"I can't do it." Natasha leant forward, her chair squeaking as she moved, "I've already been given a mission and besides you'd probably need a specialist for this."
Tony sighed, pushing back against the table, "Barton?"
The short man sighed, "I can't..." The whole table began to groan in desperation when he piped up again,"But I might know someone who can."
The group's eyes turned on him quickly, "Who?" Several people asked in unison.
The gun was hot in his hand but he didn't have time to wait around. He dissembled it quickly with a few swift movements and slipped it into the dark duffle bag before slinging it over his shoulder. He needed to get out quickly before someone walked in to find a master assassin packing away his weapon. That would be a little more than just awkward.
There was a sound from somewhere in the large warehouse and the man silently cursed for jinxing himself. If he died today his eulogy would state how much of an idiot he was. His light eyes scanned the area before, keeping crouched low, he slipped out the emergency fire exit that was close behind him.
Once on the metal steps he glanced over the edge, a three floor drop, and jumped. He braced for impact and rolled to lessen the force. Nevertheless, he had to shake himself off when he stood up. Peering back up he sighed; he was getting too old for pulling stunts like that. The moon shined down on him from above the large building.
Then he ran.
His dark car was hidden several roads away in a back alley away from prying eyes. The streets were silent at this time in the morning with only the sound of a busy road off far in the distance. He skidded around the corner and smashed straight into his own car. He flew over the hood of the car, hurting his side as he made contact with his definitely moving vehicle. The brakes squealed but it was unnecessary as the assassin already had his hand-gun out and was wrenching the passenger door open. Gun first, he leapt in.
The weapon was instantly hit from his grip sending it on the floor under this assassin's feet. In his mind he cursed himself for jumping blindly in while assuming it was some petty thief behind the wheel. He swore out loud until he noticed the grinning little shit sat behind the wheel.
He dropped back into his seat panting while his side protested it's existence, "Clint. I should have known. You literally tried to kill me, you little shit." He used to hate swearing but after so long surrounded by murderers and assassins you tend to just pick it up.
Barton threw his hands up innocently, "Actually, I saw you running so I was coming to get you. It's your fault you don't look where you're going." He smirked, "Didn't your mommy tell you to always look both ways before crossing the street?"
He huffed a laugh, "I'm running from a murder. I'm sure she'd make allowances." She definitely wouldn't agree with him being the one doing the murdering especially with her good old American sensibilities but he tried not to dwell.
Clint laughed and set the vehicle going again. He turned in the opposite direction of the warehouse and sped away.
Steve adjusted himself in the seat, clutching his side, "What about you though? I thought you'd sold your soul to a corporation?... Oh no, are they after me?" He joked, darkly.
Clint shot him a look before rolling his eyes, "It's Shield so its different and why would they want anything to do with you?" Suspicion colored his tone. He'd never managed to fully school himself around Steve as he could read him like an open book anyway.
"You know full well I still don't know who they are so how am I supposed to know what they want from me?" He asked, verging on defensively. People have wanted stuff from him a little too much for him to completely trust...well, anyone.
"It's the United States security forces but for more unusual problems." The smaller man supplied.
"Eh, with you moving up in the world why would you come visiting a little nobody like me?" Steve joked again, chuckling.
However, Clint didn't join in. Instead he looked stone eyed across at his long-time friend and slowed the dark car to a stop by the side of the road. He sighed, a hand reaching up the rub at his temple. Steve squinted suspiciously.
"We need your help." He stated plain and simple. Not beating around the bush nor any bells and whistles. Steve had a logical brain; he fed off facts, "I would have been here sooner but you're a hard man to find."
"Why would you need me?" His grey eyes scanned the area outside the car. If this was a trap he was taking people down with him. His fingers twitched in an instant desire to grasp his blades, "You have... her. What's her name?"
"Natasha? She can't do it."
"Well, you're perfectly qualified. I've seen you in action. You're training is impeccable." Steve stumbled out. He was not getting himself roped into some organisation where he'd have ties and a base with someone he'd have to actually report to. How did Clint even consider him to help? It's ridiculous and frankly insulting and he needed out of this car.
He twisted around, despite the screaming of his side, and pushed out the door. He was out in mere milliseconds, already pacing in front of the vehicle. Clint sighed again, watching him in the headlights for a moment before joining his friend.
"I know my training is impeccable because I learnt from the best." He reached out to rest his hand against Steve's arm effectively halting his movement, "But that's the point. You're the best and we need you." He had a strong sense of deja vu as he recalled several times where he'd been begging the larger man before, "You'd be saving people."
Steve sent him a scathing look and pulled his arm away to continue pacing, "I'm currently running from a murder and you thinking helping people will convince me to join your band of Merry Men?"
At least he was pacing, Clint knew the man well enough to know he was churning it over in his mind as he walked. Standing stone still would be bad news, "You'd be doing me a favor."
"I don't owe you a fa-" He started.
"Yes, I know and quite frankly I owe you so many I'm surprised you haven't repossessed my farm." He gave a gentle smile. Reminding Steve of their relationship and friendship that had endured years.
Steve's lips disobediently curled into a smile.
Clint knew one last ditch attempt to convert his mentor, "You'd still be free, Cap." He slipped in the familiar nickname, "You'd have to report maybe once a week max. You'd be given assignments then you can go and come back when it's done. Nobody will be on your back and no corporation will own you."
Temptation leaked into his expression. He'd always help Clint no matter what as they were like brothers but was this pushing too far against his morals. He wasn't to be a part of an organisation again like when he was in the military.
He sighed, leaning his face up the the slowly lightening sky. It looked somewhat akin to prayer but spoke instead to Barton, "Fine, I'll help but I'll report to nobody but you. And they can't snoop in my life. If that's not going to work then we can leave here now like it never happened."
"No," Clint spoke quickly before the man changed his mind, "I think that could definitely work."