Nouakchott, Mauritania (07/06/2009)
Clint was honest-to-god giggling. It was amusing, but really… not what he was supposed to be doing, so Nat (reluctantly) switched on her comms to talk to him.
“Hey birdbrain, what gives?” His giggling only increased, and she rolled her eyes to the high heavens before jumping down from her perch on the A/C unit, and tackling Clint onto the rooftop. “We do have a job to do. We have a plan. Clint, we have to make sure every step goes perfectly what could you possibly have to laugh at-”
He was panting for breath, and he gestured weakly at her neck, literal tears forming in his eyes.
“Did you- have a fun - night?” he wheezed, snickering and rolling out of her grip.
Natasha hissed and slapped a hand to cover her neck and the hickey Clint had noticed, a blush painting her cheeks. She wasn’t used to concealer, and they had been a little enthusiastic.
“Get back to work, Barton,” she bit out, “and maybe I’ll forgive you if you help me get rid of it by the time Nick gets here?”
Clint agreed, because he was her little brother, in all but blood, because he loved her even if he teased her to kingdom come, and because he was still a little scared of the fact that she could rupture his spleen with her left pinkie, blindfolded.
Their op - it was technically an op, although it was pathetically easy for a Russian super-spy and a Clint - was to take down their mark. He was on the Index, but his power wasn’t much help in a combat situation - he could read minds, if he was touching someone - and he had turned to the dark side. SHIELD had already failed at capturing him, so he had to be taken out.
It had been a stakeout for a couple of days waiting for him to leave the house, but he would show up soon, and Clint could take the shot. The real reason they had accepted the mission was because Nat had recently become privy to some incredibly important intel pertaining to their boss.
It was Nick’s birthday.
He would obviously never accept a birthday party he saw coming, so Nat, Clint, Phil, Masha, Bobbi and Sharon had teamed up to surprise him with a good day.
Nick was Fury to everyone except Nat and Masha, who mostly just called him Nick to mess with him, and one other person. Nat only knew the last fact because she had hacked his phone for about three minutes and found three contacts labelled Annoyance - Annoyances #2 and #3 were her own number and Masha’s, but Annoyance #1 didn’t have a number attached, just a word - pager.
Masha had volunteered for recon, considering she was already supposed to be shadowing him for her job as Deputy Director, and she had found out that Nick had some kind of souped-up pager he carried with him at all times. Clint, being a carney at heart, had swiped it before they left for Mauritania, and sent out a signal with it. It had lit up with some odd symbol that they had put Phil on researching, while Sharon and Bobbi worked themselves to the bone planning the party.
Clint brought Natasha’s attention back to the op with a muttered “Mark” and she scurried back to her perch, wrinkling her nose at the building they were surveilling. Sure enough, the mark had exited, and looked to be making his way downtown - walking fast, actually, which seemed odd for someone who had holed themselves up in a shoddy apartment for days.
Clint squinted down his arrow and loosed it, nodding confidently as it whistled through the air. The mark dropped onto the pavement - no-one noticed, which Nat was thankful for - and Clint started packing away his gear. Nat stopped him, indignant, and reminded him of the plan. She carefully picked up the sat phone, biting her lip to stop her laughter and kicking Clint in the shin when he started snickering.
She took a deep breath to suppress her giggles, and forced herself into a straight face.
“FUBAR. Get Fury over here. Over.” The call would go out to Phil, who would load up a jet and bring Nick to their nearest safehouse, while also alerting Sharon, Bobbi and Masha, who had been on standby. They would set up the safehouse with party gear while Nick and Phil were over the Atlantic, and Nat and Clint would twiddle their thumbs for a bit, waiting for everyone to finish up.
As soon as Clint finished packing away his gear, they made their way to the safehouse to drop off their bags. Nat stole a quick kiss from Masha before Clint dragged her away, complaining.
“Seriously, what does a guy have to do to get some coffee around here?”
They walked hand-in-hand to a coffee shop, bickering good-naturedly the whole way. Nat ordered, getting Clint his usual black coffee and ordering an espresso for herself, before purchasing a chocolate coin each.
Clint dropped the pager onto the table, peering thoughtfully at the blue and red design. He sipped at his coffee absentmindedly as he prodded the pager, drawing his finger away with a guilty look and protests of innocence as it flickered off.
“I didn’t do it!”
Nat rolled her eyes, and snapped her head up as a blonde woman walked into the coffee shop. She carried herself like a soldier, and Nat felt sure she recognised her from somewhere. A photo maybe? The woman caught sight of the pager on their table and made a beeline for them, pulling up a nearby chair.
“Where’s Fury?”
Nat slapped a hand over Clint’s mouth as he opened it to start babbling, and appraised the woman with a cool look.
“It’s Nick’s birthday, so we’re planning him a party. You’re in his contacts as Annoyance #1 - which I take offense at, as I am clearly the ultimate disturbance in his life-” the mystery woman snorted, and grinned at Nat. “-and so we decided to invite you. I’m Natasha Ro- Romanoff, this is Clint Barton, and the others we invited are my girlfriend Maria Hill, our handler Phil Coulson, and our friends Bobbi Morse and Sharon Carter.”
The woman took a bite of Clint’s chocolate coin, ignoring his feeble protest of “Aw, chocolate, no,” and shook Nat’s hand.
“I’m Carol Danvers - Nick’s an old friend from the ‘90s. I was off-planet, which is why it took me so long to get here - I’d be happy to help. Do you mind if I bring my cat?”
They both ignored Clint’s grumbles.
As soon as they’d bought another black coffee for Carol, coffee to go for Masha, Sharon and Bobbi, and they had all drained their coffee cups, the unlikely trio waltzed out of the coffee shop and brought Carol back to the safehouse. She had to leave for a few minutes to bring back her cat - who was called Goose, and instantly warmed to Natasha - but she soon settled right in with the crew, and demonstrated her amazing powers by re-heating the coffee for the other girls.
Clint phoned Phil, and relayed the information that him and Fury were about half an hour out to the rest of the team. Sharon and Carol had taken to each other and were getting on like a house on fire, and Masha and Nat had gone upstairs to ‘hash out mission plans’. It hadn’t been too long since Madripoor, and Masha hadn’t been on any ops since - she wasn’t about to, either, if Nick had anything to say about it. Clint and Bobbi were stuck with each other, but Nat was fairly sure she could hear them rummaging around the party games Sharon had packed.
“Hey, you.” Masha’s voice was quiet, but her eyes were warm and affectionate. Nat turned from where she had been staring down the stairs and led Maria to the tiny bedroom, flopping onto the covers and pulling her girlfriend with her. “We don’t have long, Tash. Nick and Phil will be here soon. You heard Clint.”
Natasha sighed dramatically, but her smile betrayed her as she snuggled under Maria’s arm. For once she was glad to be so short.
“Well then, Ria, I’m going to fall asleep on you on the plane back.” Masha’s snort made Nat blush, and she rolled over to face her.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
They spent a while just lying together, Natasha curled up in Maria’s embrace, until there was a hammering at the door.
Everyone jumped into their positions. Sharon flicked the lights out to hide the colourful balloons and streamers and promptly hid behind the bullet-ridden sofa, grinning madly. Carol ducked behind the sofa with her, and they pressed together to make room. Clint moved carefully towards the door, while Bobbi pressed herself into the wall on the other side. Masha hid up the stairs and Natasha took liberal use of her grappling hooks to crawl into the corner where the ceiling met the walls and stay there like a real spider.
Clint edged the door open and ushered Phil and Nick in, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Barton, this does not look particularly FUBAR to me,” Fury growled, as Phil placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Fury, you gotta promise not to freak out,” Clint bartered, as he backed away towards the light switch. “This is not an op gone wrong.” He flicked the switch and the safe house was bathed in a dying, fluorescent light.
There were streamers slung around the ceiling and walls. Bright balloons with ‘59’ on them were littered about the floor, and board games covered the sofa. There was a Twister! sheet on the floor, which luckily no one had managed to slip on, and everyone emerged from their hiding places adorned with manic grins.
“Happy Birthday, Nick!” Nat was the first one to say it, gliding down from her corner like she was on a web, and dangling with a wide grin when he turned to face her.
“Your kids will call you Fury, huh? Yeah, I believe that.” Fury spun around, eye widening as he caught sight of Carol, and he just about jumped out of his skin when Goose rubbed up against his ankles.
“Danvers, tell me you ain’t friends with these heathens?” Nick asked plaintively, reaching down to scratch Goose’s ears. “I tried to keep my number one menace away from the others, and look what happens, huh,” he crooned to Goose, shaking his head at the others. “Two of my top agents are dating and they’ve finally met their vodka aunt. Well, Carol, was this your idea?” he accused, standing up straight with an audible click.
“Not mine. Sharon and Nat’s, from what I can tell.” She hid a snicker and nudged Sharon on the shoulder, offering her a smirk. “I didn’t know you were so old, Nick! The girls tell me you’re 59? They elected to celebrate this year, instead of next year, considering you’ll probably be trying to forget your age next year.”
“I was doing a great job of it this year, too.” He was grumbling, but he seemed to have finally accepted his fate. “Were all of you in on this?” At everyone’s matching nods, he shook his head again and cleared an empty spot on the sofa to fall onto. “I am never trusting any of y’all again.”