"But is not this work of paper more fit for Lady Darcy and her army of scribes?" says Thor, his blue eyes clear and slightly puzzled.
"Up to a point," says Clint, "but all of SHIELD is overworked after the Coming of the Incendiary Bat incident, and they still need clean raw reports to work with. Which is a part of our job." He hesitates, and then adds, "And is it not how we measure the worth of a man - skill at arms, generous gift-giving, and the treasure we draw from our word-hoard?"
"Indeed!" says Thor, slamming his coffee mug almost to the table and moving it the last half-inch with a careful tap. "Truly, my lovely Jane has said that women love a man with a cunning tongue. I will succeed!" He leans over the paperwork spread on the kitchen table with intense focus.
"Now you, Dr Banner, are pretty good at this," Clint tells the scientist. "Just... remember to write like a nurse, not a doctor."
Bruce smiles, "Oh so many grant applications. But I'm better with a keyboard."
Clint shrugs. "Sorry. Stark still gives SHIELD computer staff the willies."
"Sorry I'm late," says Steve Rogers, coming into the kitchen. He loosens the tie of a formal suit ensemble as he drops into a chair at the table. "A pal was getting married."
"We could have rescheduled if we'd known," says Bruce mildly.
"No, it's fine," says Steve, "Bill and Tobias ran off as soon as the contract was signed, and I'm not really one for the drinking party after. So," he says, "we're having a paperwork training seminar because, how did you put it...?"
"'Piss on the toilet-cleaner today; walk in shit tomorrow'," says Clint cheerfully. "Old Midgardian proverb," he explains to Thor.
"Now, I'm buddying you all up. Dr Banner, you're with Thor; Steve, you'll be paired with Stark." Clint smiles toothily, "After we've had a talk, that is. So, the X22s, like all the Time-Space anomaly forms, are better done from the inside out. Please pay attention, because I'd rather not do this more than once."
Clint picks up his pencil and starts to demonstrate, then pauses. "What?" He waggles his reading glasses and drawls, "Do my spectacles not make me look cute, Cap?"
Steve looks at him quizzically. "You're left-handed," he says at last.
"Uh, yes?" Clint lifts up both hands, and spins his pencil around the fingers of his left. "I shoot lefty, too."
"Oh, I didn't realise."
The rest of the paperwork lesson goes pretty well, until - "Have you tried not being left-handed?" Steve asks. "I mean, they have therapies for lots of things... these days."
"I promise I'm not possessed by the devil, Cap," says Clint, very seriously.
Steve blushes scarlet.
Notes: This is kinda... because the actor who plays Hawkeye is left-handed. And yes, prejudices against southpaws used to be a *lot* more prevalent than they are right now. And when people write about Steve Rogers getting used to 21st century mores, it's always about the sex thing. Screw that. The "Piss on the toilet-cleaner" proverb was invented by me, because I have a lot of respect for service staff.