Mandatory disclaimer: none of this is mine. Tried to meet Stan Lee to say thank you for being part of the team of builders of this sandbox for us to play in, but he had to leave the convention early.

Second mandatory disclaimer: there are references to poor coping skills, badly managed grief, off-screen deaths, language, apparently not-so-mild threats, lots and lots of drinking, and more will be added before the relevant chapters.

Third mandatory disclaimer: muchos love to my betas and cheerleaders. This has been sitting around on my Dropbox for over a year, so obviously it is pre-Winter Soldier, pre-Age of Ultron, and takes place partially through the first season of Agents of Shield. Clint and Natasha are high enough in the system to know that hey, Coulson lives...

And if you're wondering, yes, this is getting cross-posted.

There was something oddly soothing about the Hub, Coulson mused as he led his team through the chaos. A strange synchronicity about it all, even though one could never predict what would happen. "We're heading over to Logistics for now. Fitz, Simmons-" A break in the patterns had him narrowing his eyes slightly. "Wait here."

As the others nodded and clustered together, Coulson wound his way towards where the pattern breaks were leading to. "Barton, Romanoff."

"Coulson." Clint nodded then grinned. "What brings you here?"

"Upgrades. Come and meet my team?"

Natasha glanced at her watch. "We have time. Is this where they stashed you? Or are you someplace else?"

"We have one of the old planes," Coulson explained as he led the pair back to where Skye was starting to look disgruntled. "Agents Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, you know Agent May-"

"Melinda!" Clint practically crowed. "He got you out of desk duty!"

"Agent Grant Ward; Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, science; and Skye, civilian consultant."

"Skye?" Natasha glanced at Clint with a raised eyebrow. "Rising Tide?"

"Only Skye I've heard of, so maybe? She matches that picture that was sent around a couple months ago. I don't know if you got it – it was one of those 'warning, cute but stupid' things that gets sent around sometimes. She had hacked Level Seven, Eight stuff. General thought is that she's just lacking tact and common sense. I think she's immature." Clint's face went still and he ignored Skye's glare before grinning again. "So, upgrades? Thought Hand and Sitwell had you bunch in the doghouse after the last time you were here? Nat and I saw the report on that little Georgian deal."

"Some of us were. Not all." May's face was carefully still. "Barton, Romanoff, why are you two here? I thought you were normally closer to the Triskelion."

"Mission briefings." Clint shrugged. "You know the drill. Where are we going this time, Nat?"

"Belarus. We're going in to cause our normal death and destruction." Natasha smirked slightly. "He slept through the first briefing as usual."

"Because I know what they are. They're always the same. Go here, do this, maybe even do that if we've got the time. As long as something like Budapest never happens again." Clint rolled his eyes. "It's the later ones that I really care about." He lightly nudged Fitz with an elbow. At the scientist's startled glance, he leaned closer and whispered, "Like when they tell us if Nat has to dress up in that little black dress again." He reflexively ducked Natasha's swing. "Not here, Nat, they'll get ideas!"

"Wait," Skye waved off May and Grant's gestures to stay quiet. "What do you two do here? Barton? Romanoff? Were you two in New York?"

"When?" Clint's stare had Skye squirming slightly. "I've been to New York a lot. Even have an apartment there. With the Chitauri? I'm the only archer here I know of. And what do we do here? Classified way above your level."

"They're high-level special agents, specializing in covert operations and assassinations. Two of the best that SHIELD has, if not the best." Ward finally spoke up. "Ask around, a lot of the field agents want to be them."

"Hero worship?" Skye turned to Ward with a raised eyebrow. "Am I hearing worship from the great Agent Ward?"

"No! I-"

"Yes," Coulson sighed. "You are. It's not an unusual thing."

"Look," Clint had grabbed Natasha's wrist and was staring at her watch. "We were going to the Canteen to get some lunch. Do you guys want to come too? We really don't have a lot of time before our next briefing, and I'm hungry."

"We have all day." Coulson nodded. "And lunch would be appreciated."

"So," Skye slipped up next to Natasha. "Covert operations? You like a super-spy or something?"

"Or something." Natasha glanced at Skye. "However, you aren't cleared high enough to know specifics. Agent Ward has said all that he's allowed to say."

"Assassinations," Skye nodded. "No way!" She stopped and stared at Natasha. "You're her! The one that's killed all those people in Russia!"

Natasha didn't stop walking. "Believe what you want to believe, but you have me mistaken with somebody else. Clint, I had a thought. Berlin to Helsinki."

"Sure, Nat, but where would we be able to get a dozen rubber snakes in Plovdiv?" Clint tilted his head to one side. "Unless you were thinking Paris, too?"

"Shanghai," Natasha said. She shrugged slightly at Clint's startled look. "It worked before, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Clint slowly said. "Hadn't thought about that angle. But if we're going that route…" he trailed off. "Ah! Prague! With the carthorse!"

"Prague." Natasha nodded with a small smile. "I like that one."

"Um, AC? Do you know what all that was about?" Skye hurried to catch up. "Because that so totally didn't make sense."

"It's not supposed to, Skye, unless you know what they're talking about." Coulson didn't look around. "They have codes for almost everything. In this case, they were discussing cover stories." He paused. "I think. They might have also been talking about where they were going to get dinner tonight."

Clint nodded. "Cover stories. Sure, if that's what you want to think. Or it was complete and total gibberish, designed to confuse and distract."

May snorted softly. "It's gibberish."

Skye watched as Clint whispered something to May. When the woman stared at him, Clint grinned. "It only has to make sense to me and Nat."

"So wait." Skye shook her head, confused. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to," Clint calmly said. "The only people who have to understand what's going on are me, Natasha, and whoever assigned us the mission. And sometimes not even then – plausible deniability is a wonderful thing. Coulson, what were your plans for next month?"

"Right now?" Coulson looked thoughtful. "Nothing outside of the usual. Why?"

"Nat's going to need backup, if you're interested." Clint glanced out of the corner of his eye at Natasha. "And no, Nat, you don't get to argue this one."

"So." Skye leaned forward. "How do you plan things out? Because everything I've seen so far is kinda…unplanned. AC and everybody usually just reacts, and the couple times stuff was planned out, it was kinda presented as a done deal."

Clint and Natasha shared a long look before Clint shrugged and went back to his meal. Natasha nodded. "We are given data, a location, and a target. Using that, we decide how we will get there and how we will accomplish our mission. People may give us suggestions or expand upon our ideas, but we really do most of it ourselves. That is not the usual situation, however. Usually there is an entire team that will plan out operations."

"Our skins, our responsibility," Clint mumbled. "Better that way, too."

"What sort of equipment do you bring with you?" Fitz leaned forward eagerly. "Because I've managed to talk Agent Ward into using-"

"Fitz!" Ward snapped. "You didn't 'talk' me into anything!"

"Depends on the mission." Clint didn't look up. "Like I said, Nat has a great little black dress that she'll use sometimes, we each have our chosen weapons, and usually a phone or radio. We'll usually head to a SHIELD safe house or base first, then move on. Maybe some sort of identification and local money. Nothing that could tie us back to SHIELD, though, or really anything personal." His jaw tightened.

Natasha reached out and rested her hand on Clint's shoulder. "Clint? Are you-"

"I'm fine, Nat. Drop it. We'll go later."

"What about getting out?" Simmons spoke up. "I mean, if you're willing to share…that?"

"Yeah." Skye ignored the warning looks. "I know that Coulson got really pissed when Ward and Fitz didn't have an extraction plan. So what about you two?"

"There usually aren't SHIELD assets in place to assist us." Natasha tilted her head to one side. "We also prefer to travel light and focus on what we set out to do."

"You mean you don't have extraction plans?"

"No. We never have extraction plans." Clint's eyes went dead. "Because we are our own extraction plans…and if we don't make it out, then oh well. Hopefully we finished our assignment before they took us out. We get caught?" He shrugged with a sideways glance at Coulson. "May came after me a few times, the hostage rescue team came in another couple times, but that was really it. Nat and I are on our own out there, and that suits us just fine."

"But," Skye took a bite of her salad. "How can you-"

"Do not ask us that," Natasha interrupted. "We have our reasons, and they're ours alone."

"But what about your friends and families?" Skye was suddenly aware that Coulson and Natasha were both focused on Clint. Clint's eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths.

Natasha didn't look around. "We don't go on known suicide missions, nobody does, but we also have no other real ties outside of each other and one or two other people. Isn't that right, Coulson?"

Coulson winced. "Not my call, Romanoff. As I told Barton, repeatedly."

Natasha sniffed. "Whatever."

"Your call? About what?" Skye looked around curiously.

"Classified," was the response from Coulson, Clint and Natasha, with Clint throwing in "And that's not an invitation to go digging, either." He leaned forward. "If I find out that anybody has been looking into places that – they – shouldn't be looking? You'll find out what covert ops really means." Clint shoved himself back from the table and stood up. "Nat? We need to get moving. Sitwell's been impatient recently, and Hand was looking touchy at the morning briefing. Not to mention Quartermain…" He shook his head. "I think I've gotten a few more ideas worked out."

"Oh?" Natasha stood up. "Were you thinking up close or distance?"

"I always say distance, but we might be able to integrate with the locals this time. Strange community, though, a bit like that group in Pakistan. I may have to learn to knit again." Clint absentmindedly waved. "Coulson, May, don't be strangers. Ward, Skye, nice meeting you two. Fitz, Simmons, think large-scale biological explosives that can be carried in a lightweight package."

Coulson faintly smiled as the two wandered off. "They're a good pair. Nice people."

"You're calling them nice." Skye was staring at the door. "They just threatened me, Coulson!"

"That?" May sniffed. "That was nothing. If anything, you might find a few notes in your bed, and good luck at catching either one of them in the act. Their files – anybody above Level Seven, actually – are locked down incredibly tightly. The trick that you used last time? Wouldn't work. And they're so paranoid I wouldn't be surprised if they checked access logs on a regular basis."

"Weekly, sometimes daily." Coulson nodded. "Skye, before you ask, I have worked with them in the past, but we're also friends. Somewhat." He tilted his head to one side in an awkward nod. "Barton's actually been around almost as long as I have. One of my earliest missions was to go and recruit him." He chuckled. "I think he was waiting for me, because the first words out of his mouth were 'Fury sent you? Good. I want a burger, a beer, and a chance to sleep for a week before I'll start jumping through your hoops.' He'd been in Bosnia."

"But, but," Skye sputtered. "Who does he think he is?"

"Skye, I'm telling you as your Supervising Officer, drop it." Skye looked surprised at Ward's order. "It's for your own good."

"Um, sir?" Simmons spoke up hesitantly. "I had heard a rumor. You know, about the time that Agent Romanoff found that her file had been accessed by a junior agent. What happened to him?"

"Their 'free agent' card came into play," Coulson said shortly. "He'd tried to blackmail the two of them, only to find out that they play for keeps. And, well, I was the one to find the body the first time I'd seen either one of them get mad. It…wasn't pretty. And ever since then I've been passing it along that you do not cross Barton or Romanoff."

"I heard," Fitz leaned forward, "that they'd tried using some ancient Roman torture technique. And cut off his tongue."

"If that's what you've heard, it must be true." Coulson nodded and glanced at his watch. "Enough gossip. We have things to do."

May hung back slightly. "You know that they didn't kill the guy."

"But for the cult of Barton and Romanoff?" Coulson nodded. "The thought that he's working as a desk guard in Siberia isn't nearly as exciting as thinking that they flayed him alive."