DISCLAIMER: Not my characters.
A/N: This one is a little longer than usual. It was meant to be multichapter but I'm having trouble deciding where to cut it, so I'll just make it 2 chapters long. Maaaaay extend it to the actual mission, haven't decided yet.
The phone rang in the middle of their fourth night there. The phone never rang, not unless there was trouble. They stared at each other in silence and fear and when the phone rang again, Clint answered.
'I'm sending an emergency extraction team to pick you up. They should be there in about 8 hours, so I suggest you sleep now. I'll start debriefing you in the plane and we start working as soon as we land' Coulson spit out without the social conventions of greetings. 'What happened? Did we blow our covers?' Clint didn't give Coulson the time to hang up.
Natasha, who was initially sitting at the little table of their apartment studying profiles and plans of a building, was now standing next to Clint, trying to read his face.
'Clint…' said Coulson over the phone with a sigh. He knew Strike Team Delta hated being pulled out of missions. Especially without an explanation. Thankfully for their handler, it didn't happen quite often. 'No, you didn't. But there's been a situation and you're needed here ASAP.' This time he hang up before Barton could protest.
Clint blinked twice in disbelief, shook his head and put the phone down. His eyes met an expecting Natasha. She didn't need to ask. 'They're pulling us out. I don't know what happened. Evac'll be here tomorrow morning'. Clint stood there watching his partner as her face grew with anger.
'What? He can't pull us out!' she hated it and she was ready to give Coulson hell for it.
'Nat, you know it's Fury's decision, not his.' Clint knew her all too well. He rested a hand on her forearm. She instantly took a deep breath and calmed herself down. She turned around and walked to the table, starting to put the folders away neatly. 'Come on, we should pack'. With that, Clint was at her side, putting their things away, except for their weapons… Better safe than sorry.
Twenty minutes later they were done. They sat on the table and looked at each other. 'Now what?' Clint asked, resting his face in his hands. He was already bored.
'We wait' she said, blanked face.
'Yeah but like right now, Nat. Can't stare at the ceiling for eight hours' she laughed a little. 'It's almost dinner time, we should get something to eat' she stood up.
'You do that. I'm gonna go take a shower' she winked at him and walked to the bathroom. She turned around to face him. 'And Clint… I'm sick of chinese'. Before he could answer she got inside, closed the door and turned the shower on.
Clint smiled, staring at the door where his partner had been standing a moment ago. He had something in his mind. He got up, grabbed some cash from his wallet and left.
By the time Natasha got out of the shower, Clint was already back. His back was turned to face the stove in the kitchen when she passed to the room to get changed. She wasn't on duty anymore, so she put on a pair of shorts and the first SHIELD standard training t-shirt she could find.
The room was a mess. It was small, two single beds and a nightstand in between with a single lamp, a tiny white closet facing the beds. They'd only been there four days and while her stuff was mostly neatly folded near her bed, Clint's were everywhere; his bed, the closet, the nightstand, her bed, in between her clothes. It was a mess. It was his mess, actually, but she was used to it and didn't mind. His mess was soothing, a contrast to her very neat personality. She searched among her own clothes and couldn't find her training t-shirt. There was one over her bed so she put it on, only to find it was way too big for her body.
She sat on the bed and dried her long red curls with the towel. She brushed her hair a little and put it up in a ponytail. She was still barefoot when she got out of the room and into the kitchen. Clint was focused on whatever it was that he was doing, which Natasha couldn't tell what it was but she could tell it smelled good. She sneaked up on him (which she loved doing but he knew her all too well and was used to her silent steps so it didn't always work). She was standing behind him smirking when she spoke softly to his ear.
'If you cut your finger you won't be able to shoot'. It had had the desired effect; he skipped a heartbeat and jumped.
'Jesus, Tasha, you're gonna kill me one day' he put a hand in his heart. She smirked.
'Clint, what are you doing?' He put the knife down and turned to face her, a big stupid smile plastered on his face. 'I'm cooking!' He was grinning. She lifted an eyebrow, a Romanoff trademark, trying to suppress a smile. 'Cooking?' she asked in disbelief. 'I didn't know you could cook'. He smiled and nodded.
'Well, can I help?' she added when he didn't say a word. 'Nope. It's my treat. Go sit on the table, I'll be done in a little while'.
He grabbed the knife to resume cutting, but his eyes were glued to her back as she headed to the table, still within his sight. He smiled. 'Hey, that's my shirt' he said in an amused tone. 'I couldn't find mine in your mess' she answered with a smirk, sitting on the table facing him. He resumed cutting. 'Looks good on you' he said, his eyesight never leaving his work. She raised an eyebrow and tried very unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, shaking her head.
Half an hour later, they were facing each other on the table, eating and drinking wine and laughing. 'Clint, this is amazing'. Natasha offered a big smile to her partner, a big genuine smile and just with that gesture Clint decided that cooking and almost losing a finger in the process had been so worth it. Those smiles were reserved for him, the only one with whom Natasha could be her true self.
He grinned. 'Not a bad way to spend our last night in Germany, right?'. Now it was her turn to smile. 'Could've been worse' she admitted, finishing the plate in front of her. Clint finished after her and took both dished to the sink. 'Hey did you bring cards? We could play poker' she suggested, not wanting the evening to come to an end. 'Yeah, they're in my bag'.
Natasha went into the room and returned quickly holding the cards. He poured more wine into their glasses. He looked at her and announced, smiling 'you're going down'. She laughed.
After Natasha had won their third round and they were both yawning in between the smiling, they decided to call it a night. They only had about 4 or 5 hours left before their extraction team was there.
They went straight to their room and finished packing. Natasha was done in less than 10 minutes and got inside her bed, lying with open eyes as Clint went from one place to another across the room searching for his things. This was sort of a routine for them.
Clint had finished packing his things up from his side of the room and went to hers. She watched him intently as he picked everything up, and he sat on the side of her bed when he started folding. She moved a little to her right to give him space. He faced her and smiled.
'You know, next time we finish a mission like that; the food, the wine, the playing and the laughing, you know, fun, we should do it on one of our birthdays, instead of almost getting killed like last time.' He said, folding and occasionally tilting his head up to face her.
He found her smirking and stopped folding. 'I thought you liked Norway' she said, her red curls all over the white sheets. '
'Yeah, sure, but getting shot at on the anniversary of your birth is not that much fun'. She chuckled. 'I got two GSWs as a present. You got one too.'
'I remember' she said, her hand instantly finding the scar on her left thigh.
She sat a little upright. 'So, you wanna do this for your birthday?'
'All I'm saying is it'd be a nice change' he said and continued folding.
She laughed and shook her head. 'Deal.' She winked when he looked at her and lied back on her pillow. He folded in silence as she started to doze off to sleep.
'Hey, I found your shirt!' he picked it up to show her. She opened her eyes lazily.
'Can you pack it? I already closed my bag' He smiled at his tired partner.
'Sure' he whispered.
When he finished with his bag, Natasha was still not quite asleep. Clint went to sit on his bed and started humming a tune. Natasha opened her eyes to tell him to shut up but she didn't. He stood up and started to take his clothes off to get inside the bed as she watched in amusement. His body was magnificent. She fell asleep with a smile plastered on her face.
By the time the extraction team came to pick them up, they were long awake and ready. They got in the chopper to find Coulson standing there, sunglasses on. He wasted no time.
'Buckle up. We're making this quick. The Director will debrief you himself when we land. It is that big of a deal' Phil added when the assassins exchanged a look.
The ride was smooth, and by the afternoon they were at SHIELD headquarters again. They barely had time to leave their things when Maria Hill picked them up. She escorted them to the debriefing room where Nick Fury was talking to Coulson.
Before they could take a seat, Fury looked at them. 'Actually, it's Romanoff that I need. Agent Barton, you're dismissed.'
Natasha and Clint looked at each other and frowned, then at their handler, who was staring intently at his shoes, knowing what was about to come, and then at Fury.
'Sir?' asked Clint in disbelief.
'You're not needed for this mission, Agent' Fury replied, losing his patience.
'With all due respect, sir, you pulled me out of a mission because this is more important and now you don't need me?' Clint was losing it.
'Agent Barton, you and Agent Romanoff might be a team, but you don't get to choose your missions, and this mission requires her alone'. They were standing face to face, table in between, staring at each other. The air in the room was tense.
'Clint…' it was Coulson who broke the silence and gave his agent a calm-down-Barton look.
'I'll be outside' he said, turning away and leaving the room, closing the door a little too loudly on his way out.
The room was still silent. Fury was standing, hands on the table, Coulson standing next to him, Hill a little behind by the corner.
Natasha was alone on her side of the table now that Clint was gone. 'Can we get down to business now or are you too gonna make a scene, Romanoff? Fury asked the redhead.
She didn't love it. She liked missions with Clint more, but didn't say a word. It had been stupid to pull them both out of their mission in Germany if they only needed her. Clint could've stayed and finished, but she knew better than saying it. Unlike her partner, she had self control.
She stared at Fury with her best poker face. 'What's the mission?' she asked.