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"Well," Clint says, shrugging as he looks over at Phil. "We've been in worse situations, right?"
"Have we?" Phil asks, eyes narrowing as if he's really thinking about it.
"Shut up," the bad guy says, as he finishes handcuffing them together. Once he's satisfied, he takes a step back in the small cell, and aims his gun at them again. "Now. One last time. Where does Stark keep his schematics?"
"We definitely have," Clint tells Phil, ignoring the bad guy entirely. "This is child's play, sir."
"Hey, answer me!" the bad guy demands.
Clint catches Phil's eye and sees the twinkle there. He can't hold back his grin. "Yeah?"
"Just like in Lagos, right?"
Clint's heart starts beating overtime in his chest and he nods. "Just like in Lagos."
The bad guy raises his gun and looks like he's about to say something terribly threatening again, but he never makes it that far. Clint plants both feet firmly in the ground, grabs Phil's hand, and then uses all his considerable strength to swing Phil around. The momentum carries Phil's entire body into the air, and both of Phil's legs kick out to catch the bad guy straight in the face. He goes down with a short burst of gunfire that thankfully avoids both Clint and Phil, and then they're running through the door.
"The cuffs in Lagos were more comfortable," Phil grumbles.
Out of the corner of his eye, Clint can see that Phil's wrists are already red and raw. They duck around a corner, just as the bad guy comes stumbling out of the room, firing after them and yelling angrily at the top of his lungs, and Clint huffs in annoyance.
"Excuse me, I should have asked for the fur lined variant," Clint snaps. "Left--no wait, right!"
They skid around another corner, and Phil glances at the doors they pass. "We need weapons."
"I am a weapon," Clint says, vaguely offended.
"I meant of the projectile kind," Phil says. Just then, another bad guy comes around the next corner, and promptly walks into Clint's fist. Clint's punch spins him around, and Phil catches him in the other direction, and this time he goes down and is still.
Phil picks up the gun he was carrying and shrugs. "That'll work." He hands the gun to Clint, who can't hide his surprise. Phil just shrugs again. "It's a lot better in your hands than mine."
Clint looks down at where they're still linked together, and concedes the point.
"All right," he agrees, "let's get out of here."
They look left, then right, and Clint uses the butt of the gun to scratch his head. "Any idea which way is out?"
Phil considers. "Let's try this way," he says, and then they're off running again.
They get down two more hallways without running into anyone, before three bad guys catch up with them. The shot they fire at them hits the wall dangerously close to Phil's head, and he twitches and ducks on reflex. The handcuffs tug on Clint's wrist with the motion, but Clint's already spinning around, gun in hand. He disposes of all three bad guys with three precise shots, no hesitation.
"Thanks," Phil says easily, and Clint nods and pretends his heart didn't just leap into his throat for a moment.
"No problem."
*
At the end of another hallway, they find a stairwell that leads seemingly into infinity, going up and up and up and up. Clint squints upwards and tilts his head. "Up?"
A door slams somewhere behind them, and angry voices echo down the hallways. Phil nods at Clint. "Up."
They take the stairs two at a time, arms swinging in perfect sync. Clint takes a brief moment to thank any higher powers out there that it's Phil he's handcuffed to, because they know each other, and know each other's movements. He doubts they'd be doing so hot if he was handcuffed to anyone else.
The stairs are steep and it's heavy going--and only getting heavier with each floor they pass--but they're not slowing down. There are definitely people in pursuit, but neither Clint or Phil will actually pause to look over the railing.
"I should add more cardio to my workouts," Phil huffs. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint can see that Phil's face is red with exertion, sweat running down his temples.
"Wanna try a door?" Clint asks.
"No," Phil says shortly, but doesn't expend the breath to explain why. It's okay; Clint can extrapolate, based on the number of assholes with weapons they've encountered so far. When a door only a floor down from them bursts open and a spray of bullets ricochets upwards, Clint ducks on instinct and his steps falter, handcuffs pulling painfully against his wrist. "One sec," Clint breathes to Phil, then quickly ducks out over the railing and shoots the guy one floor down.
"Okay, come on."
Phil doesn't respond, just gasps for breath, but he is right there alongside Clint as they start moving up the stairs again.
When they finally hit the top of the stairs, they burst through the door there and spill out onto a rooftop, Phil's knees buckling underneath him.
"Come on," Clint grits out, reaching down to haul Phil up by the cuffed arm. "Come on, we gotta take cover."
"How," Phil gasps, "how many--"
Clint gets them behind an exhaust pipe directly across from the door, and once Phil's out of the line of fire, Clint does a quick check of the clip in the gun. "Jesus, only three left in the mag," Clint grumbles. "My fucking quiver holds more than this piece of shit."
Phil, who's still catching his breath, has started looking around. "We can't hold this position."
"Not even for a minute," Clint agrees, moving on to inspect their handcuffed wrists. They've both broken skin and are bleeding a little, but it's not serious, and right now he's running on too much adrenaline to really notice, anyway.
The door creaks open, and Clint peeks out to see two more bad guys with guns carefully exit onto the roof. "Jeez, they're like fucking lemmings," Clint mumbles to himself, before aiming and firing. He only needs one bullet, nailing the guy in the front through the neck, and getting the second guy in the head. They both go down, but their bodies end up in the doorway, propping the door wide open.
"Well," Clint says, ducking back behind the pipe and considering their options. "We could always Thelma and Louise this mother."
Phil chuckles humorlessly, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Come on, we both know we're going down fighting, or not at all."
Clint chuckles back. "Yeah."
It should maybe not be so funny, being trapped on this rooftop and facing death by some of the most incompetent henchmen ever. But Clint wasn't lying before. He's been in worse situations, and Phil has too, and most of those they've been in together, so Clint can't bring himself to turn pessimistic quite yet. He has two bullets left, and after that he could possibly take out a few guys hand to hand--but not with Phil attached to his wrist. And even if they could get the cuffs off, then what? They still don't know when, or even if, backup's coming.
"Yeah, we've definitely been in worse situations," Phil says, an echo of Clint's thoughts.
Clint considers for a moment, before ducking in to steal a kiss. Phil's lips are chapped and dry, and he tastes like sweat and dirt, but it's still perfect. When Clint pulls back, Phil's scowling at him.
"What the hell?"
Clint pushes down on the embarrassment and shame and tries for a cocky smile. "Hey, I just figured--"
"Absolutely not," Phil says firmly. "This is not a just-in-case-we-die situation. We've seen a lot worse; this is nothing. Kiss not accepted."
Clint's eyebrows fly up. "...did you just say not accepted?"
"Kiss not accepted!" Phil repeats stubbornly, scowling. "Try again when we get off this fucking roof, Barton."
The bark of laughter that escapes Clint is entirely involuntary. "Duly noted, sir," he says, and something softens in Phil's face, an amused twinkle appearing in his eyes. "All due respect though, our prospects for getting off this roof aren't great at the moment."
"I can probably help with that," a voice says, and Clint and Phil both twitch in surprise as Iron Man rises above the ledge of the roof before landing in front of them with a heavy thunk.
"Can you carry us both?" Clint asks, quirking an eyebrow as they hold up their linked hands.
Tony tilts his head and Clint swears he looks amused, even though the mask is as expressionless as always. "Aw," Tony says, "that's cute."
"Any time would be good," Phil says, and they climb to their feet.
"So pushy," Tony grumbles as they both climb onto his back, gripping the armor where they can and clinging on. "See if I bother rescuing you guys again."
"We didn't really need rescuing, per se," Clint says as they take off, even though it's a blatant lie.
"What about the other bad guys?" Phil asks.
"The others are taking care of it," Tony says easily. "So what the hell happened? You guys just sort of disappeared."
"They wanted access to your databases," Clint says as Tony gently sets them down on the ground, a couple of blocks away. "I guess they're interested in your tech?"
"Well, then," Tony says with glee evident in his voice, "I better go give them a good look."
"Hey wait!" Clint calls, but it's too late. Tony's already taken off again. "Handcuffs," Clint whines, pitifully holding up their wrists.
Next to him, Phil chuckles, and Clint turns to face him. "So. Hi," Clint says, embarrassment threatening to return in full force.
"Wanna try that kiss again?" Phil challenges with an arched eyebrow, not dancing around it.
Clint laughs again and uses the handcuffs to reel Phil in. "Damn right."
End.