Chapter Text
Clint had noticed it, but it didn't bother him, he usually claimed his first when the shared a hotel room on mission. Bruce spent so little time out of the lab or his personal space that he hadn't noticed for a long time, never would have if it hadn't been for an empty cupboard. Tony only needed the one, that one that Pepper had gotten for him on the first "National Boss Appreciation Day" that she'd worked for him, so he failed to notice all together. It was Mr. Calm-Cool-And-Collected that ended up blowing a washer-head over it.
"Twenty-three cups! How do you normally function? After two weeks of picking up cup after cup I got tired of hunting them down just to wash them. Is it really that hard to place it in the sink? I mean, I don't even mind having to wash them, granted the number is a bit excessive, but to leave them everywhere?" Steve finally took a breath, allowing his arms to stop wildly gesturing and rest, although tense, at his sides.
Natasha to her credit, didn't flinch, crack-up or any of the other completely inappropriate things her partner was doing around the corner as he listened to her being dressed down like a wet behind the ears cadet.
"You never know when there will be another alien invasion." she replied after a moment of silence, expression dead serious.
Steve, as expected, missed the reference and looked at her completely gobsmacked.
Clint couldn't hold it in, he ran for the stairs and straight to Tony who was bent over his workbench. Clint was laughing so hard it took three tries to get his key code in right.
"You missed it. The Capsicle just had a meltdown on Natasha." Clint paused to catch his breath.
"And let me guess, she went all Signs on him?"
Clint deflated.
"Party popper."
Tony gave a warm chuckle, that for some reason made Clint more aware of the years between them.
"He's come to expect it from me. It’s good for someone else to keep him on his toes too."
Clint watched Tony work on a schematic in silence for a few minutes.
"It really is a bad habit though; her getting a new cup without putting the old to be washed." The thought was bittersweet as a memory of Coulson yelling at her for the same thing surfaced.