Fill in the Blank - Clintasha

10

**December 21st 2009**

Clint refused to take the blame for this one.

For once he was completely innocent. Natasha was watching him like she wanted to punch him in the face, but it wasn't his fault this time. Seriously, it wasn't.

They'd been in Warsaw, just working a job like any other. It had been Clint's turn to take out the guy -- some small-time gang leader with a surprisingly large bounty on his head. He wasn't loving the job or anything -- the dude didn't seem to have done much wrong only sell weed and threaten a few assholes once or twice -- but a job was a job and money was tight. Clint didn't get the luxury of being picky.

It was done. The whole thing had been clean as hell, because, contrary to popular belief, Clint was good at his job most of the time.

But he was just heading back to meet up with Natasha when he realised a few guys were on his ass. Honestly that wasn't even a problem. It was Clint's average Tuesday night. About ten minutes into the fight Nat came to see what all the gunshots were about. After that the fight was going about as well as could be expected with seven against two.

Everything was going completely fine until someone pulled a machine gun out of their ass.

That was just taking the piss.

"Oh come on!" Clint shouted at the sudden burst of rapid fire, throwing himself behind the same wall Nat had taken cover behind. The gun followed him, fire chewing up the concrete where his feet had just been. "That is fucking overkill!"

Nat shot him a sharp look as she reloaded her pistol. Like the adult he was, Clint stuck his tongue out in retaliation. Or at least, he tried to. In that moment debris rained down on them from above; the bullets chipping away at their wall and burrowing deep into the bricks behind them.

The bombardment wasn't stopping. Clint crawled closer to Nat, her face and hair now powder grey. He knew he was no better. The dust had coated his mouth, dry and gritty and choking. He couldn't concentrate, eyes burning and lips cracked as he tried to turn his aids down. The ratatatat of that stupid gun felt like a fucking jackhammer drilling into his skull.

Struggling to regain his senses, Clint didn't realise Nat was already talking until she was about halfway through. He only caught the words "shot" and "cover" which didn't help anyone.

But she was already gone, crouched at the edge of their wall and clearly preparing to go over edge, guns blazing. It wasn't a bad idea, actually. Clint could see the logic. Any kind of return fire was better than none and buckling under the attack and getting backed into a corner wasn't even an option for them.

All in all, it was a decent, strategic, well thought-out idea.

But Clint had a better one.

He caught her by the straps of her backpack before she could go anywhere. Her head whipped towards him, eyes flashing with irritation until he let her go.

"Wait," he yelled above the thundering rain of bullets. The total waste of ammo almost made Clint cringe. These guys were no professionals, that's for sure. "Gimme a gun. I got a plan."

Nat only took a few seconds to process that, frowning. The hesitation was understandable considering the last time Clint said that everything had gone to shit. But this time, in the end, he didn't even have time for an explanation.

Something went sailing over their wall, just a little too big to be debris. It's landing was inaudible but Nat's head snapped towards it like it had exploded on impact. Her eyes widened and then she was pulling her hoodie up to cover her mouth and nose. She pressed one of her guns into Clint's hands and giving him a shove to get him moving.