An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers (Part 2)

Workplace Disputes

Your door burst open rather unexpectedly one afternoon while you were in the middle of making your first ever homemade chicken nuggets (or at least the first you could remember), revealing a very urgent-looking Clint and Natasha both striding in together, arms laden with sacks. They looked surprisingly worried, and you tightened your grip on the knife in your hand and balanced yourself before you realized that they were carrying in groceries. The urgency still put you on edge, but Natasha actually smiled at you as she saw the way you had turned toward them.

"That training is finally kicking in, but it's not that kind of an emergency," Natasha advised, still smirking as she rushed past you. Were you that obvious? You'd tried to keep yourself from looking too startled.

"Where's the best place to hide stuff in here?" Clint asked, staggering past you with a load nearly as large as Natasha's. "And don't you pretend you haven't thought about it, we don't have much time - Fury is already after us."

"I, uh-" you stumbled over yourself, caught off guard by the question. "Exercise room? Plenty of space to hide small stuff there around the equipment, or in the storage closets, maybe in the folded up towels, or somewhere in the restrooms? I've been filling up the closet with sports and energy drinks, to try to-"

"Sounds perfect," Clint interrupted, heading towards the back of your home quickly. Natasha made herself at home in the kitchen, slowly unloading sacks as if she'd never been worried at all.

"Fury is gonna walk through that door in about thirty seconds," Natasha said. "Time to put your adaptability to the test. If he asks... you sent Clint to use the restroom. Got it?"

"I- what are- yeah, I got it," you mumbled, wanting to ask more questions but seeing from the look in her eyes that there wasn't much time for answers. It was a good thing, too, because you were about five seconds into trying to awkwardly get back to slice up chicken when Fury strode his way into the kitchen.

"So much for restocking the break room," Fury said in a low voice, almost dangerous. "Where, exactly, is Agent Barton?"

"I- what the hell lit a fire under your ass, Fury?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you struggled to quell your confusion and let your natural snark take over. "I haven't seen you this animated since-"

"If I had the patience to deal with you right now, I <I>might</I> let you finish that sentence without slapping you," Fury interrupted, pointing a finger at your face. He turned to Natasha, growing more annoyed by the moment.

"Now where is Agent Barton?"

"Right here, what's up, Fury?" Clint asked, striding back into the kitchen, empty sacks hanging from one of his fingers. "I didn't want to interrupt dinner prep, so I dropped everything off myself. Something wrong?"

"Well, now that you mentioned it, a couple of my agents got caught - on a camera they damn well <I>knew</I> was there - getting shitfaced with one of our highest priority VIPs."

"Aww, you <I>do</I> think I'm important," you interjected, trying to redirect Fury's heat. You didn't really know what was going on, but if Natasha and Clint were both in on it... well, Fury's side wasn't the one you were inclined to take.

"Important enough to <I>some people</I> to break protocol, go behind my back, and risk the security of this building, apparently," Fury growled, keeping his eyes flickering between Natasha and Clint. "Care to tell me exactly what you were dropping off?"

"Sports drinks, energy drinks, protein bars, about three hundred rounds of .45 ammo and a .50 cal sniper, more sweat towels, just typical training gear, why?" Clint said, smirking with one of the widest grins you'd ever seen on him.