Spotter
Title: Spotter
Fandom: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: G
Characters/pairings: Clint, team, Coulson
Warnings (including spoilers): None
Wordcount: 938 words
Author’s note: Written for towerparty for the prompt "and I'll wait here a while, just long enough to be sure that you didn't make a wrong turn." Also a fill for my made-up cliche-bingo card for the Wild Card square ‘Character death.’
Summary:
Spotter:
1) An aviator or aircraft employed in locating or observing enemy positions.
2) A person who observes or assists an athlete during a performance or practice in order to minimize the chance of injury.
~~~~~
Hill’s bullets missed him by inches, little explosions on the metal walls around him. And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, a burning that was distantly familiar, and he fell from his perch. When they came for his body there was a smile on his face.
~~~~~
You didn’t expect to wake up from that one.
That’s your first thought, opening bleary eyes and blinking away the high-contrast smear impeding your vision.
And then you look around at the morgue and realize that you didn’t.
~~~~~
So, ghosts can teleport. Good to know.
Natasha is on the ground, fighting back to back with Captain America while Iron Man and a fairy tale fly overhead and the Hulk plays attack dog.
Okay then.
You spot ground troops sneaking up on her. You don’t have any weapons. You’re next to her, shouting “Watch your six, Tasha!” when she turns and takes them out with her usual efficiency.
So, Option A: She used her ninja senses and knew they were coming. High likelihood.
Option B: You are not only a ghost, but a guardian spirit ass-kicking ghost. Not as likely, but much cooler.
On the rooftop again, you spot a pattern in the fliers that would be useful for Iron Man and… lightning guy, okay he’s probably another mad scientist, you’re not taking that at face value without reliable intelligence. You wish you could tell them, and then you scream because you’re on Iron Man’s back as he hares across the sky and you like your flying in a quinjet, thank you very much. “Bank bank bank bank bank,” you scream, and when he does bank, hard, you fall off, scream bloody murder, and find yourself back on your rooftop, where you collapse and breathe for a few minutes.
Except probably not really because you’re dead.
“Histrionics after the mission, Barton,” you tell yourself, imagining Coulson’s ‘I’m amused but stop’ eyebrow, and focus your gaze back over the battlefield.
~~~~~
When the aliens are dead and Loki is trussed up like a misbehaving pig, Tasha goes out for shawarma with Stark and Captain America and hammer guy and Bruce Banner. You sit awkwardly in the empty chair next to her, cracking jokes that no one can hear to lighten the mood, which is ridiculously low-key for a bunch of superheroes who just took out invading aliens. Come on, you get post-battle adrenaline crash, been there done that a hundred times over, but twenty bucks says Natasha will have an action figure by next month. It doesn’t get cooler than that.
Once, you think she glares at you, the way she would have if she’d heard you say that. But then she looks back at her food and waving your hand in front of her face does nothing.
Stark invites everyone whose residence is either very far away or on lockdown to crash at his tower. He manages to sound both insulting and sincere. “Yes a thousand times yes,” you say loudly. You were jealous of Natasha getting to go undercover with Iron Man, couldn’t wait for Fury to pull together the Initiative so you’d get to work with the guy. SHIELD could get a bit boring after a while with all the rules and regulations and you missed making your own rules and living on the edge. Stark was going to be your new best friend, before you died.
Banner nods like it’s going to be his last conscious movement for a while. Captain America thanks Stark and promises it’ll just be for the night. Thor- okay, whatever, he might be the real Thor- says he doesn’t need sleep, but he’d be grateful for a shower.
Natasha says she needs to get back to base and start the debrief.
You know what she really means, because it’s what you’d do if she were the one dead. She needs time to mourn. Your partnership was your bedrock, the unshakeable unchangeable lodestone that none of the crazy around you could touch. Without her, you’d fly into a tailspin, no doubt about it. Without you…
She’ll need something else. You look around the too-quiet shawarma shop and see the only thing with a chance of being what she needs.
“Go with them, Tasha,” you say into her ear. She twitches, just a bit, her head turning toward you slightly. “It’s a risky play, but I think it could pan out.”
Natasha swallows. Shakes her head so her hair swirls around her face. “Maybe I could use a few hours off,” she says, voice raspy with tiredness or grief.
Stark looks satisfied but immediately starts rambling. Captain America looks proud, the bastard, and Tasha ignores him. Banner has fallen asleep with his head on the table, a few curls dragging into a cup of hummus.
You get a feeling of being watched and turn toward the shop door, ready to warn your team. Coulson’s leaning against the doorframe with that smirk he always got when he caught you doing something against regs. “Get lost on the way to the afterlife?”
The weird feeling is getting bigger, like… heat, or light or something. “Had a quick errand. Nobody missed me, did they?”
Coulson smiles. “I covered for you. Are you ready now?”
You look back. Natasha is getting up, glaring at Stark where he’s said something inappropriate. Captain America is helping a drowsy Banner to his feet, while Thor is packing up all the leftover shawarma in carry-out boxes. You see things no one else can see, and you know she’ll be alright with this crew.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Coulson steps forward, and you fly away.
My Made-Up Cliché Bingo Card
Fandom: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: G
Characters/pairings: Clint, team, Coulson
Warnings (including spoilers): None
Wordcount: 938 words
Author’s note: Written for towerparty for the prompt "and I'll wait here a while, just long enough to be sure that you didn't make a wrong turn." Also a fill for my made-up cliche-bingo card for the Wild Card square ‘Character death.’
Summary:
Spotter:
1) An aviator or aircraft employed in locating or observing enemy positions.
2) A person who observes or assists an athlete during a performance or practice in order to minimize the chance of injury.
~~~~~
Hill’s bullets missed him by inches, little explosions on the metal walls around him. And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, a burning that was distantly familiar, and he fell from his perch. When they came for his body there was a smile on his face.
~~~~~
You didn’t expect to wake up from that one.
That’s your first thought, opening bleary eyes and blinking away the high-contrast smear impeding your vision.
And then you look around at the morgue and realize that you didn’t.
~~~~~
So, ghosts can teleport. Good to know.
Natasha is on the ground, fighting back to back with Captain America while Iron Man and a fairy tale fly overhead and the Hulk plays attack dog.
Okay then.
You spot ground troops sneaking up on her. You don’t have any weapons. You’re next to her, shouting “Watch your six, Tasha!” when she turns and takes them out with her usual efficiency.
So, Option A: She used her ninja senses and knew they were coming. High likelihood.
Option B: You are not only a ghost, but a guardian spirit ass-kicking ghost. Not as likely, but much cooler.
On the rooftop again, you spot a pattern in the fliers that would be useful for Iron Man and… lightning guy, okay he’s probably another mad scientist, you’re not taking that at face value without reliable intelligence. You wish you could tell them, and then you scream because you’re on Iron Man’s back as he hares across the sky and you like your flying in a quinjet, thank you very much. “Bank bank bank bank bank,” you scream, and when he does bank, hard, you fall off, scream bloody murder, and find yourself back on your rooftop, where you collapse and breathe for a few minutes.
Except probably not really because you’re dead.
“Histrionics after the mission, Barton,” you tell yourself, imagining Coulson’s ‘I’m amused but stop’ eyebrow, and focus your gaze back over the battlefield.
~~~~~
When the aliens are dead and Loki is trussed up like a misbehaving pig, Tasha goes out for shawarma with Stark and Captain America and hammer guy and Bruce Banner. You sit awkwardly in the empty chair next to her, cracking jokes that no one can hear to lighten the mood, which is ridiculously low-key for a bunch of superheroes who just took out invading aliens. Come on, you get post-battle adrenaline crash, been there done that a hundred times over, but twenty bucks says Natasha will have an action figure by next month. It doesn’t get cooler than that.
Once, you think she glares at you, the way she would have if she’d heard you say that. But then she looks back at her food and waving your hand in front of her face does nothing.
Stark invites everyone whose residence is either very far away or on lockdown to crash at his tower. He manages to sound both insulting and sincere. “Yes a thousand times yes,” you say loudly. You were jealous of Natasha getting to go undercover with Iron Man, couldn’t wait for Fury to pull together the Initiative so you’d get to work with the guy. SHIELD could get a bit boring after a while with all the rules and regulations and you missed making your own rules and living on the edge. Stark was going to be your new best friend, before you died.
Banner nods like it’s going to be his last conscious movement for a while. Captain America thanks Stark and promises it’ll just be for the night. Thor- okay, whatever, he might be the real Thor- says he doesn’t need sleep, but he’d be grateful for a shower.
Natasha says she needs to get back to base and start the debrief.
You know what she really means, because it’s what you’d do if she were the one dead. She needs time to mourn. Your partnership was your bedrock, the unshakeable unchangeable lodestone that none of the crazy around you could touch. Without her, you’d fly into a tailspin, no doubt about it. Without you…
She’ll need something else. You look around the too-quiet shawarma shop and see the only thing with a chance of being what she needs.
“Go with them, Tasha,” you say into her ear. She twitches, just a bit, her head turning toward you slightly. “It’s a risky play, but I think it could pan out.”
Natasha swallows. Shakes her head so her hair swirls around her face. “Maybe I could use a few hours off,” she says, voice raspy with tiredness or grief.
Stark looks satisfied but immediately starts rambling. Captain America looks proud, the bastard, and Tasha ignores him. Banner has fallen asleep with his head on the table, a few curls dragging into a cup of hummus.
You get a feeling of being watched and turn toward the shop door, ready to warn your team. Coulson’s leaning against the doorframe with that smirk he always got when he caught you doing something against regs. “Get lost on the way to the afterlife?”
The weird feeling is getting bigger, like… heat, or light or something. “Had a quick errand. Nobody missed me, did they?”
Coulson smiles. “I covered for you. Are you ready now?”
You look back. Natasha is getting up, glaring at Stark where he’s said something inappropriate. Captain America is helping a drowsy Banner to his feet, while Thor is packing up all the leftover shawarma in carry-out boxes. You see things no one else can see, and you know she’ll be alright with this crew.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Coulson steps forward, and you fly away.
My Made-Up Cliché Bingo Card