Chapter Text
Natasha was eating cherries, and Clint had no idea how she could be so nonchalant during a mission briefing like this one.
Actually, he wasn’t sure why she was eating cherries in a mission briefing in the first place, but Coulson was ignoring it, and so Clint tried to ignore it too, even though he was pretty sure she was doing it just to fuck with him.
(Except her lips were nearly as red as the fruit, and she licked her fingers every time she took a pit from her mouth and dropped it into the bag. That was distracting in the extreme.)
But anyway, back to the mission briefing, which was probably the most absurd and embarrassing Clint had ever experienced. He'd experienced a few embarrassing debriefings, but that's another story for another day.
Coulson's expression was completely deadpan when he said, "Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, you'll be going undercover as the new entertainment at The Boom Boom Room in Budapest."
Clint had unfortunately just stolen a cherry from Natasha's bag, and he promptly inhaled it. Natasha whacked him on the back, and he spat the cherry out. "Jesus Christ," he coughed. "Are you serious? ‘The Boom Boom Room?’"
Coulson looked thoroughly unamused, but Clint could see the ghost of a smile lurking around Natasha's mouth. "Yes, Barton, I'm completely serious," he said. "One of The Boom Boom Room's owners is an arms dealer who's been linked to HYDRA. We need the two of you to infiltrate the club and gather intel on the mark."
Clint couldn't help himself; he snickered the second time Coulson said the club's name. And then reality filtered through the absurdity of the situation, and Clint held up a hand. "Wait. We're the 'new entertainment?'" he said. "Just what does that mean?"
Clearing his throat, Coulson slid a portfolio over to Clint and Natasha. What was in the portfolio promptly made Clint choke again.
"It's a live sex club?!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, Barton," Coulson said.
"And by 'entertainment,' you mean Natasha's going to be stripping, and I'll be a bouncer or a bartender or something, right?"
Natasha's laugh was just a little unkind, he thought. Coulson gave him a look that bordered on exasperation. "You're not usually this dense, Barton," he said. "No, you will not be 'a bouncer or bartender or something.' You and Agent Romanoff will be on stage."
Clint could feel the color draining from his face. It wasn't that he didn't want to have sex with Natasha (and fully sanctioned sex, for that matter; it was an order!). Hell, he and Natasha had fucked plenty of times. They were two attractive people who had very stressful jobs and a lot of chemistry; Clint always thought it was inevitable that they'd get naked together.
But he wasn't an exhibitionist by any stretch. He liked his sex to happen in relatively private locations, and sex with Natasha was... well, an intimate thing for him. He had no idea what it was for her, because being Natasha, she never talked about it. Whether or not she felt the same as he did, he didn't want to experience that kind of intimacy on stage in front of a bunch of leering, horny Hungarians.
"Just think, Clint," Natasha said with a smirk. "You always talk about how unfair it is that I have to use my body for this job. This will level the playing field."
She had a point, but he was still the complete opposite of enthusiastic about this mission. He was a sniper, for god's sake, so why should he have to do this undercover shit? His brain nudged him into not saying that out loud and reminded him that five months before, he had requested more undercover ops. Coulson would just roll his eyes anyway, and Natasha would give him that withering look that made his balls crawl up inside his body.
It sounded like he was going to need his balls on this mission, anyway.
"Fine," he said aloud, giving in to the inevitable. "When do we leave?"
"This afternoon," Coulson said, a look of satisfaction on his face (presumably because he didn't have to argue with Clint anymore). "You'll arrive in Budapest tomorrow morning, which will give you time to set up your safe house and perform recon on the club. Your support team will arrive in the afternoon and set up shop in a second safe house. I'll leave the... strategizing to the two of you."
Natasha sucked the flesh off of another cherry, and Clint fought the urge to put his head down on the table.