So I said that this story was going to be a one-shot, but I really loved the idea of this one so I am running with it. Thanks for reading :) Just a little fluff and backstory before the real fun begins!
2 days earlier…
"Do you have any sixes?" Natasha raised a brow as she tapped her cards against the table top.
"I hate you." Clint muttered as he tossed two cards in her direction. "I swear you cheat at card games."
"Who cheats at 'Go Fish'?" She laughed and swiped his cards up, adding them to her deck.
"Russians."
"Oh, so I am Russian again?" She smirked at him.
"You didn't deny cheating though!" Clint pulled a face as he looked at his pathetic hand. "Do you have any fours?"
"Go Fi-"
"Oh, shut up." Clint grumbled and swiped a card from the deck.
"Don't be a sore loser." Natasha smiled at him. "Any fives over there?"
"Ha, no. Go fish. Don't drown, that'd be a shame."
"Oof, such bitterness over a child's game."
"You seem to rather be enjoying that game for children. Romanoff, Barton." Nick Fury greeted them as he shut the door behind him. "You two look bored."
"Any two's?"
"You asked me that three rounds ago and I said no."
"You might've drawn some since then."
"I'm afraid not bird boy. Go fish."
"You see this nonsense?" He turned to Fury. "Never play cards with a Russian. Ever."
"You act like that is a new thing, Barton." He crossed his arms. "I hate to interrupt such a serious matter, but I have a mission for you two." He sat a folder on the table beside the deck of cards.
"Then don't. At least let me beat Clint first."
"Oh, please, interrupt." Clint swiped a card and his brow furrowed.
"Do you have any one's?"
"Go fish."
"Do you two remember Agent Garcia? You met him at the Director's Dinner last year?"
"Tall, skinny dude? Looked like the wind could blow him away? Yeah, I remember him."
"He's one of your key intel men down south of the boarder, right?" Clint rolled his eyes at Natasha. "Helps keep weapons out of unfriendly hands down in Tijuana and the surrounding areas."
"You're such a kiss ass." Natasha made a face at him.
"It is my turn, isn't it?" Clint suddenly smiled. "You've been keeping track, right Nick? It is my turn?"
"Can we focus for a minute?" Fury sighed. Handling these two was like herding cats.
"Natasha Romanoff." Clint grinned at her mischievously. "Do you have any sixes?"
"Excuse me?"
"I think he asked if you had any sixes." Fury said impatiently. "Garcia has gone MIA as of two weeks ago. I've sent two teams in after him and neither has returned. Coincidently, one of the biggest crime lords in Tijuana has been awfully active lately and I am afraid the two are connected. Is anyone even listening to me?" He snapped finally. Natasha was glaring at Clint and he was still smirking at her.
"I believe I will take the three sixes I know you have." Clint grinned. Natasha flung the cards at him and Clint laid them down with a smile. "And that is game. I win! Ow!" He winced as Natasha's foot lashed out and kicked him underneath the table.
"I hate you." She reached across the table and grabbed his bag of goldfish. She popped several in her mouth and chewed them slowly, a look of distaste on her face. "I really hate you."
"Now who is the sore loser?" Clint laughed and turned his attention to Fury. "So Garcia is MIA, the two teams you've sent in after him are missing, and now you are sending us in? If we are that bad I am sure you could send us back to foster care."
"I am sending you two in because someone is killing my men and I don't like it when people kill my men." Fury scowled. "Who better to find a killer than two master assassins?"
"Fair point." Clint snagged his goldfish back and popped a handful. "Back off spidey, these are mine. I won fair and square."
"Ugh, do NOT call me that." Natasha made a face at him.
"Two master assassins…" Fury muttered to himself. "Who are playing 'Go Fish' with a bag of Gold Fish as the prize…what the hell has my life come to?" He shook his head. "Everything we know is in that file, if you can bother to read it."
"When do we leave?" Natasha kicked Clint again and grabbed the bag back.
"Tonight. We can fly you to Phoenix and then we will have a truck waiting for you that you can drive the rest of the way. It is special built; the bed liner rolls up and has storage beneath it so that you can smuggle all your gear across the boarder."
"Sounds like a plan, Stan."
"You are such an old man." Natasha groaned.
"You two try to come back in one piece, alright? Unfortunately I am rather accustomed to the two of you causing trouble around here."
"Aww, we love you too dad." Clint laughed and Natasha just shook her head. Fury muttered something else to himself and left the room, leaving the two agents alone. Clint picked up the file and thumbed through it before passing it to Natasha with a troubled look.
"Not good?" She asked as she began to skim through the file herself. "Oh, yeah, not good."
"Seems that this Juantez is causing some problems down south. Looks like we are going to Tijuana.
Several hours later…
Clint stifled a yawn and shook his head as if to dispel the invisible fog that hung there. His eyes were heavy and he felt sluggish as he guided the black Ford down the empty Mexican highway. The bright beams of the headlights cut through the dark night and occasionally revealed any empty business or empty lot. He tightened his grip on the wheel and rolled his neck, working his jaw back and forth. He knew he should wake Natasha up and let her drive, but they were only a half hour out from their hotel. He could make it.
He cast a glance down at Natasha and smiled. She was curled up on the bench seat, her knees tucked up to her stomach. Her head was resting against his thigh, her mouth opened slightly as she slept. They had been up late the night before and neither of them had gotten any sleep after Fury's visit as they prepared to depart, so Clint did not have the heart to wake her. His attention snapped back to the road as his tires hit the grooved pavement that let him know he was drifting. Natasha made a sound and sat up, rubbing at her eyes.
"What time is it?" She asked sleepily.
"Three in the morning." Clint yawned and ran a hand over his face.
"Pull over and let me drive before you kill us."
"I'm fine. We are only twenty minutes or so out."
"Doesn't matter if we die before we get there." Natasha scooted into the middle seat and rested her head against his shoulder. "I can drive the rest of the way."
"Really, I am fine. Just talk to me. Keep me awake."
"You're so hardheaded." She sighed.
"I learned from the best." He grinned at her. Natasha flipped the radio on and scanned through several channels before settling on a country station. Clint raised a brow, asking an unspoken question.
"I've been hanging out with you too much I guess." She shrugged. "That's where I learned to cheat at card games from."
"Oh, are we back on that now?" Clint chuckled and elbowed her in the ribs. "I believe someone once told me not to be a sore loser? Or am I imagining that?"
"Definitely imaging it." She smiled.
They continued to talk quietly as the truck began to roll into the city limits. Street lights started to illuminate the once dark street and they passed several night clubs and restaurants that were packed to the brim. Clint turned off the main road onto a side street and pulled into the parking lot of their hotel. It was several stories tall and well lit; at least Fury had booked them a decent place to stay.
"Home sweet home." Clint muttered as he parked the truck and killed the engine. He climbed out of the truck and stretched with a groan. Natasha went around to the truck bed and pulled their gear out, tossing him his backpack. His caught it and slung it over his shoulder before grabbing his bow case and nodding towards they hotel. Natasha shouldered her bag and they walked towards the lobby in silence, both too sleepy to say much. They got checked in and made their way up to the third floor before finding their room. Clint swiped the key card that he had been given and the lock clicked. Natasha pushed the door open and flipped on the lights, satisfied to find that the room was cold.
"We have AC this time. Remember the last time we were in Mexico?"
"Yeah." Clint chuckled. "That dingy little pay by the hour motel, right?"
"Mhm." Natasha shook her head. "No AC, the sheets had pesos in them, and the tub was the local gathering hub for the cockroaches. Good times, good times."
"This place actually seems pretty nice." Clint tossed his bag onto a chair and laid his bow case on the table. He kicked his sneakers off before pulling his jeans off and dropping them on top of his shoes. He shed his shirt and added it to the pile before crawling into bed with a yawn. "Which probably means we will get to sleep here for one whole night before our entire mission goes to shit."
"You aren't wrong." Natasha took the time to change into her pajamas before laying down beside him. "What's our first move?"
"We'll figure it out tomorrow." Clint mumbled sleepy, rolling onto his stomach. He tucked his arms underneath his pillow and stretched out. Natasha tucked herself against his side, leeching the warmth from his body. "Night, Nat."
"Good night Clint. Get some sleep while you can…I doubt we are going to be getting any the next few days."