expecting it to already be in shambles. Much to his surprise, he found it neat and orderly, completely business as usual. So where did...just then, his comms crackled with the terse voice of Maria Hill.
"Coulson we have a situation in the mess hall." Damn, thought Coulson, I thought I had them this time. He snorted as he spun out of the training room. I should know by now that's never gonna happen.
Clint pressed his hand to his ear.
"Coulson's on his way," he told Natasha, "time to go." She pulled back, grinning at the carnage that she had caused below. She slid the cover back into place and turned to go back the way they had come.
"I don't think so," said Clint, blocking her way, "you dragged me into this, so you get to come along with me now."
"Clint-" Natasha started to protest but Clint grabbed her wrist and started dragging her off in the opposite direction.
Coulson stepped into the mess hall and immediately had to duck as a tomato came flying at his head. Barton and Romanoff are so dead, he thought murderously. The ground and walls were covered with splatters of food. They started a damn food fight! He pushed them out of his mind for the moment; first he had to stop this mess. But I will kill them later.
"HEY!" Coulson yelled. Everyone in the room froze, some mid-throw.
"My bad," said Coulson sarcastically, "I thought that this was S.H.I.E.L.D., not the CIA."
"Barton, where the hell are we going?"
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" He sent her his annoyingly boyish smile. He kept pulling her along until finally he stopped.
"Here we go-" Clint put his weight on the cover that he had stopped at; forgetting that he had left it loose on his last visit. He fell through the ceiling. Natasha started to laugh until she realized that Clint still had an iron grip in her wrist and she was pulled head first through the vent after him.
"Barton!" She growled as they both landed in an awkward tangle on the floor.
"Um..." Clint's entire face was red and Natasha pushed herself off of him and started to look around the room Clint had brought her to. She was about to take a step forward when a foot wrapped around her ankle and brought her tumbling down.
"Damn you Barton," but she didn't really sound angry as Clint encased her in the circle of his arms. He grinned cheekily and pressed his lips to hers, pulling away quickly, a blush creeping up his neck. Natasha raised her eyebrows at him, not saying anything for a moment. Clint looked away, but Natasha pulled his face back over, resuming the kiss that he had broken off.
"What is this place anyway?" She asked when they broke apart, all frustration draining from her voice.
"Hawk's nest," answered Clint, silencing her with his lips again. She pulled him closer to her, deepening the kiss. Clint smiled against her mouth.
"You really have those?" Natasha tipped her head back to look at him. She had heard about Clint's supposed hideaways from some of the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but until now she had sort of doubted their existence.
"Obviously," said Clint, pointedly looking around at the small alcove they were in.
"Where is this anyway?" asked Natasha.
"Northwest wing, just above that little broom closet." Clint grinned, "I figured that they probably didn't need all this extra ceiling space so I made a few improvements."
"I'll say," murmured Natasha, leaning in to kiss him again. All of a sudden they both jumped, startled by a pounding coming from beneath them.
"Barton I KNOW you are up there and if you don't have your ass down here in less than a minute I swear I will have you pulled off of active duty faster than you can shoot!" Both agents winced as the sound of their handler reverberated through the nest.
"Damn," said Clint, pulling away from Natasha.
"And Romanoff wipe the smirk off your face-the same goes for you!" Natasha's grin melted at Coulson's words.
"проклятие," she muttered. A sudden smile flitted across Clint's face.
"So are we going the short way or the long way?" He asked, grinning devilishly. Natasha gave him a wary look and opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out he reached behind him and hit a button that she hadn't really noticed before. The floor gave way beneath them and for the second time that day they both fell into a tangled pile. This time however, they found themselves staring up into the very angry face of Phil Coulson.
"My office. Now."
A few minutes later, Clint and Natasha were standing in front of Coulson's desk, trying their best to look properly abashed and both failing miserably.
"…completely irresponsible and totally inexcusable behavior!" Coulson glowered at both of them. "I expect better than this from my top senior agents."
"We can't be senior agents all the time, Coulson," mumbled Clint.
"Is that a challenge Barton?" Coulson fixed Clint with a death stare, "because if it is, I will have both your asses on training detail for the next year." Clint shook his head and Coulson raised an eyebrow at him.
"No, sir," answered Clint, looking down. Coulson nodded.
"Then get out of here," he told them, "And if I hear so much as a whisper about the two of you in the next 24 hours I will pull your active status for an indeterminate amount of time." Both agents nodded and quickly fled Coulson's office. Natasha turned to the right, starting in the direction of their quarters, but Clint grabbed her arm.
"What?" she asked.
"You heard Coulson; he doesn't want to hear a whisper about us."
"And?" Clint looked up at the ceiling. Natasha followed his gaze, taking in the air vent that was right above them. She shook her head.
"We can't go back there Clint." Clint ignored her and reached up, pushing the grate aside and revealing a space big enough to crawl through. He turned and gave her a look.
"Who said we were going back?" he smirked, "The Hawk has more than one nest." Natasha grinned and stepped onto his hands, letting him boost her up. He pulled himself up after her and slid the cover back into place. Clint pushed in front of Natasha and the pair headed off down the air vents.
From his office, Coulson listened to the noise of the two agents returning to the air vents. He shook his head. Kids. Absolute children. But there was no denying the smile on his face as he finally settled back down to write his report.