The prompt for this one was "Self sacrifice" and those of you that have been with me a while, know Clint's hardwired for that type of thing. So I went a little lighter with this since we've had the angsty version of that in the VPU before ;)

"Don't you dare," Phil snapped, watching Clint edge closer to the end of the wall.

"He wants a hostage, I'll give him one," Clint shot back. "Better me than a civilian."

"If he makes you for an operative, he'll kill you."

"Then we better hope you trained me well," Clint replied with a cheeky grin. He handed his weapons over to Phil, hesitating with his knife before giving him that too. "I feel naked."

"If you get yourself killed…" Phil trailed off ominously.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll kill me," Clint finished with a grin and a wink. Then he morphed before Phil's eyes, eyes going wide and face going innocent and scared. He ducked like he was trying to take cover and ran out of the hallway.

Phil pursued him to the edge of the wall and then stopped, listening.

"Hey! Stop! STOP!" a disembodied voice commanded harshly.

"I-I'm sorry. Please don't kill me…please don't…"

Phil had to hand it to him. Clint was one of the best undercover operatives he'd ever known. Phil could hear fear in his voice and the tremble really sold it. There was a sound of a scuffle and then the attacker's voice rang out again.

"Nobody move or I kill the kid!"

Phil risked a peek around the corner. The man had Clint in a headlock, a gun pressed against his temple. Clint met his gaze and then rolled his eyes as if this was all some big joke to him. Phil ducked back out of sight and cursed.

"Damn, stupid kid," he muttered to himself as he checked his gun. "Let's go to the mall, he said. It'll be relaxing. Yeah, my blood pressure's never been so high."

"I want a million dollars and a car!" Clint's captor yelled, apparently to whoever happened to be listening. The local police hadn't even arrived yet. Clint was probably barely containing his laughter at the amateur nature of this whole thing.

"He wants a hostage," Phil went on, mimicking Clint mockingly. "I'll make him run maneuvers for weeks after this. 'I'll give him one' my ass."

Sirens echoed in the distance. Time was almost up.

"Anytime now, kid," Phil muttered, risking another look.

Clint was closely eyeing the retreat of the civilians in the area. Likely ensuring they were at a safe distance before he acted.

"I said no cops!" the man yelled to no one in particular.

Apparently, that was the last straw for Clint, because he snorted.

The man jammed the gun roughly against Clint's head.

"Something funny?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," Clint made a half-hearted effort to contain his laughter. "You're just really bad at this."

"Excuse me?" the man growled, digging the gun into Clint's temple.

Clint just grinned. Phil wanted to strangle him.

"You didn't say 'no cops' for one. Trust me, I was listening. You're just kind of shouting at everyone but no one is really listening because they're too busy running. But that wasn't even your biggest mistake."

"Oh yeah?" the man asked angrily. "What was my biggest mistake?"

Clint's grin turned feral.

"Me."

Clint moved, and the gun went off.

Phil might have shouted something as Clint and his captor went down in a tangle of limbs. Phil rushed forward, his own gun ready. He froze when another shot echoed through area. Both Clint and the captor went still.

"Kid, if you got yourself shot so help me…" Phil snagged Clint's shoulder and pulled him back.

There was blood all over his shirt.

"Oh my God." Phil yanked him away from the unmoving gunman and went to his knees, pawing at Clint's t-shirt and looking for a wound.

"Phil. Phil!" Clint's hands caught Phil's wrists. "Calm down. It's not mine."

Phil froze, eyes rising to meet Clint's.

"It's not mine," Clint assured again.

"You're bleeding," Phil realized blankly.

"No, Phil. It's not m-"

"On your head."

That shut Clint up. He frowned, hand rising to touch the furrow a bullet had carved through his hairline. Phil caught his hand.

"Don't touch it."

"It's not that bad," Clint decided even though he had no evidence to support the claim. "I mean, I didn't even get knocked out by it."

"So bullet wounds are okay if they don't force you into unconsciousness?" Phil wondered with a sarcastic arch to his brow.

"I mean…maybe not okay. But not as big a deal at least."

"Kid," Phil waited until he had Clint's full attention, "it's always a big deal. Whether it's a shallow little crease or an honest to God hole in your body. It's a big deal to me, okay?"

Clint held his gaze and then sighed dramatically.

"You're such a mother hen sometimes."

"Whatever it takes to keep you alive, kid."

"It's barely even bleeding," Clint protested.

"How would you know? You can't even see it."

"I can feel it."

"You can feel it bleeding? Really?" Phil challenged.

"Sure I can."

"What's it feel like then."

"Wet," Clint replied simply.

Phil rolled his eyes.

"Come on." He hauled Clint up. "The local PD is gonna be in here any minute. Let's go."

"Should I really be moving with this headwound Phil? Maybe you should carry me. No wait, piggy back ride."

"I'm not carrying you."

"But Phil," Clint protested mockingly. "I'm wounded."

"You've made your point."

"Really? Already? I had enough material to go on for at least 10 more minutes."

Phil shoved him towards the exit and cast a look to the heavens for strength.

That one was fun! Hope you enjoyed! More tomorrow!