ROUND TWENTY-TWO
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There is a florist a block down the street from the entrance to the Triskelion. Natasha noted this when she was first assigned there, because she always works to keep a mental map of every street, alley, and business within a kilometer of the places she spends significant time, but she initially filed it away as fairly irrelevant information.
It becomes relevant that first February, because SHIELD agents are two things: overworked and sexually frustrated.
One of the unfortunate side effects of the super soldier experiments conducted by the Red Room is a susceptibility to hay fever. Something about an extra-robust immune system and the fact that most of the scientists were working out of a secret lab in the frozen wilds of Siberia. So as SHIELD agents are busy courting each other with limp bouquets from the nearby florist, Natasha is stuffing tissues up her sleeve and going through bottles and bottles of concealer.
Clint is the one who suffers most in the end, however. Because when he swings by Natasha's desk at the end of the business day with a dozen blood-red pollen-laden roses and a lace-encrusted card, Natasha glares and begins lecturing him about the working conditions in the Victorian stationery factories that made the mass-produced Valentine's cards that cemented the minor saint's day as an important Anglo holiday.
She is just warming up to a diatribe on the lengths Western corporations have gone to export the holiday to Asia when Clint gives up and flees, gifts still in hand.
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Clint never catches any breaks. And I'm terribly grateful that my own experience of hay fever is fairly mild. :)
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