Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Please tell me how I ended up in this situation," Kate demanded, without as much request as the word 'please' implied.

Clint tried to shrug and got a muffled 'ow' from Kate instead. "Sorry."

They were tied up in knots—literally—rope cutting into their wrists with the slightest motion, and to put the icing on the cake, they were tied up together and blindfolded.

"I hate you," Kate muttered.

"Hey! We don't know we're tied up because of me. It could be because you're rich and someone wants ransom," he pointed, quite reasonably in his opinion.

"Or because you stole the mob boss's dog," Kate countered.

Reasonably. Unfortunately. "Yeah, I guess," Clint mumbled, squirming a little and only earning another frustrated 'ow' from both of them. "This is doing unpleasant things to my circulation."

"How about you stop worrying about that and figure out how to get us untied?" Kate demanded. "Natasha said you can get out of anything."

"She did?" It was a nice compliment, even if Clint was currently trying to figure out what in the world might have prompted it. He was having a hard time figuring out how to even get it looser or get the blindfold off... "Hey, Katie."

"Don't call me that," she huffed back. "And what?"

"I'm going to move." He leaned back against her and wriggled a bit to get his head down against her shoulder.

She hmphed uncomfortably but didn't say anything as he dug his head back a little further and finally managed to get his teeth on the edge of her blindfold. He tugged.

"Ow! Clint. That's my hair!"

He didn't let go to apologize, just tugged again, and there. He grinned as she squealed. He was fairly certain she was glaring at him.

Then he heard her groan and jostle him back into position. "Straighten up, Hawkeye. We've got a problem."

"Oh? What sort of problem?"

"There's a note on the inside of this very familiar-looking closet door that this is a timed drill," Kate stated, annoyance in every nuance of her voice.

Clint groaned. "You're kidding me."

"It's in Natasha's handwriting."

There was much more cursing, bumps, thuds, and frustrated griping back and forth emitting from the closet labeled Hawkeye than the other ones. Natasha took careful notes and kept an eye on the timer as Sam gave her a look that should probably be read as, "Was this really necessary?"

"They're doing well, all things considered," she commented comfortably. "Tony and Thor spent an excessive amount of time attempting brute force and failing miserably."

To say nothing of the lack of teamwork and verbal coordination the Hawkeyes were falling into. Or the fact that Tony's whining never did stop, and Clint shut up the third time Kate ordered him to.

Natasha eyed Sam speculatively. Who would he go well paired with? There was always the balance of making it not initially obvious that it was a drill, so someone he spent actual downtime with, and also someone he worked with and thus made sense to drill with.

Sam caught her eye and shook his head. "Absolutely not."

She raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. Oh well. She could afford to wait until he was less suspicious.

The door opened and two Hawkeyes fell out, both managing synchronized glares at Natasha and Sam.

"Ten points off for still being tied up," Natasha commented. Though she quickly relocated and gave the points back for how well they took Sam down, tied up and all.