The first time we went shopping together…

Tony slouched over the handle of the cart, groaning complaints over how long it was taking Clint to pick which ground beef packet he wanted. "Tony, shut up, I want to make sure we have enough for everyone." The blonde turned back to the plastic wrapped processed meat and eyed the details stuck in the corner.

"Seriously? Just get two then!" Tony's foot pushed the cart as he rocked back, curving his back to look up at the spackled ceiling high above them. He slid his eyes to the right to see Clint studiously ignoring him. "Hawkass—"

"Language."

"You must be joking." Clint placed his selection of beef in the cart neatly in the corner. Shoving Tony out of the way, he looked at the list Natasha had written down for them in her neat scrawl. Ambling beside Clint, Tony nudged him with his elbow. "Why are we even here? You know I pay people to do this for us."

Clint nudged Tony back, causing the other man to stumble behind him for a second. As Tony drew back up to his side, Clint sent a plea to the ceiling for their trip to be over soon. "Nat is punishing you—"

"Us."

Clint stopped the cart, his jaw tensing when it squealed in protest. "You. You're the one who messed with her food. Just," Clint looked around the aisle they were in, grimacing at the baby stuff surrounding them. "Who the hell decided to put toiletries next to the baby stuff?" He shot a glare at the billionaire accompanying him, "Don't answer that Tony. Go find," checking the wrinkled paper again, "dish soap."

Tony visibly paused, his eyes narrowing at Clint as if he was deciding whether to actually listen to the archer—that would be a surprise—or to spout off some other complaint. Sniffing to himself, Tony turned on his heel, his back ramrod straight, and strutted down the aisle to look for dish soap. A woman and her son froze across from Tony, the child pointing directly at him as they both babbled unintelligibly to each other. Her second child, left in the cart, began crying and Clint sighed from deep within his lungs, rubbing his temple.

Not even sparing a glance at the small family sharing the aisle with them, Tony grabbed the first thing that said dish soap and marched back over to Clint, throwing the box haphazardly into the cart. "Tony, that's for dishwashers, we need liquid dish soap."

Rolling his eyes, Tony quirked an eyebrow at Clint. Slowly enunciating each word, Tony leaned towards Clint, "We have a dishwasher."

"I know. We already have dishwasher soap though. What we need is handwash soap." They stared at each other for a beat. "Fine," Clint growled, "I'll get it myself." He snatched the box out of the cart and stalked down the aisle, glaring at the crying baby as he walked past. Taking the right dish soap back to the cart, Clint shoved it in the opposite corner to the meat and took over pushing the cart again.

The next few aisles tested Clint's patience as Tony continued to complain about being there at all and how long Clint was taking. After Tony had grabbed the wrong thing for the sixth time, Clint just gave up on the man and set himself to doing everything himself. Grocery shopping was supposed to be Tony's punishment! Clint's knuckles were white on the cart as he restrained himself from punching Tony if only to get him to shut up for one second, until the moment he saw it; a cereal box with a Hawkeye action figurine as a prize. Gasping loudly enough that the other families around them turned their heads, Clint jumped for the box and held it tenderly in his hands. The kitschy design drew him in and he turned wide, shining eyes on Tony.

"Quick! Ask Nat if I can have it!" Then he remembered who he was talking to and dropped his happy expression. Tony's brows were knitted together, his lips pursed, and his eyes would land on the box then slide off before repeating the process.

"Why?" Clint waved his hand over the picture of the figurine, then underlined the name of the cereal. Well, and it was cereal. "We can get a better action figure, and better cereal. What's so special about this?"

Clint huffed. "You're missing the point, Stark! It's an action figure! In a cereal box! I'm in a cereal box!" The archer jumped up and down on the balls of his feet at the last sentence and held the box out to Tony once again. "Just ask her. Nat'll kill me if I get cereal without her permission."

Tony took out his phone, his flat eyes reflecting the bright screen as he questioned one of the most threatening assassins in the world, "You know I'm paying for all of this, right?"

"Say that to Nat." Tony just kept typing away on his phone, his teeth clicking together. "I thought so." They waited a few minutes for the red-head's reply, Clint cheering and tucking the cereal into the cart when she said "yes."

Natasha must have figured Clint was ready to kill Tony since she let Clint get all the little things he wanted; cookies, skittles, and a little bow and arrow refrigerator magnet they found. By the time they got to the vegetables, Clint had a skip in his step and his hands didn't twitch for Tony's throat even once. He quickly grabbed the vegetables Natasha wrote on the list, pausing when he saw Tony grabbing vegetables too.

"What are you doing?" Clint couldn't believe Tony knew the difference between good vegetables and not good vegetables. Tony kept stuffing kale into the little plastic bags and twisted it shut before tossing it in the cart. "Why the hell did you just put kale in the cart?"

The billionaire grabbed a bag of spinach, "It makes for good smoothies. I use coconut milk, dandelion seeds, and—"

"Okay, stop there. That's disgusting." Clint gagged at the idea of drinking kale. "You're just messing with me right? You actually had no idea what you were grabbing and are trying to play it cool." Tony's mouth twisted up and one of his eyebrows went up as they scrunched together. Clint recoiled from Tony, his face a mask of horror. "Why would you drink that?"

Tony sighed and threw the spinach in the cart. "It detoxes my system."

Clint shuddered. "Never say that to me again." Tony rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head. It was amazing how someone so fit could love junk food so much and have such an aversion to healthy food. Clint just tried to scrub his mind of the information that Tony drank detox smoothies.

Check out was spent with them arguing the benefits of healthy food versus junk food, both men ignoring the awestruck cashier that occasionally added a word in. Back at the tower, Tony took off before Clint could rope him into helping bring in the groceries, leaving the archer yelling insults to his back.

Natasha was waiting in the living room, smirking at Tony when he stepped out of the elevator. "Never again," he swore to her unfaltering smirk, "But you were right." With that final statement, Tony sped up the stairs and into his own room where he took out his phone and opened up his gallery. At the top of the list of pictures was a picture of Clint staring at him with wide blue eyes, a box of kids' cereal held out in his hands and the dumbest pout puffing his cheeks out.

"How childish. JARVIS, save this to the backups. For blackmail."

"Of course, sir."

"Seriously. Blackmail."

I wanted to punch you in the face.

But you were disgustingly cute, so it's okay.

We're never doing that again though.