A/N: Written because I absolutely adore this team and Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/insert-your-holiday-here is coming up so I wanted to combine the two. No slash! Slight Clintasha. Five-parter with each team member and a possible epilogue. Thor will be obsessed with Pop-Tarts and there will be sandwiches. You have been warned :)
- gift -
/noun/ a thing given willingly to someone with payment, a present
Clint frowns at the gaping woman at the end of the aisle. He hadn't counted on being recognized by civilians. With his jeans and sweatshirt, he had thought he blended in quite well, actually.
He follows her gaze and twists around to see if there's a stain on the back of his hoodie. He sees his quiver instead.
…Even superheroes need to shop sometimes….
He shrugs and goes back to searching the shelves for popcorn. When he finds the boxes of Orville Redenbacher, he pushes five boxes into his basket. Lately, all the Avengers had been doing was watching movies in an attempt to educate Steve and Thor about modern culture. Yesterday was Mean Girls, today was the Notebook, and Tash had told him that Tony was vying for the Titanic next.
He's about to leave when a row of boxes catches his eye and sparks his memory.
Two weeks ago, he had been watching tv with Thor when a commercial for a new flavor of pop-tarts had flashed onto the screen. The demigod had immediately gasped with delight before begging Clint to come with him to the store so that he could try "this marvelously colored sustainment."
Of course, them being the Avengers, the world had needed saving at precisely that moment and they had never really gotten around to getting Thor's new pop tarts. Clint picks up the box and remembers how Thor had gotten on his knees just to plead for the breakfast snack.
Quickly, he decides to get them and surprise the demigod, just for kicks. He smirks to himself thinking about Thor's reaction. The Asgardian will most likely beam with joy before booming out a laugh and squeezing him in his arms. He'll beg Thor to let him go, and Thor'll do so, with a last bone-crushing thump to his back before he rips into the pop-tarts. Everybody will come to watch him eat, Bruce with a quiet smile, Tony with a smirk, and then they'll all go settle onto their places in the living room and watch the movie together.
And then he blinks.
He, Hawkeye, master assassin, S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the best sharpshooter the world has even seen, is standing in an aisle of Stop & Shop, smiling like an idiot at a box of Wildilicious Wild!Berry Pop Tarts just because of a demigod with eyes like a puppy and a heart of a child.
He briefly considers running from the store, stealing a plane, and fleeing the country to live in the depths of the Amazonian jungle with only his bow for company, shooting things to regain his manliness and never forming human contact again.
In the end, he chucks three damn boxes of the pop-tarts into his basket. If anybody asks, well, that's why he has a bow in the first place.
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