Guardians of The Hoodie Hoard
Clint found the list by accident.
He was in the lounge, looking for his missing sock (spoiler: Bucky's dog had it), when he spotted a thick, spiral-bound notebook sticking out from under the couch. Naturally, he assumed it was either Tony's schematics or Harry's collection of dramatic doodles labeled "Stark Tower: A Soap Opera."
It was neither.
It was worse.
It was titled—handwritten in glitter pen:
"Hoodie Rankings: Tower Edition"
By Harry Stark (Emotional Support Gremlin)
Clint blinked.
Then opened it.
There were categories.
Page One: Warmth Factor.
Page Two: Smell Rating.
Page Three: Emotional Comfort Bonus Snuggliness.
Page Four: Cuddle Compatibility Index.
Each team member had an entry. And a score. And commentary.
Clint's read:
"Good for naps. Slightly scratchy. Smells like cinnamon and sleep deprivation. 7/10. Loses points for static cling. Acceptable in emergencies."
He stared at it like it had insulted his ancestors.
Then flipped to Bucky's.
"The Gold Standard. Softest material. Perfect weight. Smells like danger and midnight. Instantly calming. 10/10. If lost, I will cry and make it your problem."
Clint shut the notebook.
"OH IT'S ON."
Twenty minutes later, the Tower was in full hoodie warfare.
Steve was offering Harry home-knit sweaters.
Natasha bribed him with imported fabric softener.
Bruce bought three new hoodies and labeled them "SCIENCE SNUGGLES."
Tony stood in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed.
"You people are ridiculous."
"You lost to Bucky," Natasha said coolly.
Tony's eye twitched. "It was ONE list—"
"A glitter list," Clint corrected.
"WITH RANKINGS," Bruce added, tossing a throw pillow at him.
Harry walked in mid-chaos, wearing Bucky's zip-up, sipping tea, and looking far too smug.
"Did someone find my list?" he asked sweetly.
Everyone pointed at Clint.
Clint raised both hands. "I was curious!"
"You rated my hoodie a 7," he whined.
"It made my hair stand up. And not in a sexy way."
"You're a menace."
Harry gave him finger guns. "A stylish menace."
Bucky wandered in and surveyed the scene.
"You cause this?" he asked Harry.
Harry grinned. "I inspire greatness."
"You're wearing my hoodie."
"I live in your hoodie."
Bucky smirked. "Good. No one else ranks above me, right?"
Harry looked shifty. "Define 'above.'"
Bucky growled.
"Kidding!" Harry laughed. "You're the top. No one snuggles like the Winter Soldier."
Steve looked personally offended.
Tony looked like he was calculating hoodie upgrades in real time.
That night, a new sign appeared on the lounge door:
"HARRY'S HOODIE HOARD IS NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION."
– Management (probably Bucky)
Underneath it, in sharpie:
"Exceptions made for snacks, tea, and emotional bribery."