Prompt: Write a story inspired by family folklore.
AN: I took this prompt pretty loosely. The actual story was that one of my ancestors was sweet on a girl up North. Her brothers didn't take too kindly to him and tried to drive him off. My ancestor ended up killing one of the brothers. Well, that really ticked off the other brothers, so they got the law involved. Story goes, he managed to skip town by hiding himself in a pickle barrel and floating down the Mississippi River. When he got out down South, he changed his name to 'Ford,' and it's been our name ever since.
This story isn't so dramatic as that, especially as I had to change up a few things last minute, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.
"And that's why I'm not allowed in the Donut Shoppe anymore."
Tony took a swig of coffee as the rest of the team chuckled. He gestured at Clint with his mug when the laughter died down.
"What about you, Cupid; what's the weirdest escape route you've ever taken?"
Clint grunted and popped another handful of trail mix into his mouth.
"You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Natasha hummed in agreement from her place on the floor tangled up with Bucky, Steve, and Sam. She'd been trapped when Steve and Bucky had fallen asleep together and seemed content to stay put for the moment.
"He's right. We rarely have extraction plans, so things can get… interesting when we make our exit."
"So it'll make for a great story," Tony grinned. "Come on, spill."
"Alright, alright," Clint groaned. "Weirdest escape, yeah? Let me think. I guess there was that one time in Missouri…" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"So, ten years ago, back when I was doing solo work, I did a job in St. Louis. It was small time, mostly infiltrating rogue groups that were trying to buck the system and passing names of the major players to my employer. Everything was fine until one of the other snitches got in hot water and ratted me out to save their skin."
"How did you find out?" Bruce interrupted.
"Well Brucie, when people are trying to shoot you that usually means they're not your friends."
"Usually," Natasha added with a grin. "Sometimes it means they are your friends and just don't know it yet."
Bruce blushed and busied himself with stirring his tea.
"I meant, how did you find out how they found out about you?" The tips of his ears pinked more noticeably, and Sam patted his leg sympathetically as the others chuckled.
"Don't worry about it, man. I get tongue-tied around these weirdos all the time."
Clint scratched at the back of his neck with another laugh.
"To be honest, Bruce, I just kind of assumed that's what happened. I didn't really have time to knock heads until I found out for sure, but I don't remember screwing myself over. Not on that job, anyway." Clint shrugged. "At this point it doesn't really matter. They found out and I had to scram or get my head beat in. The problem was, they had rats watching all the exits—except one. Mostly because they didn't think I'd be dumb enough to take it."
"St. Louis is a port town, but the Mississip' isn't anyone's choice for a quick getaway. It's mostly trash barges, cargo ships, and cruisers. The night I was lookin' to skip town, my only real choice was to hide out in a shipping container and hope I could bust my way past whoever opened it up down the river. It took me ages to find any that weren't locked up or guarded too heavily to squeeze past on such short notice. And the few that I could get to either weren't slated for delivery or were filled with crap; nothing you'd want to be locked in with for a few days, at any rate. Eventually, I found this crate of produce to hitch a ride in. Just in time, too. Apparently, the rats had finally realized that I actually was stupid enough to try the river. I'd just managed to hunker down between two crates of peaches when they busted in, scanned the crate and moved on. I stayed put the rest of the night, just in case they came back. Next morning, the port crew locked the crate down and loaded us up on a barge."
"Things were pretty boring after that. I spent two days in pitch black with a bunch of fruit for company before they finally unloaded. Almost got crushed by a crate in the process, but I made it out okay. It definitely wasn't the most dignified exit I've made, and I'm still sick of peaches, but win some, lose some."
"That's nothing," Natasha broke in as she finished tying off another braid for Bucky. "Remember the time I got busted in Norway?"
Clint shuddered.
"Ugh. I still can't believe you did that. I mean, I can, but G-d, why did you do that?"
Tony poured himself another generous cup of coffee.
"Well, Romanov? Don't make us wait all night."
The ex-Russian smirked and pushed herself tighter against Steve's side, reveling in his warmth and the others' blatant curiosity.
"It all started when Coulson sent me to infiltrate an AIM base in Voss."