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It had seemed simple, get in, get the intel, get the heck out. Basic; at least that is what Natashsa had been led to believe. They hadn’t even been given covers. They had been told they weren't going to be in contact with anyone except the agent, who had been stationed there for months prior.
that is how Natasha had been expecting it to go, how both of them expected it to go. That didn’t mean they were unprepared for a fight. They had been on too many missions, they had had too many nightmares, were too paranoid to let something like that happen. They both had enough ammo to take out twenty men. They had prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. Unfortunately they had rarely ever gotten the best.
Clint had stood on a nearby roof, bow drawn, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. Natasha had been leaning against a closed pharmacy waiting for the agent.
It had seemed simple: the agent would strike up a conversation, then both of them would wait for a code phrase. Then the agent would hand a suitcase to Natasha and leave. Clint had been chatting with Natasha over the comms. He had suggested going to a burger place after they got back. She had laughed a little and told him to stay focused.
“It is Valentine’s day, I’ll pay,” He had offered.
“Are you asking me on a date?” She had teased.
“Would you say yes?” He had continued the joke.
“Who am I to turn down free food?”
It had seemed simple. Get in, get the intel, get the heck out. Basic. Something they had done a hundred times. Natasha’s thoughts had flickered to Murphy’s law, but she had pushed them away, it was supposed to be simple.
It had not been simple. The agent had run up to Natasha and thrust the suitcase into her arms. Natasha had tried to stop them, they pushed her back against the wall and continued to run. Clint had muttered something about amateurs as he shot an arrow at their feet. A net had sprung from the arrow tip. Clint had climbed down the fire escape. Natasha had ran to the agent. Neither of them had made it to the agent. That is when Natasha had noticed the black cars coming down the road. Clint had fired arrow after arrow at the oncoming cars, until a man had leaned out one window and shot Natasha. She had stumbled back. The car had swerved to avoid one of Clint’s arrows, the man with the gun had momentarily lost his balance when he fired. The bullet had hit her shoulder, missing anything too important. They had already gotten the agent. Natasha had had no plan on leaving them behind, but Clint had stopped her, neither of them would have been able to get them back not without backup. The pair had quickly ran off towards their car. Clint had helped Natasha into the passenger seat. He had driven with no real destination in mind, attempting to lose the other cars.
When he was sure he had lost them, he parked the car in the middle of a field. He had frantically searched the back for bandages; pressing them to the wound to stop the bleeding. Once he had bandaged her wound he called for backup, there was no way he was letting Natasha head back out onto the field.
“When are they coming?” she asked.
“Didn’t say,” he shrugged.
“It’s a shame things took an unexpected turn, think I had a date tonight,” she smiled a little, shifting to face him.
It was childish and stupid and not the reality either of them lived in but he reached over to hold her hand giving it a gentle squeeze. “Rain check?”
“I’m free next Thursday” her smile widened ever so slightly.
“It’s officially a date.”