The prompt for this one was "self inflicted". It's a bit on the short side, but it felt right to me. And with it being done, perhaps I can get another one out tonight.


Natasha cursed under her breath and watched their target haul Clint up, twisting one arm behind his back and jamming a gun against his neck.

Clint used his free arm to try and pull the gun away but in his concussed haze, couldn't manage it. Blood trickled down his temple, curling around his eye and trailing down to his chin. Natasha watched him blink, eyes dazed, as he tried to recover from the unexpected blow he had taken.

Natasha had a knife in her hand in the span of a breath, but it wouldn't do her much good from this distance and she wouldn't be able to go for the gun resting uselessly in her pack without the guy noticing.

Clint was going to have to get himself out of this.

She drifted towards them, trying to get into throwing range.

"Don't come any closer," their target snapped, pressing the gun harder against Clint's neck. He blinked again, and his eyes were a bit clearer. He glanced at her, one brow quirking in question.

Was there a plan?

She shook her head slightly.

No, there wasn't.

He flicked a glance down at the gun pressed against his neck and she saw something reckless and stupid spark in his gaze.

She tilted her head in warning, glaring silently across the space between them.

Don't. She willed him.

As if hearing her, he glanced back up and meet her eyes.

Then the asshole grinned.

He wrapped a hand around the gun. Shifted it from his neck to his upper shoulder, and forced the target to pull the trigger. The bullet tore through the flesh and muscle above his collarbone and cut into the chest of the man behind him.

Clint staggered forward when the target released him, stripping the gun from his hand as he did. Natasha rushed forward, catching him with a supporting hand on his rubs and they both watched the target collapse, shock still painted on his face.

Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders and let her take some of his weight as they turned away.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded, leaning to snatch up her pack and shoving it into his hand so that she could dig out a pressure bandage.

"Creative problem solving. Shield taught a class on it."

"I must have missed that one," she grossed as she slapped the bandage on, glaring at him when he dared to grunt in pain. "And you listened in a SHIELD class?"

"Hey, that's offensive," he argued. "I attend EVERY SHIELD training thing that Phil makes me go to."

"There's a difference between going and listening," she shot back.

"Well I might have read between some lines…expounded on the lesson…used a loose translation."

"You slept through it, didn't you? And just made all this up as you went along," She replied with roll of her eyes.

"Hey, I'm sure I'd had a rough night the night before. And I got the job done, didn't it?"

"Clint, you shot yourself."

"Really? Hadn't noticed," he volleyed back with a sarcastic smirk.

"How are you going to explain this to Wilson? Tell him it was in a SHIELD class?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Wilson knows better than to expect any sort of real explanation from me by now."

"Okay. How are you going to explain this to Phil?"

Clint came to a stop, forcing her to stop with him. She glanced up to see horror painted across his face.

"Oh God, Phil's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

"Only if I don't beat him to it, идиот." (idiot.)


Somebody tell my kids to be calm and quiet so mommy can write lol JK - they're 3 and 5 months so calm and quiet don't exist unless they're sleeping. Hopefully more later today!