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A Gift From: perpetuations
Type Of Gift: Gift Basket - fanmix, two posters, and a ficlet
Title: Dreams
A Gift For: celeste9
Rating: T
Warnings: N/A
Summary/Prompt Used: Inception AU where they steal secrets through people’s dreams (as partners or at odds, or maybe one leads to the other?)
Author's Note: Sorry for any errors! I’m not exactly too sure how the PASIV machine works, haha.




link to fan mix: house by the sea



It’s half-past ten before their target - a man in his thirties, half-dressed and reeking of expensive cologne, makes his way into the party. The party is as ostentatious as the host - all glitz and glamour and expertly designed as a subtle slap to his competitor’s face.

“I thought he’d never come,” Natasha remarks, grabbing a glass of the first-class champagne being passed around. Clint knows what’s going to happen next. With almost immaculate precision, she bumps into their target – Ernest – and spills her drink all over him.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t see where I was going!” She exclaims, leaning into him, trying to wipe the wine stain away from his pressed white shirt, “I’m just so clumsy in these heels.”

It’s all so predictable, and Ernest falls for it. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He grins, running his hand along the back of Natasha’s dress. Natasha – all fake smiles and fluttering eyelashes, leans further into him.

“Are you sure?” She coos, and Clint can see her categorically assessing Ernest’s level on her scale of sexually overexcited men. “Do you want me to help you change out of it?” Just like that, they have their target pinned to the wall. Within seconds of entering an empty room, Natasha has him tranquilized and bound to a chair. Their target – dark haired and dashingly handsome, goes down like a sack of potatoes, bumping his head on the bedpost as he does so.

“Ouch,” Clint winces, guarding the door as Natasha busies herself with the PASIV device, “-I mean,” he adds as Natasha whips around to face him, “-he’s going to wake up with one hell of a hangover.”

“Well, that hangover’s not going to help when he wakes up and finds that his company has lost a hell lot of money.” Natasha dryly replies, gesturing at Clint to come over to her. He closes the curtains and places a few pieces of furniture in front of the door before walking over to her.

“Here.” She says, setting the time of the PASIV – three minutes, and attaches the IV line to his arm. He lies down on the bed and reviews their plans: a simple in and out, grab and go – there’s little chance for error in that. Of course, there’s always the possibility of not completing the mission – but judging from Ernest’s spectacular display of self-confidence ten minutes ago, Clint doesn’t think that it’ll take longer than thirty minutes to pry for all the information he needs.

“Ready?” He grins, flexing his arms. It’s not the first time he’s gone into a dream without Natasha, but he generally prefers not to – it’s hard to go into a dream without someone to remind you of reality, but there has to be someone to make sure that their target doesn’t wake up halfway into the extraction, and Natasha’s a much better distraction than he is.

“See you on the other side.” She whispers, pressing his totem – an arrowhead – into his palm, and starts the timer.