Clint Barton had never been one for the domestic scene, but he had to admit that the infamous Pepper Potts could have even made a murderer who had recently lost his mind, literally, long to sit down for a family dinner.

Given that Clint had recently lost his mind and murdered a few people under the command of Loki, and that he was also longing to sample some of Pepper's famous cooking, he figured that meant he had become domestic.

Or sort of.

He was actually watching Pepper make dinner.

Watching's a bit of a vague term, though…a more appropriate word might have been spying.

Seeing as how she didn't know he was there.

He guessed even Darcy didn't know. Yep, Darcy was there too. Clint wouldn't have pegged her for domestic, either, but she was tossing a salad like an expert.

"Where do you keep the cucumbers?" she asked.

Pepper frowned at the baked potatoes she was slicing length-wise. "In the refrigerator."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Your fridge is a walk in cooler the size of a cement truck."

"Left side, top shelf, two steps in." Pepper began scooping out the center of the baked potatoes into a large bowl. "Can you get me the sour cream while you're in there?"

"If you can tell me where it's at," Darcy answered as she picked up two medium cucumbers.

"Right side, one and a half steps past where you are now." Pepper finished scooping out the potatoes and began mashing them into a thick paste.

"Got it," Darcy said as she lifted the sour cream. She set it down on Pepper's counter, then turned back to her own counter and began peeling the cucumbers. She turned back to look as Pepper plopped a spoonful of sour cream into the mashed potato paste. "What are you making?"

"Deviled potatoes."

"Are those like deviled eggs?" Darcy asked, squinting.

Clint frowned as well. He'd heard of deviled eggs, but not potatoes. And he'd always wondered what 'deviled' meant.

"M-hm," Pepper answered, opening a cupboard and pulling out garlic powder and oil.

"What does deviled mean, anyway? I never understood why something so good was called such a name."

"I'm not sure why, but deviled is the term that refers to when you take the inside of something out, like the yolk of an egg or the inside of a potato, mix it with something else, and stuff it back in."

Clint frowned. Unbidden, his words spoken to Natasha as he was recovering from Loki's control echoed in his memory.

"Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out, and stuff something else in?"

He scowled at the kitchen. He'd just made a most unsavory connection between himself and a side dish. Two of them, actually.

He was a deviled egg.

A deviled egg.

A deviled egg.

Pepper and Darcy finished and took their handiwork out into the dining room, where Jane and Tony were (hopefully) waiting.

Clint dropped to the floor and made his way to the counter, eyeing the deviled potatoes Pepper had left behind with distrust. He smelled all the spices Pepper had put into them and his mouth watered in spite of himself. Then he dipped a finger into one of them and licked it off.

His eyes widened.

When Pepper came back, she found three of her deviled potatoes missing.