❝ In a mirror, darkly. ❞
• • •
Clint Barton. Spy, assassin, master archer. Caffeine addict. Hot mess. After the Battle of New York, Clint is forced to come to terms with the mind control Loki forced him into. The longer he's recovering, the cleare...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Make it count, Paige mused to herself. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Bundled up in Clint's extra coat to protect herself against a chilly October wind, Paige followed Natasha and Clint out of the Triskelion and, after a short walk, into another black Sedan. Natasha instructed the driver to take them to Reagan National Airport as she slipped into the passenger seat. Paige sat behind her, with Clint to her left. He sat texting Steve on his phone.
No one spoke. The drive took only about fifteen minutes. Paige glanced at the clock in the car as they pulled in front of the airport. 3:29. She looked up at the sky. Lots of cloud cover. With a frown, she opened her door and sidled out. Clint came around the back with his super-secret-briefcase-that-actually-held-a-bow contraption.
Both Natasha and Clint slipped on dark sunglasses. Paige rolled her eyes. That wasn't suspicious at all. Following behind them carefully, she kept her hands in the jacket pockets. If her hands stayed in the pockets, they couldn't hurt anyone. Or, she hoped that was true.
"Hungry?" Clint asked her five minutes later.
Paige looked at him, her eyebrows raising in question as she glanced around, trying to locate Natasha. She cocked her head. "Yeah. But where's Agent Romanoff?"
"Don't call her Agent Romanoff; it'll go to her head," Clint snorted. He gestured down the concourse. "She's off talking to security, letting them know we're here. We've got weapons and stuff so we don't go through regular channels. Plus we don't take commercial flights."
"I've not been on an airplane in like eight years," muttered Paige, folding her arms, hiding her hands.
Clint frowned. "I'll admit that I prefer trains. But planes are fine."
Glancing around, she gave a couple small nods. She bit her lip. "Okay, yeah. Yeah I'm hungry."
"Great!" Clint grinned. "There's this Italian restaurant - Il Viaggio - I looked it up on the car ride here. Looks good. I told Nat we'd be there, and Steve should join us soon."
"It'll be like a party," she muttered after him.
He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Pea. Don't want to get left behind, right?"
"I don't know. I'm starting to miss the old life." She hurried after him though. Finally catching up, she strode beside him. "You look stupid with the sunglasses."
"And you look stupid with that jacket on," he bit back with a wink that she couldn't see.
She rolled her eyes. "Really? This is your jacket."
"Yeah but it looks good on me, that's the difference."
"Hey!"
They reached the little Italian restaurant. Brown and off white tiling offered a laid back color scheme. Clint and Paige grabbed a four person table as far back as they could - which wasn't far - and waited. A waiter brought them waters and menus.
