Nothing.
There was absolutely nothing.
In the entire Avengers Tower, there wasn't a single thing to eat.
Clint was pissed. First he slept through dinner, and now he couldn't even find a decent snack. This was Natasha's fault. If she hadn't made him take his meds, he wouldn't have fallen asleep and missed dinner, and he wouldn't be ransacking the kitchen at 2am.
God, he hated being shot. He was like a magnet for bullets. This time he was hit in the shoulder, so he was forced to wear an immobilizing sling. He was also prescribed meds, but they made him loopy, so he avoided them as usual. At least until Natasha threatened to hide all of his trick arrows unless he took them (he still hadn't found his boomerang arrows from last time). Now he was hungry, there were no snacks, and he was feeling loopy again.
Thor's poptarts, Bruce's tea, Nat's licorice (ew), Steve's granola... How can we not even have twinkies?!
The pantry was a bust, so Clint tried the freezer. He knew he at last had some pizza rolls left, maybe some ice cream. However, when he opened the door, all he found was an empty pizza roll bag with an IOU taped to it. He was gonna kill Stark. Those were his damn pizza rolls. His stomach growled, reminding him of the problem at hand.
"Guess I'm making a midnight snack run."
He ran back to his room and threw on a pair of pants before making his way down to the garage. He was about to grab a set of keys when Jarvis stopped him.
"Agent Barton, it is unwise to drive in your condition. Your medication warns against the use of heavy machinery while it is in effect. Shall I call Mr. Hogan to give you a ride?"
"Nah, that's okay. I'll just walk". He could use the fresh air and exercise anyway.
The trip to the store was uneventful and Clint enjoyed the city's quiet ambiance. When he entered the automatic doors, he was greeted by bright fluorescent lighting and the faint buzz of Muzak through the speakers. Beginning to feel the effects of his meds again, he hurried off to the freezer section.