I dare you
A/N: So the failed mission continues. It's about to get intense…depending on what you consider intense board line insane of course.
Chapter 4
Fury was pissed.
He was furious.
He was going to seriously kill someone.
"What the hell do you mean you're hanging off a bridge and your ride just blew up?" he shouted into his phone. Clint sighed internally. He knew he should have called Coulson – but Natasha insisted they called Fury this time – what was she thinking?
"That's exactly what I'm saying Fury," he said dryly. Fury's eye twitched.
"Did Hoffa get away?" he asked dangerously. He heard a pause before Barton replied.
"I wouldn't say he got away because he is still actively trying to kill us..." Clint said warily. Fury narrowed his eyes. He swore he was going to stick Barton and Romanoff's ass on probation so fast their heads were going to spin. But first he needed them to stay alive.
"Do you want an extraction team to come get you?" Fury asked rubbing his forehead. No matter how pissed he was - he wasn't going to let two of his best agents die just because their mission somehow got completely screwed up. He suddenly heard a lot of shuffling and hushed arguing followed by a distinct click before he got any intelligible response.
"No - we're staying and cleaning things up," Romanoff's clear cut voice suddenly echoed through the phone. He heard an angry grumble of protest followed by a loud smack. The grumbles ceased immediately.
Sometimes Fury wondered exactly how their partnership worked - but then again all he really cared about was that it did.
"What type of clean up did you have in mind Romanoff?" Fury asked carefully even though he knew what she meant before she even said it.
"Permission to disengage the target completely Sir?" she asked with an air of professionalism. She could give a rat's ass about SHIELD and all their damn protocols - but she would never go against her boss.
Mostly because he was the only one she ever even remotely respected. That didn't mean she had to like him though - as usual Natasha Romanoff didn't like most people. Hell she didn't even get along with most people. She barely got along with Barton on a good day.
"Permission granted - don't die Romanoff," Fury said with a warning look on his face. Natasha smirked.
"Only one important bastard is really going to die today," she promised before she hung up. Fury set the phone down and sighed.
When Natasha Romanoff smirked like that things got really messy, really fast.
Meanwhile under the bridge Natasha and Clint were still stuck together having a staring contest that would determine who would speak first. In the end Clint won – only because Natasha really didn't want to say something he would use to piss her off. Even though she knew he would manage to do it anyway.
"So – com links are bugged. What are we going to do now?" Clint asked finally taking the dead communicating chip out of his ear. Natasha pulled up her dress to reveal a small pouch strapped to her thigh. She opened the little pocket and pulled out two perfectly new working communicators. Clint raised an eyebrow in question.
"I had a hunch these would come in handy on a mission eventually," she said with a shrug as she passed him one. Clint rolled his eyes.
"Always prepared for everything eh Tasha?" he said sounding mildly impressed. Natasha sighed and gave him a wary look as he replaced the bugged com link in his ear with the new ones.
"Not quite everything," she muttered under her breath. Clint paused as he heard her quiet statement – it could mean a whole host of things – but they didn't have time to explore any of them right now. Instead he dug out the same knife he had swiped from her person and had stashed in his pocket before their spontaneous jump.
"Cut your rope Tasha and climb up," he said shoving the knife into her hand in front of him. Natasha stared at the knife sitting in her palm for several seconds.
"I cut the rope and I'll fall," she said blankly. He tightened his grip around her waist and leaned forward to brush his lips against her ear.
"I'll catch you," he whispered. He felt her stop a mid-shiver and quickly steel herself to do the task she was assigned. He chuckled as he watched her battle whatever internal fight she was having with herself.
Natasha Romanoff may have sworn off all emotions for life - but some things run deeper than your iron will.
"You better Barton," she muttered as she stared at the rope attached to her belt which was the only other thing besides Barton's arms that was preventing her from falling to her death. Natasha took a deep breath and slashed right through the thin rope. She didn't move an inch - if anything he just held her tighter.
"Come on Tasha - can't hang here all day you know," Clint said with a cheeky grin and he nudged her shoulder and urged her to start climbing. Natasha huffed.
"Are you making me go up first just so that I have to do all the work pulling you up?" she muttered as she carefully turned in his arms and stared at him inches from his face. His boyish grin was back - and it was pissing her off again.
"Why ever would you think that Tasha?" he asked playfully. Natasha sighed.
"Whatever. Don't let go," she said threateningly as she grabbed onto the rope above them and used his shoulder as leverage to hoist herself higher onto the rope. Clint pushed her up to help her gain height but made sure to keep a steady grip on her the entire time.
"I'll never let you go Tasha," he whispered. Natasha heard him loud and clear and froze as she balanced herself on his shoulders. She stared at the rope in front of her with a hard look on her face.
"You walk on dangerous grounds Barton," was all she said before she started quickly pulling herself up and onto the metal rails that ran along the underside of the bridge. The surface was still brimming with mafia goons who were looking for them. She dragged herself onto the thin metal bar and poked her head over the edge.
"Maybe I should just leave you here!" she called out to him - she wondered what he would say. Clint smirked and held up a familiar gun for her to see. She instantly glanced down at her side and realized hers was gone.
"Aw fuck you Barton!" she shouted angrily as she started pulling his rope up. That was her favorite gun! Clint continued to smirk.
"Can't be partners with a sneak without being sneaky yourself," he said as she finally managed to pull him up to her location. Natasha glared at him and held her hand out impatiently.
"Give it back," she growled. He raised an eyebrow and stared at her angry expression for a second - it was kind of cute - in a she-could-kill-him-in-less-then-30-seconds kind of way. Obviously Clint had no self-preservation skills because he promptly leaned forwards, flipped up her ripped dress and shoved her gun back into the holster she had strapped to her thigh.
They stared at each other for several tense seconds.
"I will shoot you one day Barton - mark my words," was all she said before she started climbing sideways along the bridge. Clint laughed and followed her lead.
10 minutes later they were back on solid ground and quickly making their way through the dark streets trying to figure out how they were going to get Hoffa - without having the entire Mafia breathing down their necks.
"I'm really starting to get sick of this bastard," Natasha muttered as they silently made their way down a deserted alley. Clint snorted.
"Try being the one who finds out he was fake flirting with the target who knew fully well who I was from the start," Clint said gruffly. Natasha smirked ever so slightly.
"I take it back you know," she said after a few minutes of silent walking. He glanced at her curiously.
"Take what back Tasha?" he asked slowly. He tried not to think about what he wanted her to take back.
"You are a pretty good gay man after all," she said with a shrug. Clint sputtered beside her in shock.
"Gee don't inflate my ego too much Tasha," he said sarcastically. Natasha snorted.
"Your ego doesn't need any more inflating anyway you arrogant bastard," she said shaking her head at the idiot. He wagged his eyebrows at her.
"You know it gets you all hot and bothered Tasha," he said with a suggestive smirk.
She gave him the coldest unimpressed look he had ever seen.
Okay so it might take a bit more to melt Natasha's icy exterior.
"Barton don't make me hu-" she started to say but froze as she noticed something flicker on the roof of a building behind him.
"What are you looking at Ta-" he never got to finish because the next thing he knew she was roughly shoving him to the ground as a rain of gunfire poured over their heads. He hit the ground with a grunt as Natasha whipped out her gun and shot 2 clear shots towards the center location where the shooting was coming from. Only half of the bullets stopped firing. Natasha growled because she couldn't see a thing from this angle. She quickly rolled off of him and dragged him by his collar behind a dumpster.
He calmly let her shove him up against the wall so that they were both shielded from most of gunfire. He didn't look fazed at all. What the hell?
"Have you finally lost your mind Barton?" she shouted over the rapid gunfire. He blinked.
"No - it just gets kind of old how predictable the bad guys get," he said with a shrug. Natasha tensed.
"I was never predictable - predictable got you killed," she said darkly. He smiled at her.
"I know - that's why I liked you - you were different," he said calmly. Natasha suddenly looked wary.
"Different is not always good," she said turning away from him. Clint furrowed his brow and was about to ask what she meant by not good - but he never got around to it because...
BOOM!
...The dumpster just caught on fire.
"Alright time to move!" he said jumping to his feet and dragging her with him.
"Oh now you care about not getting shot!" she said sarcastically as he pulled her around the corner. He shot a grin over his shoulder as they ran for their life.
"Not really! It's just that now it's like we're running away together Tasha!" he said cheerily.
Natasha shot him a disgusted look. It was like he was throwing up rainbows and kittens and telling her to jump in.
"How on Earth did you even survive as an assassin for 3 years?" she asked in disbelief. She watched his face unexpectedly darken as he glanced around to make sure they weren't being followed.
"You don't really want to know Tasha," he said carefully. Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Now that made her wonder what goes on in his crazy head behind all the sarcasm and cheekiness. Clint Barton was far from simple and transparent. Sometimes she thought he was even more closed off then her. Except his walls were built with arrogance and a devil-may-care attitude while hers were built with deadly glares and ruthlessness.
They really were two extremely messed up people weren't they?
"Everyone has ghosts Barton," she said cautiously as they avoided all the alleys they thought they heard boots running down. She felt his grip tighten around her hand as he continued to pull her along.
"The day you tell me yours I'll tell you mine Tasha," he said firmly. Natasha froze.
"Not gonna happened," she growled. He shrugged, undeterred by her predictable response.
"I have time," he said simply. She angrily glanced away.
"You probably already know everything there is to know about my past anyway – I wouldn't put it past SHIELD to have an entire file dedicated to the Black Widow's history," she said bitterly. Clint paused and suddenly slowed down.
"I never read it," he said turning to look at her. She tensed as he took a step closer to her and grasped her by the shoulders staring at her with his intense blue eyes.
"I never read your file. All I know is the basics that were necessary during the mission when I had to take you out. Aside from that all I know is what you decided to tell me – and it hasn't been much Tasha – but if you told me just one detail out of your entire life – it would mean more to me than if I learned about every assignment the Red Room program ever sent you on from a screen. I'm waiting for the day you want me to know," he said quietly watching the emotions storm in her eyes even as her expression remained deceptively blank.
"Don't wait for something that will never happen," she said pulling away from him and kept moving. They were still being hunted – but at the moment there was no one around except them. Clint took a deep breath as he followed after her and steeled his nerves for what he was about to do. It was always hard to take the first step.
"My brother was killed in fight 6 years ago," he said quietly falling into step beside her. Natasha didn't visibly react – but he could feel the tension vibrating off her in waves. She remained silent for several minutes. He thought she was just going to pretend he never spoke until she finally responded.
"My parents died in a fire when I was 4," she said quietly. He nodded and left it at that. It was more than he was ever expecting from her. He was about to ask her what they were going to do next when she suddenly stopped walking.
"It's too quiet," she said tensely. Clint suddenly looked around and realized she was right. Where did all the gunfire go?
They heard a distinct clapping come from behind them and tensed. They both spun around with their guns raised and came face to face with Marcus Hoffa – and his entire posse behind him. They were waiting for them to pass by.
"Bravo Romanoff – always were the sharpest agent weren't you? Bit late though since you're already cornered," Hoffa said as he walked into the alley with the sea of his men behind them. Natasha and Clint both narrowed their eyes. If they were going to go down they were going to damn well make sure this pathetic piece of shit went with them.
"Piss off Hoffa," Natasha said threateningly. Hoffa laughed.
"Why so serious Romanoff? You take the fun out of the chase you know? And now you have come to the end and have nowhere to hide agents! Your organization is seriously too nosy for their own good. Sending their best agents after a lowly businessman like me? How pitiful. You're names are all over the black market at the moment. You have been pissing off the wrong-" Hoffa was just getting started with his predictable speech.
Natasha and Clint glanced at each other as Hoffa continues to rant. They shared a bored look before they promptly ran in the opposite direction even while he was still threatening them. No one said you have to wait until the villain was done their long winded speech before you hightailed it out of there.
"...and you will rue the day – wait, where the fuck are you going?" Hoffa shouted in outrage.
Clint sent him the finger as Natasha dragged the smirking archer around the corner and out of sight.
Hoffa growled and spun around to glare at his men.
"Well what are you all waiting for? Get them!" he shouted red in the face. His men glanced at each other and shrugged before they shot down the alley. Usually their boss talked for a bit longer but whatever.
"Where are we going Tasha?" Clint asked as they ran down darker alleys with fewer lights to throw off their tail - it was wishful thinking.
"I have no fucking clue!" she said as they rounded a corner and came face to face with half of Hoffa's men. They all froze.
Cricket...cricket...
"Not this way!" she shouted before she shoved Clint back the way they came as bullets flew over their heads.
"No shit!" he muttered as he nearly fell flat on his face from the force of her shove. They finally decided to ditch the alleys altogether and started running down a street lined with several shady warehouses. Joy.
They ran past several locked entrances and heard the stampede not far behind them. Natasha growled as she took out her gun and shot the lock off one of the doors.
"Shit - they are just going to keep cornering us until they get a shot at one of us!" Natasha growled as they crashed through the empty warehouse and slammed the door shut behind them. They were both out of breath and exhausted from all the running – but they couldn't stop. They had less than 30 seconds before the place was overrun with hitmen.
Clint suddenly froze in place and stopped running.
"Tasha you need to go," he said without looking at her. She rolled her eyes.
"We can't leave before we kill Hoffa Barton - and besides the only way we're getting out of here is probably shooting our way out," Natasha said with a snort.
"I didn't say we - I said you," he said holding out his gun and pointing it at her forehead. Natasha narrowed her eyes.
"What the fuck are you playing at Barton?" she hissed completely undeterred by the gun in her face - he wouldn't shoot her. She knew him long enough to know that now.
"Leave Tasha," he said pushing lightly against her forehead with his gun. She clenched her jaw.
"Stop trying to be so self-righteous Barton! It's not a good look on you!" she growled. He smiled softly at her and removed the gun from her head - but then he promptly pointed it at his own. Holy shit.
"I'll shoot myself if you don't leave right now Tasha," he said determinedly. Natasha tensed.
"You're not suicidal Barton," she said darkly. Clint put his finger on the trigger.
"Trust me – go," he whispered. Natasha clenched her fists and glared dangerously at him. The bastard left her no damn choice.
"You better have a plan Barton or you're not going to die from your own bullet," she said with dangerous promise before she spun around and sprinted around the corner and burst out the back door. Clint sighed in relief – but for only a moment.
The front door instantly slammed open behind him and Clint knew he was in trouble.
He heard several clicks echo around the room and sighed. Joy. The party was here.
"No sudden movements Barton," Hoffa said threateningly. Clint raised an eyebrow as he slowly turned around and came nose to nose with 40 different firearms pointed at his face.
Wonderful greeting indeed.
A/N: Holding your breath anyone?
Review and let me know what you think they'll do :)
Dare 4: Run or I'll shoot you. Cause I can't think with you still here.