Work Text:
Cap voulentreed you and Clint for this godforsaken mission, thinking you two were perfect for it. As you entered the small meeting room to get your gear and other information, you jokingly nudged Clint in the arm telling him to remind you to thank Cap later. He laughed silently, saying he would and he’d even add his own little thank you note. Fury gave you both a glare as you entered the room. Even if the guy only had one eye, any look he sent your way could be lethal.
You were both standing, arms crossed over your chests listening to Fury ramble about the details. To be honest, neither of you were paying much attention to what was being said. You stood mostly in your own thoughts, silently nodding your head whenever Fury did, so he would believe you were listening. Really, you contemplated which movie to watch later that night and what snacks you would get.
Clint was busy cuddling up to his new arrows. The entire ride down in the elevator he just would not stop talking about them. He talked more about them than he did about his kids. Apparently, the best thing about new arrows was the smell. The smell of ‘new arrows fresh of the press’ was, according to Clint, much better than the smell of coffee on an early winter morning. Knowing Clint, he most definitely knew the aurora of coffee like the back of his hand, seeing how he likes to drink it straight from the pitcher.
The mission itself was straight forward, nothing you hadn’t done a thousand times before. The thing that came after missions like these had you and Clint groaning in union. Rescue ops were always a pain when it came to the length of the report that Fury just had to have on his desk the next day. Somehow, Clint always managed to get Natasha to do his, while you were stuck doing your own.
You had eyes on the hostiles and hostages coming out of a flight hangar. You and Clint, along with a few other agents, laid in cover behind a small ridge. Fury’s orders were easy; take out the hostiles, get the hostages home, minor casualties. Piece of cake to two of the finest Avengers right?
However, things did not go as smoothly as you had hoped. Just before you were about to move in, Clint sneezed. We’re not talking a cute little, silent sneeze, no. This was the loudest, most uncalled for sneeze in history and he had the most perfect timing to unleash it on the world. They spotted you and shot, threw everything they had your way. They really did not want you to get the hostages.
You and Clint were soon in pursuit, just after you scolded him for blowing your cover. You shot at everything that seemed to move, did some pretty impressive ‘avenger’ moves and used the training that Natasha so kindly offered to give you. Clint on the other hand, didn’t run per se. It was more of a jog while he shot his exploding arrows, a smug grin decorating his face whenever he took out someone before you did.
His smirk could pretty much be heard over the coms, followed by some cheesy remark. You had just been in the process of telling him to go where the sun don’t shine when a specifically sturdy man ambushed you. You gave Clint the go ahead to move in advance and just get the hostages out while you kicked ass.
Once the guy was out of your hair, easy piecey, you ran in the direction where Clint disappeared. You spotted him, but he was too far ahead of you and you couldn’t see the hostages.
“Clint,” you practically yelled over the coms. “What does your elf eyes see?”
“What did I tell you about the Legolas references?” Clint huffed just before you heard him firing an arrow. “They’re transferring the hostages into some plane, I don’t know.”
“They’re taking the hobbits to isengard!” You laughed at your own joke, much to Clint’s annoyance. “Well go after them, elf boy.”
“You know, I wouldn’t hate some help over here,” Clint said breathlessly, he really should have stretched before this.
“I’m on my way,” you said and picked up your own speed.
Besides from your, from Clint’s point of view, crappy jokes: the mission went on without a hitch. You retrieved the hostages in perfect health, got praise from Fury, who knew he could do other than yell and could go home with yet another successful mission on your records.
“Good job today, mellon.”
“It’s not funny anymore.”
“Yes it is.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“Is too, Clint!” You laughed, enjoying the annoyance written on his face.
“I don’t think you got a good look at my arrows before,” he said and picked up his bow. “Why don’t you look a little closer, say, with one planted right between those pretty eyes of yours?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You should run.”
“Legolas! You wouldn’t do that to an elf-friend.”
“Oh, you’re so dead.”