Secretary Pearce orders SHIELD to invade Canada. Clint tips off Deadpool and Wolverine.

BWAHAHAHAH! I love this SO MUCH!

OH MY GOD 😂😂😂

Okay. For YOU, I have done this thing! Author is not from America or Canada, but a secret third place (Britain, who historically sent people over to colonise both argh).

Also on AO3

The Canadian Crisis

“So, we're invading Canada?” Clint says, his face a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth picture of perfect innocence.

Natasha jabs him in the side with her elbow. It's bad enough they have to deal with ridiculous - and clearly political - bullshit orders from on high without her partner shit-stirring.

“No,” Coulson says, at the far end of the conference table. He shoots Clint a look that promises retribution as, predictably, others start piling on.

“Ahh, so we're like an advance guard for a Canadian invasion,” Agent Wilkins says.

“More like scouts.” Agent Han frowns, folding her arms. “Come on, you can't be serious with this.”

“We're not invading Canada,” Hill says, from her spot next to Coulson.

Filing into a Level 8 briefing room with some of SHIELD's best agents - excluding those of Canadian origin, for reasons that have since become obvious - and finding two Deputy Directors standing at the front had been a clear sign from the start that this was going to be a high-level shit show. Then Director Fury had walked in and taken a seat to one side.

“Really?” Clint leans back in his chair. “Because it sounds very much like the overall goal can be summed up as ‘invade Canada’.”

Natasha would give him a pointed jab again, except Fury’s eye is now fixed on her partner. Extra movement might keep Fury’s attention when she’d rather it moved elsewhere.

“Thank you for voicing your concerns,” says Hill flatly.

“Since the operational outcomes could easily be misconstrued, as so aptly demonstrated by Agent Barton, I'm sure you can appreciate the level of security and discretion required here,” Coulson says, looking around at them all. “As a matter of national security and political sensitivity.”

Natasha watches as Clint’s gaze casually drifts from the DDs to meet Fury’s stare. Then, maintaining eye contact, he slowly slides a phone out of the thigh pocket of his cargo pants and onto his lap, where it’s somewhat hidden underneath the table.

A phone he shouldn't have. Not in a high security area of the building and absolutely not in a Level 8 briefing. It's not even a work phone, but a personal one, judging by the cartoon stickers covering the back. It is a dumbphone at least and, since it belongs to Clint, it’s probably secure, but still.

She weighs up the odds of Fury having spotted it.

“The intelligence disclosed to you today does not leave this room,” Coulson continues. “The consequences of a security breach would be not just career-ending for those involved, but agency-ending.”

Neither Clint nor Fury’s expression changes as Clint silently and rapidly taps out a short message on the old school T9 keypad.

“I appreciate a number of you may have concerns,” Coulson says, “however SHIELD currently has no reason - in policy, legally, or otherwise - not to carry out the initial actions as outlined today.”

A grumble of acknowledgement circulates the room.

Underneath the table, Clint hits send. Finally, he looks away from Fury and back at Coulson and, clearly using the latter as cover for signalling the former, gives a small nod of agreement that Coulson narrows his eyes at.

“It's the job,” Hill says. “So let's get to it.”

The phone disappears back into Clint’s pocket as the gathered agents get to their feet, talking among themselves as they make their way out. Clint moves quickly, probably to avoid Coulson, but Natasha catches up and leans in close.

“While I'm aware - and evidence - of your ability to befriend anyone,” she mutters, under cover of the exit noise, “who the hell do you know who can do anything about this?”




Secretary Pierce walks into his Triskelion office, with a single guard at his heels, and comes to an abrupt halt at the impossible sight of two unannounced guests. One, fully covered in a red suit and mask, has commandeered Pierce's own office chair and is sitting in it backwards with his arm resting on top of the chairback.

“So, you're thinking of invading Canada,” says Deadpool. “In the words of your red, white, and blue lord and saviour: son, just don't.”

“Leave,” Pierce demands. “Now.”

His attitude is that of a man who knows himself to be the most powerful person in the room. His tone of one who expects to be obeyed, even by those with superhuman abilities others might hesitate to command. Unfortunately for Pierce, he fails to take into account his audience.

“Well, now, that wasn’t very diplomatic.” Deadpool wags a finger at him and says, in a sing-song voice that wouldn’t be out of place on a toddler’s TV show, “Remember, good fences make good neighbours. Stay in your lane.” He plants both gloved hands on the back of the chair and leans forward, lowering his voice. “Because Canada is protected, you ignorant political asswipe. We’ve got superheroes you’ve never even seen on a screen. And - ”

“Look,” the Wolverine - in normal clothes and a leather jacket - interjects. “Ain't nobody got time for this shit.”

“No,” Pierce says, “I do not.” He raises a hand to signal the man behind him, without looking away from the two in front of him. “Soldier, remove these…gentlemen from the premises. If they refuse to cooperate, ensure the removal is permanent.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” says Deadpool, rising to his feet and slowly drawing one of the swords from the sheath on his back, “you got no idea how hard that’s gonna be.”

The Wolverine, meanwhile, squints at the soldier's half-masked face in dawning recognition as he stalks across the room towards them.

“Actually,” he mutters, “kinda think this guy might.” He extends one set of claws, half in warning and half to see if Pierce’s guard is the guy he’s thinking of and recognises him in turn.

The soldier does not slow down.




“So, crisis averted,” Natasha says on their way out of SHIELD’s New York office, two hours before they were due to be deployed and one since the entire operation was officially scrapped.

“Guess so,” Clint agrees.

Somewhere on his person a phone pings with an incoming message and he slows down as he digs it out. It's the stickered dumbphone. He stops and, a second later, so does Natasha.

She watches his face as he enters a passcode and opens the text. Most people think that Clint is easy to read, with the way he wears his emotions on his face and his heart on his sleeve - and, for the most part, that’s true. He is, however, also very good at using that openness to distract and deflect from what he decides to hide. Natasha knows to watch out for the small things, so she spots the tiny flinch and frown, there and then gone.

“What is it?”

“That one,” Clint mumbles, still looking at his phone screen like the message he’s received might change or make more sense if he stares at it long enough.

“That one what?”

“That crisis.”

Natasha waits silently for his attention, then raises her eyebrows.

Clint rubs the back of his next with one hand and huffs out a laugh.

“So. Hypothetically.” He takes a deep breath. “How would we feel about Canada kidnapping a possibly-American citizen who resembles both the presumed long-dead war hero best friend of Captain America and an infamous ghost story assassin who trained Red Room Widows and shot you that one time, and who may or may not actually be the brainwashed tool of Hydra who might have infiltrated SHIELD? Um, asking for a friend?”


Edited 2025-02-28 06:19 pm (UTC)

Just re-read this. Still think it is fabulous, and SOSOSOSO grateful you picked up this "spiky" little prompt...

Aww thank you, if it gave you a chuckle in these chucklefuck times then SUCCESS :)