When in Budapest

1: Back to Back

"Natasha, I said to the left." Clint grumbled into the earpiece.

"Shh," she scolded him back.

He huffed, wishing for once that she would listen to him. Sure, she was usually right when it came to their missions but that didn't mean she had to do this every single time. They were supposed to trust each other, and even though he knew she trusted him, he tended to doubt it often.

They were doing a simple job--one that Coulson had sent them on--only collecting intel on a supposed terrorist organization, and it truly only required one of the master assassins, but no one, not even them, could say no to Coulson... So here he was, scoping out Natasha from a tall hotel across the street.

She was currently flirting with the "dastardly," as Phil had used, businessman.

Just as he was getting bored, and he could tell Natasha was too, she stood up from her chair on the other side of the man's desk, sitting down in front of the man on the desk. If he didn't know her, he would've thought that she was going to pounce on the poor man. She didn't though, instead she discretely inserted a flash drive into the computer behind her.

Clint looked over to the tablet that sat on a chair next to him, waiting for the information to uploaded. Which fortunately didn't take long. Once the files began appearing on the screen he turned his attention back on her and spoke, "It's in, get out of there."

Natasha got up and was shaking hands with the man as fast as he could say "Budapest."

"Check out and meet at location seven," She commanded as soon as she disappeared into the elevator.

"Copy."

Their equipment was already packed and ready to go in a simple black suitcase. He buried the sniper in the bottom and tossed the tablet in a backpack. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he grabbed the hotel key and suitcase then closed the door behind him.

He went down to the lobby, checked out quickly, and made his way to Natasha's black corvette.
He smirked to himself, he was supposed to take public transport while she drove. However, she didn't have to carry anything but a purse, so he changed plans. She always hid a spare key in the fuel door. Clint seized the key, unlocked the car, threw the luggage in, and drove off just as Natasha rounded the corner to see him driving away.

"Barton!" She hissed.

He drove into an alley to get dressed in his suit then headed towards location seven. Handing the keys to the valet he couldn't help the stupid smile that was still plastered to his face.
"Wipe that grin off your face, Barton."

He could feel her seething at him, but he didn't know from what direction she was looking at him. "Where are you?"

"Your two."

He spun her way, catching a glimpse of her bright red hair that was pulled up elegantly but a few locks were loose. She was wearing a tightly fit black dress with a slit up to her mid thigh. Gold heels made her stand almost as tall as him.
Natasha glowered at Clint but took the arm he extended towards her.

"You get a hold of Stark?" He diverted her attention away from him.

"No, but it's not like we need him anyway."

It was true, the only reason the eccentric billionaire was in on the operation was because he was already going to be at this charity ball, or gala, or whatever they were calling it. And this was just another easy mission--information recovery--that they were going to get bored of and probably end up shooting people for fun...not that either of them liked killing people.
"Don't think you're getting off that easy, Mr. Braxton."

"I wouldn't dare, Ms. Rushman." A short silence passed while they walked to a table that sat around the ballroom. "I hate doing back to back missions," he complained.

"Back to back?" Tony's voice was heard through the earpiece. "Damn, they work you two too hard."

"Glad you actually decided to show up." Natasha said sarcastically.

"The feeling is mutual Ms.Rushman." Tony strode over to them, his breath slightly smelling of expensive alcohol.

"You're supposed to stick to the plan." She reminded him as the pair walked away from Clint and onto the dance floor.

"Yes dear." Tony grunted the second after the words left his lips. Clint could only assume that Natasha was pulling one of his fingers back, nearly breaking it.

He could still hear their voices through the earpiece though, "Do anything other than what we discussed and I'll cut off--"

"I get it Natalie. I don't need to be briefed...again."

"Then we shouldn't have a problem. Let's dance." Most would expect the male to be in the lead while dancing, but Natasha had full charge as they waltzed around the room, examining the crowd and exits. "Four at the back, one one each side, and two in the front."

Clint responded, "Copy. You want to take the head or should I?"

"I'll take it, hang behind."

So far this mission was going much faster than they had anticipated, fifteen minutes in and they were already getting what they came for. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it meant that they might get an night off, neither of them had seen one of those in a quite some time.

Tony and Natasha parted ways with fake promises of another dance later.

Things went smoothly. Tony, supposedly, pretended to be outrageously drunk, causing a scene that drew the attention of all eight guards. Not a single person noticed as two guests snuck up into one of the rooms to take back information that had fallen into the wrong hands. Apparently a colleague of Hammer's that threatened to leak it to the world. It was amusing yet annoying at the same time because from what they could tell nothing on this drive was valuable.

To them, the mission was almost boring, they didn't have to sneak or shoot their way out, they just walked away as if nothing happened. The extra energy in their veins was enough to drive both of them crazy as Natasha drove them to a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house: a small grey apartment on the outskirts of the city.