The prompt for this one was "Held at gunpoint" forgive any mistakes, I was exhausted when writing this lol
"Go ahead, do it."
Phil felt his eyes go wide and he pressed the comm harder into his ear.
"What did you just say?" he demanded, then looked at where Natasha was watching the scene across the alley through binoculars. "What did he just say?" he asked.
"You're gonna wanna see this," she muttered. Then paused, pulling the binoculars away from her eyes to glance sideways at him. "Actually, you probably don't want to see this."
Phil rolled his eyes and snatched his own binoculars off the table.
"Just move over," he groused.
It took him a moment to find Clint down below, but once he did, Phil felt his blood pressure skyrocket.
"Goddamnit," he hissed.
Clint was on his knees, hands up in surrender, with no less than three guns pointed at him. One of those guns was pressed directly into his forehead. Whatever the man threatening him was saying, Clint didn't appear impressed.
"Don't just talk about it. Do it. You see your two buddies watching? Pull the trigger."
Phil stiffened.
"That was a signal," he snapped, but Natasha was already moving. She retrieved Clint's sniper rifle from its case and shoved the desk until it was in front of the window.
"I'll even give you a countdown," Clint went on mockingly.
"Quickly!" Phil urged.
"I'm going! You could help you know!"
"Five."
Phil didn't want to take his eyes off Clint because it would be just like him to get himself shot when Phil wasn't looking. But Natasha needed that desk clear to set up the rifle. He tore his eyes away from the scene down below and helped her clear the desk, throwing things to the floor without care.
"Four."
Natasha stretched out on the desk, tucking the gun against her shoulder and adjusting the sites.
"Three."
Phil brought the binoculars back up, finding Clint again.
"Two."
He heard Natasha curse and then she shifted a few inches closer to the window, angling the rifle down a bit more.
"One."
Natasha fired in the same breath that Clint moved. He surged up, twisting the gun out of the man's grip even as it fired. One of the other two men fell to Natasha's shot. Clint spun the gun in his hand, firing a single round into the man's forehead just as the third man fell to Natasha's second shot.
Phil watched Clint press a hand to the side of his face and then look at his palm.
Phil couldn't see it from here, but he just knew Clint was somehow bleeding.
"Hawkeye, report," Phil barked.
"Which one of you took the shots?" Clint asked instead. "Wait, don't tell me." They watched him crouch down to inspect one of the bodies. "Nice one, Tash."
Phil saw Natasha smirk proudly out of the corner of his eye.
"This is an open line, Hawk," Natasha scolded without any heat.
"Pretty sure anybody who might be trying to listen in is dead so…I'm not too worried about it, Tash."
Phil rolled his eyes. These two were going to drive him to early retirement.
"Clint, report," he tried again.
"Why doesn't he get scolded?"
"Better answer him, that vein is starting to pop out," Natasha warned.
"Well…there are three bodies. But you already knew that. Luckily, I'm not one of them. Did I miss anything?"
As usual, Phil was going to have to drag it out of him.
"Are you hurt?"
Still watching through the scope, Natasha was silent, obviously waiting for the answer too.
"No more than usual."
"What the hell does that mean?" Phil snapped. Clint's definition of 'usual' could range from a papercut to multiple gunshot wounds.
"It means you're a freaking mother hen, is what it means. Since I know you're still creeping on me with the binoculars, you can see I'm obviously not dying. I'll be back there in less than ten minutes and then you can fret to your little heart's content."
Phil dropped the binoculars from his eyes quickly, noticing Natasha lifting her head from the scope at the same time. The exchanged a sheepish glance and then got to work putting the room back in order while they waited.
Phil worked on the desk while Natasha carefully cleaned and packed Clint's rifle back into its case. She was just zipping it closed when the door to the room opened.
Clint strode in, tossing Phil a thumb drive. It had been what he'd gone in to steal in the first place. Phil caught it, eyes scanning Clint for obvious injuries. The only thing he could see was a very shallow line of a blood along his cheekbone.
"Bullet grazed me when I took the gun off him," Clint explained without prompting. "Damn thing must have had a hair trigger."
"That's it?" Phil asked doubtfully.
"Scouts' Honor," Clint swore.
"You were never a scout," Phil reminded, moving to the computer to plug in the thumb drive.
Clint chuckled.
"Good thing too. I'd have probably got kicked out day damn one."
Phil couldn't argue with that and focused on looking over the stolen data while Natasha went after Clint with the first aid kit. It did not escape Phil's notice that Clint didn't put up nearly the same fight with her that he would have if Phil had come at him with antiseptic and butterfly bandages.
At least their against-protocol relationship – which Phil had no plans of reporting because for once Clint and happiness seemed to be on the same page – had some useful perks.
Idk how I feel about this one, but i'm so so tired that I could just be judging it too harshly. *shrugs* hope you guys like it at least! more tomorrow!