Prompt: “What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.” (x)
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Words: 413
“What about a compromise?" Clint ground out as he threw himself around the corner of a building and tucked himself against the wall, hoping he'd lost his pursuers. "I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.”
"I wasn't aware that apologies were part of your skill set, Agent." Phil Coulson's voice was smooth in his ear. "I'll have to make a note to add it to your file." Clint couldn't hear the hint of a smile in his voice, so things weren't running as neatly as either of them would like, but neither was there a well-veiled tension underlying the words, so things weren't quite Budapest levels of fucked up yet.
Clint could work with that.
He was trying to slow and quiet his breathing as he sidled further down the wall into the alley, away from the corner he'd come whipping around just moments before, when a shot rang out and chips of stone went flying from the wall opposite him.
Clint bit back a curse and took another glance for possible exits before turning and taking a quick step, launching himself into the air and silently grabbing the bottom of a fire escape, easily pulling himself up with one hand, his bow gripped tightly in the other.
He'd learned grace and acrobatics in the circus and silence and shooting first as a mercenary. SHIELD had perfected all four. Thus the wounded look and "aw, boots, no" he directed towards his feet when he managed to catch the tip of one steel-toed boot on the edge of the other and promptly faceplanted on the metal grating with a loud crash were not entirely without warrant.
There was silence from everyone, as if no one - allies and foes alike - could believe that he had really just done that. Clint groaned and started hauling himself to his feet, his bow miraculously free of so much as a scratch, thank R&D's diamond-hard poly-carbon.
Clint heard shouts and footsteps as the people with guns who were chasing him drew ever nearer to his alleyway.
"Everything alright, Hawkeye?" Coulson's voice held distinct hints of laughter. It wouldn't be the first (nor the least graceful) time he'd managed to get himself in a spot of trouble by tripping over himself.
"Just fine, sir. Peachy keen," he responded breathlessly. As he scrambled to his feet and threw himself towards the ladder, he thought that at least Nat was probably having fun.
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