Clint
"I'll tell you on one condition," you said to Natasha.
"What is it?"
"I need help...yours and Bruce's."
"Anything, you name it."
"A distraction...and a heist."
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"Ok, they're in position," Bruce whispered into the earpiece. "Let's move."
You slipped out of your bedroom door and quickly slunk down the hall to where Bruce was waiting for you, keeping an eye out as he did so.
"Come on," you said, grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him along behind you.
"I think we're putting way more effort into this than is required," he muttered. "Why didn't you just go to a grocery store?"
"Because they're closed at this time of night. You know that. If we don't have any, then I'll go tomorrow."
"Do we really need the earpieces and the sneaking around?"
"Just shut up and stick with the program."
When you got to the kitchen, you pointed to the cabinets on the far side and said, "You check those, and I'll get these."
You started rummaging around in the cabinets and found everything but what you were looking for...cereal, poptarts, protein shakes, cheetos...
"Someone around here needs to learn how to cook," you said. "Wait! What is that on the top shelf? Bruce, boost me."
With a sigh, he crossed the room and helped you up until you could reach the uppermost shelf.
"Ah hah! Bingo!" you cheered. Landing back on the ground, you continued, "Stick this under your shirt and meet me back in my room."
"Fine."
A few minutes later, you and Bruce were back in your bedroom.
"Will you do me one more favor?" you asked him.
"What is it?"
"Tell Clint I'm looking for him."
"Sure."
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You were interrupted from your task by a couple of loud knocks on your bedroom door.
"I hope you're not decent, because I'm coming in," you heard Clint yell on the other side.
"One second!" you replied. A couple more holes and it would be perfect....there! You hopped up from your desk and ran to hide behind the door.
"Come in!"
What happened next didn't go exactly how you had planned it.
Clint walked through the door, you whacked him over the head with the bag you were holding, and he dropped to the floor with a thud.
You stared at him, momentarily stunned, before crying out, "Oh my God, Clint! Are you okay?"
"What the hell? You know, if you wanted to kill me, there are easier, and less weird, ways to do it," he said motioning to the bag in your hand.
For the first time, you became conscious of the way the bag of powdered sugar felt in your hand. It wasn't....right. It was too heavy, and firm. You lifted it up to study it and squinted at the expiration date.
"July 21st...2009," you said. "Damn thing solidified." In all your giddiness earlier you must not have noticed.
"Clint, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" you asked, kneeling down on the floor beside him, feeling the spot on his head where you'd hit him.
"I'll live, but what was that for?"
"That wasn't how that was supposed to go. I poked holes in the bag, and it was supposed to fly all over, and-"
"And-" he said.
"And a little bit was supposed to get right here," you said, touching his forehead before placing a kiss there. "And here." You kissed his cheek.
"Getting warmer," he whispered.
"And right here," you said, closing the distance between your lips and his.
"Bullseye," he said with a sigh when you parted. Leaning back on his elbows with a smirk, he added, "So, where else was it supposed to go? Cause I can think of a few places."
"So can I," you purred, rubbing one hand up his chest as your other one reached behind you.
He was so preoccupied with watching you lick your lips that he didn't notice your next move until it was too late. You swung the bag around and hit him playfully on the arm, with it breaking open and dumping all over him.
You fell back on your butt laughing and he said, "Oh, I'm gonna get you for that one, baby."
"You will try."