Recycling Bin ▷ Replaced Work

4 - DEBRIEFING

WHEN TERRAN WOKE UP, HE WAS IN WASHINGTON, D.C. He had briefly asked Fury why they weren't just going to the headquarters in New York, but the easy reply was, "Because that's not where we're going," and it was left at that. Terran knew when he was supposed to be quiet, but that didn't mean he had to like it; nor did he have to obey, at least not to the letter.

"-I think your hair is lovely, but I don't get the fixation on the color, people must bother you all the time about it," Terran rambled as they climbed out of the van and walked into Headquarters, the blond barely looking away from where he was chatting with Natasha who, now that they were standing side-by-side was multiple heads shorter than him and was clearly unhappy with having to tilt her head up so much.

It had taken some coaxing, as Natasha clearly wasn't one for idle chit chat, but after a few questions that elicited at least a breath of response from the composed woman, as well as a drawl from Fury demanding for her to satiate the blond because it was painful to hear him struggling, the two began a conversation, albeit one mainly led by Terran, though neither seemed to mind much.

"You won't believe all the 'does the curtain match the drapes' questions I get," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, which, after his questioning, she had revealed was growing out, as she needed to stop being predictable.

"Agent Romanoff," Fury interjected, not turning around from where he was leading them to a debriefing room, "I expected this from Sweets, not from you, now's the time to focus."

Natasha merely raised an eyebrow at the back of his head, knowing he could hear it in her tone. "I thought you wanted me to make him feel comfortable, sir."

Fury snorted then, but covered it up with a cough. "You know better."

"Lighten up, Fury," Terran said, causing Natasha to raise her eyebrows, the blond merely shrugging down at her, "Listen, while I love your company, is Clint here? Will he be here? Can I see him? Please?"

Natasha took a deep breath, allowing herself a smile at that, even a small laugh, and Terran gaped down at her, too shocked to smile, despite his body singing in triumph. "Sir, I'll be the first to point out that having him and Barton together is a recipe for disaster."

"A disaster that saved the world and landed us some sweet connections in Europe," Terran pointed out, "As pseudo-prince consort of Norway, I think I have some standing to demand that I see my not-twin brother."

Fury rolled his one eye at that, still refusing to turn to look at them, only turning when they made their way into the elevator. "You don't look anything alike."

"Maybe not now," Terran said, moving to stand in the middle, glancing down at Natasha who almost refused to raise her head up once more to look at him, "But when we were younger. Spitting image. Someone tried to pay us to make out."

"Did you?" Natasha asked, her tone flat, and he winked, giving her all the answer she needed.

They exited the elevator and made their way to a hallway with translucent walls and doors that Terran assumed were to keep things private, but refrain from making it seem like a prison. There were the interrogation rooms which were much darker and more intense, and he had been sure there were debriefing rooms with glass walls, but it seemed that their mission warranted translucent walls.

"This is off-book," Fury said, the moment the door closed behind them, Natasha taking a seat easily, Terran following her cautiously.

"So we can't discuss this with anyone, no extraction plan, nothing?" Terran interrupted, glancing between the Director and Natasha, "Should I remind everyone that I'm not an agent?"