New Fic: Essentials
Essentials
Fandom: Avengers
Rated: PG
Category: Gen, humor. Movieverse. Tony and Clint with a side of Natasha.
Spoilers: None. Alludes to comics-canon Hawkeye’s sense of humor.
Summary: Tony finds out the hard way that it’s not just Thor who likes Pop-Tarts.
Word Count: 911
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Tony Stark slammed a cabinet door closed and opened another in the large kitchen of Avengers Tower.
As he did, he grumbled out loud. “What happened to all the Pop-Tarts?”
Clint Barton looked up from his place at the table. “All gone,” he muttered, before returning to his cereal.
Tony rounded on him. “What? How can they all be gone?”
Clint shrugged. “I told you you should’ve bought more.”
“How was I supposed to know we’d go through them that fast?” argued Tony.
Clint blinked at Tony, briefly pausing his meal. “Because I told you so?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, like I listen to you.”
“Fine,” said Clint. “Because Pepper told you, then?”
“I thought she was exaggerating,” said Tony.
“Right,” drawled Clint. “Because she does that so often.”
Tony opened another cabinet, and still not seeing what he wanted, slammed it shut again. “Sometimes she does.”
“Uh-huh,” said Clint, nodding a clearly sarcastic agreement.
“What? She does!”
Clint snorted and returned to his meal. “Whatever you say, man.”
“Oh, come on,” argued Tony. “Who in their right mind would think that a request for fifty boxes of Pop-Tarts was real?!”
“I would.”
“Liar.”
Clint set his spoon down and stared at Tony in disbelief. “Do you have any idea who lives here?”
Tony squirmed and ran one hand along the back of his neck. “Well…”
“You know what?” said Clint, shaking his head and resuming his meal again. “Never mind the rationalizing. Just give me my money.”
Now it was Tony’s turn to be shocked. “What money?”
Clint took a big bite of cereal, chewed it slowly, then swallowed before answering. “The money you’re going to give me to shut up about the fact that Tony Stark was not only wrong, but also responsible for us running out of everyone’s favorite snack and lost a bet to boot.”
“I wasn’t wrong. I was misinformed. And if everyone would stop eating so much and…wait,” Tony paused and looked confused. “What bet?”
“The bet you made with Pepper that you could order the groceries as well as she could,” mumbled Clint, mouth half-full with another spoonful of cereal and face the picture of nonchalance.
“How do you know about that?” demanded Tony, getting more flustered by the moment.
Clint’s slow chuckle was Tony’s only answer. After a moment, his eyes went wide and he pointed a finger accusingly at Clint.
“You! You and that Russian freak of nature! That’s it! That’s the last time I let a spy anywhere near my woman!”
Clint’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “You better not let Pepper hear you call her that.”
“Call me what?” chimed Pepper’s smooth voice as she entered the kitchen.
“Nothing,” mumbled Tony, slowly shuffling out the door.
“No, I want to know,” said Pepper. “You making fun of my shoe collection again, Mister Has-More-Than-I-Do?”
Tony shook his head and took another step out of the room.
“Nope. I was just leaving, actually. Off to the lab to run some simulations,” he said.
“Oh, good!” said Pepper. “I’ll go with you. I need to talk to you about next week’s schedule. I think we may have to move the Defense Department to Tuesday, because there’s a board meeting Monday afternoon, and…”
Pepper’s voice faded as she followed Tony to his lab, along with what sounded like garbled arguments from Tony.
Clint sniggered and poured himself another bowl of cereal. As he topped off the milk in his bowl and pulled the daily crossword out of the paper, another voice broke the newfound silence.
“You’re evil, you know that?”
Clint looked up and laughed. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As he spoke, he automatically slid the milk and the comics section of the paper over to the next chair at the table and kicked it out with his foot.
Natasha Romanoff sat down without a word and poured her own bowl of cereal.
Ten minutes later, while Clint was still doing his puzzle and Natasha was perusing the other sections of the paper, loud footsteps sounded from outside the room.
Clint sighed and pushed his now-empty cereal bowl away. He looked expectantly at the door of the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when Tony Stark appeared a few seconds later.
Tony walked calmly into the room, pulled out his wallet, and laid a crisp one hundred dollar bill on the table in front of Clint. Then he raised his eyebrows in silent question.
Clint smiled graciously and then looked at Natasha.
Tony sighed, pulled out another bill, and set it in front of Natasha.
When that was done, Clint nodded at Tony and his grin grew even wider.
Tony glared back, then spun on his heel and left, still uncharacteristically quiet, and headed toward the elevator that would take him not to his lab (where he got paid to play), but to his office (where he actually had to work).
As he left, Clint couldn’t resist calling out to him.
“Don’t forget the Pop-Tarts,” he yelled. Then he laughed loudly enough that there was no way Tony didn’t hear him.
Natasha’s laughter joined Clint’s, but Tony still remained silent.
His only answer was one middle finger lifted high in the air, but later that day one hundred boxes of Pop-Tarts arrived at Avengers Tower. They came in all sorts of flavors, but if anyone other than Clint and Natasha noticed that their favorites were slightly overrepresented, no one said anything.