Fic- Codename: Captain Tightpants
Aug. 14th, 2012 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sgteam14283Title- Codename: Captain Tightpants
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language and a mostly naked Clint.
Summary: Never mention Natasha's tight outfit if you value your life.
A/N: Wrote this for the promptathon over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
be_compromised where I filled ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heartequals and workerbee73's prompts (and the title actually comes from heartequals prompt). Pre-Avengers movie. Read and enjoy!
Natasha pulled the trigger of her gun in rapid succession towards the airport officials who hadn’t bought their story of having their car break down miles from here and heard Clint yelling for her to get into the jet. Not hesitating, she ran down across the tarmac and only paused once more to empty her clip. Throwing the (now) useless gun down she felt bullets whip past her as she ran up the step.
Natasha had been inside the gala for only three hours when she managed to get the information on the arms dealer they were trying to take down; what she got at the gala and the information from his computer was more than enough to track his suppliers and shut the whole thing down permanently. So she managed to convince the dealer that they should leave to “continue” the evening back at his place.
As they made their way towards the car, she gave the signal to Clint and that’s when all hell broke loose. One second everything had been going according to plan and the next she was pinned down behind the car by unknown gunfire. One of the bullets had then struck the gas tank, exploding the limo and sending Natasha flying.
Fortunately, she hadn’t been seriously injured and only knocked out for a minute. Their mark...hadn’t been so lucky. But what was done was done and as far as Natasha was concerned it was one less loose end for them to tie up.
Now all they needed to do was to avoid getting blown-up and they were home free.
“If only Clint would get his ass into the plane.” Natasha thought as she pulled out one of the many guns on the jet and, after a quick check to make sure it was loaded, reappeared so he could make a run for it.
Clint made a break for the plane, having run out of arrows a few seconds ago. As he sped across the asphalt, Clint amazed at how FUBAR everything had ended up; everything had been going according to plan until gunfire had come out of nowhere. He guessed that maybe some of the dealer’s suppliers had gotten wind he was under surveillance and decided to take him out before he named them. Not that it mattered since Tasha had managed to get all of his contacts and suppliers from his computer.
Feeling a bullet graze his arm as he ran up the steps and into the plane, he winced slightly at the sting but deftly caught the gun she tossed to him and covered her as she moved to raise the stairs.
Only once they were in the air did Clint fully relax, sinking into a seat with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure if he should count the mission as a win since while they did manage to get the information at the same time he wasn’t the one to take the guy out...
Natasha sat directly across from him and knew that she looked like Clint felt; her dress was torn while covered with grime from the explosion, she had lost both of her shoes and there was a huge run in her pantyhose. A quick look in her compact told her that her face was streaked with gunpowder and dirt while her hair starting to fall out of its tight coif.
Coulson stepped out of the cabin and as he moved towards the two agents was only somewhat surprised at the state they were in. Normally the two would incur more damage than what they had just wreaked and Phil made a mental note to recommend to Fury that the two be paired permanently; they seemed to have somewhat of a tempering effect on each other.
Slightly raising an eyebrow, he looked at them while saying, “At least you both made it to the plane this time.”
Clint snorted at the statement, “Well if Captain Tightpants hadn’t been wearing a dress then we wouldn’t of been short on firepower.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, “Captain Tightpants? Really, is that the best you can come up with?”
Clint just smiled at her. He knew how much nicknames like that ticked her off and decided to use it from now on.
Natasha caught the smile and decided that it was on; Clint was going to regret calling her ‘Captain Tightpants.’
--
Clint let the water run down his body as he tried to unwind from his most recent mission. This one had gone just as well as his last one with Tasha; he needed to talk with Coulson about seeing if there were any leaks in their network since his target had once again been made crispy before he could take care of it without drawing too much attention to the whole thing.
But that was a conversation for much later, because all he wanted to do right now was go back to his apartment and sleep for the better part of the day.
Turing off the hot water, Clint groped for a towel but his hand only closed around air. Shaking water out of his hair he stuck out his head out of the stall to see if it was just farther than he’d thought but there was no towel on the rack. He was sure that he’d put one there before stepping in, but it didn’t bother him too much; there were always spares about.
Cautiously moving around the locker room, Clint searched for a towel but couldn’t find a single one. Scratching his head he wondered if they had simply forgotten to stock towels this time-it had happened before (much to some of the female staffers delight). Not worried about it since he had mostly dried off, Clint moved to his locker and opened it.
But instead of his uniform there was a note pinned to his pair of briefs that read;
Barton,
Don’t ever call me ‘Captain Tightpants’ again. Consider this your first and only warning.
Natasha
Clint couldn’t help but smile a little, he had enjoyed calling her that ever since the mission and knew that it was getting under her skin. And if Tasha wanted to start a prank war then he was fine with that; back at the circus Barney and him would try to out prank each other from time to time with Barney losing each and every time.
He wasn’t worried about getting back to his quarters without being noticed by Fury and Coulson; he’d just crawl through the ventilation ‘til he got to his quarters and no one would be the wiser.
Just as he popped the vent the general alarm sounded and he paused. “Dammit...” he breathed, hopping down from the bench and exiting into the main hallway.
--
Natasha tried to block out the music that was blasting through the PA speakers in the range but it was just so god damn loud that you could hear it through the ear protection. Normally she didn’t wear them, it’s not like she was going to have them in the field when she was using her gun, but the music was just so grating that she had to since she valued her sanity.
And it didn’t help that it was Lynyrd Skynyrd on a loop; she absolutely loathed the artist. It had started when she arrived at the range two hours ago, other agents had come in since then but once they heard the music they quickly left so now it was just Natasha.
Clenching her teeth, she focused on the target down range and pulled the trigger-flinching as the guitar solo started at that same moment, grating on her already frayed nerves. Lowering the gun Natasha saw that her shot had missed the center, hitting to the left instead.
Instantly her mood worsened, she never missed, and so Natasha turned towards the speaker and emptied the clip into it. The sound of bullets hitting metal had never felt so good to her ears. As the music came to a warping halt and the last of the sparks fell, Natasha walked out of the range with a tight smile on her face; she was going to enjoy getting back at Clint.
After all, he was the only one that knew she hated Skynyrd.
--
Natasha was hitting the punching bag for all that it was worth while trying not to destroy this one...she’d already broken the first two.
It had been two weeks since their ‘prank war’ had started and had escalated to the point where Fury had just sent them a memo saying that they needed to stop it or he’d have Coulson send them on a long surveillance mission or to a “team building” retreat that he sent especially troublesome teams to.
She’d heard rumors about those retreats and didn’t feel the need to experience them firsthand. Which was why she was in the workout room trying to work off some of the aggression she felt towards Clint at the moment. Just because she’d hacked into his SHEILD account and plant a rather nasty virus that went to everyone he communicated with (Hill, Coulson, Fury, the entire R&D department) didn’t mean that he had to steal her shoes and toss them over the side of the Helicarrier. After finding out that he’d even taken the lucky pair she hid in her closet it was only the fact that she was on an already short leash since Bulgaria that kept her from killing him right then and there.
She had been about to plot revenge when the memo from Fury appeared and Natasha wound up in the workout room.
Finishing the latest set with a hard punch to the center of the bag she took a slight step back. “I take it you got the memo as well.” she said to Clint while taking her gloves off.
Clint wasn’t surprised that Natasha knew he was there-she always had that “spider sense” and nodded, “Yeah.” Folding his arms across his chest he continued, “So what do you think, truce?”
Natasha turned around to glare at him before headed towards her bag. “Only if you admit defeat.”
“What? Never, I pranked you last.” Clint protested, following Natasha as she set her gloves down. “So you should be the one to admit defeat.”
Natasha glanced at Clint while thinking. They were never going settle this with a simple agreement, it just wasn’t them. “What if we spar for it?” she asked after taking a swig of water. “Loser admits defeat.”
“Fine.” Clint said without thinking but as the words left his lips he realized that he had just agreed to fight Tasha; he might be a master archer but she was a master fighter. But what was done was done and he couldn’t back out of it without losing face and that was one thing he didn’t want to do.
Natasha set down her water and smiled a little, this was going to be fun. “Good, first one to pin the other for sixty seconds wins.”
“Dea-” Clint started to say but was cut off by Natasha springing towards him. He managed to catch her while moving with her towards the mat, landing on top of her. Natasha then pushed up with her arms and legs, sending Clint backwards.
Backpedaling to the wall, he hit it with a ‘thud’ as Natasha scrambled towards him and pinned his arms so that he couldn’t move. “Why did you toss my shoes over the side?” she asked, pressing his arms further into the wall.
“You hacked into my account and fucked the R&D department for two days.” Clint grunted, trying to break free from her hold. Hooking one of his feet around hers, he gave it a sweep and she went down-breaking her grip from his arms. “Do you have any idea how pissed they are right now? They won’t even look at my new ideas for my arrows!”
Natasha scrambled up and stepped back as Clint advanced towards her. “But did you have to toss every single pair-including my lucky ones? Do you know how many times they’ve saved my ass?” she asked as they circled each other, waiting for the other to move.
Clint shrugged, “I had no idea-thought they were just any old pair.” Taking the opportunity to move, he leapt towards Natasha.
Natasha moved as well; turning to the side she grabbed his arm, flipping him onto his back and straddled his hips-pinning his legs to the mat. Smirking, she grabbed his arms and pinned them to the sides of his head. “Well now you owe me a pair of Jimmy Choos. You know how much they cost?” she asked with a mischievous smile on her face.
“Don’t care.” he replied as he raised his head and connected it with her face.
“Fuck!” Natasha swore as she was blinded with pain. She momentarily lost her grip on Clint, but that was all that he needed; he got up and managed to get her into a headlock.
Natasha paused for a few seconds, figuring out her next move while trying to loosen Clint’s hold on her. Knowing what she needed to do next, she moved quickly; stomping on his insole while elbowing him in the stomach and wrenching away from him.
Smirking at his grunt of pain, Natasha flipped her hair back and stepped towards him. Knowing that he was fading she decided to end things quickly. Since he was already on his knees, she smashed her elbow into his back to flatten and then placed a boot on his back to keep him down. Brushing her hair out of her face she asked, “That was for the ‘Tightpants’ comment-actually this whole fight is. Now say uncle.”
When he didn’t reply she pressed a little harder into his back, “Say it.”
“Nope.” Clint’s voice was muffled by the fact that his face was against the mat but knew that Natasha thought she had the upper hand. When in fact that was what he wanted her to think-while he might not be like the Black Widow when it came to hand-to-hand combat, since he’d grown up in the circus he’d learned quickly how to hold his own in fights. And that had only improved since Clint had joined SHIELD.
If he could get to higher ground then he’d have the advantage.
Without looking, Clint grabbed the foot that was on the floor and gave a good yank-sending Natasha’s feet flying and hearing the satisfying ‘smack’ of her landing on the mat. Pausing for only a second he heaved himself up and, avoiding her reach, ran for the door.
Natasha caught her breath in time to hear the ‘hiss’ of the door opening and rolled over to see Clint’s boot disappear around the corner. Getting up, she bolted for the door and exited the room while yelling, “Barton!”
The hallway was busy with SHIELD personnel but she spotted Clint as he stopped and following his gaze saw that he was going to go into the ventilation system. Running after him, she shouted, “Oh no you don’t!”
Clint risked a glance behind him to see that Tasha was gaining on him and tried to pry the vent cover off so he could disappear into the duct. But it was stuck fast. “Shit.” he breathed just a half a second before Natasha slammed into him like a linebacker.
He hit the ground with such force that Clint dimly wondered if he’d have any bruised ribs as a result of their fight. Slightly dazed, it took him a second to realize that the entire hallway had paused what they were doing and focused on the two assassins.
Groaning slightly, Clint looked up to see that Natasha was once again straddling him and wearing that grin of hers that meant she had him. But he wasn’t going to give up, not until one of them drew blood.
Bucking his hips, hoping to catch her off-balance, he realized that this had stopped being a way to settle their friendly contest and more about who could taken down the other.
“Ten seconds Barton.” Natasha teased, grinning down at him. “Nine...Eight...Sev-oof!” She hit the floor hard as Clint suddenly pinned her to the ground and then stood. Natasha reached for his foot as he moved away and managed to grab a hold of it. Gripping tight, she pulled and felt a bit satisfied as he hit the floor with a ‘clang.’
Yanking Clint back by the ankle, she got up and grabbed his vest-hauling him up and then shoving him into the opposite wall. Natasha then twisted his uniform so that Clint could hardly move. “You’re not going to win.”
Clint just laughed at the statement and held up his arms. “You got me.” he admitted, breathing heavily.
Natasha narrowed her eyes as she looked at Barton. She’d never known him to give up so easily before and wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I win?” she asked cautiously, not buying it.
“You win.”
She paused for a second, waiting for something to happen and when it didn’t, let go of Clint. “Glad yo-” she started to say when Clint grabbed her hair and pulled.
Hard.
“That’ll teach her to let her hair get long.” Clint smirked to himself as she let out a grunt of pain. He then grabbed Tasha’s arm and swung her into the wall. Moving to press his arm against her throat he was blocked by her knee and then shoved across the hallway into the opposite wall. Again.
His back was going to hurt like hell later.
Natasha was getting pissed off, why wouldn’t Clint give up? She was clearly the superior fighter. And since his hair was too short to grab onto she quickly put him into a submission hold and wouldn’t let go.
Clint shifted and managed to sweep her feet out from under her, forcing her to let go of the hold as she fell to the floor.
Natasha scrambled to her feet and launched herself at Clint so they both fell on the floor. Then they heard someone clearing their throat.
Both paused and looked up to see Coulson standing in front of them with his normal neutral expression.
“The Quinjet leaves in a half-hour. Both of you better be on it.” he said, handing orders to both of them and then walking down the hallway through the crowd of spectators.
--
“I hate you.” Natasha bitched at Clint as she raised the binocs to her eyes. Fury hadn’t been too happy with their “training exercise” in the hallways of the Helicarrier so he’d sent them to the-middle-of-fucking-nowhere for a surveillance job that could have been done by a satellite.
And they had no idea how long they had to do this.
“You’re just jealous that I was about to beat you.” Clint replied absently as he fiddled with his arrows-making sure that they were in working order.
Natasha snorted her disbelief, “Are you sure that you’re not brain damaged? Because I’m pretty sure that I had the upper hand the entire time.”
“That’s just what I wanted you to think.” They were silent for a time until Clint pipped up, “You know, we never did finish the fight.”
Natasha didn’t break her gaze but knew that he was right. “We’ll call it a draw, but next time I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t know who I am.”
Clint smiled faintly, “Deal.”
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language and a mostly naked Clint.
Summary: Never mention Natasha's tight outfit if you value your life.
A/N: Wrote this for the promptathon over at
be_compromised where I filled heartequals and workerbee73's prompts (and the title actually comes from heartequals prompt). Pre-Avengers movie. Read and enjoy!Natasha pulled the trigger of her gun in rapid succession towards the airport officials who hadn’t bought their story of having their car break down miles from here and heard Clint yelling for her to get into the jet. Not hesitating, she ran down across the tarmac and only paused once more to empty her clip. Throwing the (now) useless gun down she felt bullets whip past her as she ran up the step.
Natasha had been inside the gala for only three hours when she managed to get the information on the arms dealer they were trying to take down; what she got at the gala and the information from his computer was more than enough to track his suppliers and shut the whole thing down permanently. So she managed to convince the dealer that they should leave to “continue” the evening back at his place.
As they made their way towards the car, she gave the signal to Clint and that’s when all hell broke loose. One second everything had been going according to plan and the next she was pinned down behind the car by unknown gunfire. One of the bullets had then struck the gas tank, exploding the limo and sending Natasha flying.
Fortunately, she hadn’t been seriously injured and only knocked out for a minute. Their mark...hadn’t been so lucky. But what was done was done and as far as Natasha was concerned it was one less loose end for them to tie up.
Now all they needed to do was to avoid getting blown-up and they were home free.
“If only Clint would get his ass into the plane.” Natasha thought as she pulled out one of the many guns on the jet and, after a quick check to make sure it was loaded, reappeared so he could make a run for it.
Clint made a break for the plane, having run out of arrows a few seconds ago. As he sped across the asphalt, Clint amazed at how FUBAR everything had ended up; everything had been going according to plan until gunfire had come out of nowhere. He guessed that maybe some of the dealer’s suppliers had gotten wind he was under surveillance and decided to take him out before he named them. Not that it mattered since Tasha had managed to get all of his contacts and suppliers from his computer.
Feeling a bullet graze his arm as he ran up the steps and into the plane, he winced slightly at the sting but deftly caught the gun she tossed to him and covered her as she moved to raise the stairs.
Only once they were in the air did Clint fully relax, sinking into a seat with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure if he should count the mission as a win since while they did manage to get the information at the same time he wasn’t the one to take the guy out...
Natasha sat directly across from him and knew that she looked like Clint felt; her dress was torn while covered with grime from the explosion, she had lost both of her shoes and there was a huge run in her pantyhose. A quick look in her compact told her that her face was streaked with gunpowder and dirt while her hair starting to fall out of its tight coif.
Coulson stepped out of the cabin and as he moved towards the two agents was only somewhat surprised at the state they were in. Normally the two would incur more damage than what they had just wreaked and Phil made a mental note to recommend to Fury that the two be paired permanently; they seemed to have somewhat of a tempering effect on each other.
Slightly raising an eyebrow, he looked at them while saying, “At least you both made it to the plane this time.”
Clint snorted at the statement, “Well if Captain Tightpants hadn’t been wearing a dress then we wouldn’t of been short on firepower.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, “Captain Tightpants? Really, is that the best you can come up with?”
Clint just smiled at her. He knew how much nicknames like that ticked her off and decided to use it from now on.
Natasha caught the smile and decided that it was on; Clint was going to regret calling her ‘Captain Tightpants.’
--
Clint let the water run down his body as he tried to unwind from his most recent mission. This one had gone just as well as his last one with Tasha; he needed to talk with Coulson about seeing if there were any leaks in their network since his target had once again been made crispy before he could take care of it without drawing too much attention to the whole thing.
But that was a conversation for much later, because all he wanted to do right now was go back to his apartment and sleep for the better part of the day.
Turing off the hot water, Clint groped for a towel but his hand only closed around air. Shaking water out of his hair he stuck out his head out of the stall to see if it was just farther than he’d thought but there was no towel on the rack. He was sure that he’d put one there before stepping in, but it didn’t bother him too much; there were always spares about.
Cautiously moving around the locker room, Clint searched for a towel but couldn’t find a single one. Scratching his head he wondered if they had simply forgotten to stock towels this time-it had happened before (much to some of the female staffers delight). Not worried about it since he had mostly dried off, Clint moved to his locker and opened it.
But instead of his uniform there was a note pinned to his pair of briefs that read;
Barton,
Don’t ever call me ‘Captain Tightpants’ again. Consider this your first and only warning.
Natasha
Clint couldn’t help but smile a little, he had enjoyed calling her that ever since the mission and knew that it was getting under her skin. And if Tasha wanted to start a prank war then he was fine with that; back at the circus Barney and him would try to out prank each other from time to time with Barney losing each and every time.
He wasn’t worried about getting back to his quarters without being noticed by Fury and Coulson; he’d just crawl through the ventilation ‘til he got to his quarters and no one would be the wiser.
Just as he popped the vent the general alarm sounded and he paused. “Dammit...” he breathed, hopping down from the bench and exiting into the main hallway.
--
Natasha tried to block out the music that was blasting through the PA speakers in the range but it was just so god damn loud that you could hear it through the ear protection. Normally she didn’t wear them, it’s not like she was going to have them in the field when she was using her gun, but the music was just so grating that she had to since she valued her sanity.
And it didn’t help that it was Lynyrd Skynyrd on a loop; she absolutely loathed the artist. It had started when she arrived at the range two hours ago, other agents had come in since then but once they heard the music they quickly left so now it was just Natasha.
Clenching her teeth, she focused on the target down range and pulled the trigger-flinching as the guitar solo started at that same moment, grating on her already frayed nerves. Lowering the gun Natasha saw that her shot had missed the center, hitting to the left instead.
Instantly her mood worsened, she never missed, and so Natasha turned towards the speaker and emptied the clip into it. The sound of bullets hitting metal had never felt so good to her ears. As the music came to a warping halt and the last of the sparks fell, Natasha walked out of the range with a tight smile on her face; she was going to enjoy getting back at Clint.
After all, he was the only one that knew she hated Skynyrd.
--
Natasha was hitting the punching bag for all that it was worth while trying not to destroy this one...she’d already broken the first two.
It had been two weeks since their ‘prank war’ had started and had escalated to the point where Fury had just sent them a memo saying that they needed to stop it or he’d have Coulson send them on a long surveillance mission or to a “team building” retreat that he sent especially troublesome teams to.
She’d heard rumors about those retreats and didn’t feel the need to experience them firsthand. Which was why she was in the workout room trying to work off some of the aggression she felt towards Clint at the moment. Just because she’d hacked into his SHEILD account and plant a rather nasty virus that went to everyone he communicated with (Hill, Coulson, Fury, the entire R&D department) didn’t mean that he had to steal her shoes and toss them over the side of the Helicarrier. After finding out that he’d even taken the lucky pair she hid in her closet it was only the fact that she was on an already short leash since Bulgaria that kept her from killing him right then and there.
She had been about to plot revenge when the memo from Fury appeared and Natasha wound up in the workout room.
Finishing the latest set with a hard punch to the center of the bag she took a slight step back. “I take it you got the memo as well.” she said to Clint while taking her gloves off.
Clint wasn’t surprised that Natasha knew he was there-she always had that “spider sense” and nodded, “Yeah.” Folding his arms across his chest he continued, “So what do you think, truce?”
Natasha turned around to glare at him before headed towards her bag. “Only if you admit defeat.”
“What? Never, I pranked you last.” Clint protested, following Natasha as she set her gloves down. “So you should be the one to admit defeat.”
Natasha glanced at Clint while thinking. They were never going settle this with a simple agreement, it just wasn’t them. “What if we spar for it?” she asked after taking a swig of water. “Loser admits defeat.”
“Fine.” Clint said without thinking but as the words left his lips he realized that he had just agreed to fight Tasha; he might be a master archer but she was a master fighter. But what was done was done and he couldn’t back out of it without losing face and that was one thing he didn’t want to do.
Natasha set down her water and smiled a little, this was going to be fun. “Good, first one to pin the other for sixty seconds wins.”
“Dea-” Clint started to say but was cut off by Natasha springing towards him. He managed to catch her while moving with her towards the mat, landing on top of her. Natasha then pushed up with her arms and legs, sending Clint backwards.
Backpedaling to the wall, he hit it with a ‘thud’ as Natasha scrambled towards him and pinned his arms so that he couldn’t move. “Why did you toss my shoes over the side?” she asked, pressing his arms further into the wall.
“You hacked into my account and fucked the R&D department for two days.” Clint grunted, trying to break free from her hold. Hooking one of his feet around hers, he gave it a sweep and she went down-breaking her grip from his arms. “Do you have any idea how pissed they are right now? They won’t even look at my new ideas for my arrows!”
Natasha scrambled up and stepped back as Clint advanced towards her. “But did you have to toss every single pair-including my lucky ones? Do you know how many times they’ve saved my ass?” she asked as they circled each other, waiting for the other to move.
Clint shrugged, “I had no idea-thought they were just any old pair.” Taking the opportunity to move, he leapt towards Natasha.
Natasha moved as well; turning to the side she grabbed his arm, flipping him onto his back and straddled his hips-pinning his legs to the mat. Smirking, she grabbed his arms and pinned them to the sides of his head. “Well now you owe me a pair of Jimmy Choos. You know how much they cost?” she asked with a mischievous smile on her face.
“Don’t care.” he replied as he raised his head and connected it with her face.
“Fuck!” Natasha swore as she was blinded with pain. She momentarily lost her grip on Clint, but that was all that he needed; he got up and managed to get her into a headlock.
Natasha paused for a few seconds, figuring out her next move while trying to loosen Clint’s hold on her. Knowing what she needed to do next, she moved quickly; stomping on his insole while elbowing him in the stomach and wrenching away from him.
Smirking at his grunt of pain, Natasha flipped her hair back and stepped towards him. Knowing that he was fading she decided to end things quickly. Since he was already on his knees, she smashed her elbow into his back to flatten and then placed a boot on his back to keep him down. Brushing her hair out of her face she asked, “That was for the ‘Tightpants’ comment-actually this whole fight is. Now say uncle.”
When he didn’t reply she pressed a little harder into his back, “Say it.”
“Nope.” Clint’s voice was muffled by the fact that his face was against the mat but knew that Natasha thought she had the upper hand. When in fact that was what he wanted her to think-while he might not be like the Black Widow when it came to hand-to-hand combat, since he’d grown up in the circus he’d learned quickly how to hold his own in fights. And that had only improved since Clint had joined SHIELD.
If he could get to higher ground then he’d have the advantage.
Without looking, Clint grabbed the foot that was on the floor and gave a good yank-sending Natasha’s feet flying and hearing the satisfying ‘smack’ of her landing on the mat. Pausing for only a second he heaved himself up and, avoiding her reach, ran for the door.
Natasha caught her breath in time to hear the ‘hiss’ of the door opening and rolled over to see Clint’s boot disappear around the corner. Getting up, she bolted for the door and exited the room while yelling, “Barton!”
The hallway was busy with SHIELD personnel but she spotted Clint as he stopped and following his gaze saw that he was going to go into the ventilation system. Running after him, she shouted, “Oh no you don’t!”
Clint risked a glance behind him to see that Tasha was gaining on him and tried to pry the vent cover off so he could disappear into the duct. But it was stuck fast. “Shit.” he breathed just a half a second before Natasha slammed into him like a linebacker.
He hit the ground with such force that Clint dimly wondered if he’d have any bruised ribs as a result of their fight. Slightly dazed, it took him a second to realize that the entire hallway had paused what they were doing and focused on the two assassins.
Groaning slightly, Clint looked up to see that Natasha was once again straddling him and wearing that grin of hers that meant she had him. But he wasn’t going to give up, not until one of them drew blood.
Bucking his hips, hoping to catch her off-balance, he realized that this had stopped being a way to settle their friendly contest and more about who could taken down the other.
“Ten seconds Barton.” Natasha teased, grinning down at him. “Nine...Eight...Sev-oof!” She hit the floor hard as Clint suddenly pinned her to the ground and then stood. Natasha reached for his foot as he moved away and managed to grab a hold of it. Gripping tight, she pulled and felt a bit satisfied as he hit the floor with a ‘clang.’
Yanking Clint back by the ankle, she got up and grabbed his vest-hauling him up and then shoving him into the opposite wall. Natasha then twisted his uniform so that Clint could hardly move. “You’re not going to win.”
Clint just laughed at the statement and held up his arms. “You got me.” he admitted, breathing heavily.
Natasha narrowed her eyes as she looked at Barton. She’d never known him to give up so easily before and wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I win?” she asked cautiously, not buying it.
“You win.”
She paused for a second, waiting for something to happen and when it didn’t, let go of Clint. “Glad yo-” she started to say when Clint grabbed her hair and pulled.
Hard.
“That’ll teach her to let her hair get long.” Clint smirked to himself as she let out a grunt of pain. He then grabbed Tasha’s arm and swung her into the wall. Moving to press his arm against her throat he was blocked by her knee and then shoved across the hallway into the opposite wall. Again.
His back was going to hurt like hell later.
Natasha was getting pissed off, why wouldn’t Clint give up? She was clearly the superior fighter. And since his hair was too short to grab onto she quickly put him into a submission hold and wouldn’t let go.
Clint shifted and managed to sweep her feet out from under her, forcing her to let go of the hold as she fell to the floor.
Natasha scrambled to her feet and launched herself at Clint so they both fell on the floor. Then they heard someone clearing their throat.
Both paused and looked up to see Coulson standing in front of them with his normal neutral expression.
“The Quinjet leaves in a half-hour. Both of you better be on it.” he said, handing orders to both of them and then walking down the hallway through the crowd of spectators.
--
“I hate you.” Natasha bitched at Clint as she raised the binocs to her eyes. Fury hadn’t been too happy with their “training exercise” in the hallways of the Helicarrier so he’d sent them to the-middle-of-fucking-nowhere for a surveillance job that could have been done by a satellite.
And they had no idea how long they had to do this.
“You’re just jealous that I was about to beat you.” Clint replied absently as he fiddled with his arrows-making sure that they were in working order.
Natasha snorted her disbelief, “Are you sure that you’re not brain damaged? Because I’m pretty sure that I had the upper hand the entire time.”
“That’s just what I wanted you to think.” They were silent for a time until Clint pipped up, “You know, we never did finish the fight.”
Natasha didn’t break her gaze but knew that he was right. “We’ll call it a draw, but next time I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t know who I am.”
Clint smiled faintly, “Deal.”
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Date: 2012-08-15 05:58 am (UTC)Love it. Love it!
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Date: 2012-08-16 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-27 10:39 pm (UTC)And oh, those last two lines <3
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Date: 2012-08-28 02:18 am (UTC)