don't leave no other but the baby
Officially giving myself Saturdays off for posting because writing club means I'm away from the internet for most of the day D: And yesterday was eaten up by cutting up caribou, and I won't even post the pictures I have, that's how much I love you guys <3
BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS
( Read more... )
BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS
( Read more... )
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"Barton?"
"Barton?"
"I know you're there, I can hear you breathing. If you didn't want me to hear you, you would have used a different comm channel."
Clint grimaces and then sighs. He's perched precariously on an overhang, watching two men who didn't drop too far from the evolutionary gorilla tree haul hopefully not lifeless sacks into a seemingly abandoned warehouse.
"Barton, this isn't your op. Rodriguez has this covered so if you're just doing this because you're bored-"
"They're mine," Clint grits out, adjusting his feet and bracing his back a little better so he can free his arms. He's never been worried about missing a target before because he just doesn't, but right now... it's different.
"Like I said, this isn't your op."
"Not the op, the cargo. They're mine," he repeats and there's a pause on comms, Phil probably trying to parse data from the few words he's been given.
"Sorry, say again?" he finally says. Any other time, Clint would have been crowing about surprising the usually unflappable Phil Coulson, but right now he has other stuff on his mind.
"The kids Coulson, the kids these fuckers have are mine." Clint pulls his bow free and has his targets in his sights, but he's waiting. It kind of pisses him off that as soon as Coulson's voice is in his ear, he can't bring himself to act without the guy's say so, but he trusts Coulson more than anyone he ever has and he's waiting for Coulson to talk him through how to bring these guys down with hurting his kids.
Because godamned if he knows.
"Wait for Rodriguez to get into position," Coulson says crisply, and before Clint can swear at him and tell him how much that is not going to happen, Coulson overrides with, "As soon as he's close enough, he'll be able to catch the cargo when you drop these guys."
Clint swallows roughly, against the sick burn of these thugs laying hands on the terrifyingly fragile forms of his kids, how he can see one tiny, limp little hand hanging out of the second bag and how he doesn't know if they're okay.
"Tell him to hurry the hell up, because in about twelve seconds these guys are going to be in a position where I can nail them both with one shot."
"Hawkeye, I'm set," Rodriguez pipes up, none too soon.
"You'd better have your catcher's mitt buddy," Clint growls and lets the arrow loose.
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BB FEEL SO FREE TO KEEP RUNNING WITH THIS, I HAVE TO GO TO A HALLOWEEN PARTY IN A BIT SO DON'T FEEL LIKE I'M IGNORING YOU, I LOVE EVERY SINGLE FREAKING THING ABOUT IT <333
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