Coulson was on the video chat-thing when the Avengers reported for briefing.
"Something important then, if you're here, Director?" Bruce said as they walked in. Bruce, Natasha, and Cap were the only ones that ever remembered to call him Director. And Natasha only did it to tease him.
"It is, Doctor Banner, and if everyone is here I can tell you. Hello Captain Rogers."
Steve waved as he walked in.
"Alright," he continued once everyone was in and the door was shut. "As Dr. Banner guessed, this particular mission has some special significance. We have found, after much prolonged search and much danger to my agents, the location of Loki's sceptre."
"What?" Clint said.
"How?" Tony said at the same time.
"That's classified, Mr. Stark. And Barton, FitzSimmons went out into the field with guns and everything to get this information for you so if you're not prepared to handle it—"
"No sir, that's not it. I was just surprised."
"Alright then. Agent Hill, if you would?"
She nodded and turned the other screens in the room into a set of blueprints and maps.
"It's in a Hydra base in Serbia, in a research lab on a lower floor. They may be keeping powered people, specifically mutants, in this base too, but they shouldn't come into play if you don't try and take the whole base down. The absolute closest you can land the quinjet is four miles out, and if you pick the second closest place it will be six or seven miles. The base is heavily armed and they keep a perimeter at at least three miles, probably further."
"They are super proud of this base, aren't they?" Tony observed.
Coulson spoke up again. "They're keeping Loki's sceptre, mutants, and half a dozen other highly valuable projects in there. They're certainly protective."
"So what's the plan?" Cap asked.
"Our analysis suggests that you should land on the west side and get as close as you can stealthfully. If you do it right you may be able to get a mile into their defences without raising the alarm. There's no civilians anywhere near so you're free to use the Hulk. Sound good?"
"Yes ma'am," Cap said.
"Good," Coulson said. "Agent Hill will feed the coordinates into your quinjet. I wish you all the best of luck. And Romanoff?"
She looked up expectantly.
"Code red."
She shifted her weight to the middle, standing up straighter.
"Nice try, Director."
Barton reached up and tugged on one of her curls.
Natasha swore loudly and stormed out of the room. Clint snickered, Coulson smiled and Hill just rolled her eyes.
"I feel like I just missed something very important," Tony said.
"Inside joke," Clint said. "Phil thinks he's funny."
"You certainly seem to agree with him," Hill muttered.
"You terrify me," Tony said.
Agent Coulson and Strike Team Delta had a running joke that Coulson could tell when they'd been making out at inappropriate times. Natasha insisted it was dumb luck and Barton thought the whole thing was hilarious because he was right every time. In this case Natasha had a strand of hair on the wrong side of her part.
Coulson spoke again. "Alright, you're dismissed. Best of luck."
"And to you, son of Coul."
"Bye Phil!" That was Tony.
"Thanks Director." Captain America. Coulson smiled to him.
And they were off once again.
—•—•—•—
"Hey."
Clint woke up in a clearer state of mind than he expected, to find Natasha staring at him with a tellingly blank expression.
She blinked at him a few times. It was a good two minutes before she answered.
"Hello."
Not good.
"Did I scare you?" he asked, sitting up to his own surprise.
Her expression didn't change, and again it took her a second to answer.
"There was a hole in you. Not like a bullet wound, like a sizable hole."
"Sorry. To be fair you've done that before."
She didn't answer.
They sat in silence like that for a long time, taking a much needed no-talking decompression. They could have another one later, in the comfort of their own noise-proof Stark room, lying on the bed and not moving or talking, just breathing. But for now the hospital/med-bay/nurse's office would have to do.
Then it was over and there were more people in the room and a woman in a lab coat was talking to him and technobabbling. He registered everything she said and his secret-agent brain went immediately to processing every word of it. He told that part of his brain to shut up because his head hurt and he really didn't want to know now much plastic he was made of now.
"...your own girlfriend wouldn't be able to tell the difference."
"I don't have a girlfriend." He said, shooting a glance at Natasha.
She smirked. That was a good sign.
"Nope! He's flatlining, call it. Time?"
"Noo, I'm going to live forever," Clint retorted, standing up. His words were slurred and he stumbled trying to walk. Okay maybe he wasn't that okay.
People were filing back out of the room into their next adventure already, never content to sit still. They were sweeping him forward with them, and he wished they wouldn't cause his head was still spinning from standing up. And there were so many words being said.
"I can tell the difference," he heard as he felt Natasha walk past. He smirked.
—•—•—•—
Clint slid up to the bar next to Bruce as Natasha made her getaway.
"She really likes you, you know."
"No, that was just flirting," Bruce said.
"Oh no, I've seen her flirt, up close and personal. Many times. That wasn't flirting, she meant every word of that."
"What? Why?"
"Why does she like you?"
"Well, yeah, I mean I'm..."
"You're a lot like she used to be. She was afraid of herself for a long time and she was afraid of everyone else and she's not anymore. She's sweet too, you wouldn't know it but she really is when she wants to be. She thinks that she can help you and it makes her really happy. Don't tell her I said any of that, she'll murder me in my sleep."
Bruce was quiet for a long moment. He finally seemed to formulate a reply and he looked up at Clint, who waited expectantly.
"Up close and personal, many times? So does that mean you two are actually, like, together?"
Clint shot him a grin that didn't answer his question and clapped Bruce on the back as he went off after Natasha. He laughed when he heard Bruce groan and smack his head on the bar.
—•—
He found Natasha avoiding conversation with people by pretending to be a member of a very large conversation. He took her waist from behind and pulled her out.
"Hey, what's up?" she asked when he turned her around.
"Dance with me."
"What? Why?"
He slid his hand around her hand and pulled the rest of her closer.
"Cause you're amazing and they're playing swing."
She put her left arm around him warily, unsure where this was going but accepting his lead anyway.
"Nobody else is dancing, Barton."
"Don't care," he mumbled into her shoulder.
He moved back and forth with the music, holding her a little too close.
"You're going to screw with the betting pool."
"That's kinda the idea."
He stepped back to spin her. When they came together again his back was straight and he was stepping with her for real.
They were killer dancers, both of them. After a few steps he started a set of spins that he didn't have to stop. He spun her about thirty times in a row and spun with her for ten of them. When they finally came back together they could hear applause coming from somewhere and were moving too fast to care where. They heard the music get louder and were vaguely aware of other couples joining them.
They didn't often dance like this, way too fast and with complete abandon. Clint was sure that if he asked, Natasha would say it was because they'd gotten too comfortable at Stark's place. It was probably true, he thought, but he couldn't help thinking that it wasn't such a bad thing. They had real friends now they they could be something like themselves around. And Stark could throw one heck of a party.
Natasha felt so right in his arms and they moved so seamlessly together that he was sure everyone in the room was going to talk. He couldn't bring himself to care. They moved like one person, swinging and stepping on the melody, breathing in time, hearts beating so hard they had to move with them, so high on the rhythm nothing could pull them down.
They didn't stop for four songs. After that Clint, who did not have any kind of advanced metabolism, seriously needed liquid of some kind. Natasha laughed at him and spun out of his arms to go find Steve and make him dance with someone, probably her. Clint was sure that however screwed up their lives may be, he was pretty darn lucky to have that woman.
—•—•—•—
.
.
.
.
.
.
Worthy? No.
How could you be worthy?
.
You're all killers.
.
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.