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Jane’s pretty sure that the mission was supposed to be simple and straightforward. As it was, their team’s track record regarding ‘simple and straightforward’ had convinced her that things were bound to head for Doomsville sooner or later. It was a combination of extreme bad luck, Ethan’s knack for attracting troubles and shitty karma. (Jane suspected one of them to be an axe murderer in their previous life). She hated it when she was right, especially when ‘sooner’ came much too soon for her taste.
“This is ridiculous.”
Ethan scrunched his face into that expression he was so fond of; a mixture of scowl and manly pouting he only wore when he Did Not Want To Talk About It (Whatever ‘It’ Was). “We need to concentrate on the mission, Skylark. Everything else is negligible.”
Jane remained undeterred. “I’m not sure this counts as negligible.”
“Think I’m with Skylark on this, Falcon,” came Benji’s voice through the comm. There's a clatter in the background, followed by furious typing. “This guy’s a right bastard. Someone tell him to stop hacking into my personal files, please and thank you.”
Jane pursed her lips as Ethan gave Brandt (who was always Brandt, never William - Jane tried calling him William once and was met by a blank stare) a sidelong glance, obviously communicating through a brand of telepathy unavailable to the rest of the team because Brandt’s poker face eventually shifted into petulance.
“It’s not my fault,” Brandt gritted out, avoiding Ethan’s (and Jane’s) eyes. There's the beginning of a flush creeping up the back of his neck and Jane bit back the ‘how adorable’ comment tingling at the tip of her tongue. She didn’t think Brandt would appreciate the sentiment. “You agreed to let them help.”
“I assumed they know what ‘subtle’ means,” Ethan bit back. Ethan was rarely wrong but when he did, it usually resulted in catastrophes worse than Benji’s pick-up lines. Jane still had nightmares about Budapest. An arrow whistled through the smoke-thick air from somewhere above their heads, followed by an explosion that scattered members of the yakuza into a screaming mess and the occasional bits of body parts. Ethan’s face was grim when he turned to Jane and Brandt. “We need to regroup.”
Jane did a quick shell count and sighed. Not for the first (and probably last) time, she missed the days when simple and straightforward really was simple and straightforward.
Twenty minutes and a few close encounters later, they were comfortably settled inside a small tea house in a sequestered corner of the city, pretending to be tourists. Brandt ordered them pretty-looking desserts and tea in impeccable Japanese, nodding politely at the elderly waitress as she jabbered at him. Jane’s Japanese was a bit rusty (Osaka was three years ago, when Hanaway was alive and the UST had been unbearable) but she heard words that suspiciously sounded like a wedding proposal and some sort of an invitation to an orgy. She shared a mutual ‘what the fuck’ with Benji over their green tea.
“Brandt,” Ethan finally said. His tone was mild, even pleasant to the innocent bystander, but if he came with a subtitle, it would read let’s skip the pleasantries and figure this clusterfuck out before I stab someone’s jugular with a chopstick. Jane had been under the impression that Ethan’s patience was infinite; apparently, that was pre-Flying Metal (Harassment) Suit and The Amazing(ly Annoying) Archer.
Brandt acknowledged Ethan with a nod and somehow managed to send the waitress on her way while fielding more egregious sexual propositions. His face was carefully blank when he turned to them. “We’re gonna need a new plan.”
“No shit.”
Benji hunkered down behind the protection of his laptop as he stared at Ethan and then Brandt. He offered, “I still have remote access to target’s computer mainframe and the surveillance cameras.”
“And I don’t think I'm made,” Jane chimed in. She took a sip from her tea and felt slightly more zen about the whole situation. It wasn’t much consolation, but it helped her stifle the urge to throw sharp things at Certain People Who Are Unfortunately Superheroes. “I can try to get into the vault again.”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair and frowned. “That’s too risky. They will be expecting us and security will be tighter this time around. We can’t afford another commotion like today.”
“It’s like Budapest all over again,” Benji intoned morosely. “Only worse.”
Ethan pressed his lips together at the mention of Budapest and Jane cringed. Brandt just looked confused. “What happened in Budapest?” He caught Benji’s eyes. “Or should I not ask?”
“Let’s just say,” Ethan paused and regarded his untouched plate of powdery-pink pastries with something akin to misplaced animosity. “What happens in Budapest, stays in Budapest.”
There was a moment of heavy silence, before Jane cleared her throat loudly because they were getting distracted from their current predicament. And they needed to complete this mission as soon as possible so that they could be home in time for Thanksgiving. Jane had plans for Thanksgiving, one that didn’t involve being stuck in Tokyo, hiding from the local mobster. “How are we going to salvage this situation?”
“Without making it any worse,” Benji added. “I’d rather not see samurai swords for the next couple decades or so.”
“I thought it went rather well, considering the circumstances.”
Ethan and Brandt had drawn their guns at the newcomer and Jane was a milisecond away from hers when she realised that the voice was familiar. She had heard it through the comm, bantering back and forth with another voice over increasingly juvenile theatrics (in one memorable instance, debating Brandt’s hypothetical merits in bed, much to everyone’s horror and Brandt’s speechless mortification), until Ethan ordered the rest of the team to switch channels. And that was approximately when things went from worse to utter, absolute hell.
Tony Stark, devoid of his Iron Man suit, flashed them a wide, unrepentant grin
Ethan opened his mouth but before he could form a word (undoubtedly of scathing and explicit nature), something dropped out of the ceiling just over their booth and landed in a crouch right beside Tony. The guns swivelled to their new target and Benji released a plaintive whimper from somewhere behind Jane.
Clint Barton straightened with the grace of a seasoned predator and echoed Stark’s grin, right down to the unrepentant bit.
“How did you know we’re here?” Ethan asked after confirming that they were not a threat, lowering his gun in the process. Jane thought he looked almost reluctant to do so, as if regretting the fact that he was professional enough to not shoot the two on principle alone.
Jane kind of understood how Ethan felt. She kind of wanted to shoot them too.
Barton shrugged. “I’ve been following you since that fuck-up in Tokyo Tower.”
Stark’s grin widened obscenely as he jabbed a finger at Barton. “Tracking device on Ninja Assassin over here. Knew he’d be covering your asses.”
“You put a tracking device on me?” Barton raised an eyebrow and looked somewhat impressed. “Kinky.”
“You’ve got a bad habit of disappearing and randomly leaping off buildings, Clint,” Stark said, the barely-concealed warmth in his eyes a direct contrast to the snarky jibe. “Someone gotta keep an eye on Hawkeye.”
Jane hmm-ed quietly to herself as she settled further into her seat. Benji was hiding behind his laptop again, while Ethan and Brandt sported similar pinched look on their faces throughout the exchange before them. Jane didn’t really know Barton and Stark; her knowledge limited to Ethan’s brief description of their working relationship with SHIELD, in which Brandt was the designated liaison until he could find someone else to handle the sheer amount of crazy associated with the Avengers - nobody was positive that would ever happen. But Jane was good enough of an agent to spot whatever it was between Barton and Stark. It looked a lot like whatever it was between Ethan and Brandt.
Jane wondered if they would ever work this out before Thanksgiving.
“So.” Stark rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He had zeroed in on Brandt (again) and it was almost disconcerting how fast Stark shifted from almost-normal to sleazy. Brandt subtly flinched and Ethan’s expression took on the facial equivalent of Hurricane Katrina. “What’s the plan?”
“I think we’ll proceed without your…assistance,” Ethan said and his smile was sharp around the edges. “I appreciate your help so far and I’ll contact Agent Coulson to arrange the paperwork.”
“Aww, c’mon. It’s not even the fun part yet,” Barton commented, sounded much too put-off to be genuine. His eyes lit up with boyish glee and Jane thought it would have been attractive. If only it didn’t come from a world-class assassin with an unhealthy obsession over what basically amounted to his clone (sorry, Brandt). “And I didn’t even get to spend time with William,” Brandt twitched, “Which is an absolute travesty.”
“We’ll be fine,” Ethan reiterated through clenched jaw. “We’ve got everything under control.”
“Technically, our liaison officer is William, Agent Hunt,” Stark cut in, the gleam in his eyes reaching Evil Overlord proportion. “He doesn’t seem to have any problem with us tagging along.”
Brandt opened his mouth, presumably to refute that particular statement-
-when the roof exploded in a spectacular firework of debris and screaming cafe patrons.
Benji shrieked and dove under the table. Jane looked up to see a giant robot peering back at her through what was left of the roof, gleaming chrome and laser eyes locked at their little gathering. There must be something horribly wrong with the world to allow this sort of travesty to happen. Ethan cocked his gun at the robot, apparently oblivious to the fact that it looked as tall as the Chrysler Building back home, armed with laser and infinitely more mobile. As well as murderous.
Stark whistled in appreciation, full-on geek mood as he suited up from what Jane had assumed to be a normal briefcase. Iron Man stood in his place a few seconds later and he cocked his red-gold plated head towards Barton. “I owe you ten, Legolas.”
Arrow nocked and ready, Barton’s laughter was bright and teasing. “Told you Gundam’s real.”
“Only in Japan, man.”
“Wait until you watch Naruto.”
Jane didn’t even bother to lift her own weapon, opting to fix her upturned chair and sit down instead. She caught Brandt’s eyes from across the table.
“After this is over, I want a long vacation.”
Brandt stared at Jane, neatly side-stepping Stark’s attempt at a grope even as the giant robot hovering over them bellowed an ear-splitting, mechanical roar. Several gunshots rang a split second later and Stark’s offended ‘hey!’ was followed by Ethan’s unapologetic ‘sorry, my hand slipped’. Jane’s legs bumped against something fleshy and Benji’s muffled protest was duly ignored.
Brandt very, very slowly sighed.
“Sounds like a plan.”
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